Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1923 — page 105: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

GOOD LOOKING AND RICH. “We are?” echoed Mr. Harley. “Oh, unquestionably. I’m not boast- ing, Jack, but in the last thirty years I’ve learned some tricks about money making that I wouldn’t communicate to a living man, outside my own family. You're es- sentially a member of my family now.” His voice dropped impressively. It was as well that he happened to be looking over John’s head rather than directly toward him, too; else might he have commented on the faint greenish wave of color that came into Harley’s cheek. “ John, you have about three millions ngw. In less than five years we'll have turned that into twenty millions.” He thumped his desk so emphatically that Mr. Harley jumped again. He looked straight at Mr. Harley, and it occurred to John that although his eyes had seemed kindly enough five minutes ago, they were | glinting now with an awful hidden force which, once loosed in anger, might do al- most anything to a man. ‘“‘T mean just that, Jack,” Thurlow Wicks concluded very earnestly. ‘“‘ And I'll do it for you because you’re the very soul of truth and honesty. If Althea had chosen to marry a scamp or a blockhead, I’d never have raised a finger to help him.” He nodded. John also nodded, but it was no such positive gesture. John’s was just a weak little jerk of the head, ac- companied by a weak little smile. “The pen’s, over there,” Mr. Wicks stated again. ‘“‘ Let’s get that check matter out of the way, and then we'll discuss the other things. Er—sixty thousand.” ~ “Ves, but what—what’s it for?” John cried desperately. “Eh? Good Lord! I supposed you un- derstood,” Mr. Wicks said rather irritably. “Pye been buying a little block of stock for you since I came back this morning.” “Oh!” said Mr. Harley, “ Metal stuff—funny little proposition— bit of information I happened to have, and I wasn’t going to bother with it myself. It ‘ll rise about forty points inside the week, John; may possibly do a shade bet- ter than that and in less time. Ill handle it for you; all you have to do is sit back and rake in the profits.” He grinned slightly. His eye wandered significantly toward the fountain pen. It was rather plain that when Mr. Wicks con- descended to lend a hand in such matters he expected quick action on the part of the favored. Mr. Harley found himself turning chilly. Now, to be sure, waS the time to square his chest, look Wicks fearlessly in the eye, and admit that walking about the ceiling would have been very, very much easier than the drawing of a negotiable check for sixty thousand dollars, or even for one- tenth of that amount. Yes, it was the mo-_ ment and—no! It wasn’t the moment at all! When a man like Thurlow Wicks has just informed one that he is the very soul of truth, it is not well to confide to him that he has erred and that one really is one of the greatest liars alive! Later in this interview John would work back to the subject leading up to it ever so deftly, ever so diplomatically, But just now a little more of the nicest mendacity was all that would— “ Well, dammit, sir!” Mr, Wicks cried suddenly and hotly. ‘ What’s the matter? You’re not willing to trust to my judg- ment?” “Tt—it’s not that at all, sir!” John said quickly. “I was just a—a bit embar- rassed. You see, I’m not drawing sixty- thousand-dollar checks this morning, Mr. Wicks.” “ T understood—” ; “Yes, I know. Everybody seems to have understood that, and it’s a mistake. The—ah—whole estate is not in my hands as yet, you know. It may not be for sev- eral weeks. Then, of course—” The wealthy gentleman scowled, from John Harley to the fountain pen, and from the pen to a little rubber-banded bundle of securities lying before him, Putting it mildly, he was annoyed—but, rather hap- pily, this phase passed in a few seconds; and he opened a drawer, tossed in the bun- dle, and shrugged his shoulders. | “All. right; we'll let it stand at that,” he muttered. ‘“‘ They were bought for you, but I'll hold ’°em. Um-—tlet’s see. Half a dozen things I wanted to talk to you about. . What were they? I suppose you and Ally Comicbooks.com