Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1923 — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

GOOD LOOKING AND RICH. had always appreciated that job with Pot- ter & Co., but he appreciated it more than ever to-day. The income from it was not quite princely, but without it he would have been in something of a quandary just now. The proposition of keeping up appearances of reasonable wealth before Aunt Faith would mean spending every penny of his salary for a while and about as much more as he dared draw in advance—but what a splendid thing that it was there to be spent! Mr. Harley, then, was smiling as he en- tered the Potter offices, tossed his hat to its hook, and with a sigh that was almost con- tented, stretched ‘his legs beneath the desk and—abruptly sensed the peculiar some- thing in the air. One minute back, the usual rather noisy bustle had been evident; the two typewriters out here had been clattering away, Morri- son, the head accountant, had been calling a string of figures to his assistant, the office boy had been thumping away with a num- bering stamp. Now the quiet was posi- tively funereal. Mr. Harley looked up sud- denly. Mouth open, the office boy was staring at him fixedly. Miss Brown, the rather mousy typist, was gazing drearily at him. Miss Holman, the office vampire, had fluffed up her bobbed hair and was directing at him a smile of such warmth and brilliance that the intervening air itself seemed to gleam and smoke! Staid old Mr. Morrison was regarding him just as interestedly as the others—yes, and now Morrison was climbing down from his stool and shuffling across to John. He laid a light, awed hand on Mr. Harley’s shoulder and blinked about the office in a general way. “We just heard, Jack!” said he. “Heard what?” ‘Just as if you didn’t know what!” the bookkeeper laughed sadly, for he had spent the best part of sixty years hoping that some one would leave him a fortune. “ Well, John, I guess I speak for the rest of the office when I tell you that we were all mighty glad to hear about your luck and that we all congratulate you!” “Ray!” vociferated the office boy, and waved the numbering stamp. “Speech! Speech!” cried Miss Holman. 571 “You bet we have to have a speech!” Mr. Morrison said rather noisily. “ Come on, John!” ; Say, I—I wish you wouldn’ —”. ‘Mr, Harley began wretchedly. | His wild eyes swept the place in aiehech of an avenue of escape. There were some few things of which the battered Mr. Har- ley was still capable, but a speech to the office force was not among them. His eyes stopped at the opening door of Potter’s own office, with Mr. Potter himself standing there. That way, at least, lay sanctuary for.a little. He would talk to Potter about this, that and the other thing for as long a space as the conversation could be prolonged. Mr. Harley covered the distance between them with quite a rush. ‘“* ’d—I'd like to speak to you!” he said hurriedly. “I’ve been expecting you to come and speak to me for some time,” smiled the head of the firm and so far unbent as to send a knowing wink in Morrison’s direction. The door clicked after them. Mr. Pot- ter waved Mr. Harley to the chair of state, which was the deep one beside his desk. Usually an austere and dignified person with his employees, he tilted back now and re- garded John with a complacent grin. “Good morning, millionaire,” he said dryly. ‘ Did I rescue you?” it 4 Yes! ? “You'll get a lot of similar demonstra- tions before you die, I imagine,” said Mr. Potter. ‘‘ May as well get used to ’em now, Jack. Well! You rushed away from the club in such a hurry Saturday, after drop- ping your bombshell, that I had no chance to congratulate you properly. Let me do that now!” Warmly indeed did he shake Mr. Harley’s hand, and Mr. Harley sat up with some force and assurance. This time at least he would tell the truth. And— Potter was an infinitely opinionated, ob- Stinate, outspoken soul, who gave tremen- dous weight to his own idea of the right of any proposition. Having heard the con- fession, it was well within the probabilities that he might feel called upon, all things Gomichboo <S