Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 23, 1924 — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

EIGHT MONKEYS stead of coming to the door in his shirt- sleeves, as of yore, wore a white linen jacket, immaculate excepting for a few fingerprints for identification purposes. The only thing that reminded me of the old home was Mrs. Clow listening behind the hall portiere, just as she used to when snooping to find out whose collector was calling. On hearing my voice and Alfred’s chuck- ling assurance that he was glad to see me and had never seen me looking so well, Ozella made a showy entrance from her place of concealment and gave further evi- dence that the long period of financial de- pression was over and that all concerned in the Clow establishment were in the midst of a wave of wunexampled prosperity. Ozella’s historic cretonne wrapper, the cyclorama of parrots and chrysanthemums with more hues in it than one of Joseph Urban’s coats of many colors, had been eliminated at last. It was an even bet whether it had found a home in the Met- ropolitan Museum or had been sent to some unfortunate poor relation in sunny Ten- nessee. She now wore a pink gabardine trimmed with little tufts of white fur, strong circum- stantial evidence that a white cat, erstwhile the belle of the adjacent back yards, had departed to the only bourne whence no cat comes back. At last a chance shot with a beer bottle had hushed its song forever. Ozella had discarded her cheap orange-col- ored rouge of former days, and with her new color scheme she looked ten days younger. The cluster diamond ring, pre- sented to her by the late able but bibulous lawyer, was now out of pawn, as her every gesture proved. 3 I congratulated Mrs. Clow on the im- proved appearance of the mansion. She was affable enough, though inclined to be haughty, as she always was to any one who had shown no appreciation of the refined surroundings of her select establishment and had moved away. She seemed to take an almost spiteful pleasure in telling me that she had no vacancies at present, imagining that I was a returned prodigal yearning to get back to chicken salad made of the fatted calf. AND A CATSPAW, 251 inquiry regarding the boys, revealed the fact that two or three, eager to get rid of their money, had moved to more expensive and pretentious ‘quarters, but the nucleus of Seumas was still loyal to the Clow establishment. in former times could not pay for one room, were now having suites, sitting- rooms, and other sybaritic indulgences. While I was admiring the new “ golden oak ” hat-rack and the ornate umbrella jar, a murmur of conversation, which had been audible through the closed doors of Bert Hollister’s room, swelled in volume and became the excited argument of half-a- dozen voices. Alfred knocked at the door to announce me; but the noise in the room apparently prevented the knock from being heard; so [ presumed upon old acquaintance, opened the door and entered without any herald or fanfare. All the boys were there excepting Roddy Blythe and Ben Gleason who had found Mrs. Clow’s too quiet and home-like for their now extravagant ideas. They all stopped talking long enough to say “ Hello,” though they said it as if they had something more important on their minds. In a remote corner of the window seat was a stranger, and I nearly fell backward through the doorway, for the moment that I saw him [ realized that I had been all wrong in my theory that McKesson’s por- trait was a work of imagination. .It was the Greek-looking athlete sure enough, as large as life, and that’s saying a lot. He was just as big and blond and good- looking as the portrait. McKesson hadn’t idealized him a particle, excepting in the matter of clothes. The modern Ajax wore an old grey tweed suit that still had the identification marks of having been made by a first class tailor; and the toes of his shoes proved that he could still afford socks. His right hand and arm were heavily bandaged and supported in a sling. Curled up on the window-seat smoking a pipe as disreputable as Hugh Malcolm’s worst, he lookeu like Apollo made up to play in a moving picture comedy. It was obvious that he was the center of the con- versational storm that was raging, but he EOPMIG OOO KS Some of the fellows, who — (E@) mara’ duist’ @