Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 17, 1924 — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

DIRTY lions of the Tabriz rug as, although many persons held that the ash was good for rugs, the rajah held otherwise, and a per- fectly good tray was within reach anyway, he thanked him, yes. Their road from now on, the rajah went on to explain, would of course be perfectly simple. The young American pig would work like the mysterious sixty and level the hill. Having done so, the last load aboard his amazing steamer—and it was amazing if the reports from their Number Thirty-Two in Galveston were to be believed, and why should they not be?—-would be composed of the priceless deposit of blue coral which would not be disposed of upon its arrival in India, the rajah smilingly hinted, for a tune in anything short of nine figures. The true kernel of the jest was, as the rajah then cleverly indicated, that even their three hundred dollar bribe would not be lost. They would of course as agreed— for were they not honorable gentlemen ?— put such an amount in the young American pig’s pocket, but there, however, their re- sponsibility in the matter would cease, and there was nothing to prevent their instantly plucking ‘t out again and sticking the young American pig in his neck to prevent his squealings. The rajah, spurning the ormolu time- piece on the mantle, glanced at his platinum wrist watch. The hands hinted at four o’clock. It was strange, he remarked, that the wire had not been delivered by then. The deal should have been closed the pre- vious night and the information dispatched early that morning. No matter, another bottle of champagne would tide them over the intervening short quarter of an hour, at the conclusion of which the telegram would most assuredly arrive and please, would the same offending Finger Number Four strive to bear in mind his few remarks concerning ash when spilled upon the damned cartouches of that same damned Tabriz rug, he thanked him, yes? Finger Number Four, it appeared, would and a pleasant flowing of sparkling gold passed most swiftly into oblivion the fol: lowing quarter of an hour when a wire was handed in at the door, as the rajah had WORK. 211 predicted. The fact shot his stock up a good deal in the line of prophecies, a thing not to be lightly sneezed at, especially in India. Glasses were hastily emptied and _ set aside. Another bottle of champagne was ordered to be cooled, that they might drink . a toast in acknowledgment of the success of their Number Thirty-Two, and the rajah then opened the wire. He glanced at once at the signature. It was Oswald. “Oswald!” he said in alarm. “ That is not the sign of our Number Thirty-Two. By Rudra, can it be—” through a small and expensive leather note- book confirmed the fact—‘It is our Number Forty-Nine! In the name of Pradhana what can /e have to say?” “If you’d read the message, rajah, you might find out,” suggested the ash scatter- ing Finger Number Four, and who made a target, even as he spoke, on another and still somehow virgin cartouche. The rajah was too startled even to note this last, or rather latest, desecration of his Tabriz rug. “The message,” he said, “‘ is this: ‘ Pes- tilence devouring pineapples. Immediate relief essential to check scourge. Break news gently to mother and wish her a merry Christmas from her dutiful nephew, signed, Oswald.’ “And this,” continued the rajah, “‘ when it is decoded means: ‘ Plans miscarried. Number Thirty-Two disappeared. Believed murdered. Young American pig unharmed and first load of Coral Isle safe on way to owner. Await instructions. Signed, Number Forty-Nine.’ ” The first thing the rajah did was to can- cel the cooled bottle of champagne. He ordered up a quart of Scotch instead. What, demanded the twelve Scarlet Fin- gers, was to be done? “ Be calm, gentlemen,” advised the rajah, “for all is not yet lost—far from it. You have seen an exhibition of just one of the little tricks that I have up my sleeve. There are, I can assure you, many others.” “Let us hope,” muttered Finger Number Four, who liked scattering his ashes tremen- dously and grew grouchy whenever he was Go VOOKS AMG A hasty rustling» (C@