Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 25, 1924 — page 63: what you’re looking at

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

THE DANCING DOLL. ‘Why, it’s my old friend, George,” ex- claimed Dalby. ‘“‘ Want you to meet my pal, Senor Don Pedro Valdez, one of the best!” Don Pedro arose with a greasy smile. His manner toward the café proprietor was con- descending. Margot seized the opportu- nity to wriggle out of his grasp. She hur- ried to the platform, where Pierre Vigney was tearing out jazz, and ignored Guy’s command to come back. ‘What do you mean by hanging around here?” demanded George. He thrust aside the bejeweled hand of Don Pedro and scowled at Guy. “Tt’s bad enough to let that girl do the work you’re paid for. But now you come around and stop her performance. Get out! I’m through with you!” “You want to break the contract?” Guy Dalby demanded with hauteur. “ You'll hear from my lawyer about that.” ‘Contract! Why you’ve broken it twen- ty times. It’s as full of holes as a porous plaster. When did you dance here last? It was weeks. ago. Now beat it! Don’t show up here again!” “Tf I go, Margot goes!” Guy rose and beckoned furiously to the girl. ‘‘ Come on, Margot, we’ll leave this beastly hole. I can get you twice as much money, ten times as much! And you won’t have to work for it.” He seized his ward by the arm, dis- regarding her terror. ‘““ What do, you mean?” George’s mace showed white under the skin. Guy glanced significantly at Don Pedro The Brazilian smiled and spread his hands with a lordly gesture. “Si! I will provide for Mademoiselle Margot! If you are tired of the contract, it will be a pleasure to take her off your hands. I have told her guardian.” George’s fists shot out right and left. Guy and the pursy Brazilian went down like ten-pins, and in a second the café was in an uproar. Don Pedro, the big boss, had been struck down! It was an outrage! Sacrilege! There were cries of revenge and hatred. “Catch the assassin! Don’t let him go! He has killed Don Pedro!”’ Margot was clinging to George’s arm and 53 together they were crowded back by. the mob that was wild with excitement and howling for blood. Don Pedro, supported by two waiters, was _ bellowing like a bull. “ Bring him toeme, the wretch! murderer! I will tear him to pieces!” Only Guy Dalby said nothing. He had been sent to dreamland. Nobody paid any attention to him. The mob of Brazilians were crowding George back toward the wall and only a feeble line of waiters was helping to keep back the would-be lynchers. Tina knew then that her chance had come. She forced her way to the platform, seizing Lenoir by the wrist as she neared the piano. ‘‘ Off with your apron,” she gasped, and to Pierre Vigney she commanded, “ Play, play for God’s sake! The apache dance!” The music began with a crash and rose The toafrenzy. The patrons of the café turned in astonishment. That anybody should make music at such a moment! But when they caught sight of Tina struggling in the arms of Lenoir, apparently fighting in a death struggle, they were fas- cinated. Was it a dance or a duel? The pair were flung apart and slowly circled around each other ready to pounce like jaguars. - Even Pedro Valdez forgot his outraged feelings as he watched this duel of the underworld. ‘“ Ah Paris! Paris!”’ he murmured rapturously. And Jim Harbison was shouting “ Brava! Brava!” with the rest. When Tina stopped at last, dishevelled, panting, her waist half torn away, she was thrilled by applause such as Margot had never received. Silver was flung at her feet. The dance of the apache was a success. George and Margot had slipped outside! CHAPTER XII. CONFESSION. HEN Happy George faced the horde of Brazilians who de- nounced him as “ the assassin, the murderer,” of Pedro Valdez, he realized that that blow had been a mistake. It had been Gomicbdooks (C@)