The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 191: what you’re looking at

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

THE MOTOR-BUS MYSTERY. Apparently unaware of the unfa- vorable impression he had made, the other went on: “If we have such weather as this for the rest of the trip we won’t have any cause to kick, eh? ”’ “No, I suppose we won’t replied Edwards, shortly. “Good sailor?”’ The fellow seemed determined to maintain a conversation. “Yes, pretty good.” “Been across the ocean before, then? ” ‘“Oh yes, several times.” “ American citizen I presume?” Edwards nodded. “So am I,” replied the stranger, “but have been living abroad for some time. This will be the first I have vis- ited the United States in six years. Feel like the prodigal son returning home.” “Hope you'll find the fatted calf killed, cooked and ready to serve,’ re- marked Edwards, thinking that he might as well be pleasant as long as the fellow was determined to talk. The other man laughed hilariously. “Oh, the fatted calf will be await- ing me all right. The original prodi- gal of biblical fame didn’t fare nearly as well as I’m going to. I’ve got some- thing better than a square meal to look forward to. I’m going to the United States to inherit a big fortune.” “A fortune, eh?” repeated Ed- wards, with a smile. “‘ That’s good. He believed that he was on to the fellow’s purpose now. Some sort of bunco game was about to be worked on him. He was amused to think that of all the persons on board ship he could have been selected as a possible victim. “I didn’t have the slightest idea that I looked so easy,” he said to himself. “T wonder just what there is about my face which makes this fellow con- sider me good material.” He decided that he would lead the man on. It would be good fun to let the swindler think that he was swallow- ing the baited hook. If the game was a long-drawn- -out one it might furnish 177 him with amusement for the rest of the voyage. Edwards felt sadly in need of a little amusement to drive away the melancholy which oppressed him whenever he thought of the impend- ing fate of his unfortunate client, Da- venport Sudbury. “ How big is this, may I ask?” he inquired with well-simulated interest. “Pretty near a hundred thousand dollars. Nice little sum, eh?” “T should say so. Did I understand you to say that it was an inheritance? ” “Yes, from my maternal. grand- father. The poor old boy was mur- dered a few months ago, and they’ve just found a will which makes me his chief beneficiary.” “So your grandfather was mur- dered, eh?” remarked Edwards, in- wardly wondering just what form of swindle he was up against. He was fa- miliar with the details of most of the bunco games worked on unsuspecting ocean voyagers, but this seemed to be a brand-new one. “Yes,” continued the other. ‘“ The poor old fellow was murdered on top of an omnibus—stabbed in the back by a rascally conductor— Why, what’s the matter with you?” His exclamation was occasioned by the expression of astonishment which had come to Edward’s face in spite of the lawyer’s effort to maintain his self- control. “Was your grandfather’s Reynolds — Colonel olds? ” “Yes—did you know him?” It was the other’s turn to appear aston- ished. “T was acquainted with him slightly. He and I lived in the same town.” © “Oh, I see,’”’ replied Colonel Reyn- olds’s grandson. “ And how is the old place? It is eight years since I was last there. I suppose there have been many changes.” “Yes,” replied Edw ards. “The city has grown considerably within the past few years. You will scarcely recognize it.” name Joseph Reyn- CoOMmicbook CO