The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 233: what you’re looking at

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

A STEAM-ROOM FRACAS. “‘T may be able to get hold of it. But if I do you'll understand there’s no question of reward and you're not to ask anything about the affair. You're to struggle with woman’s fatal curiosity, you know —or is it. fatal woman’s—”’ “All I want is the ring,’ she de- clared tensely. “Tl do my best. Good-by, Miss Hartworth,” and Tillinghast, bowing profoundly to the mouthpiece, hung up the receiver. By chance in the billiard - room he ran across a cousin of Keller’s, an older man, a club bachelor and quite a pom- pous person. “Do you know,” said Tillinghast, in course of conversation, ‘I think young Keller ought to be jacked up by somebody. He'll be getting into trouble with that eccentricity of his.” What splendid nonsense! ” laughed the cousin. “It’s delicious! Why, my boy, nobody knows it outside of the club, and he furnishes such a lot of amusement. Old Scroggins was just telling of how he missed his cigarette- case this morning and immediately went to hunt up the boy. Found him just now; he returned the cigarette-case gladly, saying he had already tired of it.” “ What’s the point to that?” “ Deliciously funny. Why, my dear fellow, deliciously droll.” Kenwood’s words rolled out richly, and. his undeniable, wholesome embon- point asserted itself in a serious of con- vulsive chuckles—like a toad choking to death. * Well ’—Tillinghast’s voice cut in keenly across the overlapping chuckles —‘‘ mild cleptomania isn’t so bad; but I’m afraid he’ll get in deeper. They laugh about it here because they know he has all the money he wants and would never think of keeping a thing permanently; but I tell you it’s serious.’’ “Tt’s just a phase. He'll outgrow it,’ replied the chuckley cousin, con- trolling a spasm of misplaced humor. 219 “Look what a splendid father he has?” } “And what if that splendid father knew of this weird development in his otherwise lovable son? ’”’ “Oh, but why should he? It’s only in sport Howard does those things. Nobody would dare speak to him about it; besides, what would be the good? ”’ “Suit yourself,” said Tillinghast curtly, “ but if I had the influence over the boy that you have I’d give him a jolt—a jar, you know. He might make off with something valuable some day and lose it, and if the story ever got out, it would be a pretty scandal. Nice for his family and all that sort of thing. Give the reporters a picnic for a while, too. Help everybody. “‘Well—the other sobered up a bit, having a horror of the press—‘‘ maybe he should be cautioned; but I really don’t see the good of it. That would stop it all. As soon as his attention is called to the serious side of the thing he’ll give it up and then we'll have no more naive little excuses and explana- tions from him. They do so break the monotony here. Oh, bosh, Tilling- hast, you’re making sticky fly-paper out of a postage stamp; the thing’ll never get outside the club.” “IT wouldn’t be too sure of that. Cleptomania’s a dangerous disease— he might get quarantined for it, you know—people do.” “Such a solemn Tillinghast we have this afternoon,” mocked the other. “Young Keller’s all right, Pll wager you he’ll never bump his nose against any thing worse than a bottle. Why, he’ll be falling in love one of these days and the girl’ll pull him away from these boyish tricks.” ‘“T hope you’re right,” and Tilling- hast moved on to the coat-room. “I do hope so—but you so seldom are, you know.” A. wholesome chuckle greeted this re- tort and the care-free clubman clapped Tillinghast on the back, administering the advice that he make tracks for the bar and purchase a charm to exorcise oO COMmMiclhoo S CO