The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 234: what you’re looking at

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

220 the imaginary hobgoblins from his cob- webby mind. In a strangely preoccupied manner, oppressed by what he had seen and 1m- agined, Tillinghast walked down the steps of the clubhouse probably an hour after Keller had left, and followed in the direction taken by the young fellow. He walked across to Broadway and down almost to Fortieth Street. There Tillinghast turned into a fashionable little café, much frequented by men of his class, and sauntered down the wan- dering aisle between the tables, nodding often to acquaintances and stopping to shake hands with several and chat a moment. At a table in a dim far corner, alone, sulky and evidently miserable, he found Keller. Going over, Tillinghast, with- out a word, pulled back a chair and seated himself opposite. “Well? ” said Keller, looking up at Tillinghast as though he resented his intrusion. | “T thought you were pledged not to drink—or was it only not to drown?” asked Tillinghast languidly, holding his stick tightly as he gave a sharp glance into the startlingly luminous eyes of his zwss-d-vis and noted his despair- drooped lips, and caught the reek of strong liquor. ‘“T am pledged; I haven't had a drop to drink,” was the annoyed reply. “Oh, I see—rimt omelet! ’’—smiled Tillinghast, glancing at a plate the waiter was hastily removing. “Yes, three of ’em, two helpings of plum-pudding with brandy sauce, a pint of wine-jelly, and five claret lemon- ades,” Keller slumped back 1n his chair vaingloriously, as though he had just received the freedom of the city for some meritorious act or other. “Whew-w-w!” whistled Tillinghast. * Now if you'd have a pot of coffee and smoke two pure perique cigarettes you could finish up handsomely in the po- lice-station after pulling a cabby’s hat over his ears—or snatching the wheel away from a bicycle-cop and trying to run down the Horace Greeley statue.”’ THE ARGOSY. “ Pot of coffee, yes!” said Keller thickly, his flaming eyes drooping heavily and his chin sneaking’ in as though it feared somebody should see it. ‘Just ordered a dei tasse. Join me?” “You'd better come out of this. Didn't you say the girl—you know, the one you're in love with—made you promise not to drink? ” “I don’t drink, not a dropsh.”” The other lurched‘ forward in the heavy eagerness of argument. “ It’s all right if I do; she doesn’t care now, not any more, old chap. She hasn’t spoken to me — understand — three merry days now.” ‘What did you do?” “ Not a thing, offisher, not a thing,” Keller leered up ludicrously, evidently appreciating his own facetiousness as he assumed the role of a prisoner. “That’s the worst of it.” He swayed for a moment and then tried to stiffen up; finally he leveled his gaze and cried: “ But I’m desperate, Till. Everything seems going wrong.”’ “TI want you to come over and take a Turkish bath now,” Tillinghast told him. “ Get this stuff out of your sys- tem, and then go up and see the girl to-night and straighten everything out. You’re beginning to slip, old man — somebody's greased the incline, or you've done it yourself, and you’re on your way down. Pull up!” ““ Honest,” rejoined the other, with heavy earnestness, “I haven’t had a drink for three months, not since I told her I wouldn’t.” “ But these claret lemonades and rum omelets? ” “Only the last three days, Till; on the square. You see it’s hurt me a good deal—here,”” he hazily indicated his heart. “Yes, and it'll hurt you a good deal more—here!” and Tillinghast touched his forehead significantly, “‘ if you don’t cut it out. Come on over to the Turk- ish bath. I'll take one with you. We'll get fixed up proper and then square things with the girl.” CoOMmicbook CO