Argosy, Vol. 85, No. 3 — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

A SOLDIER’S HONOR. So far the project of the two schemers for annexing a wad of the elder Mosely’s wealth had been progressing as smoothly and expeditiously as even they could have desired. The lawyer they had retained—an ar- tist at blackmail within the forms of the statutes — had already opened negotia- tions with Kerr’s father, and the latter having come to West Point and satished himself by a rather painful interview with his son that the marriage had actually oc- curred, was now bargaining with the plot- ters to have the union dissolved and the whole distasteful business definitely closed up. “It’s a plain hold-up,” he growled to his attorney. ‘‘ Kerr had never seen the woman before he-was introduced to her ai the dance-hall; he left her at the altar. They inveigled him into the ceremony solely through his foolish sense of chiv- alry. Yet what can we do? They know that publicity in the matter would ruin my boy’s career. We must simply settle with the woman as cheaply as we can, and then get her off to Reno or some place where this farcical marriage knot can be quietly untied.” The lawyer was an adept at extricating the sons of his -wealthy clients from the scraps into which they managed to get. This was not the first time he had dealt with chorus-girl brides by suggesting fi- nancial balm as a salve for their broken hearts. But he had to confess that Miss Quee- nie Sinclair, coached as-she was by Tom- my Wilburt and the shady legal adviser, was just about the toughest proposition he had ever encountered. It was Queenie’s last chance to play the role of a trusting and deserted damsel, and recognizing the fact, she was deter- mined to make the most of it. The lawyer had’ finally to report to Senator Mosely that an even $100,000 was the very lowest settlement that he could effect. The Senator knitted his brows a mo- ment; then he wrote out a check for the 425 amount, and pushed it across the table to the lawyer. ‘Some price’ for chivalry, eh? But I can’t afford to haggle any longer. Tell my daughter-in-law ’’— he made a wry face— that the money is hers as soon as the courts have done their work.” But the best-laid plans of millionaires and also of blackmailers sometimes gang agley. Papa Mosely’s rosy belief that he had disposed of the affair by signing that check, and likewise the dream of easy af- fluence in which the Sinclair-Wilburt combination was indulging were both due for a jolt. It fell about in this wise. Kerr, hurry- ing back to his quarters one snowy after- noon, was halted by one of the disciplin- ary officers, a lieutenant named Crosby, who had been his cadet captain when Mosely was a plebe, and against whom the latter consequently cherished an un- dying hatred. Crosby was exulting over the fact that he had finally succeeded in landing the luckless Darwin among the “ Area Birds,”’ and he could not resist the temptation to rub it in on Darwin’s closest associate. ‘Ah, Mr. Mosely,” he said with a ma- licious grin. “I just saw your ‘ wife’ over at headquarters having an interview with the colonel. I expect you'll be want- ed next.”’ If ever there was a case of a guilty con- science proving a man’s undoing, it was then. Kerr gave a start which almost split his tightly buttoned fatigue-blouse up the back, and turned as many colors as a chameleon on a piece of plaid. ‘““My wife!”’ he gasped in consterna- tion. “Is that woman actually here at the post?”’ The next moment he could have cheer- fully bitten his tongue out, for he realized from Crosby’s stare of utter amazement that the other in speaking of his “ wife ” had only been using the West Point slang term for room-mate. It was too late now, though, to recall or amend the fatal admission. The as- tonishment in Crosby’s fishy eyes had al- DOOK C©