Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 4 — page 95: what you’re looking at

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

SPEAKING OF CONSCIENCE. game, and, seeing that the last change of names we’d made had thrown the bunch pretty well off our track, Ed decided that it was almost time for us to settle down and get into some business that was clean and decent. That was exactly what I was look- ing for. Besides, just the week before, I’d met a bird from Quagmire—just on the line between Wyoming and Colorado— who’d got a little funny with his gun, and wanted to sell out. Good proposition, too. One roulette- table, guaranteed ninety-five per cent for the house, three drop cases, two guys work- ing the shell game, one three-card monte- table and as swell a faro layout as you ever set your lamps on. And when Ed began this decent stuff, I was on his neck like butter on a hot stove. But Ed scratched his head. ‘“‘ Lucius,” he said—my name is Lucius, and in spite of it I still love my mother— “ Lucius, I don’t know what to say. There we'd have a home, with a fireplace and all that sort of thing. But gambling’s against the law.” ‘Don’t worry about that,” I came back at him. “ I’ve got all the dope in that direc- tion framed up like a recipe in a Boston cook-book. The sheriff’s all to the candy. He'll protect us from everything up to and including smallpox for twenty per cent of the gross.”’ But, as I might have hacer that wasn’t what was on Ed’s mind. Old Man Con- science had shied into the spothght, and Ed was fretting over the fact that we would be taking a lot of money away from the poor geeks who were trying to take it away from us. But the game was big, and I did some thinking. Then I eased an arm around Ed’s shoulder. “ Forget it, kid,” says I. .“ They'll get something for every dollar they put into the game. It may not be much—some little gewgaw to- give them pleasant recol- lections of their night with the tiger—but it ll be more than they ever got out of any gambling joint before. And of course there’s always the chance that they’il win.” So with that I let Ed down out of the clouds and onto the ground floor. Two weeks later we were the owners and pro- 565 prietors of as fine a little take-it-away jeint ‘In Quagmire as you ever saw. Nothing rough, nothing out of the way; nothing that could offend the gentlest nature or cause perturbation to the most delicate sensibili- ties. And that’s what really made the place so high-class and so soothing to Ed’s New England conscience. The only thing we sold over the bar was near-beer and ice-cream soda, and Ed did most of the work there, when he wasn’t officiating at the fake-table, where every customer of our little games of chance got some sort of a souvenir, ranging all the way from a package of prunes to a set of Japanese dishes and a dill pickle. It was just the sort of thing that delighted Ed’s heart.’ He gaveth while I tooketh away. And business was good. ‘There was a lot of trade between Denver and Casper, auto- mobile parties going to the oil-fields and the general truck business of the main Wyoming-Colorado road, and everybody had money. Another nice thing about it was the fact that while Ed wouldn’t permit a drop of the demoniacal stuff in the house, Bootleg Bert from Leadville ran a Sightless Parker right next door, with a working agreement between us, of which I said noth- ing, absolutely nothing to Edward, and he said nothing to me. As for Bootleg Bert, he was content to get ‘em going and coming. First they’d roam into his haven of restlessness and pipe up the desire to look upon the wheel when it whirled, then they’d come over to our place. Following which Ed would give ’em — near-beer, and plenty of talk on the way in, and a souvenir and more talk on the way out, while I’d take most of their money in between. Following that they’d go back to Bootleg Bert’s to forget the fact that all they’d got out of our place was a lot of stale cigar smoke, some education, and a patent, sawdust-filled doll that opened and closed its eyes and said “ papa.” From all of which you can gather that things worked well. For two months I didn’t hear a word out of Ed about his conscience. Never a peep. Slept like a baby, ate like a horse, and was gaining weight. Then along came Horace Q. Keever. JOO (C(C) SS (C(O)