Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

he threatened. “Because I refuse to be sible for my actions!” , She pouted, and if anything, Conse i pout was more charming than her “ please. “Take me away, driver!” Sam gasped den panic. “Go! Beat it!” _ ie taling most of Sam’s money, the driver, when he reached Forty-Second Street, dismissed his passenger and Sam wandered over to Broadway and entered the back room of a place where they once sold very famous beer. er: He ate in abstracted attention, his mind still filled with Constance’s pout, until a newsboy came in with a sporting extra. Mechanically he dropped three cents into the boy’s hand and opened the paper at the financial page. M. Q. Oil had closed at thirteen and a half, but—and Sam gulped as he read the figures—the highest point it had touched during the day was twenty-six. Sam scowled darkly at the back of a man’s head just in front of him, as though the stranger was responsible for that sudden flurry in oil. He was figuring how much he had not won, and it made his head ache, and he caught himself wishing there was a law against writing anonymous postal cards. But above these thoughts, as one ray of hope like a flash lamp in a cellar, he was utterly and entirely thankful that he had not told Constance about the postal. “Yes,” he nodded gravely. ‘‘ She would have broken it off, and broken it off so sudden that I wouldn’t ever have been able to catch my breath!” The paper said that some one had been trading very heavily in M. Q. and went on to give a dozen rumors that had been cur- rent in financial circles for the activity in the stock. In complete de}ection he paid his check and by way of the Seventh Avenue surface car took himself back to his room. Before he went to hed he covered a dozen sheets of paper with figures. By his calculations he and Constance should have been on their TA Don't y ou ever dare do that again!” s ar unders 3 hat and went downstai postal in the brass mail between shaking fingers, he re: “ My word!” he breathed, gazing alarm at his reflections in the glass doo! “I wonder if this thing is a sort of Black © Hand affair! They’ll come around and ~ blackmail me for my profits, or blow me up!” He remembered having seen Southern Copper quoted somewhere around fif ty-five the day before, and if it went to seventy- five, and he had four hundred dollars’ worth on a margin—he bolted from the house and almost ran to the corner, where he snatched up a paper to reassure himself that his mem- ory was not at fault. Southern Copper had been offered at fifty-five and an eighth and had found takers at fifty-five. Sam ducked into a drug store, and after finding Borden & Bor- den’s number in the book, entered a tele- phone both. His scruples were still very lively. He didn’t in the least want to buy Southern Copper on a margin, but there was Con- stance’s ultimatum to be considered. “ With a twenty-point rise and four hun—” His musings were cut short, for a voice answered the call, and Sam wanted to know if Joe Borden had arrived at the office. Yes, Mr. Borden was there, and a moment later Sam’s four hundred dollars belonged to some one else. This made him feel very comfortable dur- ing the walk down to the Elevated until he suddenly remembered that the postal might be wrong and that instead of advancing twenty points, Southern Copper might drop off an equal amount. He would be swept as clean as a new broom could sweep him. There was nothing cheerful about this, so he was quite miserable during the ride down town. ‘ anaint