Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1912-11-13

the pulse OF an amateur numismatist
NO vintage tonight, my boy; no
long, fat Havana, either. A bottle of
stout and a few rags of plug-cut:
that's the pace We'll travel this eve
ming. The United Romance and Ad-
venture Company is not listed at pres
ent. If it was, I'd sell a few shares
on my wv hook. The kind Lord
knows that I've stock enough and to
spare" He laughed again, but with
out the 1eaven of humor. when the
fool-killer snatches UP the last fool.
let rogues look to themselves: ami
fools are getting scarcer every day.
"Percival Algernon! Q age Of DO
cts! I wonder, does he wear high col
lars and spats, or has she plumbed
him accurately? She is generally
right. But a man changes some in
seven years. I'm an authority when it
comes to that. Look what's happened
to me in eve years! First, Horace,
We shall dine, her Wen smoke our
pipe in the billiard-room, then Well
softly approach Percival Algernon
and introduce him to Sinbad. This in
dependent excursion to Bagdad was
a stroke on my part; it will work into
the general plan as smoothly as if it
had been grOoved for the part. Sinbad.
l might just as well have assumed
that name: Horace Sinbad, sounds
Well and looks. we'll" He unused in
silence, his hand gently rubbing his
chin; for he did possess the trick Of
talking aloud, in a low monotone, a
habit acquired during periods of lone
liness, when the sound Of his own
voice had succeeded in ~steadying his
lettering mind.
What a woman, what a wife. she
would have been to the right man!
Odd thing, a man can do almost any
thing but direct his affections; they
must be drawn. She was not for him:
nay, not even on a desert isle. Doubt
less he was a fool. In time she would
have made him a rich man. Alack!
It was always the one we pursued
that we loved and never the n that
pursued us.
I'm afraid Of her; and there you
are. There isn't a man living who
has gone back of that Mona Lisa smile
Of hers. If she was the last oma
and | was the last man, I don't say"
He hunted for a cigarette, but failed
to find one. almost at the bottom.
boy; the winter of our discomfort. and
no sun Of York to make it glorious.
Twenty-four hundred at cards, and to
lose it like a tyro! Wallace has taught
NE all he knows, but I'm a BOBBY.
Twenty-four hundred, firms money.
It's a failing of mine, the firms money.
But, damn it all, | can't cheat a man
at cards; I'd rather cut his throat"
He found his pipe, and a careful
search of the of his coat-pock-
cts revealed a meager pipeful of to-
bacco. He picked out the little balls
of wool, the ground-coffee, the cloves,
and pushed the charge home into the
crusted bowl of his briar.
"To the devil with economy! A
pint of burgundy and a perfecto if
they hale us to Jail for it. I'm dead
tired. I've seen three corners in hell
in the past two months. I'm going as
far as four sovereigns will take me.
I. . Fortune Chedsoye." His blue
eyes became less hard and his mouth
less defiant. 81 repeat, the heart
should be nothing but a pump. 9th
erwise it gets in the way, becomes an
obstruction, a bottomless pit. Will
power, that's the ticket. I car face a
lion without an extra beat, 1 can face
the various countenances of death
without an additional futter; and yet,