Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1913-07-16
A Mug S Game

To-day's Complete Short Story.

He did" cried Jones. leaping from
his chair
Yes" Stemmings repeated Why
Nothing" replied Jones, informa-
lively.
With which he collected his bill
hastily, and performed the unprece-
dented fact of returning to the Office
twenty minutes before time.
Caught!
When he saw Brown in the tea shop
the horrible suspicion had loomed in
upon him that someone other than the
assistant senior clerk was imprisoned
in the lift. Stemmings had practical
ly confirmed the suspicion. Who the
other person was Jones hardly dared
to imagine. Thrusting open the
swing doors, he dashed across the
spacious showroom to the lift. There
was a -committal kind of silence
hanging over It that struck vague
fear to the young mans heart He
closed the gate and pressed the but
ton.
If Mr. Jones could have stepped
under the homecoming lift and con-
verted it into an automatic jugger-
naut, he would have welcomed the
opportunity. The sight Of the now
calm, Ominous face of Mr.. Todbury
Finch struck cold despair into his
heart.
The partner stepped out in silence;
then he turned round on the expect
ant clerk with alarming shrewdness.
Did you do it?' he snarled.
Now, had Mr. Jones been possessed
of greater presence of mind or been d
more accomplished disciple Of Ana
Mas. he might have offered a fiat and
indignant denial; but he did not
Tin sorry, sir" he stammered.
Il thought 1t was Brown"
You did, did you?" said Mr.. Finch.
Come up to my office at once"
Jones followed him meekly.
"Now, explain it exactly" the chief
commenced
Jones. perceiving the only possible
avenue Of escape was the truth, made
a clean breast of the whole affair.
Bounced.
q see" said Mr.. Finch, after a de-
pressing silence. You were playing
a practical joke. l happened to be
the victim. Most unfortunate for both
of US, Mr.. Jones. I must ask you to
seek another employment. A weeks
notice. Thank you'll"
The worst has happened. Reality
is seldom worse than anticipation.
Jones whistled jauntily as he left the
room.
Having thus vented his spleen. Tod
bury Finch. Esq, lay back on his
chair and pondered.
Serves the young brat right" he
muttered.
Teach 'em all a lesson. Lost me a
hundred odd, young dog"
Shortly after o'clock he went out
to lunch. He ran into a shouting
newsboy on the street Mr.. Finch
understood the burden Of his song.
II was; Two o'clock results; piper!"
who won the race" asked Mr.
Finch handing the boy a coin
Felix" said the youngster
Felix" incredulously. How about
Bluebell?"
The boy eyed the partner pltyingly.
Also ran, o course" he said. Back
imp"
Mr.. Finch could not conceal his ex-
element
"Wot! Glad e lorst?" said the boy
bewilderedly.
yes, rather" said the partner, and
turned his face toward the office,
while the newsboy looked after him,
doubling the sanity of the world.
Mr.. Finch was Of a mercuriaI tenn
permanent. The fact that Bluebell had
lost turned spleen into positive iubi-
latiOn. The period he had spent in
the lift had saved him $3.50
Bluebell was supposed to be
Cert"
After all, betting was a mugs"
game. He thought he would drop it,
Late that afternoon Mr.. Jones was
surprised to receive another summons
to the chief
I've been thinking. Jones" said
Todbury Finch sternIy, perhaps
was a little hard in dismissing you.
You win resume your duties as
usual and, perhaps, keep practical
Joking out Of official business"
Jones promised humbly that he
would and left piously. To this day
he has never dreamed the truth.