The Fortune Hunter | Page 8

a dinner engagement."
"You'll be late, won't you?"
"Doesn't matter in the least; I'm always late. 'Night, Kellogg.
Congratulations again."
"We just dropped round to take off our hats to you," Long continued,

pumping Kellogg's hand.
"And tell you what a good fellow we think you are," added Miller,
following suit.
"You don't know how good you make me feel," Kellogg told them.
Under cover of this diversion Duncan was making one last effort to slip
away; but before he could gather together his impedimenta and get to
the door Willy Bartlett intercepted him.
"I say, Duncan--"
"Oh, hell!" said Duncan beneath his breath. He paused ungraciously
enough.
"We've got to see a bit of one another, now we've met again, y'know.
Wish you'd look me up--Half Moon Club'll get me 'most any time.
We'll have to arrange to make a regular old-fashioned night of it, just
for memory's sake."
Duncan nodded, edging past him. "I've memories enough," he said.
"Right-oh! Any reason at all, y'know, just so we have the night."
"Good enough," assented Duncan vaguely. He suffered his hand to be
wrung with warmth. "I'll not forget--good-night." Then he pulled up
and groaned, for Willy's insistence had frustrated his design: Kellogg
had suddenly become alive to his attitude and hailed him over the heads
of Long and Miller.
"Nat, I say! Where the devil are you going?"
"Over to the hotel," said Duncan.
"The deuce you are! What hotel?"
"The one I'm stopping at."
"Not on your life. You're not going just yet--I haven't had half a chance
to talk to you. Robbins, take Mr. Duncan's things."
Duncan, set upon by Robbins, who had been hovering round for just
that purpose, lifted his shoulders in resignation, turning back into the
room as Miller and Long said good-night to him and left at Bartlett's
heels, and smiled awry in semi-humorous deprecation of the way in
which he let Kellogg out-manoeuvre him. When it came to that, it was
hard to refuse Kellogg anything; he had that way with him. Especially
if one liked him... And how could anyone help liking him?
Kellogg had him now, holding him fast by either shoulder, at arm's
length, and shaking a reproving head at his friend. "You big duffer!" he
said. "Did you think for a minute I'd let you throw me down like that?"

Duncan stood passive, faintly amused and touched by the other's show
of affection. "No," he said, "I didn't really think so. But it was worth
trying on, of course."
"Look here, have you dined?"
'At this suggestion Duncan stiffened and fell back. "No, but--"
Kellogg swept the ground from under his feet. "Robbins," he told the
man, "order in dinner for two from the club, and tell 'em to hurry it up."
"Yes, sir," said Robbins, and flew to obey before Duncan could get a
chance to countermand his part in the order.
"And now," continued Kellogg, "we've got the whole evening before us
in which to chin. Sit down." He led Duncan to an arm-chair and gently
but firmly plumped him into its capacious depths. "We'll have a snug
little dinner here and--what do you say to taking in a show afterwards?"
"I say no."
"You dassent, my boy. This is the night we celebrate. I'm feeling pretty
good to-night."
"You ought to, Harry." Duncan struggled to rouse himself to share in
the spirit of gratulation with which Kellogg was bubbling. "I'm mighty
glad, old man. It's a great step up for you."
"It's all of that. You could have knocked me over with a feather when
Bartlett sprang it on me this morning. Of course, I was expecting
something--a boost in salary, or something like that. Bartlett knew that
other houses in the Street had made me offers--I've been pretty lucky of
late and pulled off one or two rather big deals--but a partnership with
L.J. Bartlett--! Think of it, Nat!"
"I'm thinking of it--and it's great."
"It'll keep me mighty busy," Kellogg blundered blindly on; "it means a
lot of extra work--but you know I like to work...."
"That's right, you do," agreed Duncan drearily. "It's queer to me--it
must be a great thing to like to work."
"You bet it's a great thing; why, I couldn't exist if I couldn't work. You
remember that time I laid off for a month in the country--for my
health's sake? I'll never forget it: hanging round all the time with my
hands empty--everyone else with something to do. I wouldn't go
through with it again for a fortune. Never felt so useless and in the
way--"
"But," interrupted Duncan, knitting his brows as he grappled with this

problem, "you were independent, weren't you? You had money--could
pay your board?"
"Of course; nevertheless, I felt in the way."
"That's funny...."
"It's