Books › Blue Book v073 n06 [1941-10], 1941 › scan 4
Scan 4
Blue Book v073 n06 [1941-10], 1941
38 lines. Read by computer on 18 September 2026. No printed page number was found. See the scan on archive.org.
1CALL IT LUCK
3by H. BEDFORD-JONES
5"It is," said Scrimson with an air of distaste. "It's all of that."
6"Who was the house guest?"
7"I can't tell you that. To be frank, I don't know that I like the affair at all. It's most unusual." Scrimson was distinctly ruffled. "You are to go to that address at ten in the morning. That's all I can say."
9HARDESTY departed, too excited to let Scrimson's manner irritate him. A hoax? Possibly. On the other hand, it might be a lucky break; and that was something he needed badly. He left the hotel by the [address hidden] entrance, stopped in at a tavern, bought a glass of beer and consumed as much free lunch as possible, then looked through a telephone book. Yes, the Cavendeen firm was listed; that much was real, at least.
11Saving a dime for breakfast, he shot the rest of his dollar for dinner that evening. Luckily, his room rent was paid ahead, to the first of the month.
13At nine-forty-five next morning, he entered the building that housed the office of Cavendeen & Carver. And, as he approached the elevator, he came face to face with her again. Sheer amazement halted him in his tracks. Then, as their eyes met, he was aware of the same queer play of forces he had sensed in the hotel lobby—a warming, penetrating vibrancy as of ultrasonic waves that one felt yet could not feel. And she stopped, smiling, speaking his name.
15"Good morning, Mr. Hardesty! I see you're keeping the appointment."
16Confusion swamped him, as he comprehended.
17"Oh, good morning! So it was you—the mysterious good-deed-for-the-day person!"
18"Of course it was. Will you forgive me?" She spoke gravely, her smile gone. Still he was only vaguely aware of details—her rich, deep voice, the golden dusky rose of her features, the instant appeal that she made to every fiber of him. It was like meeting someone he had known long since and lost awhile.
19"Something about you struck me," she was saying. "It seemed to me you might be the very person Mr. Cavendeen was looking for, and I brought you to his attention. That was all.
20Again, will you forgive me? You see, I asked Mr. Scrimson who you were, and he told me."
21"Forgive you? That's the wrong way to look at it," said Hardesty, fumbling for words. "If this comes to anything, I owe you thanks, and much more. I can't tell you how I feel about it—about everything." He checked himself abruptly, under her gaze.
22"Don't thank me. I understand that it's a pretty desperate venture," she replied, still gravely. "It was only because of something in your eyes, in your face, in your manner…. Well, there it is. 'Eight are the gates'—you are aware of the quotation?"
23"No," he said, bewildered. "I don't know what you're talking about."
24"You will, perhaps." She put out her hand to him, and he took it mechanically. "I may have done wrong, after all. I hope not. Good-by, and let me wish you luck; I'm afraid you'll need it."
25She passed on toward the street entrance. Hardesty, with a catch of his breath, stepped into a waiting elevator. It was all unreal; it was like a dream, this meeting; her words reduced things to logical bases, yet left him even more bewildered than before. "Eight are the gates"—what the deuce had she meant by that cryptic phrase?
26The doors opened; he stepped off at his floor, and walked into a prosaic, musty office. The receptionist took his name. He was sent on at once, and found himself in a rather dingy private office where a gaunt, grizzled man sat at a desk and glowered at him.
27"Mr. Hardesty? Very good. You're five minutes ahead of time," said Cavendeen accusingly, and snapped an interphone switch. "Give me the report on Mr. Hardesty, please."
28A secretary entered with typed sheets. Cavendeen gestured to a chair and Hardesty sat down. He was gradually coming alert, and a good thing, too, for the lawyer glanced up and began the most incredible conversation he had ever heard.
29"So; the report's not so bad, Mr. Hardesty."
30"I understand you're representing Miss Negli?" Hardesty ventured.
31"I am not," snapped Cavendeen. He had a face like a skull, all skin and bone. "We represent the Chosan Import & Export Corporation and no one else, in this matter. Are you willing to earn—and I say earn—from half a million to a million dollars?"
32"Just try me," said Hardesty. He did not take the words seriously, until he met the cold gaze of Cavendeen.
33"Very well; it is no occasion for levity." Cavendeen's tone conveyed the impression of active dislike. "We represent the Chosan Corporation, as I say. This corporation was formerly of great wealth, but its owner and organizer was killed last year in the bombing of Chungking, and thanks to the Oriental upsets and Japanese-Axis activities, there's nothing much left except certain tangible and intangible assets. Your work will be to collect them. We are helpless legally. Such, in brief, is the situation."
35CAVENDEEN pushed across the desk a sheaf of banknotes, and another sheaf of documents.
36"Here is a thousand dollars expense-money. Here is a power of attorney which empowers you to make settlements on behalf of the corporation; one-third of the amounts collected will belong to you. We can give no assistance; you are strictly on your own. Your judgment will be final in all matters. If you fail, we're no worse off."
37Obviously, Mr. Cavendeen expected failure. Hardesty's incredulity mounted, but he pulled himself together with an effort.
The computer misreads some letters and numbers. Where a name matters to you, read the scan.