“All the more reason why I should not worry about saving money.”
“But you still have opportunity to accumulate—”
Dryer broke off as the door opened. A round-faced, moony-looking man stepped into view. Like Colin, this visitor was attired in a tuxedo. His face bore a slight resemblance to that of the young man at the desk.
“Well, well!” laughed Colin. “If it isn’t Cousin Mark. Hello, old bean. Haven’t seen you in a long while.”
“Good evening, Colin,” returned Mark Eldreth, in a cold tone. “Good evening, Mr. Dryer. Shall I wait in the outer office until your business is transacted?”
It was Colin who replied for Dryer. Strolling toward the door, Colin stopped beside his cousin. He and Mark made a definite contrast, for their resemblance ended with a slight facial likeness.
Colin was taller than his cousin. He was also more limber and looked younger, for Mark was somewhat portly. In addition, Colin possessed a nonchalance that was apparent in every action. His smile was one of sarcasm, his chuckle was tinged with unmasked disdain.
MARK, staring through large spectacles, looked troubled and disturbed at his cousin’s contemptuous attitude. Serious of expression, Mark drew away to make a path for Colin’s exit. He winced when Colin gave him a friendly jab in the ribs. That punch was more than the slight poke it appeared to be.
“Stay here, Mark,” snorted Colin. “Talk to Dryer. Let him talk to you. He has plenty of wise advice on investments and you’re the sort who would take it seriously.
“Say, old man!” Colin stepped back and pretended to notice Mark’s tuxedo for the first time. “You’re all dressed up! Don’t tell me that you’re stepping out for once?”
“I dined at the St. Francis,” responded Mark, seriously, “and this evening, I am entertaining guests at my home. We are having a musicale, Colin. We expect an excellent cello soloist. If you would care to hear his recital—”
“Sorry, old top. I have another engagement. I may drop in some evening, though. Say!” Colin snapped his fingers. “I might be coming past your house later this evening. If it isn’t too late, I may drop in, just to say hello and catch a glimpse of that long-haired cello player.”
“Stofsky is not long-haired. In fact, he is almost bald.”
“Indeed! A bald-headed cello player. That’s worth seeing. Baldheaded, eh? You’ll be that way soon, Mark.”
Thrusting out his hand, Colin rumpled Mark’s thin hair in a manner that was half rough, half good-natured.
Mark made a grab to protect his spectacles. Colin took advantage of the move to give his cousin another poke in the ribs.
As Mark doubled, spluttering, Colin waved to Dryer and strolled from the office giving the door a slam as sequel to his departure.
“Outrageous!” stormed Dryer. “That young upstart nearly broke the glass panel in the door. It is becoming unbearable, Mark. Never have I seen such insolence!”
“Colin’s all right, Mr. Dryer,” puffed Mark. “He’s — he’s just — just happy-go-lucky. Even if he does have the habit — the habit of punching the breath from people. Whoo!”
“You call him happy-go-lucky?” quizzed Dryer, as Mark seated himself in front of the desk. “I have a different term for Colin. I say that he is a ne’er-do-well.”
“Rather a harsh decision, Mr. Dryer.”
“One that is justified by circumstances. You have always stood up for Colin, Mark, even though he holds nothing but contempt for you.”
“We were boys together, Mr. Dryer. Almost like brothers.”
“You have become grown men, well in your thirties. You have taken up the serious affairs of life, Mark. Like Colin, you have an annual income of approximately twenty-five thousand dollars. You have handled it wisely, putting much of your money into sound investments.”
“Thanks to your advice, Mr. Dryer.”
“That is the very point, Mark. I have given Colin the advantage of my same sound judgment. He has refused to take it.”
“We discussed that fact a month ago, Mr. Dryer. I told you then that I was sure Colin was really saving money.”
“YOU are wrong, Mark.” Dryer paused, then continued. “Colin throws away every dollar that he gains. In fact, I suspect that he may even be in debt.”
“In debt? With all the money he receives? Impossible!”
“I have had him watched, as I told you I intended to do. Even if I cannot cut off his income, I can perform my duty to your grandfather and keep an eye on Colin’s affairs.”
“But is it fair to Colin? Suppose he learns—”
“He will not discover that he is being watched. I have hired an excellent investigator, a private detective named Durling. He has reported that Colin goes regularly to the Club Monterey.”
“Dreadful! That place has a terrible reputation.”
“It is infested by gamblers. It leads to bad associations. Yet Colin continues to go there nightly. Though he did not mention it, the Club Monterey is his destination tonight.”
Mark stared, aghast. Dryer shook his head in sorrowful fashion, then opened a drawer and brought out a stack of papers which he placed beside the check book.
“Let us talk about investments,” suggested the lawyer. “Since you will probably wish to purchase more securities, we should utilize the remainder of your time here to discuss sound offerings at present on the market.”
The conference began, with Colin Eldreth forgotten. That, in a sense, was unfortunate. For that young man was destined to play a part in coming circumstances that would involve the affairs of both Weldon Dryer and Mark Eldreth.
CHAPTER III. AT THE CLUB
IT was twenty minutes after eight when Colin Eldreth had left Weldon Dryer’s office. Fifteen minutes later, an expensive coupe drew up in front of the pretentious Club Monterey. The driver of the coupe was Colin Eldreth. He was glancing at his watch when he alighted.
Ascending a flight of stone steps, Colin entered the portals of the gambling casino. As soon as he was out of sight, a stocky observer stepped into view from a doorway across the street. This lurker followed the path that Colin had taken.
Only privileged persons were allowed admittance to the Club Monterey. The stocky man was evidently one of these, for when he rang at an inner door, an eye observed him through a peephole and bolts unclicked immediately afterward.
But when the stocky man stepped past the inner portal, he was stopped by a big husky who drew him into a corner of the little anteroom.
“Listen, Durling,” whispered the husky, “I’m takin’ a chance on lettin’ you in here. If the boss knowed you was a dick—”
“Forget it, Pete,” returned the stocky man. “You know I’m not working with the force. I’m a private investigator.”
“But that don’t mean you won’t be makin’ trouble—”
“Who for?”
“For the boss, or maybe some of the boys—”
“Not a chance, Pete. Listen: Stew Randler is welcome to all the dough he can make out of this joint. The more suckers he takes over, the better.”
“Then you ain’t tryin’ to drag nobody out o’ here?”
“Not by a long shot. I’m watching that guy Eldreth, who just came in; but he don’t know it. Where he goes, I go — that is, when he’s loose around town. When he comes here, I’ve got to come here, too. That’s all, Pete.”
“All right. Go on in.”
DURLING shoved a bill into Pete’s fist. The husky grinned and pocketed the money. He unlocked an inner door. Durling strolled into a room where a crowd was thronged at tables and a bar.
This was the direct route to the roulette room, but before proceeding, Durling looked about for Colin Eldreth. He spied his man near the end of a bar.