Page:Weird Tales volume 02 number 03.djvu/75





ENNETT TIERNEY did a queer thing. We were in his rooms on Central Park South, discussing Tom, Dick and Harriet when my gaze was arrested by a photograph on his desk.

It was the picture of a girl in decollete gown, with a rose fastened in the diaphanous draperies of her bodice—a girl of classic beauty. For the nonce, I forgot everything trying to recall where I had seen that vivid face.

When I had sauntered into Bennett's bachelor apartments, he had called my attention to the view from his windows. Now, he suddenly sprang to his feet and with a wide gesture cried:

"Look, McDonald, there goes a Cardinal—in that victoria!"

As I glanced down at a figure in ecclesiastical scarlet, Bennett strode quickly across the room. I turned in time to see him grasp the photograph which had piqued my interest and throw it into the drawer of his desk. Then he dropped into a chair where he sat motionless—his face a mask.

"What on earth—" I began, and stopped abruptly. One could as soon chuck President Coolidge under the chin or wink at General Pershing as assume liberties with Bennett Tierney. But why on earth, I wondered, did he want to get that picture out of my sight?

The incident brought to mind talk I had heard of Bennett's engagement to an out-of-town girl. But whether the match had materialized I never had heard. I was endeavoring to piece together odd fragments of gossip when Bennett brought me back to actualities,

"It's odd how you and I have drifted," he began. "Pals at Harvard—now almost strangers. You're still at 111 Broadway?"

"Oh, I'm there all right, although my clients don't seem aware of the fact. The population of Greater New York is over seven millions, yet, judging from the eager multitudes which flock to my door, Manhattan might be a desert