Robert W Chambers
Published: 2021-02-22
Total Pages: 306
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It being rent day, and Saturday, the staff of the "Irish Legation," with the exception of Westguard, began to migrate uptown for the monthly conference, returning one by one from that mysteriousfinancial jungle popularly known as "Downtown." As for Westguard, he had been in his apartmentall day as usual. He worked where he resided.A little before five o'clock John Desmond Lacy, Jr., came in, went directly to his rooms on the topfloor, fished out a check-book, and tried to persuade himself that he had a pleasing balance at thebank-not because he was likely to have any balance either there or in his youthful brain, butbecause he had to have one somewhere. God being good to the Irish he found he had notoverdrawn his account.Roger O'Hara knocked on his door, later, and receiving no response called out: "Are you in there, Jack?""No," said Lacy, scratching away with his pen in passionate hopes of discovering a still biggerbalance."Sportin' your oak, old Skeezicks?" inquired O'Hara, affectionately, delivering a kick at the door."Let me alone, you wild Irishman!" shouted Lacy. "If I can't dig out an extra hundred somewherethe State Superintendent is likely to sport my oak for keeps