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Anthony Trent, Master Criminal

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<h2>CHAPTER XIX TRENT ACQUIRES A HOME</h2> ONE day, months before the affair of the ten ambulances, Horace Weems had seen Anthony Trent about to enter Xeres’ excellent restaurant. Lacking no assurance Weems tacked himself on to his friend. “Say, do you feed here?” he demanded and looked with respect at his friend’s raiment. “Only when I’m hungry,” Trent retorted. He knew it was useless to try to get rid of Weems. “Have you dined?” “Thanks,” said Weems, “I don’t mind if I do.” In those days Weems was proud as the owner of the finest camp on Lake Kennebago. He was high stomached and generous of advice. He told Trent so much of a certain stock—a gold mine in Colorado—that at last he purchased a considerable interest in it. Later he learned that Weems had unloaded worthless stock on him. Trent bore no sort of malice. He had gone into the thing open-eyed and Weems, as he knew of yore, never sold at a loss. Weems had been wiser to have held his stock for tungsten in large quantities was discovered and what cost Trent five thousand dollars was now worth ten times that amount. It was one evening shortly after his adventures with the Baron von Eckstein that Weems called him up on the telephone. That he was able to do so annoyed Trent who had carefully concealed his number. But Horace Weems had secured it by a use of mendacity and with it the number and the address. He said he was ’phoning from a nearby drug store and was about to pay a visit. Weems was ill at ease. And he was unshaven and his shoes no longer shone with radiance. His disheveled appearance and attitude of dejection swept away his host’s annoyance. He took a stiff Scotch and seltzer. “Little Horace Weems,” he announced, “has got it in the neck!” “What’s happened?” Trent demanded. “Got that Wall Street bunch sore on me and hadn’t the sense to see the danger signals.” Weems soothed his throat with another stiff drink. “The trouble with me is I’m too courageous. I knew what I was up against but did that frighten me? No siree, no boss, I went for ’em like you used to go through a bunch of forwards in a football game. I’m like a bull terrier. I’m all fight. Size don’t worry me. They pulled me down at last but it took all the best brains in the ‘Street’ to do it. They hate a comer and I’m that. Well, this is the first round and they win on points but this isn’t a limited bout. You watch little Horace. I’ll have a turbine steam yacht yet and all the trimmings. Follow me and you’ll wear diamonds or rags—nothing between. Rags or diamonds.” Weems was a long time coming to the point. When he did it was revealed as a loan, a temporary loan. “It’s like this,” said the ingenuous Weems, “when I sold you those shares in a tungsten mine I did it because you were a friend.” “You did it,” Trent reminded him, “because you hadn’t a faint idea there was tungsten there and you thought you’d done something mighty clever. What next?” “You needn’t be sore about it,” Weems returned, “you made money.” “I’m not sore,” Trent said smiling. “You did me a good turn but I don’t have to be grateful all things considering. How much do you want?” “I shall get back,” Weems said a little sulkily. “I only want a hundred or maybe two hundred, although five hundred would see me through till I get the money for the camp.” “You are not going to sell that?” Trent cried. It was of all places the one he craved. “Got to,” Weems asserted. “Who is going to buy it?” “A fellow from Cleveland named Rumleigh.” “I remember him,” Trent said frowning, “he’s a hog, a fish hog. All the guides hate him. What’s he going to give you?” “Forty thousand,” said Weems. “Constable, grand piano and all?” “The piano’s there,” Weems told him, “but the picture is sold. Honest, Tony, that picture surprised me. Senator Scrivener gave me ten thousand dollars for it. Just some trees, an old barn and some horses looking over a gate. What do you know about that? That helped me some.” “You’re such a damned liar, Weems, that I never believe you but I’ll swear Rumleigh isn’t paying you forty thousand dollars for that camp. It’s a good camp but if you’ve got to sell in a hurry he’ll hold you down to less than that. Be honest for once and tell me what he’s going to give.” “Twenty-two thousand,” Weems said sullenly. “I’ll give you twenty-five,” said Trent carelessly. “His is a cash offer,” Weems said shaking his head, “and that’s why I’m selling so cheap.” Trent took a roll of bills from his pocket and peeled off before Weems’ astounded eyes five and twenty thousand dollars. “Mine is also a cash offer,” he observed. “Come right off to my lawyer,” Weems cried springing to his feet. “Gee, and I thought you hadn’t as much money as I have.” Thus it was that Anthony Trent came into possession of his camp. It was a beautiful place and there were improvements which he planned that would cost a lot to execute. He decided that it might be unwise to retire yet from a profession which paid him such rewards. Another year and he could lay aside his present work satisfied that financial worries need never trouble him. He admitted that many unfortunate things might happen in twelve months but he was serene in the belief that his star was in the ascendant. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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