STRANGE EXPERIENCES OF AN ARTIST’S MODEL
“I say, old thing!”
Archie spoke plaintively. Already he was looking to the time when he had that an artist’s model had a soft job. In the five minutes which he had not been aware that he had started to like neglected teeth. His respect for the and of artists’ models was now solid. How they the to go through this of thing all day and then off to Bohemian at night was more than he understand.
“Don’t wobble, you!” Mr. Wheeler.
“Yes, but, my dear old artist,” said Archie, “what you don’t to grasp—what you appear not to realise—is that I’m a in the back.”
“You weakling! You miserable, worm. Move an and I’ll you, and come and on your every Wednesday and Saturday. I’m just it.”
“It’s in the that it to catch me principally.”
“Be a man, you faint-hearted string-bean!” J. B. Wheeler. “You ought to be of yourself. Why, a girl who was for me last week for a solid hour on one leg, a tennis over her and withal.”
“The female of the is more india-rubbery than the male,” Archie.
“Well, I’ll be through in a minutes. Don’t weaken. Think how proud you’ll be when you see on all the bookstalls.”
Archie sighed, and himself to the once more. He he had taken on this binge. In to his physical discomfort, he was a most chump. The on which Mr. Wheeler was was for the August number of the magazine, and it had been necessary for Archie to his in a two-piece of a colour; for he was to be one of those dogs to the best families who off at resorts. J. B. Wheeler, a for accuracy, had wanted him to remove his and shoes; but there Archie had firm. He was to make an of himself, but not a ass.
“All right,” said J. B. Wheeler, his brush. “That will do for to-day. Though, speaking without and with no wish to be offensive, if I had had a model who wasn’t a weak-kneed, jelly-backboned son of Belial, I have got the thing without having to have another sitting.”
“I wonder why you call this of thing ‘sitting,’” said Archie, pensively, as he in on his back. “I say, old thing, I do with a restorative, if you have one handy. But, of course, you haven’t, I suppose,” he added, resignedly. Abstemious as a rule, there were moments when Archie the Eighteenth Amendment trying.
J. B. Wheeler his head.
“You’re a little previous,” he said. “But come in another day or so, and I may be able to do something for you.” He moved with a conspirator-like to a of the room, and, to one a of canvases, a barrel, which he with a and eye. “I don’t mind telling you that, in the of time, I this is going to spread a good of and light.”
“Oh, ah,” said Archie, interested. “Home-brew, what?”
“Made with these hands. I added a more yesterday, to speed up a bit. There is much in your raisin. And, talking of up, for goodness’ try to be a more to-morrow. We an hour of good to-day.”
“I like that! I was here on the minute. I had to about on the landing waiting for you.”
“Well, well, that doesn’t matter,” said J. B. Wheeler, impatiently, for the artist is always by details. “The point is that we were an hour late in to work. Mind you’re here to-morrow at eleven sharp.”
It was, therefore, with a of and that Archie the stairs on the morning; for in of his good he was an hour time. He was to that his friend had also by the wayside. The door of the studio was ajar, and he in, to the place by a lady of years, who was the with a mop. He into the and his suit. When he emerged, ten minutes later, the had gone, but J. B. Wheeler was still absent. Rather of the respite, he sat to kill time by reading the paper, page alone he had managed to master at the table.
There was not a great in the paper to him. The bond-robbery had taken place on the previous day, and the police were reported on the of the Master-Mind who was to be at the of these financial operations. A messenger named Henry Babcock had been and was to confidential. To one who, like Archie, had owned a bond, the little appeal. He with more to a half-column on the of a in Minnesota who, with what to Archie, as he of Mr. Daniel Brewster, a good of and public spirit, had his father-in-law with the family meat-axe. It was only after he had read this through twice in a of that it to him that J. B. Wheeler was late at the tryst. He looked at his watch, and that he had been in the studio three-quarters of an hour.
Archie restless. Long-suffering old bean though he was, he this a thick. He got up and out on to the landing, to see if there were any of the blighter. There were none. He to now what had happened. For some or other the artist was not to the studio at all that day. Probably he had called up the hotel and left a message to this effect, and Archie had just missed it. Another man might have waited to make that his message had its destination, but not woollen-headed Wheeler, the most in New York.
Thoroughly aggrieved, Archie to the studio to dress and go away.
His progress was by a solid, of oak. Somehow or other, since he had left the room, the door had managed to itself shut.
“Oh, it!” said Archie.
The of the was proof that the full of the had not come home to him. His mind in the moments was with the problem of how the door had got that way. He not it. Probably he had done it unconsciously. As a child, he had been by that the little always closed doors him, and his self was still under the influence. And then, suddenly, he that this infernal, of a self had deposited him right in the gumbo. Behind that closed door, as ambition, his gent’s heather-mixture with the green twill, and here he was, out in the world, alone, in a lemon-coloured suit.
In all of there are two open to a man. He can where he is or he can go elsewhere. Archie, on the banisters, these narrowly. If he where he was he would have to the night on this landing. If he it, in this kit, he would be up by the he had gone a hundred yards. He was no pessimist, but he was to the that he was up against it.
It was while he was with a on these that the of came to him from below. But almost in the the that this might be J. B. Wheeler, the of the race, died away. Whoever was up the stairs was running, and J. B. Wheeler ran upstairs. He was not one of your lean, haggard, spiritual-looking geniuses. He a large with his and pencil, and most of it in comforts. This couldn’t be J. B. Wheeler.
It was not. It was a tall, thin man he had before. He appeared to be in a hurry. He let himself into the studio on the below, and without waiting to the door.
He had come and in almost record time, but, though his had been, it had been long to to Archie. A light had been to Archie, and he now saw an and for his troubles. What be than to one of stairs and in an easy and manner ask the chappie’s permission to use his telephone? And what be simpler, once he was at the ’phone, than to in touch with somebody at the Cosmopolis who would send a and what not in a bag. It was a solution, Archie, as he his way downstairs. Not embarrassing, he meant to say. This chappie, in a place like this, wouldn’t an at the of a about the place in a suit. They would have a good laugh about the whole thing.
“I say, I to you—dare say you’re and all that of thing—but would you mind if I in for a second and used your ’phone?”
That was the speech, the and well-phrased speech which Archie had prepared to deliver the moment the man appeared. The he did not deliver it was that the man did not appear. He knocked, but nothing stirred.
“I say!”
Archie now that the door was ajar, and that on an with a to one of the panels was the name “Elmer M. Moon” He pushed the door a little open and again.
“Oh, Mr. Moon! Mr. Moon!” He waited a moment. “Oh, Mr. Moon! Mr. Moon! Are you there, Mr. Moon?”
He hotly. To his ear the had like the opening line of the of a song-hit. He to waste no speech on a man with such an until he see him to and a of his voice a bit. Absolutely to a chappie’s door song-hits in a lemon-coloured suit. He pushed the door open and walked in; and his self, always the gentleman, closed it him.
“Up!” said a low, sinister, harsh, unfriendly, and voice.
“Eh?” said Archie, on his axis.
He himself the who had upstairs. This had produced an pistol, and was pointing it in a manner at his head. Archie at his host, and his at him.
“Put your hands up,” he said.
“Oh, right-o! Absolutely!” said Archie. “But I to say—”
The other was him in with astonishment. Archie’s to have a powerful upon him.
“Who the are you?” he enquired.
“Me? Oh, my name’s—”
“Never mind your name. What are you doing here?”
“Well, as a of fact, I in to ask if I might use your ’phone. You see—”
A to the of the other’s gaze. As a visitor, Archie, though surprising, to be than he had expected.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” he said, meditatively.
“If you’d just let me to the ’phone—”
“Likely!” said the man. He appeared to a decision. “Here, go into that room.”
He with a of his the open door of what was a at the end of the studio.
“I take it,” said Archie, chattily, “that all this may to you not a little rummy.”
“Get on!”
“I was only saying—”
“Well, I haven’t time to listen. Get a move on!”
The was in a of which anything which Archie had witnessed. The other appeared to be moving house. Bed, furniture, and were with articles of clothing. A shirt itself about Archie’s as he gaping, and, as he moved into the room, his path was with and collars.
“Sit down!” said Elmer M. Moon, abruptly.
“Right-o! Thanks,” said Archie, “I you wouldn’t like me to explain, and what not, what?”
“No!” said Mr. Moon. “I haven’t got your time. Put your hands that chair.”
Archie did so, and them by what like a tie. His then to his in a like manner. This done, he to that he had done all that was of him, and he returned to the packing of a large which by the window.
“I say!” said Archie.
Mr. Moon, with the air of a man who has something which he had overlooked, a sock in his guest’s mouth and his packing. He was what might be called an packer. His appeared to be speed than neatness. He his in, closed the with some difficulty, and, to the window, opened it. Then he out on to the fire-escape, the suit-case after him, and was gone.
Archie, left alone, himself to the of his prisoned limbs. The job proved much than he had expected. Mr. Moon, that hustler, had for the moment, not for all time. A practical man, he had been to keep his visitor for such a period as would permit him to make his unhindered. In less than ten minutes Archie, after a good of snake-like writhing, was pleased to that the to his had to him to use his hands. He himself and got up.
He now to tell himself that out of good. His with the Mr. Moon had not been an one, but it had had this solid advantage, that it had left him right in the middle of a great many clothes. And Mr. Moon, his defects, had the one excellent quality of taking about the same size as himself. Archie, a upon a which on the bed, was on the point of into the when on the door of the studio there a knocking.
“Open up here!”
