Quin
Copyright© 2025 by Alice Caldwell Hegan Rice
Chapter 8
It was well that Quin had an errand to perform that night. His emotions, which had been accumulating compound interest since five o’clock, demanded an outlet in immediate action. He had not the faintest idea where the Aristo Apartments might be; but, wherever they were, he meant to find them. Consultation with a telephone book at the corner drug-store sent him across the city to a newer and more fashionable residence quarter. As he left the street-car at the corner indicated, he asked a man who was just dismounting from a taxi-cab for further information.
When the dapper gentleman, thus addressed, turned toward him, it was evident that he had dined not wisely but too well. He was at that mellow stage that radiates affection, and, having bidden a loving farewell to the taxi driver, he now linked his arm in Quin’s and repeated gaily:
“‘Risto? Of course I can find it for you, if it’s where it was this morning! Always make a point of helping a man that’s worse off than I am. Always help a sholdier, anyhow. Take my arm, old chap. Take my cane, too. I’ll help you.”
Thus assisted and assisting, Quin good-humoredly allowed himself to be conducted in a zigzag course to the imposing doorway of a large apartment-house across the street.
“Forgive me f’ taking you up stairway,” apologized the affable gentleman. “Mustn’t let elevator boy see you in this condishun. Take you up to my apartment. Put you bed in m’ own room. Got to take care sholdiers.”
At the second floor Quin tried to disentangle himself from his new-found protector.
“You can find your way home now, partner,” he said. “I got to go down and find out which floor my party lives on.”
But his companion held him tight.
“No, my boy! Mustn’t go out again to-night. M.P.’s’ll catch you. I’ll get you to bed without anybody knowing. Mustn’t ‘sturb my wife, though. Mustn’t make any noise.” And, adding force to persuasion, he got his arms around Quin and backed him so suddenly against the wall that they both took an unexpected seat on the floor.
At this inopportune moment a door opened and a delicate blonde lady in a pink kimono, followed by an inquisitive poodle, peered anxiously out.
“‘S perfectly all right, darling!” reassured the nethermost figure blithely. “Sholdier friend’s had a little too much champagne. Bringing him in so’s won’t be ‘rested. Nicest kind of chap. Perfectly harmless!”
Quin scrambled to his feet and exchanged an understanding look with the lady in the doorway.
“I found him down at the corner. Does he belong here?” he asked. And, upon being informed sorrowfully that he did, he added obligingly, “Don’t you want me to bring him in for you?”
“Will you?” said the lady in grateful agitation. “The maids are both out, and I can’t handle him by myself. Would you mind bringing him into his bedroom?”
Quin succeeded in detaching an affectionate arm from his right leg and, getting his patient up, piloted him into the apartment.
“I’d just as leave put him to bed for you if you like?” he offered, noting the nervousness of the lady, who was fluttering about like a distracted butterfly.
“Oh, would you?” she asked. “It would help me immensely. If he isn’t put to bed he is sure to want to go out again.”
“Shure to!” heartily agreed the object of their solicitude. “Leave him to me, darling. I’ll hide his uniform so’s he can’t go out. Be a good girl, run along—I’ll take care of him.”
Thus left to each other, a satisfactory compromise was effected by which the host agreed to be undressed and put to bed, provided Quin would later submit to the same treatment. It was not the first time Quin had thus assisted a brother in misfortune, but he had never before had to do with gold buttons and jeweled cuff-links, to say nothing of silk underwear and sky-blue pajamas. Being on the eve of adopting civilian clothes for the first time in two years, he took a lively interest in every detail of his patient’s attire, from the modish cut of his coat to the smart pattern of his necktie.
The bibulous one, who up to the present had regarded the affair as humorous, now began to be lachrymose, and by the time Quin got him into the rose-draped bed he was in a state of deep dejection.
“My mother loves me,” he assured Quin tearfully. “Gives me everything. I don’t mean to be ungrateful. But I can’t go on in the firm. Bangs is dishonest, but she won’t believe it. She thinks I don’t know. They both think I’m a cipher. I am a cipher. But they’ve made me one. Get so discouraged, then go break over like this. Promised Flo never would take another drink. But it’s no use. Can’t help myself. I’m done for. Just a cipher, a cipher, a ci——”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.