Familiar Faces: Stories of People You Know by Rinehart Mary Roberts

Author:Rinehart, Mary Roberts [Rinehart, Mary Roberts]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781480446243
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2013-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

II

FATE, AFTER ALL, IS a thing of chance; a leaf driven by the wind; the child of impulse. In plain words the Wop, who was about to begin the stunt of growing three inches a year for three years, and was feeling the first symptom, which is a great void, turned in to a forbidden restaurant and ordered an oyster stew.

In a way the Wop was up against it. He had a plan in his head, the slow maturing product of some months of thought. After looking the school over he had selected an accomplice in Stoddard III; but the difficulty was that Stoddard III did not know he had been selected. Did not, indeed, seem to want to be selected. Was, as a matter of fact, the most popular boy in the school and, as such, open only to exceptional offers. Hints on the Wop’s part that he had a great scheme had so far met with discouragement.

“Scheme!” Stoddard III had said once. “The only scheme that would interest me would be to get the cook fired and get someone in here who can cook. The food’s fierce!”

“Cook! Meals!” the Wop had sneered. “Don’t you ever think of anything but food? I’ve got a big thing on hand, but I don’t take in any fellow whose mind’s in his stomach.”

Still, he clung to Stoddard III as the right person. He would look well—the Wop needed an imperious type. Also, he was amiable generally and not too keen. Intending to be the brains of the undertaking himself the Wop felt that appearance and disposition were the things he needed in a king.

Yes—a king! The Wop was dreaming of empire.

The arrival of the stew was but a momentary distraction. Automatically he emptied the plate of oyster crackers into the bowl and passed it back to be filled again. Automatically he singled out the largest oyster and left it to be eaten last. His mind was searching for the bit of drama that would be necessary to catch and rivet Stoddard III’s wandering attention.

Suddenly the Wop emitted a low moan of agony and clapped his hand to his jaw. Something hard had wedged itself into a part of the engineering project in his mouth. The bridge was blocked. Traffic ceased. The Wop, muttering horribly, got out his scarfpin and fell to work. Hideous pains encompassed his jaws and ran up his cheekbones.

“Oh, heck!” said the Wop, with his face twisted. The extracted object, when it came, proved round and hard. The lines on his face smoothed out. Into his eyes there crept, behind the late tears of agony, first doubt, then hope, then certainty. He looked round and saw the waiter eying him.

“Looks like you got a bit of shell,” volunteered the waiter with sympathy.

“Looks like you people want to break a fellow’s teeth out!” said the Wop, with the round object tucked in his cheek. “You wanta be careful. I got a thousand dollars’ worth of dentist work in my mouth.”

“You

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