Boy's Cinema (1930-31)

).e miinnured. "Say, have you noticed how everybody looks at me when I walk iiifo the dining-room?" •'Well, why shouldn't they?" The Kid's clean-cut face registered Etlt'-satisfaction. Already it seemed as if tlie first seeds of an unbearable con- i cit and vanity were being sown in him by this v.onian who could influence him to much. The Return. ^"" IN the sparring ring at George Regan's quarters two masked figures were engaged in a work-out. One was a young fellow by the name of Rattler O'Keefc. Of the same fighting-weight as Kid Mason, he as yet lacked the ihampion's experience, and would prob- ably never possess the Kid's sheer genius for ringcraft and footwork, which Regan had so skilfully developed. But he was a "come-on " with plenty of Ijromiso, bidding fair to go a long way jn the glove game under George's cx- 1 crt handling. George Regan called him over at the end of the bout. "Hej-, Rattler," he snapped, "come here! How many times have I got to 1 emind you that you have two hands ? Your left hand—what's that for ? Do yon get me ?" "Yes, sir," said Rattler, a willing pupil. "What?" jerked Regan. "Yes, George," Rattler corrected hastily. Regan's eyes twinkled. " That's better," he began, but before he could say more there was a com- motion at the entrance to the gym, and the voice of old JefF was heard to give utterance to a joyful exclamation. "Hurray! It's the champ!" A resplendent figure crossed the tlireshold. He carried an ebony cane and was dressed in a bowler-hat and morning suit, silk shirt, diamond tiepin, r.nd patent shoes finishing off the picture. It was difficult to reconcde him with the old Kid Mason, for his manner as well as his appearance seemed changed. "Gee," old Jeff murmured, "but yoti look swell! How've you been, champ?" "Oh, fine, Jeff—fine!" the Kid drawled airily. "See you later." And he sauntered past the old fellow to where George Regan was standing. They shook hands. "Hallo, Kid!" George greeted. "What are you made up for?" Tho Kid's laugh was almost con- descendingly good-natured. "Still the same kidder, George," he observed. " You haven't changed a bit." Regan's latest protege approached. "Hallo, champ!" he said, holding out his fist. "I'm Rattler O'Keefe." .. The Kid raised his eyebrows and pointedly ignored the other's hand. Rattler seemed nonplussed, and glanced at Regan awkwardly. The fight-manager was watching the Kid, a queer, shrewd glint m his eyes. "O'Keefe?" said the Kid, with a pre- tence of being puzzled. "Oh, yeah— yeah—I fJiink I did read something abdut you in the papers down in Florida." " George hero bought up my con- tract," Rattler explained. "We're work- ing in the ."^ame ftahle now, champ." "Yeah?" Tho Kid's lip almost curled. "Well, that's great." Then, a.s Rattler )uovc<l away discomfited, the Kid looked around with contempt. "The same bunch of mup," he mused with a sneer. "Never getting any place. Well, how've yoii been getting along without me, (Je-orge?" "Oh, fine!" .said Regan. "I've been July nth, 1031. BOY'S CINEMA busy—training fighters; fighters who'll fight, I mean. You don't seem to be in any hurry." "There's no rush, is there?" the Kid argued. "Matter of fact, we've just been getting settled in a new apartment, and Rose " "Oh, the missus, eh?" said Regan, with involuntaiyf sarcasm. The Kid's eyes narrowed angrily. "Now, listen, George," he ground out. "If you've got any more to say about that, you'd better not say it. Because what I do for Rose is my busi- ness and nobody else's. Oh, what's the use?" he added, cooling down. "I didn't come here to start a row with you. I just wanted to ask you to come over and see the new apartment." "Why, I'd like to. Kid," George mut- tered. " But—you know Rose doesn't want me up there.'- 'The Kid smiled. "Well," he stated, "you're going to get the surprise of your life if you think Rose doesn't like you, George. I'm telling you. Wait till you see her. She's a changed girl—you'd never know her. Oh, come and see for yourself!" So George Regan was coaxed into accompanying tho Kid to his magnificent suite ijot far from Fifth Avenue. An elevator took them to the tenth floor of the pretentious building in which it was located, and as their shoes sank into the pile of a thick corridor carpet George expressed his admiration. They reached a door above which a cunning electric sign bore the name "Mason." "Oh, by the way, George," the Kid mentioned, "in a place like this you've gotta have a lot of servants, you know. Matter of fact. Rose has a butler. But what I was going to say is—please don't wise-crack." The Kid rang a bell, and the door was opened by a man in morning dress who happened to be in the hall—a tall, pallid, immaculate man with a small, dark moustache. The butler, thought George, and handed him his hat. The man took it, looked at him curiously, and then spoke to the Kid. "Mr. MaxSon, I presume," he said. "My name's Lewis—Paul II. Lewis. I've been delightfully entertained by Mrs. Mason. She's a very dear friend of my wife. We met her in Hollywood." "Oh, I've heard her talk about you!" the Kid answered. "Meet my manager, Mr. Regan." George acknowledged the introduction sheepishly and grabbed back his head- gear. "How are yuh?" he said. "Er—^I'm sorry about the hat." They walked through to a sumptuous lounge where Rose and Mrs. Lewis were sitting, and sure enough, George Regan found Rose peculiarly charming to liim, though he had tho feeling that her friendliness was not sincere. Lewis, who was connected with the screen and the stage, had once been a fight manager, and some conversation on that subject followed. Then Rose sug- gested that the Kid might show George over the rest of the apartment, and Mrs. Lewis insisted on accompanying the two men in their tour of the rooiris. Lewis and Rose were left alone. Paus- ing a little way beyond the threshold of the lounge, Regan looked hack and saw that thoy were sitting claso to each other on a davenport couch, and, regarding them for a moment, it struck Regan that they seemed rather more than friendly now tJiat Mrs. Lewis and the Kid were out of tho way. Some time later, when George Regan Every Tuesday announced that he must be going,- the Kid accompanied him to the front door. "Yes, sir, the place is a knock-out," Regan declared emphatically. " Silk sheets, futuristic furniture, servants an' everj'thing." Then: "Say, Kid," he added all at once, "do you have black coffee with your supper here ?" "Why, yes, sure," the Kid answered in a puzzled fashion. "Afterwards, if you want it." "Good idea," said George Regan cryptically. "Keeps your eyes open. Keeps you awake. Drink a lot of it, Kid." The Kid stared after him wonderingly as he went out into the corridor. ^ The Split. THREE nights later, as Kid Mason was strolling into a smart cabaret- restaurant in which Paul Lewis was interested, a reporter buttonholed him. "I'm from the ' Moniing News,' " tho Press man explained. "Can you tip me off when you intend to give Sailor Hesa a match, champ?" The Kid's eyes glittered. "You've got your nerve, waylaying me!" he rapped out. "Listen, I've got nothing to say—except that I'll fight Sailor Hess when he's good enough to get up against me I 'You can print that." The reporter looked at the Kid dis- gustedly as the latter turned on his heel. Then he called after him: "Oh, how about Joe Savella? He's spoilin' for a fight with you, too." "When I'm ready to take on gas-hqtj.=e pugs, I let you know," the Kid said over his shoulder. The reporter sneered. "Oh, I see!" he miittered under his breath. "What size hat do you wear?" TJie follovping day the " New York Evening Post " came out with two-inch headlines concerning that brief inter- view. 1 "NEW CHAMPION'S HEAD TOO LARGE FOR CROWN. Iron Man Kid Mason, Now Training in Night Clubs, Says Challengers are Gas-house Pugs!" George Regan read those scathing comments at the gymnasium, and with a bitter expression on his face took a cab to the Kid's apartment, meeting the boxer in the hall. From the direction of the lounge came the sound of lazy music and drawling voices. "I'm sorry," Regan apologised; "I didn't know you had a party. I wanted to talk to you about this razzing you're getting in the newspapers." The Kid looked annoyed. " This is not the place to t-alk about that,'" he said, "in a man's home." "Well, I have to come up here if I want to see you," Regan reminded him bluntly. "You're never at the gym." "Aw, we'll talk about it later," the Kid rejoined. " Come in and have a drink before you go." He led him into the-lounge and over to a table that was laden with bottles. George took one drink—then another— and another. The reason for his call was almost forgotten; he began to talk rcminiscently of their early days, and tho Kid. his old self for the moment, laughe<l heartily over some of the incidents that were recalled. Then a girl came up and insisted tliat ho should dance with her, and George Regan was left to himself. Rose a.'id Paul Lewis were already among the couples who were gliding across the floor to the music of a radio- gramophone, and presently tho two of them paused beside a wide, carpeted