Buchanan Says No by Jonas Ward Page A

himself to a deep whiff of musk- perfume before kissing her as well as he knew how.
    "Close that damn door," Ruby Weston said huskil y "Lock it"
    Buchanan sniffed her again, "Kiss any men lately?" he asked cheerfully,
    "Just now. Are you going to close the door?"
    "He most certainly is not ,” said a determined voice behind them. It was the landlady, and she had in tow still another prospective faro dealer. "Just what is your game? Mr . Buchanan?" the landlady asked archly.
    Buchanan grinned away her indignation.
    "Wish you'd apply for the job, Mrs. Cole ,” he told her. "Like to show you how these interviews go."
    "Oh, no, you won't!" the woman protested, actually taking a step backward,
    Buchanan turned to the girl with her.
    "Afraid it's taken, honey ,” he said. "Mrs. Weston here fills the bill."
    "In that case ,” Mrs. Cole said, "I'll escort the lady downstairs."
    "As a matter of fact ,” Ruby said ? "I'd like a room in your house ,”
    "We're filled up."
    "Oh, it doesn't have to be fancy," the dark-haired girl told her airily. "I'll go up to Bella House now and have my things sent down."
    Ruby left Buchanan's side and proceeded down the corridor with such regality that the landlady's protests got locked in her throat.
    "I think I'm going to rue the day I ever set eyes on you," she said to Buchanan instead.
    "The way business is picking up?"
    "Hmph! Monkey business I call it."
    He was left to himself then and he closed the door. And that defined the room's dimensions, made the tall man feel contained, boxed-in. That and the perfumed wo man scent in his nostrils made restlessness complete. Buc hanan had no place to go but he wanted out, and he w ent from the Green Lantern boardinghouse to Signal Street.
    There was something heady and exciting down there, too. Something special in the very air of Bella itself. The irde ad in the Bulletin proved to be the news item that Editor Creamer predicted it would, and coupled with the rumo rs pronged activity at Little Joe's place and the Happy 7 res taurant , it set people to talking, got citizens to gathering in st reet-corner groups with something else to discuss but th e weather and bad times,
    And whatever the excitement was, the handbills that Little Joe had created gave it a boost. They were throw away s, set in circus type and illustrated with a defiant s ty le above crossed flags, dotted with pointing fingers and generous use of double, triple, and even quadruple ex clama tion points. Most of all, there was something solid and reassuring about "The South Signal Street Merchants' Association." It was a catch-all, and every man and woman on the wrong side of the deadline considered themselves to b e automatically members, with full voting privileges and a share of the responsibility.
    With the result that Little Joe and Billy Burke found themselves overwhelmed with help and advice . Redecorat ing both establishments became a community project. Walls were not merely washed of their dirt, they were painted over . Drapes were hung, rugs laid, and from the st orage room of the livery stable came a long-forgotten but truly decorative back-bar mirror.
    Buchanan looked in at the Happy Times, found it almost approximating the "New! Gala ! ! Glittering ! ! ! Saloon & Gambling Palace ! ! ! !" described in the hand b ills. He didn't know that his bosses, the founders of the S.S.S.M.A., had also accepted help of a more personal na ture, that the girls from Big Annie's were offering the ir services as barmaids for the duration of opening week as a special accommodation for the overflow crowd of gents expected. Or that the barber and the blacksmith's helper volunteered their fiddle and piano playing.
    Buchanan especially didn't know about the changes that had been made in his own character. Whereas this morning he was generally known as a homeless drifter who'd spent the night in jail for rough - necking, this afternoon he'd been transformed into a champion. As he strolled the street