Marion Marlowe's Peril, or, A Mystery Unveiled — page 4: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

2 we published six months ago about the dis- appearance of beautiful Leonie St. Clair, wife of St. Clair, the artist ?” began Mr. Hor- ton. “Well, there’s a rumor that she has returned. I don’t know how true it is. Of course, if it’s straight, we want the story before the other papers. Can you look it up and see what there is in it?” “Why I thought dead!” said Miss Allyn, in surprise. considered "Hex parents gave her up, I’m sure, and so did her husband.” “T know, we all decided that she must be dead, but I have a tip that she is still liv- ing,” said the editor; “that she is hiding from her family, in fact, in the home of her she was husband, and, of course, as she was a promi- nent society belle before her marriage, a story on this suspicion will make salable fewine CO ‘ “T understand,” said Miss Allyn, smiling. “You think we can hint at the rumor and then work it up; interview the artist and the parents and that young man who fig- ured so conspicuously in the case, and al- together make a very acceptable rehash of the matter: Well, I like the idea and I’m sorry I can’t take hold of it, but, really, Mr. Horton, I’m up to my ears this week! What with the woman’s convention, and the Seventh Ward murder mystery, and the In- ternational delegates to be interviewed, and that article on ‘How to Furnish a Flat with Soap Boxes and Blue Denim,’ I am neither eating nor sleeping just at present.” “That seems to be the general cry,” said the editor, gloomily, “and I’m determined not to put a man on that story. It will take a woman and a clever one-to get around St Clair, for they say he refuses himself to all reporters.” was a crank; however, “T’ve heard he that’s nothing against him, laughed Miss Allyn, “but, by the way, Mr. Horton, I know MY QUEEN. a girl who will work up that story for you! She never did a day’s reporting in her life; still I’m not a bit afraid to recommend her.” Miss Allyn’s eyes were shining with a sud- den idea, and the eagerness in her voice did not escape the editor. “Who is she?” he asked, with an interested giance. . “She’s the girl that the papers were full “She was lured into an opium den by that sin- ger, Carlotta, and was rescued by Howard Everett, dramatic.critic of the Daily. She is a dear friend of mine, and lives with me in my flat. of last week,” was the prompt reply. I'll guarantee that, with a little coaching, she'll get that story up beau- tifully.” “T wouldn’t dream of trusting a thing like that to a green hand,” was the rather crusty answer. “Oh, but I’ll promise to help her all I can!” said Miss Allyn, quickly; “I'll look after the ‘scare heads’ and all that sort of thing. Once she gets the news, I'll find time to write it up for her.” “Well, that’s different,” said Mr. Horton, with a sigh of relief. “I respect your opin- ion, Miss Allyn, and furthermore she'll have a week to do it in, as I’m determined to have the thing for a leader next Sunday.” “Then you'll try her? Thanks! And I’m sure you'll not regret it! Shall I wire right away?” she asked, impulsively. | “Tet’s see, what’s her name?” The editor had turned back to his desk as he asked the question. , “Marion Marlowe,” said Miss Allyn, promptly. “She is a country girl. She’s only been in New York a short time, but she has already played the role of heroine in & dozen different tragedies, and you heard her sing, yourself, on the stage of the Broadway last week. She was billed as ‘Ila de Parloa’ in the Temple Opera Co,” 4 EOmMmIichboo! <SiGO m ; § q dj