Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

The Secret of Caprice Drummond said as if he felt called upon to step in as truce-maker. Blaydon moistened his lips with his tongue, and his shoulders rose and fell as if in a silent sigh of relief that the strain was safely over. Fenton, seeing that the out- ward semblance of amity had been pro- duced, stepped forward, standing by the car ready to shake hands if the other man offered to do so, but Stephen Blaydon, with a nod of recognition toward him, bustled down into the tonneau for his grip and busied himself with the handle of the door before John Drummond could reach it to help him. With both hands thus occupied, he climbed down and dismissed Drummond with a curt nod. Then he turned to Fenton. “So you are Mr. Fenton, are your” he asked in a tone that was neither friendly nor unfriendly. “Where is Mr. Conway?” The question put Ward on his guard at once. It was direct and peremptory, as though Blaydon expected it to be construed as a command to go and fetch Phil to him. Ward did not like the tone; he liked even less the little glint of impatience in the gray eyes. “Mr. Conway is not here at present,” he said shortly. Blaydon looked up sharply with some- thing very like a start of surprise. “Not here?” he repeated as though he doubted the truth of the statement. ‘“The chauffeur told me he was.”’ Ward stiffened at the implication. “Mr. Conway and I are not in the habit of taking chauffeurs into our confidence,” he said with biting incision. ‘Neither do we consult them about our plans.”’ The gray eyes that stared at him looked frightened. Evidently Stephen Blaydon saw that he had made a mistake at the very outset. “Oh, come now,” he said in a tone meant to be conciliatory; ‘‘don’t get huffy about a little thing like that. Why, bless your soul, man, I didn’t mean for a moment to doubt your word. I was only surprised be- cause—well, I guess just because I had made up my mind that I would find him here. We’re old friends, you know—that is, the families are, and I’ve bent elbows with him myself over several tables in New York. Good fellow, Phil is. I’m sorry he’s <e here, but I suppose he’ll be back soon, e 3? It was a tone of well-assumed careless- 39 ness and nonchalance and it might have dis- armed Ward had not the gray eyes again flashed him that inimical scrutiny. “T do not know just when he will return,” he said. “Let us go into the tent. I pre- sume you would like to find out what we have discovered down here.” “Yes, but-—but——"” Under the skin of Blaydon’s full cheeks, Fenton saw the little threads of pink veins that would some day be purple and apo- plectic. The man was undoubtedly angry at the curtness of the aviator’s sentences, yet he was struggling hard to keep himself well in hand and not arouse too much antago- nism. It was a struggle for which he had evidently not been well fitted in his life of easy-going good-fellowship. “Oh, confound it!” he blurted. “You’re a queer cuss, aren’t you? You seem to get huffy if I just look at you. Don’t be so blamed short with me, man, This thing has put me in a devil of a fix and I'll have to depend on you a good deal to help me “T shall be glad to do anything I can,” said Ward with bare politeness. “TI really did not mean to be short with you. Let us go into the tent and be comfortable.” Blaydon followed him inside, deposited his grip on the ground and took the seat that the aviator indicated by a wave of the hand. ; w=. les) just how we discovered Caprice and “=~ what we have done since. Then, of course, Mr. Conway and I will retire into the background, for, now that you are on the ground, you will naturally take charge of the case.” Blaydon nodded silently. He crossed his knees and listened without comment as Fenton told the story of the flight that had brought about such strange results and gave only a grunt of mild surprise when the narration led up to the discovery of the fact that the yacht had been scuttled. ‘And then,” Fenton concluded, “I went to Baltimore to find you, but found Miss Blaydon instead. The rest you know.” Blaydon nodded moodily. He seemed deeply troubled by the story, and the natu- ral expression of joviality had disappeared entirely from’ his face. ‘‘And—and is that all?” he asked. Ward thought quickly. It would be “NOW,” said Ward, “T’ll tell you Eomicbooks (EO) “acy 7 fis ae pe bs oe? cf dab! eae