Adventure Magazine Cover — page 167: what you’re looking at

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

In the Noon of the Moon his questioning presence, bent their search- ing gaze over his shoulders to where poor Henry slumbered in his chair; to where, with back turned, the chauffeur crouched in the shadow of the ancient mahogany secretary. Having recognized in one of the two the town constable, seamed of visage and tawny mustached, Peter was swept by an unreason- ing accession of fear. That in some way which he did not stop to question tidings of his brother’s crime had got abroad, he could now entertain no doubt. His effort to save him by financial sacrifice had proved futile at the very moment of fancied success. But there was still an alternative. Henry must be spared at all hazards. “Gentlemen!” he cried, in desperation, ‘gentlemen! I am at your service. I con- fess, fully and freely. I-—I alone—am responsible!” The constable turned to him; but the other, taller and less corpulent, paying no heed, strode by him. ‘“Responsible!”? echoed the constable. “Responsible for what, Mr. Hemming?” A nervous, venerable hand fell agitatedly upon his wet coat-sleeve. “For the death of the woman,” the old voice faltered. ‘‘My brother knew nothing of it. I assure you he didn’t.” Perplexity and pity were mixed in the officer’s expression. He was slow-minded, and he had had a stirring morning. “Yonder’s the fellow, we’re ”” he be- gan; but the sentence trailed as he sprang forward to the assistance of his partner, who was grappling with the chauffeur for possession of a promptly drawn revolver. At these odds the scuffle was brief, and . Peter, confused and scarcely believing, saw the handcuffs slipped on the fellow’s wrists. “LT guess he won’t make no more trouble for a while,” the constable volunteered as he readjusted his overcoat. ‘“It’ll be ten years or more for him and his woman pal.” 731 Peter Hemming shivered. It was evident to him now that the woman’s murder was still his secret. The constable had not understood. He wondered why they were arresting the man. He supposed they must both have been fleeing from justice when they were overtaken by the snow-storm. “We got the jewelry, Mr. Hemming,” the constable continued, “and if you'll come up to the court house, any time to-day, we'll = The old gentleman stared at him dumbly. It was the other officer who interrupted. “We want you to make an affidavit, too,” he added. ‘I suppose it was the old game they worked two years ago in Indiana. And then you can identify the woman, as well.” “The woman!” gasped Peter. ‘Sure, the woman,” returned the con- stable. ‘‘Come here, and Ill show you something!” He led him to a front window which over- looked the snow-piled driveway before the house. A two-seated sleigh waited in the rain before the door. On the front seat was the driver, and beside him a female figure wrapped in furs. As Peter gazed the latter turned her head impatiently towards the house, and the old white-haired man cried out in excess of emotion. “He'll identify her, all right,’ said the constable to the other, as he supported his shaking charge toa chair. And then, lean- ing over he explained: ‘Clever crooks, these two, Mr. Hemming. The man’s one of the smartest safe-crackers in the country, and the woman’s a cracker- jack on fixin’ up a plant. Out in Indiana, they say, she did it with such things as false hair, beef-blood and veal-bones.”’ Peter’s eyes traveled to where his de- mented brother with chin on chest was still wrapped in peaceful slumber. And as he nodded to the constable in token of under- standing, his wrinkled face lighted with a smile of thanksgiving. GOMmIGDOOKSEEO