Adventure, June 1911 — page 46: what you’re looking at

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

232 toward afoot, stepped from the library and stood listening, motionless beside the banks of palms circling the stair-foot. . The sound of the traffic in Whitehall and Parliament Street buzzed dully across the dividing distance; the harsh hoot of a horn echoed like a thunderbolt in the straining ears of those who watched and waited, and close on the heels of the discordant noise the clock of St. Stephen’s boomed out majestic- ally—One . . two eleven . . twelvel Twelve slow and ponderous notes—a life- time of agony held between each reluctant stroke. TWELVE! Ere the resonant vibration had died away a sudden commotion arose beyond the door-—a great cry ringing through the night, a cry of horror and dis- may, arid then the sound of some one run- ning on the asphalt pavement, some one dashing up the steps to the door, taking them three at a time, stumbling on the last. EOE der the onslaught, and the two de- tectives and a slim, slight, boyish- looking man literally fell into the hall. Breathless, panting, choking back inarticu- late sobs, the newcomer came to a halt opposite Sir Dean. It was Algy Brett, but an Algy so white and shaken with horror of something he had seen that his uncle could scarcely recognize him. ‘““Algy!” he cried, starting out from the shadowy wall and twisting the boy under the light of the electrolier. God’s sake—what?”’ Brett tried to control his palsied mouth, G8 82 Oe @ THE double doors opened wide un- but his lips slid from side to side and his tongue refused to form the words. His usually merry eyes were wild with the terror of the thing he had just witnessed. His fingers clawed his uncle as though dreading he should leave him. Then a voice, clear and strong, ringing with despair, cut through the babble of whispers and questions and there was an insistence in it he obeyed. “My brother! My brother! seen my brother?”’ Brett spun round and met Eva’s eyes. ““My brother!” she whispered. Also in a whisper Algy answered her, but he laid his quivering fingers over hers as they rested on his coat and conveyed a sympathy his distorted words could not summon. You have “Algy, for. Adventure “Yes, it’s your brother! Poor Darien— out there at the foot of the steps in the road —poor Darien! What a fate, poor lad! It was awful! I was coming along in answer to your message, Uncle Dean—didn’t get it till twenty minutes ago—then just as I was crossing the street I heard a funny noise in the air above me—a swishing, slipping noise, and stood still. It was Oh, sir, I wish I’d run away as hard as I could! If I’d only run then! But I stayed, and the next second something fell through the air and smashed on the stones at my feet— something heavy! I stooped down to look at it—I thought it was a bundle. Jé was poor Darien!” “‘Dead!”’ whispered Eva. “Stone dead—thank God, stone dead—— That devil!” Sir Dean’s ears pricked suddenly. He had caught Brett’s muttered ejaculation and in a flash the whole black mystery of that miserable night became clear tohim. Inan instant he was once again the cool, calm man of affairs and he flung curt orders at the gaping servants; motioned the two detectives and the men-servants who were ~ bringing in the secretary’s body on an im- provised stretcher to take their burden into the little waiting room to the left of the hall; gave Eva Darien into the house- keeper’s charge until she was calmer, and then in a voice of such bitter acidity as made them wonder, called his nephew, the Prime Minister and Lord Vales into the study and shut the door behind him. “And now,” he said in a voice of thun- derous anger, ‘“‘and now we will go through the mill!” ~ II EVA escaped at last from the house- keeper’s attentions and _protesta- tions of sympathetic horror and crept down the stairs till the sound of voices guided her to the room where Sir Dean was closeted with Sterrith and Lord Vales. A fierce anger against Sir Dean was burn- ing in her breast and she blamed him bitterly for making so inexperienced a youth as Car- lile the messenger for such an important despatch. She felt a hatred for him as the man to blame for Car’s death. The sound of his voice, raised and slightly shrill, pene-. trating the door of his library, filled her with an angry, grief-laden sense of wrong. She CONMIG SoCO JOO