Adventure Magazine Cover, April 1916 — page 182: what you’re looking at

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

180 Miss Dem shook her head disapprovingly. _ “You’re d-dead wrong,” he protested. *“Falworth is as m-much interested in this thing as I am m-myself.” “And a trifle more so,” Miss Dem an- nounced dryly. The Hot Dog threw back his head and laughed his high, hooting laugh, which al- ways sounded like a man out of practise, he used it so seldom. Before she could say more, Falworth came back to ask the inventor’s help in some adjustment. ‘“‘Take it from me,” he drawled to Miss Dem, laying his hand on the Hot Dog’s arm, “Jim has a big thing here, and he’s going to soak the old man all the traffic will bear.” They walked off together, Falworth tak- ing littlesoft steps to Jim Squires’ ungainly stride, and gesticulating with his small fat hands as they went. Miss Dem looked after them down the corridor. She felt vaguely uneasy. As they disappeared, she shook herself vexedly. ‘““You suspicious old fool,”’ she said aloud to herself, ‘‘your liver’s off. Go home and get a pill.” It was late that night. Miss Dem stood at the door of her apartments and fumbling in her black bag, discovered the loss of the key to the spring lock. She remembered hearing something drop as she talked with Jimmy Squires that afternoon, but a search had revealed nothing. Now it was too late to get a locksmith, and she meditated upon the nearest wo- man’s hotel that would take her in at this hour of the night. She had already turned away from the door and begun to descend the stairs, when it occurred to her that “Angel-face’’ must be fed at all cost. He had heard her step, and was sniffing and whimpering at the crack under the door. That settled it. She stooped to reassure him with a word of comfort, and started out for the Morisson studio. She knew the watchman would let her in even at this un- heard-of hour. So vigorously slamming her luck in the choicest vocabulary she could muster, she ran downstairs, and hurrying a bit, managed to catch the car at the corner. As she walked up the street to the Moris- son plant a man came hurrying in the oppo- site direction, nearly running her down. He Adventure was muffled in an overcoat, the collar turned up about his ears, and his cap jammed down to meet it. He moved swiftly, making no sound on the pavement. Even in her haste Miss Dem glanced around after him, she hardly knew why. There was something familiar in his move- ment. If it is difficult to gain entrance to a photo-plant in the daytime, it is doubly, triply so at night, as Miss Dem presently discovered. Steve, the watchman at the gate, after permitting her to ring a while, opened the door a cautious inch or two, immensely astonished to behold her. He was dubious about letting her in. He refused flatly at first. But when she told him of her predicament, he began to soften. No, he had seen nothing of a lost key— no one had turned it in. Very reluctantly he opened the door and grudgingly allowed her to step inside. Yes, he supposed she could go and hunt for it. “Here, Joe,” he called, ‘take Miss Dem up into the studio. She’s lost a key.” A man appeared with a night-light. Miss Dem followed him across the court- yard, up the stairs, into the studio build- ing. He flashed his spark into the dark hall and, finding the electric switch, flooded the place with light. There is no place more lonely at night than the place which is well peopled in the daytime. Miss Dem missed at every turn the voices, the sound of activity, the jolly presence of the movie people who crowded the studios in the daylight. It seemed al- most as if they had left the echo of their voices behind them to mock at the silence. Miss Dem made her way through the big empty spaces to the place where she had stood talking with the Hot Dog. “It was round here somewhere,” she told the man. “I heard it drop then, but couldn’t see anything of it, and I didn’t miss the key till a little while ago.” The man touched every switch till the place was ablaze with light. She stooped and looked carefully about on the floor. There came a sudden frightful noise—a shock, as if the air had been sucked out of the room—a tinkle of broken glass—a pat- ter of things falling—an acrid smell. Miss Dem, half dazed, picked herself up and stared about her. A thick cloud hung in the air. Through it COMmMichoooks (©