Adventure Magazine, Mid-September 1917 — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

| i else I would put the plans away. Remem- ber, Captain, I had not been out of the room, and yet when I looked for them—they were not there. Yes, it sounds incredible, but the plans had disappeared.”’ He made the statement slowly, a look of mingled wonder and determination on his face, as though he himself could hardly «believe that the thing had happened, and yet he was challenging any one else to deny it. But no outburst came from Brock; in- stead he drew meditatively on his cigaret. “Your memory is nct at fault, Colonel? You had not left the papers inside instead of on the top of your desk?r”’ Colonel Levin shook his head positively. “I realize that I am absent-minded,” he said, reddening with embarrassment, ‘“‘but in this case I was certain. None the less I examined the desk with the utmost care. I did not find them. Then I rang for my clerk, Mr. Maxwell, and-we made a further search. It was useless. That was only a moment ago. I left him on guard in the room, while I started to report the matter to the general. But on the way it occurred to me that you—perhaps you might—if you have any suggestions——”’ He broke off confusedly; and I could not repress an involuntary smile. I knew the general; and I did not wonder that Colonel Levin was grasping at any desperate straws before reporting the loss to him. Brock rose briskly. “No harm in taking another look,’ he said. “Of course we must find those pa- pers, the security of Corregidor depends on them.” Colonel Levin, as ranking officer on the staff, occupied a private office, a small room which opened upon the main corridor running the length of the building. Op- posite the doorway a long, narrow window, with sliding, shell sashes took up most of the wall. It overlooked the Pasig, and with the door formed the only openings in the room. The sashes were partially pushed back, admitting the damp, heavy air; and as we entered, Maxwell, who had been sitting in the window, slipped to his feet. A rubber poncho was thrown over his arm, and in his right hand he held a soft, felt hat. “Are you going out, Mr. Maxwell?” asked Brock by way of greeting. ‘““Yes, sir,” returned the clerk. ‘I have Adventure been feeling sick this morning, and I had gotten my things to come and ask the colo- nel to excuse me when his buzzer rang.” He certainly looked ill. He was a square, heavily-built man, whose large head habit- ually drooped forward, so that his eyes were partly concealed by a heavy, unbroken line of black eyebrows. It gave him a rather sinister appearance. His complexion was usually muddy; now it was grayish-white, shading into green at the corners of his mouth and in the little hollows beside his nose. And the beads of perspiration on his forehead foretold the coming of nausea. ‘‘How do you account for the loss of the papers, Mr. Maxwell?” asked Brock. “It beats me, Captain, I don’t see where they could have gone.” 2 A SUDDEN gust through the win- SS dow swept an envelope which had been lying on the desk to Brock’s feet. Maxwell leaned over and picked it up. “You know him, Captain,”’ he whispered, as he straightened up. “I believe he took 7em somewhere and forgot ’em. You'll see those papers will turn up yet.” Without replying, Brock let his eyes rest on the clerk as he replaced the envelope on the desk. Then as he turned toward Colonel Levin, he slipped his hands in his pockets, evidently searching for a cigaret. ‘“‘Confound it,” he said, ‘‘I left my case in my desk. I'll be back in a moment.” He returned after a brief absence, smok- ing a cigaret. : “I suppose you will excuse Mr. Maxwell, Colonel?” he said. “And I think we had better close the door; it creates a draft across the room.”’ ‘‘By all means go home, Maxwell,” said the colonel, and it was evident from his tone that he felt genuine solicitude for his clerk. ‘‘Go to bed, and don’t report to- morrow unless you are feeling thoroughly well.” ‘An invaluable man, with a quick, bril- liant mind,” he continued as the door closed behind Maxwell. “I should feel quite lost if anything happened to him.” ‘Ale knows everything which takes place in the office, doesn’t he?” asked Brock, staring thoughtfully at the door. “Naturally, and he has my implicit con- fidence.” Brock turned back to the desk. “Let’s see, those papers had a peculiar COMmiclsoo ©