Adventure Magazine Cover — page 50: what you’re looking at

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

CS EE ee ee ee ey ee a a ee A Tout’. ee 36 | Adventure certain other men on board the Jessze Dara ling. And though he wished me well out of his sight he did not make that wish too ap- parent. “Bryan’s letter,” I told him briefly. “Trapped, by ! said Blake apoplec- tically, and his hand reached toward a but- ton at the end of his desk. “Supposing you put your hands in your pockets, Mr. Blake!” I told him pointedly. His puffed eyes bulged a little; but he followed my suggestion, ramming his hands into his pockets as if defying me instead of complying with my gentle request. “She sent you here!” Thrope accused. 6s her!”’ “Naturally,” I said. “Why else do you suppose I happened to come—at this psy- chological moment?” I asked, not knowing what it was all about. But I never hesitate to take any advan- _ tage that Fortune hands to me, and I have found Fortune mistress. “The letter isn’t here,” said Blake, ad- vancing some information in a manner that impressed me as too considerate. “No?” I asked. “No!” said Thrope. “No!” echoed Blake emphatically. “Then why do you lie to each other?” I a most generous | demanded, stressing the words just as much as I thought was needed to make them un- comfortable. Both men gave a slight start. I doubt if they did realize what I meant, but they did not feel comfortable. “T had my ear to the keyhole there for some moments—before I came in. The letter is in that safe, or you area liar!” I addressed the last to Blake. He started to bound up, with something like— “No man can call me that!” But he sat down and finished his sen- tence in an inarticulate mumble. I had made no move, no gesture. But he understood. “You talk too much!’ Thrope ex- claimed accusingly at the editor. Since I had heard Thrope ask him if the letter was in the safe,and Blake had only answered, I felt the accusation a little un- just; but I made no comment. “T don’t suppose she’ll telephone now,” said Thrope, looking at me inquiringly. “Oh, my presence here will make no differ- ence. She will telephone, I suppose.” I as- sured him. “Tt’s time then,” said Blake staring up at the clock. “But the letter—first. Now,” I said. tf @ LHEN I learned something of what 3 @4 it was all about. Mrs. Curwen was u==® trying to get Thrope to give up the letter. He would not meet her, but he had made a telephone appointment. She had assured him that she could give reasons why he should return the letter to her, why he would be glad to return it. Thrope was naturally incredulous. It seemed that he and Mrs. Curwen had known each other for many many years; and Thrope—though he did not say this—ap- peared to have taken a sort of pleasure all those years in keeping her afraid of him. He knew that she was afraid of him, and he had enjoyed the bullying pleasure of keep- ing her frightened. By chance I had stepped into the game and demanded cards at the crucial moment. Let me pause a minute to remark that no- body will be likely to convince me that I am religious; and yet anybody will have a hard time convincing me that there is not something—something sentient in Destiny that rules with an inexorable hand this thing we carelessly call ‘“‘chance’’ and “hick In nry own life—and I believe other men can look into their own lives and find the same—it has happened too often that by so- called chance I have made such entrances, and by chance played such part in the lives of men and women, as if my réle were di- rected by a great and watchful dramatist. This thing we call “‘luck”’ and “chance” is too pertinent, too advertent, too much the fabric of design, to be merely accidental. IT know many lips will trace skeptical smiles upon themselves at such a statement; but let the more thoughtful reflect that every situation begins and develops from some- — thing—some meeting, word, introduction, from something, that can properly be called chance. This is so true that it can not be denied ~ once any one recognizes the viewpoint from which I make the statement. And I never, before or since, felt myself so much the pawn of some inscrutable chance as in the affair of Thrope and Mrs. Curwen. Gcomichooks.co m1