Adventure Magazine Cover — page 53: what you’re looking at

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

Born to be Hanged, But— of a big lumber company—occupied very nearly half of the space on one side of the building; and I found that I could opena door far down the corridor and near the stairs—almost a third of a block away from Thrope’s private office. Mrs. Curwen and I said afew words, but she was in no mood to talk; so, not knowing what minute Thrope might come, I went inside to the peep-hole and waited. I could watch her, and did. She sat very quiet, motionless, except that her breathing was deep and hurried as if she were making a severe effort to control herself. THROPE came, big, hearty and sure of himself. “Well, Mary,” he said with kind of sardonic amusement, “Yes, again.” “So you're going to try to rake up the past, eh? You know what ‘ll happen. I was a fool to ever try to protect you for that murder, Mary. But then, you see, I didn’t really know you killed him and I loved you!’ Mrs. Curwen was amazed. She did not realize that Thrope was talking for the benefit of the stenographic report—that was not being taken. “And so this Bryan is your brat, eh? And you want him elected. ‘Trying to bluff me out of the running. I am too weak with women—they twist me around their fingers. You know. You used to do it. But you can’t bully me! No. What do you want?” She told him, speaking in a low, strained voice, that she wanted him to withdraw from the campaign, that she wanted him to give up the fight against Bryan. “You will regret it—oh, how you will regret it, if you don’t!” It was more of a prophecy than a ‘““we meet again.” threat. She was not angry. She was pleading. “He is your ——!”” Thrope used the ugly word generally applied to the children of unfortunate mothers. “And yours!”’ she cried. I doubt if she had intended to say as much, to tell him that at all; but the retort was irresistibly drawn from her. They stared at each other, and stared and stared, and made no move. “Ts that true?” he asked in a low, almost inaudible voice. 39 _ “Yes!” And quickly, pleadingly she sketched the history of how she had helped and guarded the boy, and never told him who his father was, and made him feel that it was better that he should not let the world know’ who his mother was, because she wanted him to rise—to go up and on, and be honest, to be noble. “And he couldn’t do it,” she hissed, “‘if he knew such blood as yours was in his veins.” Thrope believed her. He knew she spoke the truth. But he was a politician, and there was less manhood in him than there is in the jackal, which will fight for its own. “You lie, woman. You lie! You can’t prove that [— “No,” she cut in, ‘“‘because I had a good father and mother. And met you secretly because they disliked you. I can prove nothing! I do not need proof. You know it. Oh, give up this campaign—let him win. Don’t drag up my shame to light. I don’t care. But it is for him. For my boy— your son! That letter—that horrible un- lucky letter! How proud I was when he sent it to me. You might have made the letter public because you will do anything to get your end. But now—now you must not fight him! I cidn’t intend to tell you. It was my secret, nine and God’s!” “Leave God out of it, when you lie! You can’t bluff me like that. He’s yours and you’re trying to drag me into it! This is the craftiest political deal I’ve ever run up against. I suppose he put you up to come! Now look here, old girl, Ill show you what happens when anybody tries to put something over on me! Every word of this interview goes in the paper tomorrow morn- ing—in the Tribune! There’s a stenog- rapher in there has taken down every word. I’m not afraid. Let the public judge be- tween us. My son, | Your ——F The fold of Mrs. Curwen’s cloak was pushed aside. A large ivory handled, nickel- plated revolver came into view, and as it came into view, she shot. Thrope fell dead. A bullet in his brain. eee, WHEN people came a-pounding at gceu, the door and flung it open, for it gemme} was not locked, I turned hastily back from that door that led inside and, without seeming to have a purpose in domg so, barred the way. So Mrs. Curwen es; caped alone. I had taken the gun from her Eomicbooks.co =