All Story Magazine, December 1913 — page 162: what you’re looking at

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

872 something about the man that told me he was no infant with whom to match wits. Meanwhile the strange eyes of the girl were studying me, changing ex- pression with every thought of her agile brain. At last she came to a decision. “Very well,” she returned quietly. “And will you give my husband the ring if he identifies it?” * "Suredly—hic—mos’ ’suredly!” I affirmed. “‘ I’m gemman of m’ word, Tam. Send this gemman for y’ hus- ban’—hic—an’ we'll wait here f’ him.” “ All right.” she agreed. *‘* Pardon me a moment.” She stepped aside and spoke in a low, rapid tone to the fellow with the hang- dog countenance who had stood beside her throughout the interview, glowering at me with his watery, pale-blue little eyes. He looked as if he would have taken extreme delight in strangling me. And I caught these words here and there: “ Kronholtz — quickly — back here—hold him—the drunken fool!” She returned in a moment, smiling very sweetly. “Very well, sir. This gentleman will have. my husband here in about half an hour. Shall we wait here? ” “ *Suredly—hic—wait here wizzu— *f course.” She led the way to a writing-desk and seated herself. I drew another chair alongside and sat down somewhat un- steadily, I had accomplished something by getting rid of Ikronholtz’s man. Now, to get some information, 1f pos- sible, from this very clever young lady. Iyen while I rested my elbow on the desk the man with the expressionless face and piercing gray eyes had saun- tered over aimlessly, stationed himself three feet away, and again resumed his absorbed contemplation of the ceiling. T chuckled to myself. “Til give youa run for your money,” I thought; and then addressed myself to the girl before me, who was striving hard to conceal her irritation at what she supposed my drunken meddling. “Sorry t’ trouble a lady—hic—but THE ALL-STORY MAGAZINE. I’m married m’self,” I began. ‘ Got three chil’ren—hbeau’ful wife. I believe in p-preservin’ san-sanctity of the home. An’ you—imarried lady—meet man— hic—strange man—wizzer ring—poor husban’s) ring. Looks bad—hic— v-very bad.” Her long, slender fingers, resting on the desk before her, seemed to be itch- ing to tear my hair, while those ex- traordinary eyes smoldered with sup- pressed fury. But she evidently had come to the conclusion that the best plan was to humor me and endeavor to exercise her charms to overcome my suspicions. “Oh, sir, you do me a terrible in- justice!’ she exclaimed, her voice trembling, her eyes now pathetic and beseeching. “‘ You are a gentleman, I can see. Therefore, you will reserve your suspicions until they are proved, and not cast aspersions on my good name. “When my husband arrives he will explain everything to your entire sat- isfaction.” Yes, the stage certainly lost an ac- complished artist when this girl turned adventuress. I wondered just how it could be ex- plained: and even while she spoke my eyes fell upon a gold mesh hand-bag which she had placed on the edge of the desk beside my elbow. And through the open chainwork I descried two keys—evidently the keys to apart- ment No. 12. Again my wits served me right royally. “M’dear madam,” I began apolo- getically. “ I—hic—beg yumble—hic —p-pardon tor—” And just then my unsteady elbow slipped and knocked the gold mesh- bag to the floor at my feet. I stooped to recover it, deitly opened the catch, palmed the two keys, and closed the bag again before my wabbly hand re- placed it on the table. She could not see the manipulation, for the top of the desk obstructed her range of vision. But some one else saw. comicloooks.com