All Story Magazine, December 1913 — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

762 for one of the most interesting eve- nings of my life. “In fact, I hate like the dickens to drop out, as I’d like, from sheer in- quisitiveness, to know why you began this sort of thing, and how you man- age to keep out of jail. But it’s quite impossible for me to—” The basement bell suddenly inter- rupted me. Caimpbell sprang to his feet. ‘““Wheest!* That’s Della!’ he. whis- pered, and moved toward the door leading to the hall. “ Della?” I queried blankly. He stopped and turned his head. ‘““T beg your pardon—Miss Borrow- man—miy wife—to be.” CHAPTER XIV. DELLA AND THE GOBBLER. He left me standing gaping at the door, and it was then, while I awaited his return, that I had my first suspi- cion that he was not quite right in the head. A chap like him marrying— The scuffle of feet in the hall inter- rupted my thoughts, and, seeing the check upon the table, I seized it and stuffed it into my pocket. In an in- stant more the door was flung open, and a girl, scarcely more than a child, came into the room. Campbell followed her directly. For a moment the newcomer and I regarded each other in mute surprise. I haven't the least idea of what she thought of me, but there is no question about what I thought of her. From under a light silk shawl one received a hint of the jet-black crown of her hair that was so wonderful un- der the lamplight—or any light, for that matter. Her features were small, but she was not so pretty as she was compelling. One looked at her once, twice, and then a third time to make sure one’s first impression was correct; and each time one passed lightly over the mouth, chin, THE ALL-STORY MAGAZINE. and nose—all right in their way—to study the remarkable deep blue of her eyes and the equally remarkable inky-black eyebrows that o’ershadowed them. She was prettily clothed in a man- ner that did not stifle the round lines of her lithe, young figure, and gave na indication of her relationship to the Borrowman tribe — and then, in that moment when I Jooked for her to smile in conjunction with the inevitable in- troduction, she turned her head sharp- ly and glanced up into Campbell's face. ““\Who’s this guy” The tone, harshly imperative, and the final word dissipated everything. A cold shiver ran down my spine. “The gentleman is my friend—Mr. Mason,” Campbell replied gravely with- out winking an eyelash, and inclined his head toward me. ‘‘ Mr. Mason, allow me to introduce you to my fiancée—Miss Borrowman.” I bowed. “Charmed to meet Miss Borrow- man. May I offer my congratula- tions? ” The girl's eyes came round upon me slowly. Her body did not move; just her head. “ You're English, ain’t you?” Judging by her tone, my nationality was a crime; but I admitted it. “Huh! All right. If the Grega- rach’s satisfied, it ain’t up to me to lose any sleep about it.” Her hand searched for the back of Campbell’s chair as she sized me up, and when she found it she crept round it slowly. “Tm tired, Mac—played out. The Gobbler ain't giv’ me a chanst for a snooze in forty hours. Gee! — but kids is the limit when they git goin’.” She dropped limply and suddenly into the chair. Campbell was at her side, bending over her in a moment, and it did not strike me as being hu- morous when he got down upon a knee and took possession of her hands. “Poor little girl! I’m sorry. too much for you, isn’t it?” It’s comicloooks.com