All-Story Weekly, March 1, 1919 — page 158: what you’re looking at

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

the weight of it was sufficient evidence. But - whether there was anything on that plate he did not yet know. _For some time he sat contemplating the plateholder, trying to’ build an explanation around it. Then, rousing himself, he made certain preparations. A quilt was pinned over the window, in order to make darkness certain. A little iron lamp with a red bull’s-eye smoked on a table in the corner. Trays and chemicals were produced from his grip. The oil lamp that ordinarily furnished illumination was extinguished, and _ the gaunt figure of Tilley became dimly silhou- etted against a red glow as a nervous finger slipped the catch of the plateholder. Immediately after breakfast the follow- ing morning the naturalist walked solemnly out of the farmhouse and set off in the di- rection of the lake, his long strides carrying him at a rapid pace. There was a grim look in his colorless eyes and, altogether, something uncom- monly desperate in the set of his pale face. He carried a parcel. It chanced that Higgins was in his shack, overhauling some tackle, when he heard himself summoned by a stern voice. He emerged to confront Tilley, who was stand- ing just outside the doorway and glaring at him with an expression that might have alarmed a more timid man. “ What’s up?” asked Higgins. “ You know!” said Tilley, menacingly. “ Hanged if I do.” The naturalist unwrapped his parcel and, from between two pieces of stiff cardboard, drew forth a damp photographic print. He held it up before the astonished eyes of Higgins. The fisherman studied the picture with slowly growing amazement. “Where ’d you get that?” he asked, as he stared at it. “Vou know where I got it.” Higgins shook his head. “Don’t lie!” snarled Tilley. in it, aren’t your” The fisherman examined the chunky fig- ure whose arm was tightly locked about the waist of Miss Dean. He was very ‘“ Vou’re oe See a <p = a= ae ee - ALL-STORY WEEKLY. much puzzled. He could not say whether. he was in the picture or not: “What’s all the fuss, anyhow?” he de- manded. ‘“ You act excited.” “Tm not excited. I’m cool!’ cried the naturalist. “I’m cool and collected. There you are and you can’t deny it!” The picture shook in his trembling hand. Higgins had certain rudiments of gal- lantry. It occurred to him that it was not the part of a gentleman to deny anything; in fact, it seemed that to enter a disclaimer would be to reflect upon the charms of Miss Dean, who had won something more than his intense admiration. He rather wished that the picture repre- sented all that it seemed; all that he re- sented was its possession in the hands of Tilley and the extraordinary attitude of that gentleman. “TI haven’t denied anything,” said Hig- gins, belligerently. “T know it! You can’t!” ‘““T don’t have to deny anything—not to you. Where do you come in to make a row, anyhow?” ‘Never you mind,” said Tilley darkly. ‘Only after this you keep away from her.” ‘“‘ What—what for?” “ Because I won’t have it. Understand?” Higgins was very red in the face, but he laughed. ‘“‘T don’t know where or how you got the picture,” he said, ‘“‘ but there’s something cheap and sneaky about it, and after this - you can mind your own business or take what’s coming to you. “T don’t like you, Tilley. You’re funny to look at, but I don’t like you. So you can run right along and hunt your bugs, or you can go to the devil, or you can do both.” Tilley breathed heavily, but stood his ground. ‘““T—I want. to know what you were say- ing to her,” he said, solemnly, ignoring the insult. “Ha!” said Higgins. He was beginning to enjoy it. “T demand to know!” “Ha, hal”? - = “Did you ask—” “ Certainly.”