All-Story Weekly, Vol. 112, No. 1 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

THE ONE GIFT. ‘““Wasn’t she engaged to Prince Shuiski?”’ ‘“‘ She could have been if she was not.” “They say that he is but little better than an adventurer. We saw him in Nas- sau.” “ He-was with the party when Muriel was lost. They say that the was the last to see her. They say—” And the dowager raised her eyebrows and breathed a sigh. 66 No! ? “* Out, ma chére!” There are things that can be said more easily in French than in English. And the dowager now continued to speak French for a spell. ‘“ A scandal!” she resumed her English. ‘ The old story! —an ancient name and not a cent. Quite impossible for him to work, of course! An atrocious reputation! He had quite ex- hausted all his former friends. No one would lend him anything, anymore. They say that the hotel management was even threatening to have him arrested. You may imagine what a Godsend it would have been for him to find a -byide like Muriel San- gree.”’ “And Muriel didn’t fancy him?” The dowager shrugged her shoulders. “There were a dozen after her. She kept them all dangling. The only one I felt sorry for was a young aviator I used to see over here.” ‘““ An American?” ; “An American; a charming boy—Lieu- tenant Lathrop.” ‘He must be heartbroken.” “He was that, just about, when Muriel went off on this trip with Prince Shuiski in her train. I got this from my son. He and Lieutenant Lathrop were chums in col- lege and again in France. He says that the lieutenant was mad enough to kill Shuiski— and may kill him yet—as soon as the fate of poor Muriel is settled, one way or the other, if it ever is.” | “Did Lieutenant Lathrop know—”’ ‘about the rumors concerning the prince and Muriel?” ‘“‘ About this story of the prince having made love to Muriel in the swamps—how primitive it all is! Can you imagine such a thing!—and that this was the reason why she ran away and was lost?” ‘“ He knows what sort of a reputation the = 7 prince has. And that ought to be sufficient, I should think. He knows that the prince and Miss Sangree were practically alone to- gether out in the woods when.the girl dis- appeared. They had remained in camp together while the other members of the party had gone off to visit this new land. All that the prince could tell them when they returned was that Muriel had wan- dered off alone.” ‘“'What could her father have been think- ing?” ‘‘ Making money! Making money, for others to waste! The great American pas- time! He’ll be wasting plenty of it himself now, poor man. He’s mobilized the State, just about. He has a score of search-par- ties out. And he’s mobilized the nation. He’s got all the aviators from Miami and Arcadia out skimmipg the Everglades.” ‘And no trace of her?”’ “No trace of her as yet—not the slight- est.” “How can that be?” “The whole country, it appears, is wild and utterly trackless.”’ ‘“ How long is it now since she was lost?”’ ‘“‘ Four days—or five. And I know that I should be dead were I lost—one day! —in those dreadful swamps. Don’t go, dear! I was just about to order tea.” CHAPTER V. A CHANGE OF CLOTHES, HE lurking scandal—and even the sense of tragedy, perhaps—would have been as great had the dowager and her sort been permitted a glimpse of Muriel Sangree now. She lay there on the platform of the ruined lodge where the young Indian had placed her. Her fair head was supported on one of his arms. With his free hand he held a wooden spoon to her lips. He spoke to her softly in Semi- nole—a mere flutter of speech, as soft as the interchange of sleepy pigeons. There was a liquid fire in his dark eyes. That was a sofkay spoon he held to her lips—hand-carved and cumbersome—the sort of spoon with which the Indians stir and eat their cornmeal soup and porridge. cCoOmiclbooks C©