The Argosy, March 27, 1920 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

“ SEVEN MINUTES AFTER, 178 ’ Strictly a family affair, no need to worry; let the chef have hysterics if he wants to.” “He may; he’s temperamental,” Anita laughed. With a gay little nod she watched them walk away, two exceedingly smart- looking men. Briskly, she was turning to- ward the ladies’ entrance, when she was aware ‘that the man who had taken Ara- minta to lunch stood at her side. “Miss Ferndale?” he interrogated. “Yes? Then, if you please, Miss Lether- by wants her hand-bag. She says she left it with you.” Anita gripped it more firmly. “I think T’ll go with you to give it to her, if you don’t mind,” she said coolly. “I’ve no doubt whatever that Miss Letherby sent for it, but you see, if she had not, by any chance, and there always is a chance—then I’m responsible. And there’s more money in that bag than I could afford to lose, 'm sure. Miss Letherby is awfully careless about money.” The man frowned in perplexity. ‘1 see your point,” he admitted; “but er—sthe fact is—Miss Letherby is transacting a matter of private business, and she doesn’t want any one in on it. If you will let me bring her to you—”’ Anita looked him over coolly. He was evidently a gentleman, well-groomed and distinguished-looking; but there was ome- thing about him she did not like. More- over, he was new to her, and she had not heard his name. His tone, too, when he first spoke had been distinctly supercilious, and that was something he was to suffer for. Miss Ferndale lifted her chin. “ Certainly not,” she said icily; ‘ Miss Letherby cannot be dragged about to search for her own hand-bags.” Her tone implied that she was speaking of a queen. ~ Be- sides, she is used to me in her private busi- ness; you see that man over there, the tall one leaning over the desk, talking to the in- formation clerk? Well, he telephoned me to come here and meet Miss Letherby this morning. His name is Peters; he is never far away when Miss Letherby is in a pub- lic place. She gives him messages and sends him on errands without ever speak- ing to him, by code, of course; he knows me. Would you prefer me to give this bag to him?” Her companion laughed. “ Vou are an ideal secretary, Miss Ferndale,” he said pleasantly; ‘“‘ suppose you tell me that you are willing to accept the responsibility of accompanying me, and then come along. Tt won’t do to keep Miss Letherby waiting. She can’t ‘do business very well without that bag.” . Stanchly, Anita followed him, But as she turned the -bend in the lounge and headed for the elevators, she turned her head and made a hurried signal to the tall, lanky man she had indicated as Peters. But she had no opportunity of knowing whether he followed her or not, for her es-- cort hurried her into a descending elevator. “ Down,” ‘he said sharply. They found themselves in a concrete passageway, and passed on into a large room almost blocked with people. But they were not the people ‘who filled the cor- tidors up-stairs. This was a crowd of com- mercial men of one sort and another, hawk- eyed Jews, down-at-heel women, one cr two quiet matrons who kept together in a select group, and a few who seemed to be onlookers merely, better dressed than the others, less noisy, surveying the rest of the crowd with appraising eyes. Through all a constant stream of porters passed and repassed with baggage, and a voice was heard uplifted in exhortation. “ What is it?” asked Miss Ierndale. She was surprised, but not in the least bewil- dered. Her companion looked down at her with twinkling eyes not without their gleam of malice, and the dislike Anita had felt at first suddenly developed into large proportions. She had difficulty in hearing his reply above the shouting, but as she followed him through the worst of the wedging, pushing mass of humanity, the sound of his words—as sounds will—made sense to her consciousness. “ Sale of held baggage,” he said. ‘What on earth could Araminta want with other persons’ luggage,” she asked herself. For now she saw Miss Letherby, sitting on a tall, black-leather trunk, and eying the scene with bored amusement. She looked more beautiful than usual, and comicbooksscom