Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 130: what you’re looking at

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

756 ““ Wasn’t it plain?” asked James. “Plain? Yes! But it’s raised the devil; the stockholders and directors got together like a flock of frightened sheep.” “Don’t the fools know a bluff?” “ Of course, but it has given them the chance they wanted. ‘They say you are crazy—I don’t know what they are doing, but they were closeted with a lot of lawyers when I left New York. There’s talk of hav- ing you committed to an asylum, injunc- tions, and a dozen other things.” James clenched his hands. “They wouldn’t dare, the curs!” he cried. “T’d—I’d—” he calmed himself with an effort. “I don’t know why I discuss my business with you,” he said coldly. “If that is all you came for you had better go back—to Elinor. You might be injured here.”’ Walter looked at him sharply. There was something odd in his tone and manner. “You have heard?” he asked. ‘She wrote me,” James answered quiet- “T congratulate you.” He sat back in his chair, staring blankly at the desk before him. A letter lay there and his eye focused upon it automatically. “ The little gate. The boys are laying for him to fix him for good.” “To fix him for good.” A curious, cunning leer crept into his eyes as he leaned forward, took up the letter of the watchman’s daughter and slowly tore it up. Then he turned to Walter with almost effusive frankness. “ Let bygones be bygones,” he said. “ ll admit I didn’t treat you fairly—but all’s fair in love, you know.” Walter took his extended hand and shook it heartily; he was more than willing to forgive. ‘“ But—but the strike?” he asked. “The strike—oh, the strike!” answered James vaguely. ‘ V’ll—I’ll give you an in- terview. Say that the message about mov- ing the plant was sent by some designing person who had access to my office—and here—take this coat and cap ”—he picked up his fur overcoat as he spoke—“ that thin coat is nothing to wear in a blizzard like this.” In spite of Walter’s protests he forced ly. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. them upon him, and opening the door, called a guard. “Take Mr. Sargent to the small gate,” he ordered. “It’s nearer the village and there are not likely to be any strikers there.” Without another word he closed the door upon them, and with an exclamation of tri- umph snapped off the lights and went to the window. For a few moments after the two figures had disappeared in the storm he stood with his face pressed close to the pane; the si- lence, the soft falling flakes, the white- shrouded buildings, were awakening memo- ries—memories of the old parsonage on the banks of the West River; of the quiet val- ley; of his father, the old parson; of the patient mother, and her gentle teachings— and suddenly, as if a veil was lifted, he saw his soul in all its nakedness! The depths to which pride of power had dragged him! God! He had sent his brother to his death! A murderer! A fraticide! He strove to raise the window, but it re- sisted, and he dashed his clenched fists through the glass. The blood from his cut hands stained the white snow; again and again he cried to Walter to come back; but his voice seemed deadened; turning from the window he rushed madly to the door, but as he reached the head of the stairs there came a muffled report and he stopped as though the bullet had pierced his heart. Another report followed, and then a fusil- lade, but he did not hear it, for at the second shot he had plunged head first down the stairs, and lay, a crumpled heap, on the floor. It was many weeks before James Sargent opened his eyes in consciousness; weeks of delirium, and fearful visions, but when at last he did, the first person he saw was Walter. “You!” he murmured in a voice scarcely audible from weakness. * Yes,” answered Walter gently, “ I’m all here, Jimmy.” The old childhood name brought a light to the sick man’s eyes. “ The—shots?” he asked. “Only some of the boys trying to get over Go VOOKS AMUG (C@