Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 143: what you’re looking at

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

GRAFT, _ “ Whist!” remonstrated the Trishman. “Later, maybe, ye’ll have to put up a foight, but this is no toime fer it.” He opened a window, and seeing his ob- ject, Phil sprang to its sill and thence to a narrow ledge that ran beneath. There the pintle upon which a shutter had formerly hung afforded him a precarious handhold that enabled him to stand on one side, so as to be invisible except to one who leaned out of the window and turned so as to look along the outer wall, for the opposite build- ings all were occupied by business estab- lishments long since closéd for the night. “Stay there!” whispered Phelim, hur- riedly, ‘Stay there till ye freeze or hell freezes—or I call ye in!” Then he closed the window and walked quickly back to meet those who were mounting the stairs. His whole maneuver had taken so short a time that when they reached the top of the stairs, Dunning and the house detective at their head, Phelim stood there grinning broadly, to receive them. “ Faith, ’'d loike well for to know what all the excoitement is about,” said he. “T heered a yell av ‘ stop thafe,’ but divvle the thafe have I seen, excipt the wan ye fetched wit’ yez.” Phelim’s allusion to Dunning himself was made plain by a wag of his head in Dun- ning’s direction, but his words were ad- dressed to the house detective, and it was he who replied to them. “This here lawyer says he just seen young Herondene—him what is bein’ tried —who has flew the coop and is in the hotel,” said he, in none too friendly a tone to the legal gentleman who had bespoken his services. “ Dotty,” commented Phelim, with a look of commiseration at Dunning. “ Clean bughouse! His throubles have sent flitter- mice into his campanile. Is it loikely, think ye, that if Masher Phil had flew the coop, he’d fly here—the firrst place he’d be looked for?” This speech, made smilingly as it was, evoked a murmur of approval, but Dunning was not to be so easily diverted from his quest. He was, however, rash enough to make a guess and state it as a fact. 9A 769 “T saw Philip Herondene,” he averred, truly enough, “ and he’s in the rooms of that old aunt of his this very minute. Search them—and do it now!” ‘* Search Miss Herondene’s rooms? With- out a warrant?” contemptuously asked the hotel manager, who at this point joined the party. “I guess not!” The district attorney turned upon the speaker with rage already to break forth, but what he would have said can never be known, for the door of Aunt Sophronia’s rooms opened and she herself stood on the threshold. “What does this mean?” she asked. The hotel manager explained, with out- spoken and sincere apologies. She inter- rupted him. “ My nephew isn’t in these rooms,” said she. ‘“‘ To the best of my knowledge and belief he hasn’t been and goodness knows I don’t think he’s likely to be. But wait a minute, to give Miss Ayres and my niece time to prepare to see strangers, you can search the rooms. Id rather have you search them. ‘Then, maybe, you'll be bet- ter able to judge what that man’s word stands for.” , After the girls had dressed, the unsuccess- ful search was made. Its failure gave ad- ditional weight to Aunt Sophronia’s words and tended largely to cast discredit upon Dunning’s statement that Phil had been seen anywhere in the hotel, which disbelief was carefully fostered both by the grinning Phelim and by the hotel management. The subsequent search, made outside Aunt Sophronia’s apartment, was therefore perfunctory, fruitless and short. At it was concluded, Dunning sought a_ telephone booth, whence he called up the chief of police to arrange that a cordon should sur- round the hotel, while detectives operated in and around it. He himself doggedly re- fused to leave, despite the smiles and sneers of the lobby loungers. He wandered dis- consolately about, internally fuming, and peered suspiciously at everybody and every- thing that came under his eyes. When Dunning and the crowd left the corridor from which the Herondene suite opened, Phelim O’Rourke remained there alone. Then the grin faded from his face, Gomicbooks (C@)