Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 135: what you’re looking at

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

THE BLACK TUBE. Mr. Vrooman caught the slight emphasis © on the word “ ill ” and he looked up sharply. “How did it happen that you knew I was ill?” he asked. Craton made an apologetic gesture. ‘“ I’ve been pretty busy, as you may know, since IT went on this case and I can’t do every- thing myself. I sent a man out to see if I could locate you at your office and he re- ported you were sick. He went a little fur- ther than I instructed him to do, but I fancy no harm was done—he called on your physician and learned you were suffering from a nervous breakdown. Under the cir- cumstances I disliked to trouble you, but it was necessary.” Mr. Vrooman nodded, missing completely the fact that his physician would never have stated to a stranger the nature of his pa- tient’s illness. ‘“‘ Exactly,” agreed the ashen-faced man, ‘‘a nervous breakdown. I have suffered for some time; too much drive and no let- up these days. I have been getting worse, and yesterday I went to pieces completely. I don’t know when I'll get to my office again. I may have to go away. Dr. Went- worth suggests a sea trip.” “Best thing in the world for your trou- ble,” agreed Craton heartily, and he went rambling off on the joys of an ocean voyage, its benefits and even garrulously recounted some trips he had made. Mr. Vrooman’s hand seemed to become a little more steady as Craton talked on and a trifle of color crept into his cheeks, but he missed the fact completely that he was being Studied minutely. ‘Oh, yes,”’ exclaimed Craton suddenly, “TI wanted to know what time you were at Brookmeadow last night.” The question came unexpectedly, and Mr. Vrooman was startled. He sat straight, gripped the arms of his chair and his face blanched. ‘“‘ Brookmeadow, sir—I wasn’t at Sands’s place last night.” Craton heaved a sigh. ‘“ Can you beat it?’’ he moaned, making his tone as vulgar as he could. “A blind trail again. I thought you were there.” Mr. Vrooman seemed to breathe again at the quick acceptance of his word. 125 “No,” he assured his caller, “I got up late, feeling ill and while I dressed to go down town I gave it up. I stayed here and—” but Mr. Vrooman’s voice trailed off weakly as he met Craton’s eye. “*T didn’t know,” mused Craton, ‘“ but I thought that possibly you kept that ap- pointment with Mr. Sands for nine thirty last night. Your note said you would call at that hour.” There came a sudden and swift change in Mr. Vrooman. He looked for an instant as if he felt he had blundered, as if the jaws of a trap had all but closed upon him. In a second he got himself in hand. A smile touched his lips. “I didn’t, Mr. Craton. I did drive out to Brookmeadow in the afternoon as I would have told you had you not interrupted me. I made the effort because I wanted to see Mr. Sands on some very important matters. Failing to find him, I did leave a note saying I would call at nine thirty, but feeling worse, I decided not to go. Is it quite clear to you now?” “Not everything.” “JT hardly see how I can be more ex- plicit.” “You haven’t given me all the facts, Mr. Vrooman.” “ Sir, you are insulting,” and Mr. Vroo- man drew himself erect with much dig- nity. | “Hardly insulting. Inquisitive, but considerate. I am trying to save you from the necessity of testifying before the coro- ner’s inquest.” “ Testifying? To what?” “To your actions yesterday from early morning until late at night. Excuse me, I see you have a pencil sharpener on your desk.” Without asking permission, Craton stepped across the room, placed a pencil in the machine, and gave a quick whirl to the handle. He drew the pencil out and examined it carefully. Taking another pencil from his pocket, he held it out to Mr. Vrooman, who was watching him in amazement and with a little fear. “Here is a pencil vou dropped yes- terday afternoon when at Brookmeadow, Mr. Vrooman. I notice that it is just like GOmiGcwoOoksaco