Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

THE MAN WITHOUT HANDS. 5? “The other side!” panted Eddie. “‘ There’s a train coming in.” They leaped over the turnstiles, jumped down to the tracks, and scrambled up on the other side just as a train thundered in, missing them by little more than the pro- verbial hair. The doors of the train opened;. Val and Eddie, the only oncoming passengers, entered, and the gates clanged shut again. The bell rang the length of the car, and with a grinding of wheels the train started. Through the glass of the car plat- form, Val and Eddie could see the fore- most of the pursuing gang plunge into the station and look up and down for their quarry. . Val kissed his hand to them as the train - pulled out. ““Rather close,” commented Val, and for the first time he was able to turn to Eddie. He gave a gasp of surprise. In his hand Eddie Hughes held carefully the suit case containing the books they had gone after. Before a crackling blaze in the grate, Val sat sunk deep in an easy chair, exam- ining the books strewed around him. He was feeling better, more exhilarated with life, than he had felt for many a day. To- morrow he would have something to tell Jessica Pomeroy. He recounted to him self the several aspects of the story he would have to tell her. It was good. She could hardly keep on with Ignace Teck, now that ha” ‘Anything more to-night, sir?” asked Eddie respectfully, at the door. Val half turned. ‘Nothing, Eddie, except that you’re a good boy, and in my report to G. H. Q., V’ll recommend you for conspicuous cool- ~ ness and daring under fire. You ought to get a citation for it, you know.” “Ves sir. Very good, sir,” grinned Ed- die impassively. “ Good night, Eddie,” said Val. “ Good night, sir.” He went to his room. Val turned to the books again. Careful- ly he went through the one he held in his hand, page by page. It was a volume of E. P. Roe’s. “Imagine finding anything worth while in this!” he muttered, and threw it aside to pick up another. For half or three- quarters of an hour he sat before his fire, going through book after book. Not know- ing what he was looking for, he found noth- ing. He could not seem to get on the track of anything that looked promising. It was.a puzzle, and he did not have the key. It would have been hard enough even if he had known what he wanted. He had decided that the books had something to do with the money that old Peter Pome- roy had cached somewhere—but in what way? That he could not tell, and the books he had examined left him just as much in the dark. Now, if he only could unearth. that money and hand it over to Jessica Pome- roy! The thought of the name brought him around to her, and he smiled gently. Was there ever girl like her before? There was not, he decided. She was the recapit- ulation of all the beauty that had ever been in this world. And the way she had smiled at him to- night at times! Why, it was like spring coming suddenly ona cold winter’s day, the sun breaking through a bleak cloud, flowers poking their gay heads through the snow blanket, stars in June skies, oases—was that the proper plural?—in the Sahara, a fugi- tive moment of happiness. At this stage the house telephone rang insistently. He turned impatiently to the offending instrument, exasperated at being interrupted just at the moment when he was about to think of the best figure of speech of all. But Eddie had retired to a well earned rest, and he had to answer the call himself.. He picked up the receiver. It was the hall boy downstairs. “ There’s @ man wants to see you, sir?” came to him over the wires. | “To see me—at this time of night?” queried Val. ‘‘ What’s he want?” “TI don’t know, sir. He’s a chauffeur, and he says he has an important message for you personally.” ‘Well, send him up,” directed Val, put- ting down the receiver. An important message for him at this time of the night! There was only one thing that was important enough to break GOMIGIOOKS=CO