Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

MYSTERY FARM. The barns, ef cetera, are on the opposite side of the road. Come a-runnin’, Dick! Your new sister- in-law is anxious to greet the one member of the family she has never seen, and so is your benedict brother. WARREN GRAHAM. Dick grinned as he returned the letter to his pocket, mounted his wheel and scorn- ing brakes, but with his siren shrieking like a lost soul, coasted down the hill, utterly reckless of life or limb, or the speed laws. He swung in upon the turf before the house and as his siren emitted a final banshee wail sprang off before the front gate. Rather to his surprise, for he had made noise enough to arouse the township, no one was in evidence. Was it possible they were not yet up? But that couldn’t be, for the bedroom win- dows were open, the shades raised, and the sheets hanging to air over the backs of chairs. Also. the upper half of the “ Dutch ”’ front door was open. With a loud hail of * Ahoy! the house!” Graham pushed open the gate and strode up the neat slate path of the trim garden, already gay with early, old-fashioned flow- ers, to the porch. The latter was partially inclosed with bamboo screens and a hammock and ham- mock chair swung at either end. A couple of tables, half a dozen roomy chairs, and a low work-basket, all of wick- er, stood about upon grass rugs, while a litter of papers, books and magazines, a cribbage board, a pack of cards, and a set of chess gave it a cozy homy appearance. Graham lifted the big bronze knocker and sent a thunderous double knock ring- ing through the house, but it elicited no other response than its own echo. No one answered. No one appeared. “What the dickens has become of every- body?” he grumbled, peering into the win- dow of the room to the left of the hall. “T’ve got the right house certainly. There is Warren’s desk, and his bookcases, and the same old rickety chair. “They can’t all have gone out. Elinor’s kid brother is with them, Warren wrote, and her old nurse is the cook. They must keep at least one man. Guess I’ll go in.” 735 The door offered no obstacle, and he was soon in the library. It seemed in much better order than he had ever known his brother’s den to be before—the result of Elinor’s efforts, doubtless. The big, battered table desk, though cov- ered with papers, manuscripts, and open reference books, looked almost neat. A half-finished page of manuscript lay on the blotting pad, an old pipe beside it. On the mantel was his brother’s pocket- book, open, and quite plethoric with yellow bills. The same old careless Warren! Dick smiled as he hid the leather case behind a photograph. The room on the farther side of the hall, evidently the living room, was in perfect order, but most of the furnishings were new to him, and there was an unpleasant, damp chill in the air that puzzled him for a mo- ment, But after a glance about, he passed into the dining room, and there he stopped in amazement. The room was untenanted, like the oth- ers, but that it had not been so more than a very few moments was apparent. The table was set for three, and a half-finished breakfast was at each place. The silver coffee percolator still steamed. The coffee in the half empty cups was warm. So were the plates, and even the food upon them, A boy’s cap lay on the floor by a chair where it had been carelessly thrown. A pink sunbonnet hung by its strings on the back of the chair by the coffee urn.. Everything else was in order, except that the position of the three chairs at the table seemed to indicate that their occupants had risen in somewhat greater haste than usual, for they were pushed well back and twisted slightly sidewise. Frowning perplexedly, Graham passed into the kitchen. Here, too, everything was as it naturally should be. The kettle sang merrily upon the stove, and a huge tawny cat of the “tiger” variety drowsed upon the hearth and eyed him with a reserved but not unfriendly interest. At the deal table one place was set, and, as in the dining room, a half eaten meal, still warm, stood there. — CORMEDOOLK<S