Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 148: what you’re looking at

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

774 “Oh, but I have no authority to do this,” protested Mr. Bridewell. ‘‘ You’re no kin of the young man’s?” Madeline dropped her eyes. “No; but—” Even a city editor can recognize romance when he sees it. Mr. Bridewell sighed and inwardly cursed the cause of this charming girl’s distress. “Then there’s nothing I can do,” he re- peated regretfully. ‘‘ We’ve had no word of his disappearance except through you, and I am inclined to believe you’ve become unduly alarmed. If the Gazette were to print a story about his disappearance, he would have the right to sue us. Besides, if I advertised every young man who failed to keep his appointments, I would have no space for news.” Madeline heard him out with her pretty lips drooping dejectedly. But she was not to be so easily disposed of. She rummaged around in her purse and produced a sheaf of typewritten pages. “Perhaps,” she suggested gently, “if you were to read one of his poems, you would feel differently. Perhaps you would print one. I should be glad to give it to you for nothing.” Mr. Bridewell sat hard on his impatience and accepted the proffered sheets. He glanced cursorily over them—went back and reread them more carefully a second time. Then he glanced a little wildly over his glasses at the expectant girl. ‘“ They’re really beautiful, aren’t they?” she said softly. “So unusual—don’t you think?” . | The editor’s eyes encountered that rapt gray gaze and dropped before it. He had been called a man of marvelous restraint, and so he proved himself now. “ Unusual?” he murmured. “ Very—ex- ceedingly unusual. But I fear I cannot use them—” “Oh, no?” cried Madeline. “You see, my dear young woman, the Gazette is not a poetry magazine. Much as they would—er—entertain my readers, I will still have to refuse them.” “ And you can’t advertise his disappear- ance?” | “ Unfortunately, no,” confessed the ed- ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. itor, and added, because he really was a kindly soul and Madeline was very appeal- ing: “ You just wait a week or so longer. et me know whether he turns up.” Madeline went home, dejected, frus- trated but far from beaten. She had not anticipated these obstacles. She had be- lieved that Adolph’s disappearance would be enough. Men like her Adolph were not born every day. She would wait a week, and then, surely, she would have better results. Something would happen. And something did. It was Mr. Bride- well who phoned Madeline just a week after their unproductive interview. His voice was strangely excited. “Did you say your young man’s name was Baldwin?” he asked. “ Adolph Bald- win?” Madeline reassured him on this point. “Do you happen to have a picture of the young man?” “Oh, yes!” she cried eagerly. ‘Suppose you bring it along and come down here,” suggested the editor. “I think I have news of the gentleman.” VI. THE following morning Madeline hopped out of her little runabout before the gate of her uncle’s summer retreat. It was nine o’clock, and she saw with satisfaction that she had made the twenty-five miles in a little over an hour. She hurried down the gravel path, stepped briskly across the porch, and paused on the threshold of the sun-flooded living room. Before the table, which was carefully swathed in snowy linen, attractively bright with gleaming silver, sat Adolph. Before him was an oval platter partly be- reft of its burden of golden brown country sausages. At his left rose a savory tower of steaming pancakes; at his right was a shining coffee pot. <A plate of fried pota- toes and a jar of golden honey added their substantial presence to the tempting as- semblage. From the kitchen came the pleasing clatter of dishes and the sounds of brisk footsteps. A feathered orchestra outside the open windows added an exotic touch to the scene. . | -comilcbooks: come