Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 42: what you’re looking at

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

668 him the luxury of accompanying her to the Dead Cat, or any other malodorous resort, and he didn’t quite have the nerve to in- vite her to dine at his hotel. He fretted inwardly, slept poorly, and generally marked time. He longed to have Count Vaudreuil leave Paris and permit himself to resume his own name, and at the same time dreaded to have him do so. At the Three Queens he at least had every conceivable necessity and luxury. The aver- age man would have been content to let things ride indefinitely. But fate was not thinking of letting things ride. Abruptly, and rather horribly, she intervened and took matters out of the hands of both conspirators. It was the third morning after the ap- pearance of the paragraph which had so upset Sangrado. George, having breakfast- ed, was despondently scanning the morning journals to see if there were any more per- sonals of interest to him. He had dressed for the street, but lacked ambition to go anywhere. His funds were exhausted, any- how. He couldn’t so much as buy a flower for his buttonhole, although some expensive and rather hideous orchids stood in a Chi- nese vase upon his table. He could order deviled kidneys and plovers’ eggs here, but once outside could not have bought a bowl of bouillon. He had everything but money. The thought occurred to him that he would like to smoke; and as usual, before he had made so much as a gesture toward the big tin of Egyptians, the infallible Sauerbraten was at his side, a lighted vesta in hand. And at this instant there came a knocking at his door—as portentous as the knocking at the portals in ‘ Macbeth.” Sauerbraten answered it. A hotel attendant extended a silver tray on which reposed a visiting card. The valet handed it to George, who read: MADAME LA COMTESSE DE VAUDREUIL “ Heil’s bells!” — George. “ Ain’t we got fun?” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, The servant had remained persistently in the doorway. He now spoke up, bowing profoundly, “‘ Madame insists upon being shown im- mediately to the apartments of Monsieur le comte,” he announced. ‘“ She is even now in the lift.” In panic, George turned to Sauerbraten; but for once that paragon was speechless. His face was still expressionless, but it was of a greenish-white color, and his throat worked convulsively. And so it was, with George still sprawling in his chair, his ciga- rette untouched, there came a light foot- fall, the servant disappeared, and was re- placed by a quite ravishing picture. The young woman who swept breezily into the room, her two hands outstretched, was slender and blond, and clad in an old gold and blue traveling gown topped by a smart toque that said Rue de la Paix as plainly as if endowed with speech. Three steps into the room, and the door having closed softly behind her, the lady came to an abrupt pause, her. blue eyes widening incredibly, her rosy lips still parted over little white teeth. “ Why—you—you are not my husband!” she gasped. George rose, as one using another’s legs. His throat was chalk dry. He bowed shakily. “ Not to you, madame,” he said simply. “ And pray, to whom are you my hus- band?” she demanded, rather ridiculously. ‘““What are-you doing here—and where is Edouard?” The perfidious valet was stealing away, inch by inch, An imperious gesture de- tained him. “ Sauerbraten, answer me! Who is this —this gentleman? Where is your master?” ‘“‘T beg you to be seated while I explain,” George hastened to intervene. “I assure you that all is well. Your husband—the count—is in the best of health and—er— spirits.” He shoved forward a chair, and after a brief hesitation the countess seated herself rather primly. “Had we known of your coming, Count Vaudreuil would of course have been here to greet you, madame. I very much regret COMNIE KOO <S,(€©) in