Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 19, 1924 — page 145: what you’re looking at

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

THE CONFIDENCE MAN. the first time one soul whose graven face had maintained the impassivity of rock, demonstrated an interest in the proceedings. Slowly, and with immense significance, Wade arose to his feet. “Sit down!” he barked. And respond- ing instantly to the discordant appeal of that voice, a hush fell once more upon the room, a moment of hush, while Wade’s in- scrutable countenance swept up and down the table. Corvan, with his left arm rigid, respond- ed to the quick clutch of Margaret’s hands as, white as death, she drew closer to him. His right hand was still upon the shoulder of the boy; but at his elbow he knew Mad- dox lurked, and in a quick glance he saw the Snake’s eyes glisten with a cold and hateful brilliance. And the hand of Mad- dox hovered at his belt. “Me,” said Wade, “ I’ve got something to say, too.” His voice fell harshly upon the silence, and with a gesture he held in his hands the typewritten affidavits of his henchmen. He unfolded them. “ He’s going to read them off!” muttered Corvan, and a cold dew glistened on his forehead. “Like hell!” hissed a voice in his ear; and he turned to see the hand of Maddox flash back to his hip pocket. And lke lightning Corvan’s hand fell from the boy’s shoulder and grasped the Snake’s lethal arm. ‘Drop it, Maddox, for God’s sake!” It was a command, whispered, but im- perative. There was a moment of tense struggle which the body of Harold Trench screened from the room, and the gun slipped) swiftly into Corvan’s coat pocket. Corvan bared his teeth in the gesture of a grin. He had prevented murder; but he saw the irony which provided that the last decent thing he had to do was to prevent Wade’s betrayal being stopped by death. “There’s something more to be said about Mr. Corvan that you people know nothing about,” Wade’s cold voice was There followed a deathly pause. Margaret pressed to Corvan’s side. “I am with you,” she whispered. And Har- old Trench, with a boy’s impulse, gathered his right hand in his. “T Know Corvan better than you peo- ple,” continued Wade. ‘“ Been associated with him for years—in a business way. And all you’ve said of him is true. But it’s only me that knows the greatest sacrifice that he’s ever offered to make. He said that he must say good-by. That’s it. I know why he felt that he must go away from here for good. The reason lies right in these little papers that I hold in my hand.” His voice paused for an instant, and his eyes drifted over to where Corvan stood. They lighted upon the face of Harold Trench, and there they stayed. He con- tinued to speak, but his hard gaze rested upon Harold’s face as though he spoke to him alone. * Well, you can understand that, I guess. The reason he’s giving up all the things and the friendships that mean so much happi- ness to him is right in these papers here: And his reason is for good. I guess you can see that? I guess you can understand me. Well, now—look!” He scanned the table once again as if to be sure that all eyes were upon him, and then, with strong, sure hands, he slowly, deliberately, ripped the papers again and again—in halves, in quarters, into little pieces. These pieces he placed very care- fully in an empty salad bowl which stood before him on the table, and just as careful- ly he struck a match and set fire to them. The flame arose with sacrificial brilliance, and he stood for a moment gazing upon it, the glare lighting his face fantastically. ‘Now, then,” he exclaimed with sudden harsh elation, ‘‘ if you want to know more— if you want to know what was in those pa- pers, read ‘em. There they are. There won't ever be a word spoken or written about that thing again except for what is in them ashes!” He clapped his hands together in a com- placent, cleansing motion. “* Dan Corvan can stay here or anywhere else he likes, now!” he cried. “ For all of me, he can live with the cows and chickens till hell is a summer resort!” He sat down. And that was the end of the speech- making. There was a tiny pause during which Corvan and Margaret Fiske ex- EComichbooks 615. 2 < 2 = ‘a os Ee | 3 r4 8 ifesBhinid AA ANP Ts Heed GN el) fae Ae vi : yal nib ile APT i2 ea a “<4 ~ ae | ~~ €om eee a | 2 a a,