Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 87: what you’re looking at

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

A CROWN is so disgusting. They could never under- stand a love like ours, my Betty girl.” My heart was going like the engine of a racing car. His thoughtfulness made me want to cry. How utterly different he was from the cynical young man [ had quarrelled with only yesterday! And with that memory came back the image of Fay Delsarte, and I was miserable again. But I must have that one day. No one should rob me of that. The long wonderful day alone with Peter in the mountains. I made up my mind to wire again to my lawyers about the settlements—to increase the sum to double as much as had been sug- gested. I felt I had dealt so meanly by him. Everything I had I wanted to pour out at his feet. And I grew cold at the thought that I might lose him when he knew the truth. We left shortly afterward. There was a car waiting for him. I stepped across the road to the brilliantly lighted square where the taxis were lined up for hire. In my ears sounded the king’s last words, passion- ately whispered: Betty, my only love, good night!” I gave the driver of the first car on the road the address of my villa. He grumbled at the distance and named an extortionate sum, which I agreed to pay. Z I did not know the time, but had a feel- ing it was fairly late. The moon was high in the heavens, no longer orange-colored, but a brilliant orb of dazzling silver light, illuminating the velvety blue darkness like a giant Jamp. I felt drowsy, and soon after we started my head fell back, and I must have gone to sleep. I think I dreamt of Peter, and that he was high up on a mountain top and that I was trying to get to him. But it was all ice, hard and slippery and cold, and I couldn’t make any headway, and slid back as soon as I tried to take a step. And he was calling me, calling me in a voice of despair, and the moon looked down from the heavens with the calm, white, luminous face of Fay Delsarte. And then I lost my footing and fell hun- dreds—thousands of feet. And I was FOR SALE. 717 dashed on ito some rocks with terrific force, and the whole world was blotted out in inky darkness. ee CHAPTER XI. MY MOST SOLEMN WORD. ‘“g ADY CLEVELAND! It is you!” E I heard those words coming from a great distance, as I struggled back to consciousness. And the voice that spoke then was the soft, drawling voice of Lord Maurice Angell, made sharp by amazement and shock. I stirred and put out my hands to feel what was beneath me. It was the solid earth—the road, in fact—the Corniche Road. I was sitting on the road, propped up against a low wall, and Lord Maurice Angell stood before me with a powerful headlight in his hand by the light of which he was examining my face with eyes of blank surprise. Quick as thought my hand went to my head. It was bare—and my golden wig was no longer on it. All I felt was my own straight dark hair. Light burst in on me. There had been an accident. My fall through the darkness in my dream had been the shock of some collision. I tried to struggle to my feet. In those first moments I did not know whether I was injured or not. Lord Maurice helped me up. “You are unhurt,” he said. ‘ What a relief! -You can stand!” And then he gazed at me again in a ludicrous kind of way and ejaculated: — “ Lady Cleveland!” I said nothing, and he murmured: “ You are Lady Cleveland, and not Miss Fane.” “How did it happen?” I asked him. “Your taxi came into collision with the car I was in. Jt belongs to the Duke of Croyton, who was driving me home. He has gone for a doctor. Your taxi was badly smashed, and I sent the driver back to attend to his own injuries. He was nastily cut about the head. I recognized you at once—as Miss Fane. You were unconscious. It lasted so long I got frightened, and I took off your hat to see if I could find out oO Conmicooo “As tae im HaG@)