Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 161: what you’re looking at

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

Weed cass eT OTH En Won cn By LUKE THOMAS . HEN Walter Lathrop started on \ X | his way to kill Jack Freyne, it was one o’clock of a Sunday afternoon. On Park Avenue people were hurrying home to dinner; men in silk hats and women in furs; baby carriages pushed by uneasy fathers; citizens from further east proving the democracy of leisure. The benches along the midway were settled with New York’s two ruling classes, enjoying the first sunshine of April; the housemaids in unfriendly colors, the tradesmen in uniform black. Lathrop turned to cross east on a street in the middle Fifties, swearing softly at the traffic as he waited for the green signal light. He crossed Park Avenue and then Lexington, stopped in the entrance to a house of small apartments, and pushed the button opposite a card bearing Freyne’s name. He didn’t lift the telephone, but _ waited with his hand on the door knob. He knew that on this morning Freyne would 795 have slept late, heated a sketchy breakfast in the kitchenette, and would now be alone, possibly dressing to go out for lunch. He rang the bell again. This time the latch clicked, and he pushed the door open and started up the stairs. As he reached the first landing he heard Freyne’s voice above. ’'Who’s that?” He didn’t answer, but went on to the second flight. At the top he saw Freyne, dressed except for his coat, peering over the banisters. Lathrop kept his head low- ered until he had finished the climb, and Freyne backed into the room, holding the door open. “Hello, Walter. Why didn’t you yell out? I couldn’t see who you were.” Lathrop walked into the apartment and put down the hand-bag he carried. ‘““T wasn’t sure you’d want to see me,” he answered. <¢ Why?” Eomichbooks-co im