Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

THE PASSING OF * T have given you a fair alternative, Mr. Victor Denasch. Of course, if you choose to be treated as a possible criminal I shall frame a charge and enter it up correctly in all particulars.” That cryptic remark seemed to reduce the man to a state of sullen submission. “ Very well,” he said. ‘“‘ The best way to prove my innocence of any complicity in this crime is to answer your questions and await your convenience. May I go now?” ‘“You accept my terms?” 74 Yes ) ‘Let Mr. Denasch leave the castle,” said Winter to Bates. “ The hotel is only five minutes’ walk from here,” he added, appar- ently as an afterthought, but the visitor to Sleaford knew quite well that any fur- ther artistic theories he had in mind had better be kept in abeyance if they called for more wandering about the town that night. Bates opened one of the hall doors, of which there were two, one on each side of a glass portico at the top of the outer steps. Those remaining in the hall listened in silence to the footsteps of the two men as they walked to the main gate. At that instant the clock in the parish church pro- claimed the hour at which, according to Hamlet, “ churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out contagion to this world.” None spoke. What between the music of the chimes and the twelve solemn notes of a deep-toned bell, the postern in the outer gate was opened just as the last vi- brations died away. Winter looked around at Davidson. “ That warning click sounds only for the big door itself?” he inquired. “Ves, The device had merely a cere- monial significance.” “Tsn’t Victor Denasch that blighter’s real name?’’ put in Glen. “Why do you ask?” countered Winter. “ Because, while you were reading the riot act I took close stock of him. In the hotel I regarded him as an Alsatian French- man. Now, I know he is a Levantine, probably reared in Malta. If his face were well washed it would come out sallow. At present his lips alone can grow pale. Of CHARLES LANSON. 841 course, one doesn’t expect to find a johnny not on the stage so cleverly made up.” Winter surveyed the artist with new in- terest. It would appear that this young man had both eyes and brains, and could use them on occasion. “We'll review all the circumstances in the morning,” was what he said, however. ‘““[ want to examine the library carefully, and would like Dr. Macgregor’s help—and yours too, of course. I wonder how long the doctor will be detained by that enter- prismg young person, Alice Romer. If you haven’t compieted your memorandum of the talk with Mr. Sevastopolo, Mr. Da- vidson, you might give me now a brief—” A woman’s shriek, long drawn out and piercing, came from the upper part of the building. Though two flights of stairs and a long corridor intervened, the little com- pany of men in the hall arrived at the same conclusion simultaneously. ‘* Alice Romer has either recovered her senses or lost them very thoroughly,” was Winter’s grim comment. ‘“ Thus far, after being here an hour, I have not been permit- ted to do straight off one single thing I wanted to do. I’ve never before been mixed up in such a case—never!” | CHAPTER V. WHEREIN IRENE PUZZLES MR. WINTER. AVIDSON volunteered to find out the 1D cause of the hubbub. The explana- tion was simple enough. The girl had no sooner opened her conscious eyes on a world of reality than memory resumed its sway, and she passed at once inio the semidelirium of hysteria. Scotch doctors have a sharp way of treating that ailment, however, and Macgregor flicked her with a wet towel till she cried “‘ Ouch!” so nat- urally that the other maids in attendance would like to have protested against t se drastic methods. Still, she was eviden:ly on the verge of further complete collapse, so the doctor gave her, too, a stiff dose of bromide, and promised to send a nurse to sit by her bedside till morning. He told Winter these things when they met. Then he drew the detective aside. oO Comiclbooks.€©