Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

WHERE ago! You don’t—Mr. Bennett doesn’t— Mr. Moreland doesn’t.” “ That isn’t just the point, Berford. A man might well enough have to think for a minute or two before he could give an ac- count of himself on any particular date, years gone. True. We concede that. But!” shouted Mr. Craven and leaned so far across the table that I thought he was going to bite the president. ‘‘ Certain dates in one’s life are graven deep into one’s mind, never to be erased. It is my im- pression that your January ninth is such a date! ... Well?” “ Bosh!” yelled Mr. Berford. Mr. Craven smiled wickedly and wagged his head. ‘“So we are to look solely to the young woman for information, eh?” ‘““ Pray do so!” ‘J shall!” smiled Isaac Craven, and ap- proached her again. “‘ My dear, be so good as to give us the whole story of that day?” And here was a new one, because as she looked up at him this time, I’m blest if it didn’t seem that she was turning sulky and stubborn. At all events, she tightened her lips and shook her head. “Let Tom tell you!” “ There seems to be some slight re- luctance on his part. So you will tell us, please. Come! Just what did hapnen on that date?” The mystery merely shook her pretty head. “No!” she said. “ But we insist upon knowing.” “ No,” said the girl. “Ask Tom.” And she seemed really pettish about it, too. “He is the one to tell you. Not [.” Isaac Craven folded his arms and looked the president up and down. “ Well, Berford?” “Oh, rot!” snapped the president, and banged down into his chair again. “ Some- body’s crazy here—more than one person, perhaps, but I’m not among the number. Settle this idiocy in whatever way best pleases yourself, Mr. Craven.” This was plain speech and I suppose it was just the way the boss felt. Anyhow, he shrugged his shoulders and began packing things back into the black brief case; and ZA WAS I? offhand, one would have said that so far as — he was concerned the matter had been closed forever. The rest of them did not feel quite that way about it, though. Craven, of course, is a freak of nature who would hang his own twin on circumstantial evidence; but by this time Macpherson and Jones and Moreland were beginning to look a trifle dubious and even Mr. rather bewildered. He spoke just as Craven was picking words for a new assault. 3 ‘“ Well, a—a very extraordinary situation seems to have arisen here, gentlemen,” said Mr. Bennett. ‘‘ While I know—while we all know, Tom—that you are incapable of anything of—er—a discreditable nature, still, at the same time—”’ “Exactly!” said Isaac Craven— ‘‘“—+there does seem to be something that needs clearing up and we’ll have to clear it up, of course.” His eyes were genuinely troubled as they studied the president. ‘“ It might be just as well to tell us what you were doing on that day, Tom?” Berford laughed outright, although not — merrily by any means. ‘It might indeed, sir,” he agreed, “ ex- cept that, as I pointed out a moment ago, it happens to be impossible. My memory is fairly good, but it’s not good enough to go back and collect the minor happenings of any one day years ago or—”’ ‘The minor happenings?” gasped the girl, “Pardon me?” snarled the president. ““ Oh—Tom!” she breathed, and seemed about to die on the spot! She had very little effect on our presi- dent, however. He shrugged and turned back to Mr. Bennett. : ‘‘ You at least are reasonable,” he smiled. “Try the thing yourself: what were you doing on January ninth, nineteen twenty?” ‘“ Well—to save my soul from perdition, I couldn’t tell you that, my boy,” said Mr. Bennett. “You, Mr. Jones?” ‘Huh? Me?” Jones stared and shook his head. “I was doing something or other, around town here. Or somewhere else, do- ing something else.” im GComichboo S Bennett seemed _