Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 7, 1925 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

494 that mattered to people who desired to know one another—who spoke the intuitive language of personality, of magnetic at- traction, rather than of heredity. Who was he talking with? “ Step aboard, sis.” She faced her brother and the opened doors of the elevator. A definite sensation of ice chilled her heart as the doors were closing and the car began its swift descent. Robbins’s companion had moved from be- hind the masking column—a woman in a metal dress; a woman with white skin and startling lips; a woman whose hair was flame; a woman of thirty-five. “You’re standing on North Star’s paw, sis.” _. She turned on Wilbur in a blaze. * “Then why doesn’t he bark and tell me —bite me!” x ' “T guess it’s because you’re my sister, sis.” The car came to a stop and the doors slid open upon the blare and clangor of the New York night. The three faced it; two with their bitterly defined problems of the pres- ent and the past; one with the enigma of the future. CHAPTER VI. THE BLOW. HE three events that were to disrupt North Star’s life and leave their im- print upon his future, had their be- ginning in the library of the house on Fifth Avenue. A cold snap had shaken itself from the vanishing train of winter and the city had lost its air of spring. Within the library, before a welcome log fire, there was quiet and warmth. Every- thine was as it should be. Wilbur sat in a deep armchair, reading. Marcia was above in her own living room. The serv- ants were busied with the orderly routine of their duties. The house was an impreg- nable fortress of security. It was mid- afternoon and the westering sun blazed in through the windows. It was a moment of hush, of peace. But North Star was not | at peace. His head, outstretched upon his paws, ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. was still. His whole body was still. The warmth from the fire was pleasant. But he felt uneasy. A vague disquiet dis- turbed him. Et disturbed him the more because he could not define its source. Nor could he locate it. There was no sound beyond the occasional rustle of a turning page. There was no scent that warned of danger. There was no antagonistic object that he could see, But he was uneasy. Once before he had had the same sensation. It had been in his great north woods. The feeling had grown stronger and stronger, just as it was increasing within him now. For some rea- son, the explanation of which he never knew, he had suddenly leaped against the chest of his old daddy Michael Lebombard and had hurled him, with his ereat strength, backward for a distance of about fifteen feet, And a huge limb, weakened by storm, had crashed to earth from the tree beneath which they had been standing. He got quietly up and made an inspec- tion of the house. He toured it from top floor to cellar. Still there was no sound, no scent, no thing of danger that his eyes could see. He returned to the library and stretched himself again before the fire. He tried to sleep. He could not. For half an hour he lay still. And then he heard a bell ring. It was a sound too faint to be heard by Wilbur, but his own sharp Sensibilities had easily caught it. It was the sound associated in his mind with a subsequent opening of the front door. He heard the measured tread of Wil- kinson, the butler, moving along the hall. He caught his scent. He heard the open- _ing of the inner door; the storm door; the closing of each. The feeling of uneasiness within him leaped to its peak. A low growl rumbled in his throat. Wilbur looked up from his book and shot a curious glance at North Star. The dog was tense. He looked around the library. It was empty. Its doors, its windows were closed. The dog’s eyes were fastened upon the door that led to the hallway. it opened and Wilkinson came in. A gentleman to see you, sir,” he said. - Mr. Richard Robbins.” Wilbur’s volatile nature flared into in- co micboo <S5€O