Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 7, 1925 — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

“ Oh,” he said while a shock ran a sag him, ‘“‘ so there you are!” z Wes, ” agreed a soft voice from ¢ above. It was a very soft voice—a voice “that was silky, and tenuous with inferred hisses. _“You’re a pretty good jumper, aren’t you,” said my nephew. ‘You're not such a bad diver said the voice. “Of course you are Micah Thrumm?” “Ves. IT am Micah Thurmm.” “And I suppose you know,” said my nephew, with as much bravado. and confi- dence as he could muster, “ that L've got you cornered. I happen to have a gun.” “So I saw. It’s an ugly gun. have a gun—an ugly gun.” My nephew reflected. No bullet from a revolver would ever pierce that table. _ “Will you give yourself up, or shall I have to call for the guards in the passage to come and get you? They ‘ll SHO you dead if they do.” — Micah Thrumm laughed aaiedly. - yourself, ” “There are no longer any = in the passage,” he said. “That is a lie.” “No. You sete to know that it isn’t. I never would: have come here if the = had been at their posts. — - Where are they?” - 2 ex A little fire. I started it.” “Vou haven’t exactly been idle Ene the trip, have you!” — ‘No. I started the fire, by the way, in p order to have a clear field and enough ‘Sane to come in here and kill you.” “T shall. You are beginning to know too much. But you shan’t see me beto you die, You will never know who I am.’ “You seem mighty certain it’s I who am going to die.” “Oh, yes. mind about that at all. And you needn't think I don’t realize your motive m chat- ting with me this way. You're trying to keep me interested until the guards get —— to their posts. Silly fellow!” 2 Not at all. Ive always conceded that you ‘were tremendously clever.” the edge at his feet. There isn’t any =e in my VICTIM. ~“ Am, my dear boy—not were.” “ That remains to be seen.” “Just so. Like my face, that remains to be seen.” Taking careful aim at a point on the op- posite bulkhead just beneath the overhead, my nephew pulled the trigger of his gun. The bullet, he knew, would flatten itself harmlessly against the steel. After the roar of the explosion bad sub- * sided, a thin chuckle came from above him. ze I wondered,“ said Micah Thrumm, just when you would do that.” “You might just as well commence now on your prayers. They ’ll be busting in that door in one minute.” — ‘There was no answer. ““T said,” repeated my nephew, ‘that they would be busting in that door in one minute.” Still there was no answer, nor was there any sound of anything astir in the passage. It was disconcerting—the sudden stillness after ‘the first few minutes of hearing that answering voice. Perhaps every one ‘was in the vicinity of the fire. Perhaps sound of his shot had not been heard. He took indefinite aim and rapidly pulled the trigger three times. The corre sponding sharp = cks filled the cabin with a vast tumult of © | == : sound. So it seemed to him. They must we Ea 5 have gone to put out the fire.” be heard. Some one—every ¢ ———s come at once. But still there was silence. Ro—nof quite—there was a scraping sound from the table top; a scraping sound and then the tips of four fingers creeping slowly beneath He held his breath and with his gun leveled toward the lower edge of the table, where i in his excited folly he fondly expected he head of Micah Thrumm to appear, waited for his target. - There was still no sound. But the finger- tips pressed tightly on the rim, as if to gain a purchase so that Micah Thrumm could Jean over and peer below—in order to Bim —to aim his own ugly gun— : The fingers belonged, my nephew decided, while his brain spun in nervous whirls, to — a left hand. The forehead and eyes would therefore appear to their right. Trembling © more than a little, he shifted his aim a frac-_ tion or so of an ack Then, like some fan- _ | Eomichooks