Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 94: what you’re looking at

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

A404 now, and had it settled quite definite and conclusive, as you might say.” . What?” “Indeed, yes, Miss Blair,” said Towner, and chuckled. ‘‘ I—I don’t know as it’s a - thing to be told, but it ‘ll calm you if you’ve such an idea. There was some notion Mrs, Stone had about certain investments, as I understood it, and she insisted on having her way. She made some forty thousand dollars out of it, I believe, in the end; but at the time it looked so queer and she was so set on it that one day Mrs. Ronalds flew in a rage and—and, as I heard, told Mrs. Stone she was crazy,” “ Er—yes.”’ “So Mrs. Stone, having a temper of her own, said that wasn’t the first time in her life some such thing had been hinted at, but that it was going to be the last. And with that, miss, she sent for the five big- gest alienists in New York, and when they got here she told ’em—her very words— to cut loose with all the tests they knew and then tell her and her daughter and anybody else that might be interested whether her brains were working proper or whether they needed tinkering!” ‘Towner chuckled on. ‘ So they did that very thing, miss, and each time they wanted to stop she urged ’em on to try something else. They put in a matter of six hours at the job in that very room you've left.” “Ves?” said Cynthia, with growing in- terest and an odd little chill. “Well, when they was all done, Miss Blair, they compared notes and agreed that '@ saner woman probably never lived. It seems that the old one—him with the long white whiskers, I’ve forgotten his name— had known her father. He said she was the living image of him, and it was a crying shame she’d ever been born a woman; he said if she’d been born a man she’d have been one of the biggest leaders of her day. And when they was going out, the young chap—Dr. Axler, was it?—who’d taken it all as something of a joke, he said to the old one that she was a sight more danger- ous than if she’d been crazy: she was just what she was, and sane in addition. Any- way, they were the five biggest, and they all agreed; and she made ’em write out a re- ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. port that, I make no doubt, is in her desk at this minute.” ‘“ Er—yes,”’ Cynthia said faintly. Because she was sinking again. She had rushed so gayly toward a door that simply must open for her—and now Yowner had bolted the door. “And even so, we make a great point of never angering her, miss,” he concluded softly. ‘‘ She’s a terrible temper, and once an idea’s fixed in her mind the old boy him- self couldn’t stop her. I don’t think she’d be liking that message to go to Mrs. Ron- alds, miss.” ‘“* Pos—possibly not,” Cynthia mur- mured, and leaned against the wall. “You're tired, Miss Blair,” the butler said kindly. ‘‘ Hadn’t you best go to bed now?” “I—yes, I think so. Er—Towner—I might have a cup of tea, I suppose?”’ io 4 Well—” “And a sandwich or two and—perhaps a piece of cake, Towner. Something like that and—”’ “Well, I'm sorry indeed, Miss Blair,” the butler said with a sympathetic smile, but with extreme firmness. ‘ There’s an iron-clad law in this household against eat- ing between meals; Mrs. Stone don’t be- lieve in-it. Now, if I was on good terms with the cook, I might steal up with a bite or two for you,” he whispered. ‘‘ But it so happens I ain’t on good terms with the cook, and she’d be the first to report it to Mrs. Stone. It ’d be as much as my job’s worth,” “Well, do you mean to tell me that I can’t even—”’ Cynthia began desperately. “ Psst! Psst, now!” Mr. Towner breathed warningly, and his smile grew almost fa- therly as he closed the whole subject with: “T’ll go tell Graves to make sure your room’s ready, miss, and you go in and say good night to her!”’ He nodded, amiably as ever, and trudged away to the stairs. Numbly the pretty Miss Blair gazed after him; passed a hand across her aching eyes and gazed then for a time at the door of Mrs. Stone’s quarters. Eventually she shuffled to it, and spent another interval gazing at the placidly sleeping lady, at last Eomichbooks (S@)