Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 96: what you’re looking at

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

= = “out of her. I asked her, all of a sudden, if she really did love him, and her face lit up and she gurgled and gasped and rolled her eyes and admitted it. They’re en- gaged, fast enough. I'll find that bathrobe myself and send Graves up with it.” Mrs. Ronalds’s hands clasped almost _-ecstatically. “Oh, if that sweet little thing is really the girl my boy has selected, I can sleep at last!” she stated. “Well, she is—and so can [!” Mrs. Stone grunted, and departed. Had Graves’s lips been just a little tighter, there would not have been even a slit across the front of her tart countenance. ““ Mrs. Stone sent this for your use, miss,” she said, draping the elaborate pink robe over the foot of the four-poster. “Yes?” Cynthia murmured. “Will there be something else—Miss Blair?” -“ Nothing,” Cynthia sighed. ‘“‘ Breakfast is at nine,’ Graves added. _ “ Nine?” escaped Cynthia with some en- ergy. ‘“‘ Can’t I have breakfast any earlier than that?” Nine is the hour. I wouldn’t care to ask cook to make any change in it,”’ Graves = replied, forbiddingly. -She looked about the big, pretty room quite intently. There was a jewel casket on the dressing table; Graves shook it, found it empty and gazed meditatively at the rather plain toilet articles, the collec- tion of which in its entirety had cost hardly fifty dollars. Plainly, there was nothing about likely to tempt a criminal of Cyn- thia’s type. “Good night, miss!”’ Graves said grimly. ‘“‘ Oh—good night!” said Cynthia. After that she was alone—more complete- ly, more awfully alone than ever before in her life. Her eyes grew wild as she, too, looked about the big room; her lips began to quiver. Ten seconds of this and, with = a low and dreadful moan, the afflicted Cyn- thia threw herself across the bed and sobbed wildly—and sobbed and still sobbed. - ' After a distressing period of this, though, the sobbing subsided; there was a dwindling succession of long, shaky breaths. And _ ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. then, with a start, Cynthia sat up, blinking, panting, and at last smiling faintly. That impression of a huge man chasing her with a net in one hand and a cane in the other had been a dream, at least. Weary nature and the habit of an early bedtime had done something for Cynthia, too. She consulted her little watch and discovered that it was nearly one o’clock. But she was rested and her head was clear. She was hungry, too—maddeningly hun- ery; but the clear-headedness was almost enough to compensate for that. Well—she was there for a while; so much was certain. She was there, indeed, until somebody more capable than herself had contrived the way to a safe departure. Somebody, to be sure! Who? Cynthia sighed heavily—and then started up with a small cry. This night she seemed to have a monopoly of all the stupidity in the world; on the little table, not six feet from herself, stood the telephone. She stifled a gasp which promised to be- come quite noisy and reached for the in- strument. Nora, of course! She’d give the facts to Nora and, if that capable young woman didn’t know the answer at least she would know where to race for advice—to the two lawyers with whom they were ac- quainted, or to Uncle Dan himself! The great consideration was that Nora would leap into action, and that, within hours at most, Cynthia would know just how it feels to be saved. She giggled hysterically and put her lips close to the transmitter, all ready to whis- per the number and rouse Nora Blair. She held her very breath, that she might not lose even the fraction of a second in an- swering the operator’s initial query—held it and sat rigid—and then, perforce, breathed again at last and moved the hook cautious- ly up and down. So far, nothing but im- measurable silence had come to her from the device. One impatient line appeared between Cynthia’s pretty brows. She tried the hook again—and waited—and once more tried the hook, albeit five good minutes of the same silence had passed. Then, with a small groan, the younger Miss Blair con- ceded the accuracy of that suspicion which (COMME NOVO KS5(EC)