Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 11, 1925 — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

THE INNOCENT. money belt. In an instant he was satisfied that its cargo was fully intact. His fingers had touched forty thousand dollars in currency. II, Ir was after midnight when Steve passed many parked automobiles in a quiet residen- tial district and halted in front of a house with dark windows. A strain of piano music came from within the building. Steve hesi- tated; but this was the right address, so he ascended four steps and rang a bell. Shortly he was standing upon a Persian rug in a paneled anteroom. Beyond him an opened doorway shone with golden brilliance, bringing laughter and music. Awed by his surroundings, he twirled a peaked cap borrowed from a sailor; and then, feeling weights in his clothes, he fur- tively slipped his captured pistols into a big vase on a stand. A violin and flute joined with the piano in a dash of music. A shadow fell in the doorway. A tall, black-haired young woman, beautifully gowned in shin- ing black, swept into the room and extended her bare right arm: Her voice was a resonant contralto. ‘“‘ Ah, Stephen! At last! I expected you ‘several days ago!” ‘““T got shipwrecked,” he explained. c¢ Yes?” Steve continued, feeling that ‘he had to. “IT met a fellow who wanted me to come up the coast in his catboat. He said he could handle it. He fell overboard. I stayed on the bottom of the boat, yelling for help, till a little steamer came along. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” They appraised each other. Neither had seen the other for years. She was the older. Their father was the same, but their mothers came from different environ- ments, which reacted on their children. Her costume was exquisite, molded to a tall and graceful form; his was wrinkled and wrecked, hanging on a rangy body. Her high-heeled slippers were of sheer satin; his boots were soaked and out of shape. Her rounded cheeks were olive; his were rough and red. Her parted hair, on a small and well-poised head, shone jet black in the soft 201 light; his sandy mop stuck up in every direction. Her eyes were round and brown; his were blue, peering humorously from lids narrowed by facing hot suns and strong winds. his was broad and rough. She switched on a light and pointed to a lounge. She seated herself beside him. “Tt is true, then, about father’s death?’ ~ she asked. He nodded toward his shoes. The music became louder. A gust of laughter and applause followed. “A pity!” she apologized. “ My invita~ tions were out before I heard of his passing. I could not stop this.” He nodded again and twirled his cap. His eyes, striving covertly to gauge her, en- countered a direct stare which was eager and questioning. He resented it. Of course she was entitled to her inheritance, but his father’s last admonition ran through his brain, as clearly as though the crochety old Westerner were in this room: “That girl’s independent and _high- falutin’ and full of society ideas and none too steady. Most of it came from her ma, of course, but I’m not keen about handin’ her a lot of money outright, so I want you to sell half the outfit, convert it into cur- rency, go and see her, and dangle it right in front of her like a prize for good behavior, see? Play her along. If she’s all right, give it to her. If she’s not, give it to her anyhow. At least I want you to make a try, sabe?” Steve felt lost and helpless now. The thing looked easy enough in Gray Butte, Arizona, but not in the presence of this — sophisticated woman! There was music in his ears, scent in his nostrils, and the flash of polished floors in front of his eyes. He sparred for time: ‘“‘T understand you’re doing concert work. How is it?” “Only fair, es It’s very specula- tive, you know.” He stared at the splendid tapestries and rugs in the room. She smiled. “My mother left me this home and enough to give me a start, but I cannot continue indefinitely, of course.” “Of course.” Her hand was long and tapering; Comic JOOKS cor