Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 12, 1927 — page 105: what you’re looking at

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

THE MARK OF from a bag. Perhaps he was stacking them, counting them. But, if so, he was doing it very cautiously, as if intensely fearful that he would be heard. This kept up I cannot say how long. I only know that for several moments I was too firmly gripped by a galvanic current of fear to move or cry out. Then I began to get some sort of control of myself. I wanted to climb up there and look through the transom. But I reflected that to get the ladder and climb up would be a cumbersome and noisy procedure. And I didn’t want to be heard—not by any man- ner of means. I had the one thought uppermost in my mind that if whoever was in there knew I was spying, sitting outside his door, I would not last very long on this earth. : I was able finally to struggle to my feet. - My feet seemed fairly paralyzed, so heavy “they were, but I dragged them slowly, al- most inch. by inch, you might say, to the banister, and then I did a thing which I cannot explain. I tried to cry out! Now, what was the sense of that? Was I having a nightmare, in which state every man seems to have the one impulse to howl? Perhaps I wanted to call the old doctor, who occupied a room on the oppo- site side of the gallery. I imagine I. made some sort of gasp which, with all my breath, elicited a sound as of a man awakening from a terrible dream. It was not loud enough, however, for the doctor to hear. Cronk, who was upstairs in his room, on the same floor with the mozo and the octoroon housekeeper, was of course unable to hear me. But I believe that Presence in the judge’s room heard me, for I remember having the impression that the dim parallelogram of light up there in the transom was blotted out. I was left in pitch darkness, groping, lost, swaying in an immensity of black, dank atmosphere. Then I heard some one call out: “ Lord have mercy! What you doin’?” The voice was muifled, reminding me wer _—_ of the a nets IT — hadi THE MOCCASIN. | 99 The next words grew more and more in- distinct: ‘“T don’t want your money. Keep it all. I won’t tell nothin’. Only spare me—spare my miserable ole life for Heaven’s sake! No—no—” Then there seemed to be a final sum- moning of strength, and the remaining breath of life in an agonized scream. I caught the words: “It’s you—you fiend!” Now, it is strange that I did not imme- diately recognize that voice; then again, it is not so strange, after all. so much the voice of a man, as of a des- perate, terrified animal. It was _high- pitched; and that one cry seemed to tear the very lungs and throat of the poor wretch. CHAPTER XIV. A SINGLE CLEW. HE whole household, I need hardly say, heard that desperate cry. I re- member indistinctly that there was a turmoil, a scrambling of each one out of his bed, the lighting of lamps, the opening of doors. I myself was so dumfounded that I am unable to give any coherent rec- ord of what happened. I know that I found myself presently with Dr. Zobel, carrying the stepladder to the door of the judge’s room. There was plenty of light now. Maizie had come to the balustrade of the upper story, and was standing there with a lamp sending tumul- tuous rays of light, and wagging shadows down the stair-well. There was no doubt about her hands trembling. If I had not been preoccupied with more engrossing fears, I would have called up to her to take care not to drop that lamp down to the floor of the hallway below. The doctor’s door, on the same floor on which we were, was now open giving us plenty of light. And Miss Shirley, in her silken wrapper stood below, looking up at us, her oval face a high spot of light.. She was like Lady MacBeth. | ee a. a of Stat ecaiaiae! to == 5 It was not | eOinebGG ce Com