Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 12, 1927 — page 108: what you’re looking at

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

102 ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, —and you, Miss Shirley—can not help me in any way until I have taken one more step.” Just what all this was about, neither Cronk nor I could guess. Cronk hazarded the absurd opinion that the doctor might have entertained some sort of suspicion against Miss Shirley. If so, he would nat- urally refrain from airing any such opinion before Cronk and me. Whatever his reasons, I decided to grant the doctor’s request in good faith, and press him no further. The fact is, I did not consider it neces- sary to depend on the doctor’s opinion. I felt that I was very near to solving the mystery myself. The murders had been committed by one man, and I had narrowed the possibilities down to three: It was either the mozo Pasqual, or Pythagoras Awls, or—don’t think I’m mad—the judge himself. Pythagoras has again disappeared. But the mozo—and this was certainly baffling— was in his bed peacefully asleep when we visited his room in the morning! I waited yesterday morning for Cronk to come back from town. He had taken his film to be developed, and promised to re- turn as soon as he had accomplished this one errand. The doctor had gone to his home to carry on the investigation in his own house. I could not for the life of me guess what he meant by this. He said he wanted to put in an hour or two of research work in his library. Cronk returned before noon. He said that he had failed utterly in his experiment in spirit photography. The film showed nothing. He let me examine it. There was as he said, nothing in the way of a materialized spirit on the negative. There was a small blotch in the shape of a candle flame. But that was all. A candle flame burning for a few mo- ments would have left that impression, he said. I recalled the light which I had seen be- yond the transom. In the more rational Semen of daytime T was: able to per> been a candle, and that my own imagina- tion lent the eerie quality which I had been impressed with the night before. ‘“Some one was burning a candle in there,” Cronk said. “As for ectoplasm, it always takes a more significant form, a hand or a head or a es This is a fail- ure. ” We consulted with Miss Shirley. She listened to the opinion that Cronk and [ set forth, that the agent of all this mystery was either Pythagoras Awls, or the mozo, or the judge himself. I do not believe she was greatly im- pressed. She listened to the case which I present- ed against Awls and the old Mexican, and she listened to Cronk’s more incoherent but fervently spoken words accusing the spirit of Judge Scudder. I saw that same expression of canny un- derstanding, almost pity, that so resembled a smile. What she was going to tell us then, I don’t know; for we were inter- rupted: Maizie, who was listening outside the door of the drawing room where we were seated, entered. It was a habit of hers. She never seemed satisfied to let us stay very long in Miss Shirley’s company; a violent suspicion seemed to ravage her. “What do you want?” Miss Shirley asked. “What do I want? You know what I want, mam/zelle. I want to protect my- self. That’s what. I want to have my say.” “Go on,” I said. “ We’re listening. What have you to say?” “I’m not going to wait out there while you three discuss us, and rip us up and down. No, par foi, I know what’s going on! You're all wild to pin this on some one—and how do I know that you won’t pin it on some one you wish was guilty?” This was a very bland reference to Miss Shirley’s attitude toward her housekeeper. It flashed through my mind then that Miss Shirley suspected the woman, and that she and the doctor were building up a case against her. a - a Tnyself = ~— ew jel oJ % = 7 ‘ , 0 ee aS *s 3 Nat S nat — ie i) os 6% SSeS “01 ae Es fe or n me 2p! eee, © ee eet bis % ales 2 ~ — ae ve a2 wry rs abode ~ aw Ms ~ -s . re ets eS: Bet ee eee ee avis cs em = at ——* eee oem —— Sets S58 sis ea é —- re é comicbooks.com