Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 12, 1927 — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

THE CRUCIBLE. 61 fection, hoping that they would meet again soon and under clearer skies. Then, very gently, she slid the note under the pillow where it just touched the sleeper’s hand, kissed a strand of the brown tresses which were one oi Beatrice’s great adornments, and went out on tiptoe. She knew that inevitably they must meet again, but could not dream how strange would be the circumstances that brought about that meeting. For the next hour she was very busy in her room, packing noiselessly. With a deliberation that almost amused her, she put in a suit case the bare necessities of the next few days, reckoning that her trunk might remain until sent for. Comfort did not matter in the meantime. The one insistent necessity was to get away as quickly and secretly as possible. She admitted in her soul that she could not trust herself to see Marcus King again. The night was fortunately dark when, moving like a ghost, she crept out through the side door that opened on the east lawn, and, seeking the shelter of the trees that bordered it, moved without sound toward Byfleet’s cottage. She used to wonder sometimes why he lived there alone, while his wife had a room in Shadow Manor even after Sylvia as- sumed charge of her patient. But that was no affair of hers, and now she only felt crateful that it was the case. Presently she tapped lightly on the small leaded window of Byfleet’s quarters. So still was the night that the sound seemed prodigious. There came a yawn inside, an exclamation, a hand feeling at the fasten- ing, and Byfleet’s tousled head appeared at the opening. He gaped when he recognized her. She put a finger to her lips. ‘“ Will you do something for me now, quickly? It’s very important. és Even in the gloom she could see his look change. He stared at her with swift understanding. “Tl do anything I can, miss. What is it?” “ You remember saying something to me on the afternoon of the day of the acci- He nodded abruptly. ‘Well, you were quite right, though you said much less than I expect you might have. I must get away, Byfleet, at once. I can’t wait a minute.” “So that’s it? I’m not surprised. Where do you want to go?” ‘“ Anywhere from here. me?” ‘“ Not in the car, if that’s what you mean. Mr. King would be sure to hear the engine, then he’d know.” Well,” she said desperately, “‘ will you carry my bag? I must do something, and do it quickly.” Byfleet disappeared in the darkness of the room. ‘‘ Go round to the door, miss, and I’ll be there in a minute.” An hour later the chauffeur put down a suit case in the hall of a small country inn, three miles from Shadow Manor. It was not on a main road and was visited only occasionally by motorists. They had walked fast and silently, and the girl felt exhausted. The man wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at his watch. “It’s ten fifteen. I’ll be home at eleven, and to-morrow won’t know anything about this. Now I think of it, I haven’t seen you all day. The car hasn’t been out, and it’s good luck Mr. King read the speedometer when I brought him from the station. That will take care of my end of it. “If I can do anything for you here, miss, please write and let me know, and Pll always be glad to tell you how the poor lady is getting on. And, by God, miss,” he concluded grimly, “I’m glad to see you going in time, because I could tell you of others who stayed too long.” Can’t you take Sylvia arrived in London next morning with her mind made up. She could not go back to her aunt, who had never been un- derstanding or sympathetic, and she dread- ed a lonely existence in a city which she now realized would be attended with in- creasing dangers of which she had not hith- erto dreamed. x So, gradually, out of the confusion of her thoughts, emerged one definite idea. It was the only thing that seemed possible. There was pet one man in Pos son on Ba a : eS icGOG ke Com