Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 7, 1928 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

174 bombing of Ward’s rooms, his sup- posed death, and the curious mystery connected with it. Therefore, when the curtained Ward car emerged from the gates this morn- ing newspaper men immediately flocked around it to see who was being spirited away in this surreptitious fashion. The fact that they were frustrated by the curtains and the car’s immediate pick- up of speed only whetted their curiosity and their determination to find out what was what. There was a break for the taxicabs, which the newsman held in readiness for just such am emergency. The crowd pricked up its ears. Wiauild and varied rumors flew through the throng. As a result Edison Ward rode to his office between sidewalks lined with the curious, and passed rows of motors oc- cupied by craning necks. The fact that none of the crowd could actually see him, made no difference to his state of mind. He shrank back in his seat as far as possible, feeling very much as he had on that one occasion when he had attempted to do some broadcasting over the radio, and had been so acutely conscious of the audience he could not see and who could not see him. * About twenty-four hours more and I'll have this battle won,” he told him- self. “Il get that confounded for- mula of mune into safe keeping; some- body who isn’t a crook in charge of the works; that gang of bombers im jail; and then, by gad, I’m going away to the desert islands for a rest.” With that, a vision arose before his eyes—a vision of Marian Lord actom- panying him on that runaway journey to an isle of bliss. But he sighed deep- ly and renounced the vision. That was too much to hope for, and probably when he stepped off on the sands of that South Sea isle with his bride, a newspaper man with a camera would immediately pop out from be- hind a coconut palm, and from a neighboring rock a radio horn would begin telling the world about it. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. He was still trying to renounce his vision when the car stopped before the door of his office and he was faced with the ordeal of suddenly coming back to life before an astonished throng that packed the sidewalk for a block each way. As his familiar face emerged from the car door, a hush of amazement fell upon the crowd. Then thére was a low murmur in crescendo, like the surf marching up a pebbly beach. It broke about him in a rending roar of applause. And in the midst of his painful, shrinking embarrassment, Edison Ward was conscious of one thing that had never occurred to him before, and for the first time in his life, he had a vague glimmering of why his late father had loved the publicity that the son loathed. The roar of the mob was a friendly roar. Why, they were glad he was alive, Edison Ward thought, and in spite of himself, he thrilled with a new pride and feeling of oneness with his fellow man. It was worth the sacrifice of privacy after all, to experience that feeling at last. For the first time in his life, instead of shrinking and hurrying through a throng with averted eyes, he raised his hat and bowed and smiled genially. And so, followed by the cheers of the multi- tude, Edison Ward pushed his way in- to the building and up the elevator. Old Pete, the lobby attendant, looked up as he entered, gave a wild shriek of fright and collapsed on a bench. ‘The girl at the information desk turned pale, deserted her post, and fled down the hall. Edison Ward’s old embarrassment flowed in on him in sharp reaction to his momentary feeling of elation. He hurried down his own private hall, to- ward his office, and then, by a half-un- conscious instinet, as he passed the door of the little room occupied by Marian Lord, he pushed it open and entered without knocking. COPNIC LOOKS (E@)