Argosy All-Story Weekly — "Sea Marauders" — page 105: what you’re looking at

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

EVERY MINUTE COUNTS. But Richard did neither of these things. He did shriek quite piercingly, but the shriek indicated plain terror and not surrender. Yet he did not throw up his hands; instead, he hugged his beloved bundle of clothes a little tighter and all but flew through the air in his wild, al- though pardonable anxiety to reach the other side of the hallway and the solid security of that open, pitch-black door- way over there. He achieved it, too, just as another’ shot crashed out and another shower, of mahogany splin- ters this time, came down upon him. Above, somebody screamed, That was Gwen! “ Get back there, [tell you! I:think IT know what I’m shooting at!” said the colonel’s loud, too even voice. Fur- thermore, he laughed in the nastiest and most significant way. Well? Well? Was Mr. Melton merely to stand here in the gloom, panting, mouthing absurdly, reeling in foot after foot of the longest sheet in the world, while the colonel and his ar- tillery descended the whole flight and got into position for a more effective attack? Obviously, if Richard wished to be able to stand anywhere at all five minutes hence, he was not! He moved onward. As to which room this might be, he had no inkling. He—why, yes, he had, too! Had not his deft hand just swept through what seemed to be a complete silver service on a sideboard, sending it rattling and clanging away in every direction? It was the dining room, of course, and over here should be a door—zwas a door, in point of fact, because Richard had passed through it now, just as the excellent colonel reached the far door and sent a third shot after him! And this, he assumed, was the pantry. It did seem a bit unlikely, since he had been in here for nearly a second without knocking anything over, but it must be the pantry, and pe A ea ris ee OP ee Sages n> Tae ec Fen eal Pep shi ae Bee §27 beyond would be the kitchen, and be- yond that, in turn, would— Richard caught his breath sharply. What in the name of common sense had he done now? He had been fumbling along the wall—yes. And the wall had given suddenly under his hand and he had toppled forward and struck another wall, a yard perhaps beyond, against which at present he was leaning heav- ily, and—ah, he understood now! He had fallen through a swinging door ree time, and the door had closed after im. And by all that was delightfully in- credible, the colonel’s heavy steps were thudding straight past the door, too! Many seconds passed. From a con- siderable distance Colonel Bragg’s dear voice floated back: ““No, out this way! Here, you, Wil- lis, I—” and the rest of it Richard could not catch. His free hand went upon another hasty exploring expedition. He must be in a closet now. Or, if he were, it was a funny closet; there was no wall at all on this side. Mr. Melton fum- bled on and on. Stairs, by Heaven— stairs leading upward! Well, since the colonel was down here, Richard preferred to be up there. In the nature of things which were happening to-night, this staircase would lead directly into Gwen’s bed- room, where the colonel would find him and shoot him. But that could not be helped. With the colonel down here— Richard climbed speedily, sound- lessly. There was a door at the top. He opened it, very slowly, very cau- tiously. At least, many more lights had been turned on since his last stay on the second floor. This looked like— Mr. Melton blinked and caught his breath. He was gazing up the very rear passage which led to his own room! Why, had he only known this, he could have come down this way and have been halfway to the station be- “comic lenookscom