Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 3 — page 123: what you’re looking at

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

THE GHOST, - known it, but I’ve fought to keep away from it. I’ve only to take a single step— see|—and you can be all the world to me!”’ She was in his arms again as she spoke, clinging, and a tremor underlay her voice like the quiver of the harp-string long after it has been plucked—an undercurrent of music, Van Sibert shook like a leaf. : «Walerie, oh, my dear,’ he murmured to her, “‘ you’ve been like a lovely flower—a cut flower without life—but now there’s ‘the blossom and the perfume together, and the fragrance runs through me. Tell me— again—you love me!” “ With all my heart.” “This moment is worth all the waiting. Shdil we go? Now?” She had slipped away from him again. And her voice and her fiush and her eyes— she was like a crystal-clear river that rans bright with the reflection of a gay sunset. “Not now. It must be perfect from the start. To-night, at twelve, if you have your car waiting—” It’s a rare child that will give up even a broken toy fo another without a struggle, and that evening, to the astonishment of Van Sfebert, Valerie had not a glance or a word for him. She concentrated entirely on her husband. He watched the results ~ rather anxiously, but John Smith could not have_answered better if he had been coached to the’purpose. He was as conversation- ally impregnable as a walrus on a cake of ice. The climax came when Valerie, in the drawing-room, threw open the French win- dows and stood in the night wind. She called over her shoulder to her hus- band: “ It’s a ripping night, John—perfect- ly clear and a dig yellow moon coming up through the woods. our togs and take a canter?” John Smith stirred the logs in the fire- place and cast a hesitant glance toward Valerie. “It’s a little chilly out, isn’t ite” he asked. ‘“ And tather snug right here by the fire, eh?” : ‘“‘T suppose you’d be happier here,” she satd, and closed the window again. _ You don’t mind?” queried John Smith guiltily. Sha’n’t we jump into 405 “‘ Not the least bit. It was just a fancy.” ‘‘ Glad of that,” sighed John Smith, and, sliding somewhat lower in his chair, he stretched his legs to the blaze. But Valerie - turned for the first time that evening to Van Siebert and sent him such a bright and steadfast look that it brought his heart to his throat and he glanced about him afterward, to see if any one had noted it. But no one dared attach significance to Valerie’s glances and smiles; it might be a man’s necktie which pleased her—or the cut of his hair. One retired early at Wandermere, for the host set the pace, and by eleven the house was dark and noiseless. It was then that Valerie slipped out of the bed into which her maid had seen her retire and dressed hastily, humming while she worked. She . turned on only the light at her derssing- table, for a greater illumination might at- -tract attention. In that glass she studied herself with satisfaction; she had never looked so well, she thought. There was that color in her cheek and that touch of a smile at the corners of her mouth which only one thing could put there. Finally she put on a snug tailored hat and an over- eoat with a great collar of red fox. Van Siebert had admired that coat, on a day. She was smiling at the memory while she glanced about the room for a mute farewell. All was as it lay printed indelibly in her mind; ‘nothing ever changed at Wander- mere — nothing except Valerie. She switched out the light, and so doing her eyes traveled through window and far out across the moonlit forest. Freedom! She began at once shudderingly eager to leave the place and hurried into the hall. There she heard—or rather felt—a faint vibration with something familiar in it. Then she remembered and chuckled softly. For John Smith was a famous sleeper and his snoring was proverbial: There was that story of Mrs. Philip Askworth and the earthquake at her country house—Valerie followed a sudden impulse, opened the door, and was in her husband’s room. She was not sorry to look her last upon him while. he slept. The slant moonlight cut across the room and struck full upon his face, round, rosy J Ori igina | fre THE OHIO STATE UN KOM A, ae) NOOK CO