The Argosy, December 1905 — page 137: what you’re looking at

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

A MONTH IN MASQUERADE. to speculate upon its contents, but the idea of an imfernal machine had not appealed to him as the most remote possibility. Yet now, it appeared, the entire Exmoor and himself, and several hun- dred others as well, were likely to be scattered to the four winds in some- thing like one hundred seconds. “Run! Run!” The visitor was working furiously over the mysterious package. He had snipped the twine and torn it away. He had inverted the package and was taking off the paper wrappings. Once more he turned and cried: “ Get out, sir! Get away if you can! ” Dunean started and regained some control of himself. He leaped toward the door. He felt himself seized by his man and dragged through the curtains and into the next apartment. They came forcefully against the door of the adjoining room, and their excited fingers fumbled uselessly with the catch. Hastily Duncan dodged back. His man did the same. Duncan sprang for- ward again, and the servant’s hands clashed with his own. In the confusion they were frittering away the precious seconds. But just as . the catch gave, a loud whirring came from the library. Both men felt that the moment of danger had arrived and they held their breaths and waited for the crash that - would shatter walls and ceilings. It seemed strangely long in arriving. Half a minute passed and still no explosion had taken place. A full minute went by in tense silence. From the library a shaky voice issued: ““ Come back, sir, if you are there. is—quite safe now.’ Duncan paused, could it all mean? “Ts the danger over?” ee Yes.” He returned slowly to the door of the library, parted the curtains, and looked in. The remarkable visitor was half sit- ting, half sprawled in one of the big chairs. It | irresolute. What 115 He seemed to be a man of fifty or fifty-five, somewhat gray, and not or- nately clothed. Indeed, the marked, neat shabbiness impressed Duncan queerly, as not unlike his own raiment of the near past. The man’s face was ghastly white, and his nerveless hands trembled vio- lently as they rested upon the broad arms. Dunean’s glance traveled to the table. Z Here he saw a small wooden box and what appeared to be parts of a clock. Beside the outfit’a slim, black stick lay. Quite correctly .£he surmised it to be dynamite. “Was that thing—going to blow up?” he asked rather vaguely. “In another two minutes—even by this time, sir.’ “And you mean to say that you walked up to it and took it to pieces under those conditions?” . “I did.” The man shuddered. “If you had opened the box, the charge would have been exploded!” “What!” “And if you had not, the detonator would have been set off automatically at twelve o’clock, Mr. Alvin.” | Duncan watched him for a minute and walked to the table. None too familiar with mechanics, he could learn little from the jumble of © wheels and springs, but several questions occurred to him. “You are sure you are not mistaken in the character of this thing, are you, my man?” “ Quite sure.” “That stick of dynamite would have exploded at midnight had you not ar- rived when you did?” <4 en “The machine, then, was sent for the explicit purpose of blowing me into eternity, I surmise.” “ Vids.’ Dunean rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You seem pretty certain, my friend.” “No one could be more so.” “And how does it happen that you know so much about the little contri- vance?” COMMICLOOOKS (C@