The Argosy, January 1907 — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

242 Left alone, they stared at each other, and Robert smiled slightly. ‘From the way he went about it you might think he had a poisoning case every day in the week, eh?” “Well, I’m glad he hasn’t—around this store,’ said the druggist. ‘‘ Con- found that fellow, anyway!” “Why?” “Why, he seemed fairly to be accus- ing me of murdering the man!” Albert cried, rather excitedly. “Bosh! ” “Tt’s not bosh! He said = Robert rose and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “My dear boy, all this has worked you up. Donaldson wasn’t accusing you of anything, you chump! _ It’s merely his way. He got through with what he had to do in jig time—that’s all.” ‘But he said $ “That it was queer the man died in a drug-store? Well, so it was, perhaps. That doesn’t mean anything.” “And then that infernal note the fel- low scribbled before he died. Why, that made it look almost as if I had poisoned the man deliberately!” Radford rose and walked rapidly up and down the narrow space. “It did nothing of the sort, Bert. Don’t be so wretchedly silly. You're a bit overstrained because of all this. Shall I stay with you?” “Do you want to leave?” “Well «Robert smiled doubt- fully. “ There’s a lot to be written up before we go to press, you know, and & ‘“ Go ahead, Bob.” The editor hardly needed a second bidding. He gathered together the scraps of paper on which he had been scribbling from time to time and thrust them into his pocket. “Now, don’t fuss about this, and don’t fuss about Donaldson,’ he said lightly. “It could as well have hap- pened anywhere else in town as here— and we know that you’re not to blame in the slightest.” “ But to feel x “ Don’t feel. Forget about it. When that inquest is over and our business- like friend has had your soft stuff analyzed you'll find yourself entirely ex- THE ARGOSY. onerated. It’s more than likely that the autopsy will show the man died of heart trouble or something else brought on by the excitement, By-by—and don’t WOITy.” He stepped hurriedly out, and Albert followed him toward the door. There the editor paused and looked back with a grin. ‘As yet, not a word of this has leaked out, boy,’ he said. “If any one from the Zzmes turns up around here don’t give them the tenth part of a single de- tail. For once, at least, I'll have the biggest scoop in Bondville. Good night, Bert.” He went down the street almost a run. The druggist, looking after him, sighed heavily and tried to collect his thoughts. In all the time that he had been running Bondville’s drug-store not even one prescription had gone amiss—not one patron, to the best of his memory, had evinced dissatisfaction. Every blessed thing had been as good and as perfect as he could make or buy it. Even down to the soda-fountain, Radford was convinced that a_ better article could not be found in the State than the sizzling, foaming liquids which he served over the immaculate marble counter. And now! Perhaps it was the sud- dennéss, the utter unexpectedness, of the whole beastly affair, but Albert found himself shaking violently. Main Street was very nearly empty now, for time had been passing unno- ticed. The music-store was closed, and the shades down. Crane & Brown’s big stationery-shop, too, was locked up for the night. Starr’s wholesale and retail dry-goods place was dark and shadowy save for the single incandescent which burned eter- nally in the window. Even the inde- fatigable Neapolitan on the far corner was locking the top of his stand and preparing to retire to his cellar until another dawn. Radford fixed his absent gaze on the light in the window. He thought and thought, and thought and thought. He wondered whether this would hurt business much, whether the soda trade at (e(0) 0)(@\) AMG cS) (C@