The Argosy, Vol. 61, No. 4 — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

THE CHUTE “Qut to mail a letter?’’ asked Miss Carrol, politely making talk out of the fact that he was bareheaded, standing near the letter-drop, and a hundred feet from his open door. ‘Oh, no! Not at all!” he hastened to assure her. If only she would go on to her apart- ment and leave him! He had to fight to restrain the wild desire to turn and look at the letter behind him in the chute. It seemed that once she saw it she would know instantly all it contained. “No,” he went on, ‘‘ I—I didn’t come out to mail a letter. Just for a breath of air in the hall, you know.” She inclined her head to pass him. Then she stopped. “Why, there’s a letter stuck in the chute!” Thorpe could feel his face- reddening at the excited pumping of his heart. “Why,” he faltered, his eyes intent upon her as she looked toward the slide, ‘‘why, so there is! It’s odd I didn’t notice it before; but there zs a letter stuck there!” ‘“T wonder how it happened?” Miss Carrol stepped nearer the chute. Thorpe’s eyes were fastened on her in a mesmeric stare of terror as he helplessly watched her approach. “ Of—of course I don’t know,” he stammered. ‘I only just noticed it. How is your mother this evening, Miss Carrol?” | ‘““My mother?’”’ She looked at him. “ Quite well—as she was when you saw her before dinner.” “To be sure! I forgot that I did see her this evening. Isn’t this she coming up in the elevator behind you now?” If only she would stand away from the mail-chute—her dangerous nearness to the letter was gradually straining his nerves beyond all endurance. ‘“Why, perhaps she is coming up,” in- differently, “though she told me she would stay down-stairs with Mrs. Carter and Miss Swift until I returned to them.” She lowered her eyes to the white square of envelope again. Then, flash- ing a smile at him over her shoulder: ‘Feminine curiosity, you know.” And the next instant, too quickly for him to stop her even had he been able, she stooped and read the address. THAT BALKED. 651 “Why,” she cried, “it’s for me!” He faced her, with only one thought in his mind—thank Heaven she did not know his handwriting! Why, how queer, isn’t “ Too “For you? it?” ‘Then hurried lightly on. bad you can’t get it out, I’m sure.” “Oh, but I’m going to try, though! ’”’ Rapidly she began stripping off her glove. ‘Since the letter’s for me, I'll get it now and not wait for it to be de- livered.” ‘“ But—really ’’ — he stepped toward her anxiously — “honestly, you mustn’t try to get it out!” ‘Why not?” She faced him curiously. “Goodness gracious, Mr. Thorpe, one would think from the serious expression of your face, and the way you talk, that you had written the letter yourself— were afraid, for some reason, to have me read it.” “Oh, no!” He hurriedly summoned a smile to replace the too evident worri- ment in his countenance. ‘‘ Of course, it’s not from me. But I didn’t want you to try to get it out, because your hand won't go far enough down. Mine wouldn’t when I tried it.” She started. ‘When you tried to get this letter out?” she asked wonderingly. ‘‘ Why —when it was addressed to me—should you try to get it?” Now he had put his foot in it through idiotically telling her where his hand had been. “Oh,” he quickly answered, groping for some explanation, ‘I don’t mean that I put my hand down the chute to get your letter. Why, as you say, should I wish to do that when the letter is ad- dressed to you? ‘You misunderstand me,” an inspira- tion coming to him. “I meant that I put my hand down the slot one day last week when a letter I mailed then was caught as this one is. I found then that my fingers would not reach it. That is why I told you yours wouldn’t, either.”’ He paused and drew breath—thank- fully. That was a sharp corner round- ed safely, if mendaciously. ‘‘ But my hand is smaller than yours.” Miss Carrol held it out for inspection. “Perhaps I shall have better luck than you.” EO OO