The Argosy, April 1912 — page 140: what you’re looking at

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

126 Fred looked at him inquiringly, and the professor went on, still smiling with the satisfaction of a man who has at least partly overcome a difficulty: “T’ve been thinking rather hard about that powder of yours. Last night, after you and Jim had left the house, and when Mrs. Shaw had finished rhapsodizing about the opera — it was ‘ Lohengrin,’ a favorite of hers—I sat down to study out the origin of the No. 1. All at once I remembered some- thing, and—I was glad Sim Galt would be in Pittsburgh to-day.” “Do you mind telling me what it was you remembered ?” “I would rather not at present. I never like to talk about my experiments until they are completed,’”’ answered the professor, con- tinuing to smile, but speaking none the less positively for that. “What I should like to do would be to find him as soon as he gets into Pittsburgh to-day and see where he goes.” ‘Perhaps Miss Steiner can help us,’’ sug- gested Fred. Then, hurriedly and with em- barrassment, he added: ‘Oh, Professor Shaw—Miss Steiner. I’d actually forgot- ten you didn’t know each other.” The professor and Lucille bowed, while Jim McKee insisted on taking the blame for neglecting to introduce them. “I’m always making Rube breaks of that kind,” he declared. ‘“ Wouldn’t I make a splendid master of ceremonies at the White House? I bet I’d have the whole diplo- matic corps in a tangle at the very first re- ception.” , Miss Steiner has just been telling me that Sim Galt always brings two well-filled carpet-bags when he comes to town. Did you ever see them, professor?” asked Fred. “He never had them when he called on me,” was the reply. “But he might easily leave them at a hotel or restaurant, you know. What do you suppose he brings in them—the No. 1 powder?” “That 1s what is in them. you know?” The professor turned loose that infectious laugh of his again. “Only guessed that time. We have just been talking about the powder, and Sim Galt was associated with it in my mind. By a natural mental process I assumed he had the stuff in his carpet-bags.” “Then all we have to do is to nab Mr. Galt and take the bags away from him, eh?” observed Jin McKee. But how did THE ARGOSY. “Not exactly, Jim. But we can see what he does with the powder he brings in them. He doesn’t leave it at the Barrington fac- tory, as he did when Mr. Barrington’s father was at the head of the company.” “ He most assuredly does not,” interjected Fred. “ Strong circumstantial evidence indicates that he gives it to Carl Steiner. We must prove that. Then we will find out where Sim gets the powder. The proposition is perfectly simple. We’ve got to find Sim be- fore he gets rid of the powder to-day. He told me once that he always comes into Pittsburgh on an accommodation train Which arrives at the Union Station about noon. He gets on at Derry, or Latrobe, or at a little place called Millwood, according to where he happens to come down from the mountains,” “It is twelve o’clock now,” remarked Fred, looking at his watch. “Then it’s time we were moving,” was the professor’s quick rejoinder. “Sim Galt is a slippery customer when it suits his pur- pose to keep out of the way of people.” Lucille had been sitting at her typewriter table, idly toying with a pencil, but listen- ing intently to the conversation. She broke in abruptly: “Mr. McKee, my stepfather does not know you, does he?” “Not unless he got a good look at my physog when I was with Mr. Barrington last night—in the incline car.” “No fear of that, Jim,” Fred assured him. ‘“ You weren’t in front of the window, and the car began to move as soon as he got to the gates, you know. He saw you afterward walking with me in Fifth Avenue, it seems. But it was too dark to make you out then.” “And he doesn’t know Professor Shaw?” continued Lucille. | ‘Not any more than I know him,” was the professor’s response. “What are you going to propose? I see you have something in your mind.” ““Wouldn’t it be a good thing for you and Mr. McKee to go to my stepfather’s factory and wait for Sim Galt?” “What excuse could we have?” “That you want to buy some special Jab- oratory glass. You are a chemist, and could ask for what you want in technical language that would reassure my stepfather. You could easily keep him engaged for half an hour or more.”’ Colm Ghook (CO