The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

8 MESQUITE RANCH, head, and the long hair and soft felt hat had probably covered it when he entered. But, as he felt the feeble pulse and saw the ghastly face, he realized the impossibility of getting the stran- ger out of the house at once. Indeed, so white and faint was the man who had thrust himself upon young Radford at a most inopportune time, that sheer pity and concern for human life made him almost forget the disagreeable sensation that the discov- ery of his assailant would create among the guests at his mother’s wedding. “Get a glass of wine—quick!” he ordered. * Madame is about to come down, sir. She will be displeased if I am not at the door, and—it will excite com- ment—and, perhaps, inquiry, sir. She might send one of the servants in here—” “ All right. Go on, Tl look after him,” Ted interrupted, seeing the truth of the argument. “ Lend a hand first, though. We'll lift him to the couch.” They raised the stranger and carried him to the high-backed davenport. “ Sir, if you are not seen, it will—” Ted shot a quick and grateful glance at the butler. He was a stranger to him—but it was clear that he was doing what he esteemed his duty in the service of the young gentleman of the house. It would be decidedly unpleasant to have the mob in the hall pouring into the library and asking a thousand ques- tions about the man with the bloody forehead. Radford pushed the big couch so that the back of’ it hid the occupant from any one who might hap- pen to glance in either of the doors. Then he wiped the blood from his hand and flung his handkerchief in the waste- basket under the desk. The butler had returned to the hall whence the sounds of the laughter which greeted Mrs. Barrington’s com- ‘ing came to Radford. He went through the door at the end of the room and made his way into the hall from the dining-room. 727 Bess, still intent upon his performing his duties more creditably, reentered the library as he left it. She looked about and, not seeing him, made her way across the room to the conservatory. He was not in hiding among the ferns and palms; and she ran back into the library, disgusted with his callousness to appearances and the impression he was surely making on Barrington. She saw some one on the couch. “Ted!” she exclaimed, running the iength of the room to Jean over the foot of the couch. But she started back in surprise. The queer, high-heeled boots, the baggy gray clothes were such as she had never even seen before. She peered at the gaunt white face with the red stain on the forehead. Fright took possession of seeks of the still, ghastly man on the couch. Then another and a worse dread swept her. What had Ted to do with the presence of the blood-stained stranger? She stood for a moment, breathing hard and clutching at the arms of the couch. Then a ripple of merriment penetrated the still room—and she knew that the guests were gaily bom- barding the bride. She pressed her hands to her head as if the fear and surprise she had experienced had con- fused her. But the old poise which was second nature came back—and she turned and hurried into the hall. Some one caught her and swung her up on a long carved seat. Across the crowd of guests she caught sight of Ted’s white face. Again. the wonder came about his connection with the man in the library, She saw how strained and cold his face was in the midst of such contrast- ing gaity—and her heart almost stopped beating. Had the man on the couch at- tacked Ted? And why? Mrs. Barrington appeared on the broad landing. Bess fought for com- posure and noticed that Ted elbowed his way through the crowd to await his mother at the foot of the stairs. “Oh, Teddy—you needn’t be look- ~~ —conmiclhooks = f (E@)