The Argosy, August 1914 — page 102: what you’re looking at

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

92. THE ARGOSY. along, to the scene was fast time. There had been a little delay, too, in getting the Butcher: started. It was effected at last through Sam’s sharp order, Jack, knowing that Jessica would have had sufficient reason be- hind her urgent summons, although ~ totally unable to guess its meaning, having made strong representations. Jessica met them with a finger at her lips. . ee “T’m so glad you've come,” she said softly. ‘ She’s quieter now, but she keeps calling one name.” “ Wot’s it all about?’ demanded Horlock. “She says her name is Vesta Dawn,” Jessica explained. ‘ The doc- tor got that much out of her.”’ “ Vesta. here? Weil, what. of it?” the Butcher insisted. ‘Come in and [ll tell you all about it.’ The girl led the way: to the kitchen. The doctor was out there, and his: grave, professional manner took the edge off the fighter’s surli- ness. Jessica explained the nature of Vesta’s scare. Where she laid down the story the physician took it up. “Youre Mr. Horleock, are you?”’ he asked. “‘ Are you this. young wom- an’s. husband? ” ‘Me? We're—well, we're goin’ to get married,’ the Butcher admitted, He was beginning to. feel alarmed by the serious atmosphere of the place. “What is it to you?” “ Nothing, my friend; not a thing,” the doctor returned. ‘ My only inter; est in the matter is to do what I can for my patient. Her condition is very alarming. The fright she has under- gone this afternoon is the worst pos- sible thing that could have happened.” “Yuh don’t mean that Vesta’s real sick?’’ Butch protested. “She is face to face with the mys-’ tery of death,” the doctor declared. “lhe next twelve hours will tell the stery. The shock of her experience has hastened a crisis ahead of its time.” filled his eyes. His meaning was unmistakable, even to Butch Horlock. His face went ashen gray as he muttered: “Good Gawd!” ‘She may come through,” the doc- tor went on. ‘‘ The event hangs on a hair. But between now and morning she goes down into the valley of death. And. since I came she has given no name but yours.” To the utter astonishment of Jack Garrett-and Sam Levine, Butch Hor- lock suddenly broke down. He dashed them aside with a dab of his coat-sleeve and said chokingly: — , “ Th’ poor kid! Herr? “She must not be excited,” the physician replied, with little encour- agement in. his voice. ‘ What she Say, doc, kin I see needs above everything to meet her ordeal is an unruffled mind.” “Doc, I got to see her,” Butch pleaded. “ You got to let me. She asked for me, didn’t she? Aw, say, doc—”’ ' His voice broke again. ‘The doctor studied him from behind his thick spectacles. “You say you were going to marry her,” he spoke after a moment’s si- lence, during which the Butcher’s eyes hung on his expression. ‘‘ You ought to have married her long before this, as you know perfectly well.” ‘Dat’s. right, doc; dat’s right,” Horlock confessed. “ You can’t say a ting dat ain’t true. But say, doc, ve been busy.” “Too busy ,to marry the girl you ought to marry?” “°Tain’t that, but—say, doc, I’m in bad.. I know I ain’t done right. But say, I love dat kid, doc. ‘There’s no two ways about it. I’d ought to have married her before dis. What if any- thing should happen to her to-night— say, doc, they won't, will they?” He was clutching at the doctor’s coat-sleeve in his eagerness. ‘The two witnesses of the scene felt themselves stirred to the seconding of his appeal. CORNICLOOOKS ‘Tears. (C@