The Argosy, August 1914 — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

A SMILING NEMESIS. “ Oh—we—why, we start at seven thirty,” replied MHetheridge briskly. “T’ll call you. Go to sleep now and don’t worry. Good night.” As if reassured about something, he - went back into the dining-room, poured himself another drink, and again attacked his ham and coffee, which he had not half finished. Roland went up-stairs slowly. But from the head of the stairs to his room he dashed at top speed in his bare feet. Once in his room, he bolted the door, and, still moving with the utmost swiftness of which he was ca- pable, he snatched up his bundle of clothes, darted to the window, and swung himself outside it. : Holding to the gutter along its up- per edge and standing on the ledge, he flung the bundle up over the edge of the roof. Then, throwing one leg over the gutter, he hoisted himself after it to the roof. It rose in the middle to a peak. Pick- ing the bundle from where it lay in the gutter, Roland scrambled over the peak and lay crouched on the other side of it, invisible from the front of the house. The whole maneuver had _ taken scarcely a minute. Peering cautiously over the peak toward the front of the house, the boy waited. It was a black night—no moon or stars relieved it. All about lay the stretches of scrub and woodland, sunk in silence and darkness. Crouched in an uncomfortable posture, Roland waited for something like an hour, so far as he could judge, before anything happened. Then he heard creaking noises from inside the house. Shifting his body cautiously, so as to make no sound, Roland, looking about, spied a small skylight behind him. Just as he put his face to it a candle’s light illuminated the space on the other side, and the boy saw that it gave upon the narrow corridor leading to the room where he was to have spent the night. | 123 The light grew brighter. Roland drew back cautiously, but kept his eyes fixed on the corridor. He saw Heth- eridge, again carrying a candle, swing into the lighted space from the stair- way and advance slowly along the corridor. The man was barefooted, and ap- proached on tiptoe. Passing directly under the skylight whence he was be- ing so closely observed, he stopped before the door of Roland’s room, stood there for a few seconds, as if listening, and then, very gently, tried the door. Then, still with great caution, he shot the bolt on the outer side of the door and turned away. In the sudden flicker of the candle-light Roland saw the man’s face, red with drink, his eyes glowering cruelly. The boy fell back out of the circle of light, terrified. It seemed impossi- ble that he had not been perceived from below. But as nothing happened he was soon back at his post, peering over the roof-peak, waiting. He had not long to wait. From be- _low came presently a strange, crackling sound, then smoke forced its way through cracks and window. Then the whole countryside seemed to be light- ed up by a red burst of flame from the house below. Crouching still on the roof, Roland saw Hetheridge, out in front of the house, gazing up at the window of the little front room. In his hand he held something bright; now it looked like a revolver, now like a knife. A tongue of flame shot through the roof within a few feet of Roland, fol- lowed by a black belch of smoke—an- other ate its way out on the other side of him. Slipping down to the edge of the roof at the rear of the house, the boy peered over. Below was a patch of grass; beyond, a few hundred yards away, was a dense clump of woods. For a moment he hesitated. <A whole section of the roof leaped into flame; black clouds of smoke surged CORMICLOOOKS (C@)