The Argosy, September 1915 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

ONE-CYLINDER SAM. She did not take the bet; she was too intent upon watching the rocks that rushed by almost within reach of her arm. “T said it would be a pretty clever stunt,” observed the boatman a mo- ment later. “‘ Here we are in open water.again. No fear; they won't try it” He swung the tiller sharply. The launch swerved and began to follow a new course. “Ts that Mr. Witherbee’s Island? ” demanded Miss Chalmers, pointing. “That? No, indeed. We've been going away from Witherbee’s.” “Take me there at once.” “You mean to say you really want to go back?” “Take me there! Do you hear?” “Why—yes, if you say so. Only, I took you there once and you wouldn’t stay put. What brought you out, any- how?” “My own affair,’ Chalmers shortly. “Meaning I’m not to ask questions. ‘All right. Tl take you back. You needn’t worry about that—ma’am.” “Worry!” she flashed. “Do you think I’m worrying? Do you think I’m afraid—just because -you are a burglar? ”’ “Well, to tell you the truth,” an- swered the boatman slowly, “I’ve got an idea you're afraid I’m not a bur- glar.” “ But you are!” He shrugged his shoulders and de- voted his attention to the course. It was a roundabout way to Witherbee’s Island. The voyage was finished in silence. She did not know whether she was sorry or pleased when she set foot upon the lonely dock for a second time. “No charge this time,’ observed the boatman. ‘“ It’s on me.” She turned upon him fiercely. “Let me warn you,” she said, “ that if you are caught—” The boat was under way again. “Well, good night—or rather good > answered Miss ~ house. 243 morning — Miss Accessory-after-the- fact,” he called back. CHAPTER IV. QUESTIONS—AND A CLUE. DAWN gently touched the eyes of Miss Chalmers and awakened her. She sat up briskly and surveyed the in- terior of the boat-house, at first with bewilderment, then with quick under- standing. “JT remember,” she nodded. Then, glancing at her gown, she added: “Tt’s not likely I could forget. This is the day I arrive. I must hurry.” She reached for her grip, opened it, took out a ring full of keys, and arose from her canvas couch. A brief re- connaisance from the doorway of the boat-house assured her that Wither- bee’s Island was probably sleeping late, making up a lost hour. She ran swiftly to the wharf, se- lected without hesitation one of her six trunks, unlocked it, and spent two minutes with its contents. Then she retreated to the boat-house. Fifteen minutes later she reappeared with a bundle under her arm, returned to the trunk, stowed her burden away, shut down the lid and locked it again. Miss Chalmers was a different lady. Her gown, her gloves, her hat, her shoes were all spotless. She carried a sunshade. Her hair was smoothly gathered in a low and luxuriant coil. If a Fifth Avenue shop had suddenly appeared in the background you would = wagered she had just stepped out of it. “T think I'll take a little walk,” she said. She did not seek the path, but chose to follow the line of the shore in a di- rection opposite from that of the The morning air was virile. She breathed slowly, deeply, purpose- fully. She was a very healthy young woman. “I have just arrived,” she told her- EOMICLOOOKS (E@)