The Argosy, September 1915 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

244 THE self. “I came down on a very early boat. J wonder if there are any early boats—regular ones. If not, I hired one. ‘“ And it’s all perfectly true, too. I did get here this morning; it was past midnight. My trunks came ahead of me. How they came to be sent down last night I don’t know; I’m not sup- posed to know. “H-m! That’s not quite so truth- ful. However, it will have to do. Of course, [ know nothing about any- thing else—if they mention it. Par- ticularly the pa-pajamas. I never saw them; I never heard anything; I never went anywhere. “T don’t think it’s lying — exactly. If it is, so much the worse for the truth. It’s necessary.” She followed the shore for several minutes and then, when the walking became difficult, retraced her steps. Out across the river she could see the island where the second burglar-hunt took place. Occasionally she scanned the water in other directions, half ex- pecting to see her boatman engaged in futile fumbling at his engine. But there was no sign of him. “To think—a thief!” she ex- claimed. “I employed a thief! -I might have known he was a thief when he charged me ten dollars! And twice I started the engine for him! I can’t imagine why I did it—except the first time. I wouldn’t be here now if I hadn’t done that. It cost me a new gown, but— Oh, well! What’s a gown? “Such a brazen thief, too—he ac- cepted what I did as a matter of course! Bah! A dirty spark-plug! The thing is without excuse.” Miss Chalmers had reached the wharf again. Now she paused hastily and stood rigid, watching a figure that stood on the end of it. The man, who was tall and rather square in the shoul- ders, was dressed in white flannels. He was standing on the string-piece, his back toward her, his eyes search- ing the river through a pair of field- ARGOSY. glasses. From right to left his vision ranged, while he stood with the mili- tary erectness of a bronze statue. Once, as his head turned, she glimpsed the end of a tawny mustache. Then she knew him for one of the pa- jama trio. Involuntarily she looked at his ankles, and breathed a soft sigh of comfort when she saw that they were well covered. Eventually, becoming tired of watch- ing the watcher, she stepped quietly out upon the wharf, advancing to the nearest of her trunks and seating her- self upon it. She was still studying the observer, wondering whether to speak first or to wait for him to turn, when there came a swift change in the tableau. A bell rang loudly. The tall man on the string - piece dropped his glasses into the river and whirled about. Then, remembering the glasses, he reached for them, a full second after they disappeared. He reached too far for the purpose of equilibrium—not far enough to re- trieve his loss. His body swayed out- ward. He clutched at the air; it slipped easily through his fingers. Then, fold- ing up like a jack-knife, he disappeared | from Miss Chalmers’s vision. The last thing she noted was a pair of surprised blue eyes, looking at her with unblinking steadiness. She was not at all astonished that the splash was a loud one, considering the man- ner in which he made his plunge. The bell still rang blithely. : Miss Chalmers sprang down from her trunk and seized her grip, which lay almost at her feet. She had had enough of bells. Snatching it open, she turned back the alarm lever on a nickeled clock, then snapped the grip shut again. After that she resumed her seat and waited. Over the string- piece a head ap- peared. Its owner observed her sol- emnily. ‘“ [—er—I beg pardon, you know,” said the head. ‘“‘ But—er—by Heay- ens! did you hear a bell, madam? ” Gomme DOO iS (C@)