The Argosy, September 1915 — page 31: what you’re looking at

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

ONE-CYLINDER SAM. Miss Chalmers shook her head. ‘Odd as the deuce! ”’ His shoulders came into view and _his-arms gripped the stringpiece. “Odd as anything in the world,” he added, as he continued to stare at her. ‘““T could swear there was a bell, you know.” ““T don’t hear it,” she said. “Nor I, madam. It—er—seems to have stopped, you know. But there was one —oh, I’m sure! Unless, of course, you“say there wasn’t. I may have been mistaken. But—oh, it’s frightfully odd!” Miss Chalmers chewed her under lip until the pain made her wince. She had never before seen a long, yellow mustache drip water at both ends, and she was amazed at the quantity. “Tf you've finished tubbing, why not come completely ashore?” she in- quired presently. “ Why—er—thank you. I will.” The rest of him appeared above the string-piece. “Did you get your glasses?” He stared at her for half a minute longer. ‘“T supposed, of course, you were going after them,” she added gravely: “So I was, by Jove! I quite for- ot.” The tall man in the wet flannels turned around, stepped upon the string-piece again, poised himself, and then shot head downward into the wa- ter, cleaving it as cleanly as an arrow. Miss Chalmers was too surprised to move. She merely waited. A quarter of a minute, then half a minute elapsed. Then, just as she was minded to run to the end of the wharf and look for him, a hand containing a pair of field-glasses appeared, fol- lowed immediately by its owner. “ Awfully good of you to remind me, don’t you know.” Miss Chalmers was thinking swiftly. ‘“T don’t know whether he is a fool or not,’ she told herself. “Til be careful.” I believe 245 The tall man stroked his wet mus- tache and looked down at his flannels. “Hope I didn’t frighten you, I’m sure,” he observed. “Not in the least. me.” ‘“Awfully kind of you to say that —awfully kind, Miss—er—er—” ‘“ Chalmers.” ““ Ah — Miss Chalmers! We were expecting you—but not so early.” ‘““T took an early boat.” “Why — er —the first boat down doesn’t get here before ten, I believe,” he said, staring again. “ And it’s not more than—” “ Not more than three minutes after six,” interrupted Miss Chalmers. Then she flushed and frowned. The man took out his watch and held it to his ear. He looked at the dial. “ Still going and— By Jove, you’re right, Miss Chalmers; What ama- zing guesses you Americans make!” It was not a guess, however. Miss Chalmers’s alarm clock, now ticking softly in her grip, had been set for six exactly. But she could not explain. “We came so early,” she said ha- stily, “that I decided to wait until somebody was up. I’ve been walking around the island, Mr.—Mr.—” “TI beg your pardon. Morton is the name.” He bowed deeply. “As I was saying, Mr. Morton, I took a short walk after the boatman put me ashore, and—” “ Boatman, you said?” “Why, yes; certainly.” You—interested “A chap with his own boat, was it? ”’. “It seemed to be his own boat,” an- swered Miss Chalmers. “It’s not very much to own, however.” Mr. Morton appeared to be inter- ested. ‘“ Now—if I’m not too inquisitive, you know—would he be a man with a beard?” “He would; in fact, he was.” Hum! COMICLOOOKS (C@)