The Argosy, September 1915 — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

ONE-CYLINDER SAM. a burglar, who was H. Evelyn Morton? What did Sam know about Morton, and what did the Englishman know about Sam? Of course, it was natural for Sam to attempt to divert suspicion from him- self. But why throw it upon Morton? “Tf it wasn’t for the smuggling part I think I could understand,” mused Rosalind. ‘If Mr. Morton won all this money from Mr. Davidson’s nephew, I suppose it has been a matter of some talk. Probably this boatman has learned of the fact, and is merely waiting for an opportunity to rob Mr. Morton. And Mr. Morton probably has his suspicions, and is keeping a watch upon Sam for his own protec- tion. That’s perfectly reasonable. “ But, then, why should Sam try to get’ Mr. Morton into trouble, and probably thereby spoil his own chance of robbing him? I can’t understand that, unless he is incredibly’ stupid. And—he isn’t stupid.” At the end of her fifteen-minute study Rosalind made a resolution and went down-stairs to see about execu- ting it. She contrived, with no great expenditure of effort, to detach Mr. Morton from his tennis. “Don’t you think,” said Rosalind, “that it would be great fun to go fish- ing ?”’ “Upon my word, I never gave it a thought,” said Mr. Morton. “ But I believe you're right, you know, Miss Chalmers.” “Then let’s.” “From the wharf?” “No! That’s a stupid place.” “We'll try the point, then.” 6é No! 9) Mr. Morton looked puzzled. “We must get a boat,’ explained Rosalind. ec Oh! 99 ‘A boat and a boatman who knows where there is good fishing to be found.” He considered the idea for a mo- ment. “ I—er—helieve Mr. Witherbee is 269 using his own launch this afternoon,”’ Mr. Morton observed. ‘ But—well, you know, we might be able to get—”’ He paused in doubt. During an in- stant’s silence their eyes met steadily. “Yes, I think we might,” said Rosa- lind. ‘ Will you see if he’s anywhere in sight?” With a bow, Morton strode in the direction of the shore. ““T am rather curious to see those two persons together,” murmured Ros- alind, as she watched him go upon his errand. _ It was nearly an hour before he put in an appearance. ‘“ Awfully sorry to have kept you waiting,” he said. ‘‘ But I had to take a boat and row about a bit to find him. It’s all right, however; he’s at the wharf.” “That’s very lovely of you,” de- clared Rosalind graciously. ‘“ We might bring some of the others, too, if you like. Suppose you hunt them up. I’ll go down to the boat.” She found the boatman wiping the seats and otherwise engaged in the discouraging task of trying to make his craft tidy. He greeted her with a brief nod. “Fishing?” he asked. 6é Ver” “ Muskies? ” “ Why—yes.” “Well, that’s good sport,” he com- mented. “You can take us to the proper place, of course?” ‘“Who—me? ” The boatman shook his head. “Then why in the world do you pretend to hire out—” Sam interrupted her. “You don’t want to go fishing,” he said, Rosalind’s cheeks assumed a pink tint. “ Not for muskies, anyhow,” added Sam. In his eyes was a hint of amusement that angered her. “Tt is my intention to go fishing,” Gomicbooks (C@)