The Argosy, September 1915 — page 84: what you’re looking at

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

298 THE them bore labels; others presented themselves to the eye without explana- tion or excuse. He lingered at one end of the case for a full minute, but his vision did not penetrate the transparency of the glass. It was concerned wholly with the case itseli—its joints, its locks, its sliding doors. Then his glance roved about the lobby. He counted the number of per- sons that crossed it within a given in- terval and the directions in which they went, as well as those from which they came. He noted the varying degrees of -occupation among the clerks, the news-stand girl, the flower-stand girl, the porters and the bell-boys. He studied the lights, the doorways and the windows. He made a mental note of distances and directions. After that he strolled’ lazily back to the porch, where he made a topograph- ical inspection that involved the smo- king of an entire cigarette. “Now for the master mechanic,” he said as he moved along the veranda in the direction of the dancing-room. But the master mechanic was busy, quite beyond his reach. She was one of a group gathered about the portly figure of Mr. Davidson and she was listening to his words. “It’s been done again!” affirmed — Mr. Davidson with gestures. ‘ And the patrol is supposed to be on the job! Right under the noses of James and Eliza, too! And here I am, going away to-night! I'll not stand for it.” Rosalind signaled to Polly Dawson, and Polly invented a reason for lead- ing Reggy Williams beyond ear-shot. For Reggy’s heart must be subjected to no stresses other than those that might incidentally be imposed by the charms of Polly herself. “Anything gone this time?”’ asked Tom Witherbee. ‘ Clothes!” exploded Mr. Davidson. “My room ransacked, Billy’s room turned topsyturvy, bureau drawers dumped out on the floor and all that sort of thing.” | ARGOSY. * But when?” “ Since we caine up here, of course! I had to send the boat back for my erips. I’m going away to-night and I forgot ‘em. And then they saw what happened. <A fine mess! I'd like to know what good it did to organize. He slipped right in under their noses and slipped out again.”’ “And no clue?” ce €Ctire—”’ Mr. Davidson checked the word that was intended to follow immediately thereafter and glared at the Jones boy, who was the questioner. “ Clue!”’ he said, beginning afresh. ‘ [’ve quit looking for clues. I’m look- ing for results. And I can get bunches of one and none of the other. And here I am, headed for Denver to-night, and nobody but a pack of fool servants to look after the place. I suppose the island ‘Il be gone when I get back.” “It's appalling,’ said Marjorie Winter. “You're right, ma’am,” declared Mr. Davidson truculently. “ It’s worse than appalling. It’s hell! Excuse me. But that’s what it is.” “ Couldn’t you get detectives?” “ Detectives my eye! I never knew one yet that could detect anything ex- cept an expense-account. No, sir; I’ve sent for Billy.” “His nephew, Billy Kellogg,” ex- plained Mrs. Witherbee in a whisper to Rosalind. “ The one that was sent away.” “Hated to-do it, too,” said Mr. Davidson. .“* But something had to be done. Wired down to Hastings & Hatch a little while ago to ship him up here the first thing to-morrow. Some- body’s got to sit on the lid while ’'m gone. ‘“ He’s learned some sense, I hear. Got a report only this morning, Stick- ing to his job like a nailer; that’s why I hate to pull him off it. But I’ll ship him back—the young rascal! Tl not spoil him again. Just as soon as J can get back from Denver, off he goes to the bank again.” EOPMICGLOOOKS (C@)