The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

GETTING AWAY FROM THOMPSON. “Then he showed me his automatic pis- tol; he said it had ten shots and that one would do for me and the other nine for whoever chased him, if it came to that. He put that awful pistol in his pocket and jammed the end of the muzzle against my ribs, hard; then he bent over close to me and swore that, at the first sign of my try- ing to give an alarm or the first hint that I meant to disobey him, his coat would be on fire and I’d be dead! It was so queer, too! I couldn’t think one thought, yet I seemed to understand perfectly!” “T’ll see that he goes up for life, be sure of that!” Uncle Horace stated. ‘‘Go on!” “T don’t know just how it happened, but we walked and walked and after a while we were in a little office-like room at the back of a house and there was a funny little man in a bath-robe. His name was Codd, and he was the local judge, I think, and town clerk and everything else. ‘“‘Whatever he was, the burglar was talk- ing to him and smiling and explaining that we had come to be married and that I was very nervous and that he’d better get it over quickly. The justice said something about a license and Thompson—he had given his name you know—gave him several bills and asked him to fix it, and the Codd man said he probably could. Then he asked my name—” ‘““And you gave it?” gasped Aunt Martha. “Your right name?” “T never thought of giving any other; I couldn’t have thought up one just then, any- way,” said Jane. ‘So he called in a hired man and a maid, I think she was, and he married us. And all that time, the muzzle of that pistol was grindmg against my side and I knew that if I made one slip it would all be over. “T remember that the hired girl ran out to the kitchen and brought a jar of rice and threw some at us—and then we were out in the moonlight again and that horrible Thompson creature was looking at his mar- riage certificate and chuckling!” Aunt Martha pressed her handkerchief to her eyes. Jane sighed heavily. “Well, he marched me along beside him until we were out of sight of the house and then we stopped again. His hands were bigger than tennis rackets and he gripped my arms with them and made quite a speech, shaking me hard whenever he wanted to drive in a point. “He said that we were married now and 201 that the law gave him a perfect right to take me with him, but he didn’t want me. He said that he had fixed it with the justice to keep the marriage quiet and that, for the present anyway, he himself wasn’t going to say anything about it. ‘‘He explained that he was perfectly safe now, because if any one connected him with the burglary he’d make me prove a perfect alibi for him—he said he’d swear that he had been calling on me secretly and that we decided to elope, and with the ceremony and the justice and all, any court would believe him. He said that if I ever tried to testify against him, his lawyer wouldn’t permit a wife to testify against her husband; and then he shook me very hard and said that, everything else apart, if I ever breathed one solitary word of what had happened, he’d find me and kill me! He said that he would come and claim me for his wife and then take me away somewhere and slaughter me—and he meant it!’ said Jane, with deep conviction. ‘And then?”’ moaned Aunt Martha. ‘Then he threw me away from him and ran between two houses and disappeared, and after a long time I managed to totter back to our house. That’s why I had the queer nervous breakdown at Edie’s. She and the doctor thought that it was the terrific strain of being left alone all night, and Edith was so conscience stricken that she nearly wept her eyes out and they made me stay in bed for two days,” Jane concluded. ‘And that gave me time to think it all out. I decided to keep quiet— and I’ve done it!” Uncle Horace sat back slowly and drew a long breath. ‘“That’s the most amazing story I ever heard!” he said energetically. “But you did the worst thing possible in keeping it to yourself, child! You should have wired me instantly and—and—”’ Pure indignation choked him. Jane looked at Mr. Porter-Preston with fear in her eye and no apology for its presence. “Uncle,” she said earnestly, “you never saw Thompson!” “I don’t care if the scoundrel is as big as the Woolworth Building and wickeder than Old Nick himself!” Uncle Horace cried wrathfully. “I'll make him wish that be- fore he made himself your husband—”’ “Sssh! Ssssh!” cried Mrs. Porter-Pres- ton, frantically; and again as she hurried to close the door: “‘Ssssh! The servants!” CORMMICLOOOKS (C@