The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

214 ily. “As to this freak, he may be telling the truth and he may not, but—is he worth bothering with? He seems to have some- thing on his mind besides running the car. Do you want to keep him or shall we get another driver?” “Well, Jones vouched for him as one of the very few men able to handle the car properly,” Jane sighed. “That settles it, then; we’ll keep him and bring him down to business. Cragg!” “Yes, sir?” their driver said mildly. “Get about your repairing—or no! Don’t get about it,” Mr. Farnham corrected, turn- ing to the mechanic. “It might be better if you’d look this engine over and try out the whole machine. Our man seems to think there’s something wrong.”’ He of the overalls ceased chuckling and quickened. ‘“We’ve got a man here that worked in the factory where they build this car,” he said. ‘Just a minute, sir, and I’ll get him.” He hurried off and Farnham took to whistling very softly through his teeth as he gazed down upon Cragg—who, curiously, seemed quite at ease again and satisfied with the situation. Mr. Farnham’s atten- tion wandered back to Jane, but Jane was sinking deep into rather pleasant thoughts of her own. The feeling that Mr. Farnham had lifted some of the burden from her shoulders was strangely soothing. Not more than two minutes ago she had been conscious of a weak desire to weep softly over things in general; now she was growing steadily more cheerful. Since he had assumed so much of her load, she wished that young Mr. Farnham knew the full extent of her trouble and would help her share it—and almost in- stantly she shuddered and breathed a fer- vent, silent prayer that he might never dis- * cover a single detail! Not, of course, that Mr. Farnham mattered more than any one else, but he might have failed to under- stand—just as any one else might have failed. Jane sighed comfortably, stole a rather shy glance in Mr. Farnham’s direction, dis- covered that he was looking at her thought- fully and lowered her eyes again. “better to wait here than walk,” Aunt Hettie was saying tartly, somewhere outside Jane’s dreamy mood. is really in running order, we'll get to a hotel, have something tasty cooked up—it “Tf the thing - THE ARGOSY. must be hours past their luncheon time— and then rest!” Jane smiled again. After all, much as she had wished to run away from Albany, it might be safe enough to spend the night here if she herself kept out of sight; it might, in fact, be the only possible course, for within the realm of possibility lay the splendid chance of her three female guests refusing flatly to travel another mile. And so long as Mr. Farnham was within hailing distance—again Jane sighed com- fortably and then: “Well, where is bawled suddenly through reaches of the lower floor. As if a dagger had pierced her, Jane started. One instant she fancied that the words had been pure imagination—some brain-trick born of her secret worries. But in another she turned icy from head to foot, for the words came again and the mechanic was responsible tor them. A frown upon his well-smudged face, he stood there impatiently, all unaware that he had just frozen solid one tender human thing. From behind a distant car a voice an- swered: “Thompson was on the top floor when I came down.” “Just a minute, sir, and I'll phone up for him,” the man in overalls said to Mr. Farnham. He vanished through an office door and Farnham went on with his whistling, for he had no means of knowing that the girl be- side him was about to drop stone dead from plain, old-fashioned fright! Her soft smile persisted, strangely trans- fixed at the second she had caught the dreadful words; she was aware of its pres- ence and wondered dizzily at its persist- ence; and straightway she forgot it, for the man in overalls was back again and saying cheerily: “Thompson’ll- be right down, sir. see, John used to work in their factory.” It was not only Thompson, but John as well. For a wee space Jane had all but per- suaded herself that she had been mistaken John Thompson?” the echoing ¥? in the John—that it must of course be some other Thompson, because the individual she had married would hardly stoop to honest work. | A ghastly calm descended upon Jane. In her mind’s feverishly keen eye she could see it all, down to the last horrid item. This was inescapable Fate, the same Fate that CORMICLOOOKS (C@