The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

216 THE some little thing hitting off—but so long as there ain’t, why, so much the better.” He bowed apologetically and gazed at the engine himself with calm, professional in- terest; and while it seemed that Farnham would have said more, Aunt Hettie’s inci- Sive tone spared him the trouble. “Jane!” said she, “we are now going to put up at a hotel!” “Tm willing,” Jane smiled. “And whether we are to remain here a day or two and recuperate from that dread- ful experience I shall decide later,” Aunt Hettie pursued firmly. “We'll lunch first and then see whether they’ve anything pre- sentable to offer in the way of rooms. Pay the man, Jane, and let us start.” “T’ll settle with them,”’ Farnham smiled. “You get in and make yourself comfortable, Miss Fayre. You look done up.” His hostess obeyed submissively, aware that her appearance did not belie her inward sensations. The last shock had left her rather numb, and she settled back and smiled faintly as the car rolled out to the afternoon sunshine again with Cragg at the wheel. But on one point she was wholly deter- mined: come what might and barring the actual appearance of the worst John Thompson on earth, she would not weaken like that again! If the effort exhausted her, she would still that fluttering heart and down the jangling nerves, forcing herself to resemble in some degree a conventional hostess. Thus the Jane who swept into the hotel dining-room at the head of her shaken and wind-blown party was outwardly quite her- self. At that hour the big place was soothingly still and altogether empty of guests. Wait- ers, having nothing else to occupy them, swarmed about the round table. Silver rattled invitingly, ice tinkled sanely in their glasses and the menu held not a suggestion of murder or pursuit. Jane smiled up at Mr. Farnham, as he followed alone after a minute. “Since you want to keep that man, I’ve arranged to leave him in sight,” he grinned. ““Where?’”’ “Just outside our window here. See him? He was quite anxious to go to some little restaurant conducted by his cousin, I believe, but I told him to back down there and stay.” Jane nodded and glanced out. There at ARGOSY. the curb Cragg seemed, temporarily at any rate, in a perfectly passive state. He sat behind his wheel smoking a ciga- rette and gazing ahead; it occurred to his mistress that perhaps, in her lately excited state, the half of Cragg’s peculiarities had been born in her own imagination. Jane, therefore, laughed almost lightly and left the task of ordering to Mr. Farnham. He executed it exquisitely, rousing sudden visions of real food within Jane as he talked to the head waiter with the right-angled anatomy. She had not suspected it when they entered, but she was hungry; and, ex- amining the rest of them with rather con- science-stricken eyes, she discovered that none of her party was shrinking visibly from the prospect of luncheon. They would have to remain until to-mor- row, of course. Personally, she would have preferred running another twenty miles into the country and selecting a camp-site, but the ladies of her party seemed rather too far gone. And—so Jane informed herself when de- licious, steaming soup appeared before them —there was no real danger. She would ask Farnham to omit her name when registering and that was really all the precaution that need be taken. Jane smiled at her soup and felt eagerly for the spoon. And through the dining- room came a chubby-faced little boy in liv- ery. ; ‘“Miss Fayre!” said he, loudly. ‘Miss Fayre! Miss Jane Fayre!” The. spoon dropped noisily. Not of course, that Jane was nervous, for she had done with all that, but “Miss Fayre!” the boy repeated insist- ently. ‘Miss Fayre!” “Here!” said Mr. Farnham, indicating Jane. The boy paused abruptly. “Ts that your car outside, Miss Fayre?” he asked. Jane, strangely unable to speak past the constriction in her throat, merely nodded. “Well, you don’t want to go any farther!” the child announced with a grin. “Eh?” Farnham put in. ‘““Nossir!” said the boy, glancing at the slip in his hand. ‘‘Somebody’s telephoned to stop a car with that license number and hold it and tell Miss Fayre not to go any farther.” “This message came from whom?” Jane asked, with a strange, unearthly little smile. VDOOKS COMMUC (C@)