The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

234 “Good morning,” beamed Jane. “You look saner to-day,” the chaperon pursued. ‘“‘That’s what I came over to talk about. I can’t imagine what possessed you yesterday, but to-day we are to have no speed exhibitions!” “Very well,” smiled Jane. “Because if that man tries—just once, and Mrs. Hapworthy and I have agreed on this—if he tries to do one thing faster than twenty miles an hour, this party will cease on the spot and go home by train. Is that understood?” “Of course it is understood, dear,” her niece smiled, and her exquisite eyes passed Aunt Hettie and caressed Mr. Farnham’s shoulder. ‘‘We needn’t hurry.” “Go wash, then!” directed the elder lady. “There’s a little pool just up the brook, and the water is: hardly above freezing point. It’s delightful; your friend Mary almost fainted.” She returned to Miss Callum’s side as that young woman protested tearfully that she couldn’t seem to cook for any one but papa, and Wilbur Farnham hurried to Jane. His expression seemed to her far less care- free and animated* than in the moonlight; he was tired, of course, although he looked more worried than tired. He glanced over his shoulder and, since the others were out of hearing, said quickly: “Jane, dear, I don’t want to frighten you, but you’d better run up the brook a way and then—remain.” “In the woods?” “Ves, and well out of sight, dear. I think your man Thompson is due here in the flesh in a few minutes.” “Wilbur!” his hostess gasped. “Hush!” commanded Mr. Farnham. “There may be nothing in it at all; and if he does turn up and you are not in sight, I may be able to steer him away before he makes any trouble. But a car went by here about twenty minutes ago, making fifty or sixty miles an hour, and I caught a good glimpse of it.” “Well?” “Tt was one of those big, heavy road- ster affairs, Jane, and there were two men in it. One of them was half-standing, to get a view of the road ahead.” “Was he big? Were his shoulders four or five feet across and his head a little bullet without any neck and—” Farnham laughed shortly. “T had no chance to measure him, and THE ARGOSY.. it may not have been our Thompson at all, but he was looking for some one, and there are mighty few people to look for in these parts. Just hurry in there, little girl, and stay until I come for you.” @ A moment Jane hesitated; then, noting the real anxiety in his eye, she hesitated no more. Her little traveling-case in hand, the hostess of the party stepped quickly into the bushes and up the brook for such reno- vating processes as are possible in an icy pool that must serve as basin and mirror at once. All things considered, however, she felt herself rather presentable after a little, and took to listening for sounds of Thompson. As if they had been waiting to claim her undivided attention, the sounds material- ized almost at once! In the far, far distance the heavy roar of a big motor with open cut-out trembled faintly on the air; it came nearer and nearer and, in marvelously few seconds, it seemed to be coming up the far side of their hill and—yes, it was dipping down the road toward them now! She could see nothing of the machine and, as this morning’s splendid sanity in- formed her, there was always the excellent chance that it might hold almost any one of America’s hundred millions who was not Thompson at all; yet she waited unbreath- ing until the clattering din had passed their sheltered clearing without pause and was dying out again. , Then, it seemed to Jane, the car stopped, but she had no more than gained the im- pression than Farnham was with her, grin- ning. ‘‘False alarm, evidently,” he said. “They went back faster than they came, and—”’ ‘And we can’t hear them at all now!” “Kh? That’s true,” the young man ad- mitted. “‘We—hello! There they are, start- ing up again, and they’re coming this way.” He listened intently and his handsome countenance grew very dark with anxiety, for there was no doubt at all that the mys- terious racer was returning, even again! “Tt’s that confounded fancy tread on the back wheels,” he muttered. ‘“‘That was what I feared when I came to think it out—that he might get track of that tread and follow it on these lonely roads.” “Wilbur! They’ve stopped! They’ve stopped right beside the clearing!” Jane gasped. “They might as well have stopped on Gomicdooks (C@