The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

240 Uncle Horace shook his head. “Naturally he hasn’t,”’ said he. ‘From what Boggs said, Thompson belongs in Batesford or thereabouts, and he has never left the neighborhood. He’s there still!” “Then to serve him, some one will have to go to Batesford?” Jane cried. “Of course, and by the time I’ve sent to the city for Dresser’s men—”’ “We needn’t!” his niece said brightly. “You've got a copy of the thing in your pocket, uncle. You'll have to go—we'll all have to go—right straight back to Bates- ford!’ CHAPTER XI. THEIR LIVES IN HIS HAND. R. HORACE. PORTER-PRESTON’S eye, resting upon his niece, held all the blank protest of a freshly-hooked fish’s. Blank it remained, however, for only the briefest time—and then it kindled suddenly and astonishingly and Uncle Horace ex- ploded: “I go! Ves! > P “Well, I can’t go! It’s impossible! I won’t go—I’ll be hanged if I go!” Mr. Por- ter-Preston rasped out savagely. “Jane, have you no conception of what time means to me now, after frittering away a month at your idiotic Newport? Can’t you under- stand that I’d as soon have had a leg am- putated as to have dropped everything yes- terday? I can’t very well stand here and jabber the inner details of a deal that I’ve been working on for a year, but I will say that if I’m not in the office before five o’clock this afternoon—”’ He had quite lost his temper. Mr. Farn- ham, noting that Jane was the innocent cause, came near to losing his. ‘There is no need of berating Jane, Mr. Porter-Preston!” he said stiffly. “Your presence isn’t necessary in Batesford, I’m sure.” “hh?” | “You have a copy of the summons with you; they’re all alike, aren’t they—one’s as good as another, I mean?” “T_T suppose so,” Uncle Horace said more mildly. ‘Dresser mentioned some- thing about handing him money with it, if he was found out of town.”’ “Transportation, probably; they do it under some conditions, I believe, although THE ARGOSY. I don’t know just when,” Farnham sup- plied. “But that’s easily settled; I’ll hand him an even hundred when I give him the paper.”’ “You are going to undertake the job?” Mr, Porter-Preston asked, with a sudden and brilliant smile. “Most certainly.” “You know the man Thompson, when you see him?” ‘iY “Then what if you serve the wrong man?’’ asked Uncle Horace. “That would never do, you know—that would be the ghastliest thing possible! Because Dresser said most distinctly that unless the de- fendant im person had positively been served—and that before court opens next Monday morning—hope was gone!” Here Jane contributed her helpful bit. ‘The same thing might happen to you or anybody else, uncle, because you’ve never seen Thompson, either. But it needn’t happen with Mr. Farnham, be- cause if Thompson is in Batesford I shall be there to identify him.” ‘He is there, apparently, but—” “The others are pretty well aware now that something is up,’ Jane went on quickly. “If Wilbur started up there alone and the rest of us went on home, Aunt Hettie would begin to speculate, and Mrs. Hapworthy as well—and when those two think, they think out loud and they'll start other people talking, which is the last thing we want. Why isn’t it better simply to say that you’ve heard from New York and that it isn* necessary for us to break off the trip after all?” “And I can go back to the city at once?” “Of course.” “TY think that’s a very good idea,” said Uncle Horace, as he glanced at his watch. ‘It isn’t necessary for me to stop and help with the explanation?” “We can attend to that,” Farnham as- sured him. “Then—hey, you, Barrows—is your name? Crank her up!” His driver, who had put in the minutes exchanging insolent and offensive glances with Mr. Cragg, started into activity and set his motor to humming again. Uncle Horace dug deep into his pocket and pro- duced a folded paper; and he was pressing it on Farnham as he stepped into the car and saying: : “T wish you luck, my dear boy, and I that CORMMICLOOOKS (C@