The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

254 one turned from that aspect of the case to a review of the lively day that was gone; and out of it all, somehow, stood the matter of Cragg. What had possessed the diminutive chauffeur to escape? Why had he lied and paled and trembled when Jane was near? Why had he quailed before Jane’s eye— when any sane person must have warmed at the joyful realization that the eye deigned to rest upon him? To some extent, Mr. Farnham settled the matter by telling himself that Cragg had a better job waiting elsewhere and, like many of his kind, felt constitutionally unable to tell the simple truth and ask his release— although that did not explain everything. And then that appearance of Jane’s mar- riage certificate! Now that he had ample time to consider it, with the rest of the wakeful night ahead, the mystery of the bit of paper impressed Mr. Farnham even more forcefully than the Cragg proposition. Whence had come that accursed document? Had Thompson actu- ally passed in the night car, twenty-four hours ago? Had the certificate chosen just this spot to leap from his pocket? Such bits of impossible coincidence have actually occurred and inscribed themselves upon the record. Mysteries apart, however, one concrete set of facts lay before Mr. Farnham. Not two days back a rather silent, con- ventional young man, cherishing a love af- fair he fancied perfectly hopeless, he had been fairly hurled into Jane Fayre’s life— nay, he had even taken full charge of the girl herself and of her future! When one came to think of it, it was all rather stagger- ing, although it did not stagger Mr. Farn- ham just then for he had at last located a really comfortable spot on the big cush- ioned seat. He slid down farther and tucked his hands behind his head; through the long, still hours ahead, he would have to plan, detail by detail, this serving of Thompson, picking out all possible accidents and set- tling in advance just what he would do when this or that emergency arose. For example, suppose that Thompson— High aloft in a treetop, an owl, pausing for a few reflective hoots before he moved on to his dinner engagement, wondered at the deep and regular snarl which issued from the automobile below. Distinctly a ‘ bird of the wilds, he had no means of THE ARGOSY. knowing that the sound was only a healthy human snore. CHAPTER XIV. BREAKFAST AND A SHOCK, ANE started up with a little cry. Not only was the day well advanced, but she seemed to be altogether alone in the tent; Aunt Hettie and Mary and—another, small- er and more dismayed cry escaped Jane and she huddled down again. There was no more Aunt Hettie, no more Mary, no more Mrs. Hapworthy, with all her faults. Henceforth the prestige of her sex, in this particular motoring party, must be supported by herself alone; deserted by its other representatives, she was quite alone in the wilderness with Wilbur Farnham! Minute after minute, Jane stared numbly at the crowding wall of her shelter and felt the soul shrinking within her. Minute after minute, then, she became more and more aware that this shrinking was depart- ing and hard common sense, painfully mixed with gloom, was taking its place! More than mere conventionality was at stake here; there was a fortune involved and her personal freedom and—a dreary, dis- mal something whispered to Jane that both were lost. She wondered at the utter pessimism, too; yet the true cause of this insinuated itself into her consciousness after another two or three minutes. Surpassing any similar craving in all her past life, Jane was hungry! Yesterday, she recalled with amazing vividness, they had lived upon a handful of sandwiches, and a small handful at that, meanwhile burning up physical and nervous energy at an unprecedented rate. This morning—Jane sniffed suddenly. ‘The crisp air of the woodland gave no tiniest hint of cooking coffee; absent, too, was the heartening frizzle and sizzle of bacon; and, now that she came to note it, the absence of sound was rather remarkable. Mr. Farnham must be stirring by this time; was it possible that he had tramped away at dawn in search of a makeshift chaperon for their lessened party? It would be rather like him, but—Jane rose sud- denly. A swift and heavy step was crunching through bushes and now across pine needles nearer at hand. It paused beside her tent, and Mr. Farnham’s big voice called: CORNICLOOOKS (C@