The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

262 and don’t try no monkey shines, because Ill be right back of you with the gun.” Stunned, they gazed at each other for a moment. And then the moment had passed and Mr. Farnham’s eye roved the land- scape, and in the eye flickered a most un- usually keen flicker of intelligence! “Come, Jane,” he said gently. “Before I’m quite through with this lout, Ill run him so far out of the country that he'll never find his way back. But just now ap- pearances are against us and we’ll have to go.” Smiling, he led the way down the path, vouchsafing never a glance at their late hostess or her ally, and as the arm of the law followed close behind it was plain that he found the smile rather puzzling. Calmer grew this wholly unwarranted expression and more genuinely amused, as Mr. Farn- ham paused beside the big car and adjusted spark and throttle for the start. But there was no trace of amusement upon Jane’s lovely countenance. All too plainly, she was gazing into the immediate future. They would land in jail. That in itself was absolutely incredible, but it was not the worst. They would be held, of course, and before they could even hope for legal aid they would have to communicate with their base of supplies at home! And it was hard to believe that when either of their true names had been written upon a telegram blank or spoken over a telephone the constable would hold the secret inviolate! And if he did not— She choked and looked appealingly at Mr. Farnham, whose fixed smile was all but absent-minded! Across the road Mr. Farnham’s eyes were roaming, along the stone wall and beyond it to the wide meadow. There were features of that meadow which missed Jane altogether, but held a peculiar appeal for Wilbur Farnham. One of them was the steep grade downward, be- ginning at the very bottom of the stone wall; from this side of the road a chasm seemed to yawn beyond that wall, although fifty yards farther one saw the meadow sloping at last to the level. “Constable!” said Mr. Farnham. “What?”’ “You don’t want to think better of this affair, before you go any further with it, do you?” “Tt don’t have to,” the law said grimly. THE ARGOSY. “Start your wagon, mister. I'll leave my horse here and ride in the back.” The large young man _ shrugged his shoulders. ‘““As you please,”’ said he, ‘‘but—and I’m telling you this for your own sake as much aS ours—you’re preparing a terrible mess for yourself. We’re not criminals and this car is not stolen; it’s our property. What happened to your friend Cook will be set- tled to his satisfaction about one hour after I reach a telegraph office, and what hap- pened to these numbers is, candidly, none of your business!” “Driving a car with false numbers—” “T know, and that will all be explained at the proper time, too,” Mr. Farnham pursued coldly. “How our man happened to pick your numbers is beyond me, unless he’s one of your personal friends and ac- quainted with your car. He’s a crook, pos- sibly; his name is Cragg.” His haughty, frigid eye surveyed the constable; his lips curled in a smile that was now pure contempt! And Mr. Farn- ham was a large young man, aristocratic of feature and bearing; and for half a minute the constable shifted and grew doubtful before the withering smile. But abruptly his own ugly smile re- turned. “T don’t know no Cragz.” said he. “You can tell the other things to the judge, young feller, and see what he thinks about them. I know they’re lies, but he might feel dif- ferent about it. Start your engine.”’ With a visible and very commendable ef- fort Mr. Farnham restrained his temper. ‘““That’s final, is it?” he asked. “You betcher!”’ responded the constable. Mr. Farnham opened the foredoor and motioned Jane into her seat, turning his back on the constable with a brief: “Attend to your horse, then; Ill wait for you. Be careful about stepping on things on the floor when you get into the car.” He threw in the starter and the motor whirred again, but this time presumably for the saddest lap of its remarkable journey—and with a shrug the constable turned toward his patient nag, cropping grass beside the picket fence. All men make mistakes, but few make greater than did this Thornton Hill when he permitted his mind to wander from Wilbur Farnham to a horse. Because then the constable’s back was squarely toward Go 0)() AMC S (C@