The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 88: what you’re looking at

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

270 that he felt not the slightest nervousness as he tiptoed over the dry turf. Infrequently he had speculated upon the _ possible thoughts and sensations of the burglar while earning his nightly bread; brought down to the fact in his own person, they seemed to amount to nothing at all! There was a certain thrill, to be sure, but that was perfect happiness. Jane Fayre loved him! For her sweet sake he was about to enter the home of the local records and loot the records themselves; he would as cheerfully have faced barehanded a sheriff’s posse, thrashing each unit of the same to a finish and walking off with their horses, did Jane Fayre desire them. Let it be borne in mind, too, that within the very week Wilbur Farnham had been a perfectly sane, almost a model, young man, holding a post in which, beside expert knowledge, unimpeachable honesty and moral character had been the largest re- quirements. The protecting demons of dark crime seemed to be guiding his steps. Unerringly as if he had trod it since boyhood, he found the path that lay beside the justice’s black and silent chicken coop and down toward his equally black and silent home. Un- erringly and without once flashing his light, Mr. Farnham’s fingers went out and gripped the first post of the porch. That faintly shining surface was the glass panel of the justice’s office door, he noted. He tried the knob and found it locked securely—which, on the whole, was not remarkable. He slipped his jimmy in beside the lock and pried cautiously; and at once it be- came plain that throwing all his great strength into the task was needless. Even as he started to pry, splinters crackled softly and the door itself moved free of the lock’s nosing. With just the faintest creak, it swung open before him—and there Mr. Farnham all but screamed, for a hand touched his arm lightly and then Jane’s voice: “Tn the far corner—over there, Wilbur!” “What on earth—” breathed the burglar. “Hush! Of course I came,” said Jane quietly. ‘Did you think that I’d permit you to take all the risk alone?” “Jane, dear! Will you please go back to the car?”’ Mr. Farnham pleaded wildly. “No, Wilbur, because you haven’t an idea where the safe is and there are chairs everywhere and you might fall over them THE ARGOSY. or some of the other furniture and be caught.” “Sweetheart!” the burglar whispered frantically. ‘‘You—-you don’t understand what it would mean if we were both caught. You go back, dear, and stay in the car, and if you hear any excitement here, run! You have rings and if you can keep out of sight, somebody will lend you—” The gentle hand slipped under his arm. “Wilbur,” spoke the gentle voice, ‘don’t you think, if we’re going to burglarize this house to-night, we'd better get about it?” From Mr. Farnham’s lips escaped a Jong and shaky breath. He tried to look at Jane and could not discern a feature; but she was most indisputably there and she meant to remain there! “I’m sorry you did it, dear,” he said. wish you wouldn’t come in with me.” Lantern flicking little circles of light which vanished almost as they appeared, he stepped over the threshold and into the close air of the office—antd still Jane was at his side. “Over this way—in this corner, Wilbur,” she breathed. Mr. Farnham followed»the guiding hand, and then stopped suddenly. There, to be sure, was the safe, clear in the circle of light and looking exactly like an illustration in a burglar story. It was old and rusty with a single, simple dial; and while it might serve its purpose well enough, Fate chanced to have given Mr. Farnham a year of experience in a safe foundry and he felt that he could see the details of that lock through the steel! Light in hand, he squatted before it, smiling. That particular lock was better than he had dared hope for, and when he had given a few tentative twirls— ‘“Wilbur!’’ Jane Fayre hissed into his ear. “There’s somebody out there on the porch!” “T_by gad! There’s somebody coming down stairs, too!” Mr. Farnham gasped under his breath, as he bounded to his feet. A dreadful instant, he looked about wild- ly in the gloom. And then he knew that it was far too late for flight! At one side a doorway opened and a shadowy lady appeared, held a lamp high above her head and screamed chokingly! At the other side, which was the porch, and as if released by the same spring, a mighty pocket flashlight flared out upon all | VOOKS AMUNG (C@ (C@