The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 94: what you’re looking at

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

276 THE a monomania, Mr. Farnham could see ab-- solutely nothing better for the future than their arraignment and commitment to the county jail! It was perfectly insane and impossible, of course, and at the same time it was going to happen. And when it had happened? Mr. Farn- ham’s head turned dizzy and he was forced to rest it against the cold steel. For himself he cared not at all; many an innocent man has become outcast through no fault of his own. If friends and firm and everybody else chose to turn on him, once his identity leaked out, he could laugh at them all—so that the way opened to save Jane [ayre. If frenzied mind could break steel bars, the jail would have been a mass of wreck- age just then, as Mr. Farnham thought, and —how very still it was in there! “Jane! Jane dear!” gasped the large young man. “Have you fainted?”’ “No, Wilbur,” a rather monotonous voice answered. “You're crying, sweetheart?” “T don’t believe I could cry if I wanted to—now,” Jane said dismally. “I don’t want to.” “You poor little kid!” cried Wilbur Farn- ham. “Why in the name of a merciful Heaven did you ever lay eyes on me?’ Why did that fool of a Weston ever send me with you? This is all my fault and now—” “Hush!” the beloved voice said, so calm- ly that Mr. Farnham gripped himself. “It isn’t your fault at all, Wilbur, dear. It is my fault.” “But if I had never conceived the crazy notion of breaking inte that house—” “Silly or not, dear, you did it for my sake,” came gently from the adjoining cell, “and if I hadn’t disobeyed and followed you, you might never have been caught. If I had been in the car 1 could have given some kind of warning when I saw the con- stable coming and—” “Yes, and you might have startled the fool so that he opened fire on you, Jane! No, you did a wise enough thing in leaving the car; but to think that my thick-headed- ness has brought you to this nearly drives me mad!” “Wilbur, dear, don’t be absurd,” the voice next door pleaded. “It hurts me so to think that you may suffer on my account —that you well suffer!” “Jane!” young Mr. Farnham cried wild- ARGOSY. ly. “For your sweet sake I’d let them cut me up in little pieces and—”’ “Sssh!’ “And the worst of it is,” Farnham groaned, “that we’re no nearer Thompson than we were at the beginning!” Jane laughed forlornly. “Td forgotten all about Thompson,” she said. The dreadful stillness settled down upon them once more, broken through many long minutes by a heavy sigh on one side of the steel partition or a rumbling, throaty sound on the other. But the rumbles ceased after a time and a period of deep thought followed in Mr. Farnham’s cell. When he spoke again his voice was altogether calm. ‘“‘Jane, dear,” he said, “there are some things in this world that simply cannot be, and our staying in this jail over night is one of them!” “Vm afraid, Wilbur—”’ ‘““There’s some way out!” Mr. Farnham announced with conviction. ‘If have got a message through to old Pete Fellowes, I’d know that he would be here before noon with a couple of thousand dol- lars and all the legal wits that ever grew in one head, and we could go to sleep happy. But that fell through because there was some simpler way out of this mess, and I’ll find the way!” His flashlight snapped, and Mr. Farn- ham pressed close to the barred doorway of his prison cell and turned the brilliant circle from side to side. Directly opposite them and across the narrow corridor stood the wall of the jail itself, with one window wide open and taste- fully barred in steel. Through the window the softest of night winds floated to Mr. Farnham, but it bore nc suggestions as to the path to freedom, and he turned the light down the corridor toward the entrance. And as it fell upon the angle of the wall Mr. Farnham started and said suddenly: “Jane! Can you see them?” “IT see the keys in the corner.” ‘So do I, my dear,” said the large young man. “They’re.not eight feet from my hand at this minute!” ‘But your arm isn’t eight feet long, Wil- bur,” Jane murmured sadly. “Nevertheless, my great brain may be a whole lot longer than that!” mused her fel- low prisoner. ‘Look at ’em! There are six different keys, one for each of these CORMMICLOOOKS I could — (C@