The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 4 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

590 he got there, but his mind was in such a whirligig condition that he wanted to be somewhere alone to think. And yet think- ing was the most difficult thing for him to do just then. In the upper hall, well lighted by electric bulbs, he met an individual he had not seen since he entered the house. This is not re- markable, for on the morning of the day after his arrival he had gone with Batterson on the cruise. The person who passed him swiftly in the hall was a small, slender, dark-eyed woman. She gave Fanning a quick, dart- ing glance, and disappeared in some other portion of the house. Fanning, wondering who she might be, went to his room. It was a large, comfort- able room, with two windows looking to- ward the Grand Boulevard and Concourse, and these windows were open. But somehow the room seemed small and confining. He wanted air—air to breathe, and space in which to think. He took a fresh cigar from his own sup- ply and went down-stairs and out on the side veranda. Here he ensconced himself in a large arm-chair and sank at once into a deep fit of study. The first thought that dominated his per- plexed brain was the query: Who was the dark-eyed woman who had given him such a queer look, and why had he not seen her before? But there were other perplexities having more weight than the mere identity of a strange woman. He had thrown away his business pros- pects for a fancy. Any other man almost would have rejoiced at the opportunity, in a business sense, to have the entire contract for building the industrial orphan school planned by Joyce Kendry. To the average man this would mean two things: big profits from this individual ven- ture; second, a foothold in the Bronx, the most rapidly growing borough of New York. But Fanning was not the man to figure that way. When he promised Joyce to help her he meant what he said. He would help her to the best of his ability. But not a cent would he accept for his services. If Mr. Kendry could donate to this fantastic enterprise land undoubtedly worth thou- sands of dollars he could devote a little time. As to his business, he had a good fore- man, and would place him in complete charge. It might be merely a prolongation THE ARGOSY. of his vacation, and all would be well when he was at liberty to resume control. He dismissed this matter from his mind. Now came the massive problem. | Why was Mr. Kendry so interested in his affairs? Having become so interested, how had he acquired the intimate knowl- edge of his birth, even to the very house where that event occurred? Further, how was he to reconcile Mr. Kendry’s kindly interest and Joyce’s desire for his assistance, with the directly opposite desire of somebody else to get rid of him? It seemed the correct and only reason- able thing for him to do, to go back to Mr. Kendry in his den and show him the note, and ask for an explanation. But here, again, his own former deduc- tions formed a formidable barrier. He had reached the conclusion that Mrs. Kendry, in her ambition for Joyce, had either written the note herself, or had caused it to be written. Kendry was not the man to let so strange a matter go unsolved. He was just the man who would, and could, dig down to a solu- tion. If it proved true that Mrs. Kendry had written or instigated the writing of the note, who could tell what the consequences would be? Fanning was determined that no affair or interest of his should cause trouble in that family. So the words to Kendry were not spoken. From this he began to ponder upon the matter of his birth. Who was his father? He had not the slightest idea where or what sort of place Washington Avenue was. There might be papers somewhere proving something in regard to him, but he had been so busy keeping his soul in his body with hard work in order to get some educa- tion mto his mind that nothing concerning the matter had ever occurred to him. A rather unsteady footstep reached him, and Tom came upon the veranda from the street, smoking a cigarette. A glance showed Fanning that his old classmate had been drinking, and rather heavily. He had never known this of Tom. There had been some drinking on the yacht, but mostly of light wines er champagne. Whisky had been Tom’s beverage this time. Notwithstanding this, the young fellow was perfectly coherent and master of him- self. He took a seat near Fanning. “What the devil’s going on with the gov- ernor?” he asked. COMMICLOOOKS (C@