The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 4 — page 46: what you’re looking at

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

612 knew that every dollar Tom received as a fictitious timekeeper was spent as soon as received, if not hypothecated before. He had no other resources without ap- plying to his father, mother, or sister. It seemed to be indubitable that Tom had stolen the two jewel-cases and his father’s watch. In no other way could Fanning _ Imagine how he could raise a thousand dollars. The night view of the Sound was perfect. The tops of the ripples that disturbed the water were silvered by the moon. ‘There was a mild wind blowing from the south that so tempered the autumn chill as to make out of doors comfortable without an overcoat. Fanning stood on a rise of land that broke the slope from the mansion to the shore and surveyed his little domain. “All this for Joyce, my Joyce,” he mur- mured. Suddenly his keen eyes caught a glimpse of a man darting in the half light among the trees from the shelter of one large bole to another closer to him. For a moment he was startled, for at that hour no man could be skulking on his grounds ‘for any good purpose. But fear was a thing Fanning had never learned. He was unarmed, and naturally knew that any man who skulked at mid- night on private property must be well pro- vided with weapons of some sort. : For a moment he was on the point of hailing. He did not, realizing that this would either drive the intruder away or bring a shot from ambush, if his own mur- der was the stranger’s purpose. He remained on the knoll, apparently oblivious of the man’s presence. Then, flicking the ash from his half- consumed cigar, he sauntered casually and easily in the direction of the tree behind which he had seen the fellow take shelter. A new thought struck him with force. Perhaps, leaving Tom out of it, this was the same robber who had entered the Ken- drys’ house, and now his own was the object of attack. He smiled at the idea. There was no jewelry there to steal. There was little silver plate. He wore a plain gold seal ring and a gold watch worth fifty dollars. They were not in the mansion, but on his person. There was no one behind the tree when , he reached it, but about a hundred feet THE ARGOSY. from him, at a spot where the white moon sent shafts of light down through the now leafless trees, he saw a darting figure. His fighting blood surged to his brain and he ran. The skulking figure ran, too. Fanning was a good sprinter. He had won more than one long-distance foot race, and for dashes he held half a dozen medals. The appearance of the fugitive was weird as he dashed, now through a bar of brilliant silver light, then into shadow, emerging again into light, and again covered by shadow. And Fanning was gaining on him all the time. The question rose in Fanning’s mind, why didn’t the fellow shoot, or stand to fight, if he had come to do mischief? Then suddenly the quarry tripped and fell and Fanning pounced on him like a hawk. “What do you want here?” demanded the owner of the place. ‘Don’t! You hurt! You are strangling me, Board!” came a gasping screech. Fanning yanked his captive out into the moonlight, took a broadbrimmed hat off his head, and swore. “Tom! What the devil does this mean? What are you doing here at this hour? Is this the performance of an honest man?” “Yes, yes, I swear in God’s name it is,” said Tom Kendry. “Ill explain. Take your blamed thumb off my windpipe.”’ ‘“‘Come into the house,”’ commanded Fan- ning. “I rather think you will explain, old chap.” And, not too gently, Fanning propelled his old college mate toward the mansion. CHAPTER XVIII. BETWEEN MIDNIGHT AND DAWN. BACK into the great old-fashioned din- ing room Fanning hustled his unex- pected visitor, and, hurling him into a chair, turned on all the lights. He stood looking down with a sternness that boded ill to evil- doers upon the slighter figure of Kendry, who had grown white under his rough han- dling. “What do you use to develop your mus- cle?” growled Tom, rubbing his throat. The white mark, surrounded by a red ring, showed where Fanning’s thumb had pressed. “Do you exercise with yacht anchors and building stone? Gee whiz! I theught I was a goner.” COMMCOOOLKS (C@