The Argosy, Vol. 83 No. 1 — page 159: what you’re looking at

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

HIS MAD MOVE ON THE MOVIES. eye glittered; quite dramatically he lis- tened for an instant, hand upheld for silence, before his sharp: _ “T’ve fixed everything, Jim; the side ele- vator here is waiting with the door closed until you knock three times.” “Very well,’ Darton murmured wearily. “And you'll find a taxi waiting at the curb next the trust company door down- stairs,” the helpful friend went on. “You'll know it because the driver is reading a paper and has another part of it under his foot, on the floor and sticking out of the cab. I got your stateroom, too—a nice outside room—and I had a private chat with the first officer. The rest of them looked sort of soured, but this chap’s right as they make ’em, and he’ll be ready to whisk you out of sight the second you land on the boat. Now get out, Jimmy. It’s only a matter of a very few minutes before they decide to come in here and mob you.” “Very well,” and Darton rose. ““They’re moving around out in that side corridor now.” “Not many of them,” the artist said nervously. “You can walk straight through and be in the car before they recognize you, I think. If not, Ill be there to keep ’em off for the few seconds you need. Only don’t wait, Jim! Ham- mond’s partner says that several of them have been talking of searching the whole floor for you, and the detectives have just managed to steer them off, and no more. “T wasn’t going to scare you, Jim, but you need a spur, I guess; they did smash one law office at the other end of the floor all to bits, half an hour ago. Dixon’s nearly crazy; the reputation of the build- ing is up to him, and he says he’d see you murdered ten times over before he’d have the reserves called in here and a really big fight started, and—get out, will you?” Darton extended a cold hand to his old friend. “Y’m going, and you stay here. I don’t care a rap whether they get me or not, but I don’t want you pounded to a pulp, 149 Tommy. Good-by, old man, and thank you, and some time try to forgive me for all the crazy rumpus I started here—or for getting you into it, anyway.” ‘‘And here’s your money, Jim, and now —run!” the artist said feverishly. ‘“Good- by, and bless you; send me a wireless as soon as you're safe, and now go!” His hot anxiety infected Darton. “I’m going,” he said. ‘“I—Lord! What’s that?” “It is only I,” said the exhausted voice of Miss Daymore. “I can’t stand it any longer, Mr. Darton. I resign. So do the other girls.” Darton snatched out three from his col- lection of hundred dollar bills. “Resignations accepted, and bless you,” he said swiftly. “Split that among the girls, and believe me when I tell you that I’m sorry to have let you in for all the ex- citement. Good-by.” : ‘““Good-by, Mr. Darton, and—oh, yes! The card, sir. The lady insisted that I bring it in to you.” Whereupon Miss Daymore extended the card, and Darton, under the natural im- pression that some lady scenario writer was more insistent than the rest, gave it the merest glance—and then, catching his breath, stared suddenly at it—and next, with the most peculiar little cluck in his throat, snatched it! Because, while there was only one word on that card, the word, in pencil, was “Sibyl!” ‘“Who—where—” began the chairman. ‘Never mind who it is, I’ll see her,” the artist put in. “You get out, Jim, while it’s still possible, and—” “Wait!” Jimmy Darton said, with a mournful smile. “What do you suppose she’s doing here?” “Whoe” “Sibyl.” “T don’t know,” said Morely, and shrugged his shoulders, “‘but I should say that it was in devilish bad taste.” Darton, quite relaxed again, gazed long and hard at his friend, yet with no trace of resentment. | oN ECOMMICLO® (C@)