The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 152: what you’re looking at

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

142 asked, but Finch, who now, in his turn, appeared to be wool-gathering, gave noth- ing more than a muttered response. “By the way,” he said, “now that we’re near Larchmont I guess I had bet- ter look Swandorf up in the telephone di- rectory in that road-house over there. His place might be out this. way. Be- sides, I think I’ll call him up and see if he’s in—call his house up, I mean.” “ All right.” Preston settled down in his seat and lighted a cigarette while Finch went over to the road-house and entered the telephone booth. He speedily got the location he wanted on the wire—it was on the Sound shore in the direction of Rye—and learned that Mr. Swandorf had gone out and would not be back that night. “But he might be found later at his little bungalow about a mile from the house near the water’s edge,” the butler added. ‘‘ He is sometimes very nervous and likes to spend the night alone in the bungalow.” “T see,” said Finch. “ Very well. I won’t bother him to-night.” He rang off and returned to’ Preston. “ Jack,” he announced, “ Swandorf’s gone off somewhere for the night. We'll go to a hotel here—there’s one near the Larchmont Yacht Club, and then call on him bright and early.” -“ Why not go back to the city?” asked Preston. . But Finch retorted that they might as well stay, now they were here, and Pres- ton, having no good reason to object, said nothing. : It would have been well for him had he followed his inclination and gone to New York. ? CHAPTER XIII. THE BUNGALOW’S SECRET, 3 "THE two had dinner at the hotel, and then, after they had watched the dancing for an hour, Finch arose, an- nouncing that he was sleepy. THE ARGOSY. | ° ‘“T’m going to turn in for a long sleep,” he said. ‘“ How about you?” Preston frowned. ~““QOh, don’t come on my account,” Finch continued. ‘“ Only, don’t you come into my room with some new idea and wake me up.” Preston laughingly replied that there was not much danger, and went off to look for the manager of the hotel, seek- ing an introduction with one of the danc- ers whe had been throwing wistful glances in his direction. Finch went up- stairs. The manager, one of those dapper sum- mer-hotel men, who are always willing to oblige a guest, found a way to make Pres- ton acquainted with not one, but several of the young women, and it was not until after one o’clock that the New Yorker went to his room, yearning for a cold bath. It seemed as though he had hardly fallen asleep when he felt a slap on his shoulder and found Finch standing at his bedside. “Come on, and get up,” he said. “ We must clean up this matter quickly and get back to the city; for if Swandorf falls down I have yet another idea to put to the test.” Finch’s eyes were bleary, as though he had not slept well, and his manner was nervously jerky. ‘“What’s the matter?” inquired Pres- ton, getting out of bed. ‘“ Didn’t you sleep well? You look as though you had been up all night.” ‘““T do!” Finch started: ‘“‘ What makes you say that? I had a bully sleep— snored like a whale from the time I left you until an hour ago.” “ That’s the reason,” Preston grinned. ‘Too much sleep is worse than none at all. Now, I didn’t get to bed until after one o'clock, and I feel like a fighting- cock.” “All right, then hurry,” returned Finch. “Tve been over the car and there won’t be any more trouble with her. Hurry.up, now.” , COMNMUG JOOKS (C@)