The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 153: what you’re looking at

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

THE MOTIVE. Finch retired and Preston hastily bathed and dressed. They had a hasty breakfast and were soon on the way to Swandorf’s home. The way led along an attractive road, with a trolley-car track on the side. At their right through the trees they caught a glimpse of a golf links, where several early risers were already moving about. “By George!” ejaculated Preston, glancing enviously at the ardent players. “T’d like to have a game before the day gets too hot. Miss Oliphant invited me to play with her.” “Miss who?” asked Finch. “Miss Oliphant. I met her at the dance last night,” explained Jack. “ Couldn’t we run into the club for an hour or two?” “We could not,” snapped Finch. “ Any one would think this was a pleas- ure trip and not business.”’ “Well, you haven’t been as keen on the job as you might have been,” Preston retorted. ‘‘ Here we’ve wasted twenty- four hours over a matter that could have been settled over the telephone in New York.” Finch did not reply, but leaned for- ward over the wheel, peering along the road. At length around a bend appeared a tree-shaded driveway. “ That’s the house,’ he announced. “We'll turn in and see if the old duffer has returned. They said he’d be in for breakfast.” Finch stopped the car in front of the door with its high Colonial pillars and rang the bell. A butler answered it. No, Mr. Swandorf had not returned, although they expected him to arrive at any min- ute. ‘He was a little late for breakfast as it was. “Tam Mr. Finch, who spoke to you over the telephone last night,” explained Harold. ‘“ You say he spent the night at his bungalow. Could you tell me how to get to it?” The servant affably descended the steps and pointed out a private roadway, say- 148 ing that if that was followed for about a mile it would bring them straight to the bungalow. “ But,” he added, “ unless you know Mr. Swandorf very well, sir, I should ad- vise you to await his arrival here. When he goes to the bungalow it is because he wishes to work and think undisturbed, and I have known him to be very angry when interruption occurs, sir.” Preston was for waiting at the house, but his partner would have none of it. He waved his hand at the butler. ‘““We know Mr. Swandorf well enough, I think, to be able to excuse ourselves for annoying him. We are interested in a matter of business with him, and I’ve not the least doubt he’ll be very glad to see us.” The butler nodded and returned to the house, while Finch threw in the clutch and started the motor-car along the grav- eled roadway, leading toward the water. The bungalow, guarded by a row of poplars on the landside, the back resting upon a sea-wall, with the water directly beneath the rear windows, was not at all pretentious. But it was constructed with a view to bidding defiance both to the elements and to marauders. The door was of oak, and very. heavy. The windows had wooden blinds of the Colonial type. These were tightly closed, giving the place a vacant, wall-like ap- pearance. ‘H’m,” muttered Preston, ‘‘ that chap must be a recluse of the highest type. He certainly loves to shut himself in. I won- der if he’s up?” ‘ Probably,” grunted his companion. ‘ We'll find out in a minute.” Stopping the car, he sprang to the ground, and advancing to the door, beat vigorously upon the knocker. As Preston joined him, he repeated the summons. Still no reply. ‘““T guess he’s asleep, if he’s there at all,’ suggested Preston. ‘‘ Here, let me take a crack at that knocker.” Seizing it in his hand he slammed it to COMMICGLOOOKS CO)