The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 154: what you’re looking at

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

144 and fro against the plate until the door fairly rattled. But no one answered, and Preston, delivering a lusty blow upon the door itself, was about to comment upon this when the door opened silently and in such uncatny fashion that Preston started backward. “Well, here’s a go, Finch!” he said. ‘After all our knocking the door was ready to be pushed open—and the house empty. At least it would appear to be empty, unless Swandorf is a _ good sleeper.” Without replying, Finch strode softly into the hall and stood surveying the in- terior. The hall was really a large room —as with most houses of the bungalow type. 3 There was a desk in the center, filled with books and papers, a reading-lamp of antique design, and along the wall a Turkish divan. The walls were hung with ancient weapons, and upon a man- tel-shelf stood bronzes and pieces of bric- a-brac. “ This gives one a sort of queer sensa- tion,” whispered Preston. “I feel like a moving-picture-show hero, What are we going to do now?” “Wait a minute,” said Finch impa- tiently. “Why wait?” Preston moved toward the door. ‘‘ We’ve no business in here. We are no better than house-breakers. Swandorf undoubtedly has gone out. Let’s beat it and wait for him at the house—probably he’s there by now.” “ Wait, I tell you!” cried Finch. “I don’t like the looks of things here. There seems a bad odor about the place, an atmosphere of crime. Don’t you catch itP”’ “T don’t know what I catch,” rejoined Preston, “ except the feeling that the sooner we get out of here the better for us.” Finch laughed disagreeably, and ad- vanced toward a room at his right. It was a bedroom, and the bed plainly had not been occupied during the night. Preston, finding the gloom oppressive, » THE ARGOSY. walked to a window and threw open a blind, filling the room with the morning sunlight. “This doesn’t look as though the old fellow had been here at all,” said Finch. Preston was about to agree with him when he noticed a pair of light shoes and a coat on the floor. ‘He has been here, all right.” Pres- ton indicated the articles, adding: “ Let’s push on and see what’s what.” He had not gone two steps when he started with an exclamation of surprise. Bending down he picked up a gold mesh- bag which glittered and sparkled in the morning light. “Miss Hamilton’s purse!” cried Pres- ton, turning it over in his hand. ‘ That’s what it is,” Finch agreed, ex- amining the receptacle. “ It has her ini- tials here on the lock—‘ C. H.’ ” “Well, what do you make of that?” asked Preston, turning a bewildered face to his companion. 3 Unquestionably very grave doubts were running through his mind. Finch, who had reasons of his own for being unwilling to tell Preston that Swan- dorf was probably the girl’s guardian, shrugged his shoulders and raised his eye- brows. 7 ‘“ Our young Romeo begins to find that the course of true love—” But he ceased abruptly as Preston turned to him with a flush upon his cheeks and a dark look in his eyes, “Chuck that, Hal,” he said sharply. ‘What in the world is that purse doing there?” “Let’s go up to the house and see,” suggested Finch. “ Swandorf is not here, that’s certain.” They left the bungalow, entered their car and drove hurriedly up to the larger dwelling. A servant was sweeping the veranda. In response to Finch’s request \ the woman entered the house and sum- moned the butler. “Yes, gentlemen?” The butler, Sam- mis by name, did not relish this interrup- tion in his morning’s duties. As a matter CORMMICGLOOOKS (E@)