The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

THANKS TO THE B. R. _T. a pin at some remote date bore no re- semblance to “C. B.C.” “Stolen from John Henderson, Canarsie,” proclaimed the scraggly letters—and that was really all! Second after second the doctor from Hallas stood quite petrified. His two dollars were gone, sacrificed to an excited impulse that had been so «full of convic- tion as never to carry a suggestion of doubt until this last awful minute. He had purchased the wreck of a cash-box, worth perhaps ten cents as junk—and the answer was idiotically simple. Miss Catterson’s mind, of course, was running on cash-boxes. She had seen this one in the window, and entered, doubtless with the idea that it was the box she sought. And then, with more intelligence than the supposedly sane Dr. Jim, she had handed it back and—he was two dollars out! | we The cold drop that trickled into his eye caused Dr. Bowen to start and, for- tunately, to return to the matter of the girl herself. She was far ahead now and walking steadily. He discerned her and, with a gulp, set off in pursuit again. A final burning stare he turned upon his two dollars’ worth before hurling it far into the subway ditch. Then, head down and hands in his overcoat pockets, he resumed the chase. ; It seemed almost as if she were looking for something in the excavation itself! She gave no attention at all to the houses on her right, but several times she crossed the narrow side roadway, stared briefly into the dark depths of the big trench, and returned to the sidewalk, each time shaking her head as if disappointed. Dr. Bowen, the most painful stage of _his shock passing, found spirits and cu- riosity rising again. The slip had been ridiculous and distressing, but Catterson would pay up as agreed, and it was quite all right and—where in the name of com- mon sense was the girl making for now? New purpose was in her step, and the puzzled head was held higher, as if its owner had reached some definite decision. = 4 19 They had covered five long, dark blocks of Parkway now, and she was waiting on the curb for a chance to cross through the many automobiles. This, the sign informed Dr. Bowen, was Bedford Avenue; and now that she had gained its farther side Miss Catter- son was heading for the brilliant road- house, or whatever it might be, on the other corner. Or—no, she wasn’t, either. She passed the place and kept on straight ahead, to the end of that block and across more tracks, up hill for another square, and then along a shorter one; and now she was crossing to the brightly illumi- nated, rather magnificent structure on the other side of the Parkway. That, if size of building and stairway meant anything, must be Brooklyn’s new Borough Hall, although Dr. Bowen could not recall having heard about it. He paused at the edge of the sloping lawn and watched Miss Catterson slowly mount the steps; he glanced at the near-by sign and gleaned that he stood before Brook- lyn’s Museum and that a special exhibit of some sort was there this week. He stepped forward to take the long climb himself—but Miss Catterson, ap- parently, had found herself astray once more. She was standing far above, head bowed in thought; and suddenly, quicken- ing again, she was descending and keeping on. The way was darker and lonelier now, for there were no houses. Grassy terraces rose to mysterious heights behind the tall iron fence; and Dr. Bowen felt, increasing his own gait, that it was really no place at all for an extremely pretty girl to be wandering after dark and alone. Brook- lyn, doubtless, was as safe as any other community of its size; dozens, hundreds of women, probably, walked along here every night in the year without a thought of bemg annoyed; but Helen Catterson was far too lovely to escape attention should the rowdy element— “ Huh?” said Dr. Bowen. Abstract thought, evidently, had led him directly to concrete fact! <I'wo hun- COPMICLOOO <S) (C (E@)