The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 37: 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. serving; then Dr. Bowen was permitted to continue his dinner. It was not, he discovered, very good soup. There was a lurking suggestion of tin-can in its flavor that did not appeal to the doctor, and caused him to wonder — mildly. In a household of this size, canned soup seemed unlikely; and yet— when he had seen another half-hour go to pottering—the fish was not quite up to the mark, either! It had been decidedly good, two or three hours ago, Dr. Bowen fancied, but if fhis portion had not been warmed over for his benefit, his sensitive palate was fooling him queerly. Hunger, however, brought him to an empty plate in very short order —and the butler was gone again. If there was a meat course on the way, the man must be killing the animal. Dr. ‘Jim consulted his watch and found that ten o’clock was only a memory, and that it lacked not so much af eleven! At this rate he bade fair to sit over dinner all night, and when eventually the butler hove in sight again, he said gently: “Is that the meat?” “T beg pardon for the delay, sir,” mumbled the butler. ‘“ The chef, sir—” “All right, never mind. Just bring me a cup of coffee, will you, if there’s such a thing about, and we'll call that dinner. I’m not strong on desserts, anyway.” The butler’s. glance, traveling over him for an instant, was rather odd. “The chef, sir, is preparing a salad which—er—is a favorite of madam’s,” he suggested. He served the lonely guest and departed again—and this time Dr. Bowen felt, that he had been right in the first place. The whole meal had been cooked hours ago, and this meat had been carved at the same time, too. It was dry and tasteless; and the vegetables with it were even more SO. The curiosity which he.had resolved to put aside during dinner insisted on welling up again, and, that section of the meal arriving long after, it was not lessened by the sight of the salad. That favorite dish 27 of “madam’s” had been concocted in the most ordinary way and of the most ordinary materials; madam apparently preferred her lettuce wilted around the edges and her salad dressing of such age that the oil separated out again in dismal little drops! It was queer enough, all of it! Dr. Bowen, at the end of his meal at last, found himself escorted back to the dusty drawing-room and the papers. He sat down in his chair and gazed quizzically at the butler. ‘““How much longer is this freak busi- ness going on?” he asked. ‘All night?” ‘*T don’t understand, sir.”’ ‘We've had enough of it, anyway. Go tc Miss Catterson and find out whether she means to pass the night here and—” “I beg your pardon, sir,” the butler interrupted flatly. “I’m very sorry in- deed, sir, but it’s impossible! It’s more than my place is worth to take such a question to—ah-——well, to take the mes- sage, sir. That’s really all, doctor!” And he walked steadily, majestically back to the dining-room and, expressjon- less as ever, closed the connecting doors carefully. Dr. Bowen, lips compressed, stared at the door for a little. What was he to do? Abuse the hospitality of the household, such as it was, by forcing his way past the butler, and inspecting the upper stories himself? Hardly. Leave, then, and look the place over from the outside, in the hope of discerning Miss Catterson some- where above? There was even less sense to that notion, for he might never be able to enter again. On the face of the things, his one best bet was merely—to wait! There is such a thing as dozing restfully with one eye wide open and attentive. Dr. Bowen had cultivated the faculty per- force, through many weary nights passed at sick bedsides. He had no fear at all that, should he elect to do a little dozing now, any one could pass down-stairs and out of the house without his knowledge. Hence, after the tenth consecutive tre- CORMIC IOOLKS (E@)