The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

THANKS tion back to the matter in hand and con- vinced him of that. Face aflame and pleasantly cut already, the tall stranger was lunging at him—and the doctor from Hallas crouched abruptly and stepped back—gaged his distance very tidily, and drove with his whole heart and soul at the solar plexus! The tall man was merely gone! That black and white streak over there might turn out later to be the tall man, but Dr, Bowen’s chief concern just now was with the burly, shirt-sleeved person who loomed up in this fantastic nightmare, tearing toward him. “Stop that, you damned fool!’ he shouted, reaching mistakenly for Dr. Bowen. ‘This is no madhouse, what- ever—” All too plainly did his savage fist be- tray its intention of eliminating Dr. Jim as a conscious factor. All too obvious was the untrained blow that came toward a physician temporarily revisiting his cave-man state. Dr. Bowen, with another crazy laugh, pounced forward at him and swung up- ward—and the uppercut arrived audibly and after it a thunderous crash. Mouthing, gasping, the burly man was rolling across the floor to safety. And here was entering still another actor—a man, as much of a stranger as any of the rest to Dr. Jim, but quite as full of strong emotion. Indistinctly, Dr. Jim believed that a bell had been ringing and that the front door had opened. At any rate, the new- est member was with them, gulping and chattering as he helped the burly one to his feet, over there by the door. Under the white of his evening shirt his chest heaved and his face was red with rage. He was saying—why, what was he saying, anyway? Momentarily safe from attack, Dr. Bowen steadied himself against the fate- ful safe and dragged his faculties back to earth. __ The latest stranger was pointing at him now with a thick and trembling finger. TO: THE B- kK. TF: 45 ‘“Whinnys?” he was crying. ‘“ Whin- nys! Why, that man doesn’t look any more like Whinnys than you look like Billy Sunday! Youve had the wrong man all the time!” : CHAPTER XVIII. BACK TO THE B. R. T. D®*: BOWEN felt a sudden smile coming to his straining features. It should have been the calm, strong, assured smile that was so much a part of his professional self, but it was not. This smile, as much as anything else, resembled the smile of an idiot child try- ing to comprehend—because, while a shaft of light had shot into Dr. Jim’s brain, it was illuminating nothing really definite beyond the fact that they had thought him Polly Whinnys. And then even the smile was gone as the memory of what had roused him returned with a rush! That lean black and white shape over there, just beginning to stir again, had @ared to intimate that Helen Catterson, whatever he might call her— “What d’ye mean? What are you talking about, Tyne?” boomed from the burly man. ‘Just what I say!” the stranger shout- ed at him. ‘“ That’s no more Whinnys than—good Heaven! Is that Harrison?”’ he choked suddenly, as the black and white victim fell under his eye for the first time. ‘““ Of course it’s Harrison! He—’ “Is he dead?” gasped the latest mys- tery. The burly man—and from the fact that he wore slippers and was in his shirt- sleeves Dr. Bowen deduced that he was the actual tenant of the house—dropped on his knees with a dumfounded groan. “What? I guess not! Good Lord, I hope not!” he cried, shaking the lean one. “No, of course he isn’t dead! He— gimme a glass of water, Tyne. There’s a glass on the side of the basin there. Hurry!” COMMICOOOKS (E@)