Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 53: what you’re looking at

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

EVERYTHING BUT THE TRUTH. cent young bride, was stocked up here. That in itself was bad enough for all hands. And meanwhile, William Hervey’s lovely little manufacturing business was picking at the coverlets, with the final gasp due before noon to-morrow. That, too, was rather bad. And Helen and all that she meant? He had promised to telephone Helen to- night. He had not done so. He had promised to telephone her again in the morning. He would not be able to do so, unless something unforeseen happened be- tween now and morning. And if Jackie were accounted a jealous person, what of Helen Gray? What earthly flow of eloquence would ever convince Helen Gray of this night’s impeccability? William was unable to say. And it might not matter so very much. His head sank gloomily. With the busi- ness dead and buried, as bade fair indeed to be ice-cold facts if to-morrow’s con- tracts were not closed, he could not well marry. Nor could he ask Helen to wait, even were she willing to wait, while he founded another business. William’s head sank still lower. Verily, he had overtaken something when he started on the hunt for Mrs. Elton’s eggs! The night was wearing on. He glanced at his watch, after one peculiar upward jerk of the head, and discovered that, in some unexplained fashion, midnight had come and gone this fifteen minutes. Not that he had slept; he had no intention of anything of that kind, with responsibility for Annalvel’s welfare on-his shoulders, but William stretched his legs again and sighed himself down to a still more comfortable huddle. Over on the bed, Annabel stirred. Wil- liam sought to turn and look and found that, since she had settled down again, it was really unnecessary effort. He closed his eyes; that can de no harm when one has determined not to sleep. More, he kept them closed; it may even be said that he drowsed, although certain it is that for the next hour or two, every creak of a twig outdoors brought him up with eyes wide open, tense and staring about. But nothing happened and, slowly, Wil- liam’s nervous tension slackened markedly. 219 He yawned several times. He was infer- nally sleepy. He wondered—well, what was that? William sat up again and, in the strangest way, the faintest gray suggestion of light had come to the sky without. He blinked around. It seemed to Wil- liam that people had been talking—many people, not in this room, but at a con- siderable distance. It seemed to him that he had been listening to them, without being able to drag himself quite out of slum- berland. Although, at the end of two listening minutes, he concluded that it must have been a dream. He frowned; sleep was heavy upon him. He rose and switched off the lights and the gray in the sky lightened astonishingly. It was dawn and Annabel Elton still slept. William, stiff and leth- argic, shuffled back to his chair. He would have to begin some real thinking now. For a beginning—well, one might as well think comfortably. William drew up an- other big chair and disposed his legs upon it. He yawned again. He wished that he had had sense enough to try that trick before. Once more he yawned. Then he settled to deep and careful thought and— There came another start. William sat bolt upright and gazed in astonishment. That momentary impression, that some one had turned a searchlight on the window, was all wrong. That was sunshine! He jerked out his watch; then he rose quite hurriedly, for it was past eight o’clock! Annabel was moving, too. She muttered; she turned over; she yawned—a little, com- fortable yawn that brought a smile to William. It seemed to break in two, though, as her eyes opened. With a bound, Anna- bel was sitting bolt upright, winking fast, a lovely tousled little creature. “Did I sleep all night?” she demanded. “You didn’t move twice!” said William, quite as if he had been counting. ‘‘ [—what has happened?’’ “Nothing. I think the household’s still asleep,” the guardian went on quietly. ““T’ve got a comb in this pocket and there’s plenty of cold water in there. We might as well freshen up.” Mrs. Elton nodded soberly; was fast returning. realization (e(0) DOO (E@)