Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

=. EVERYTHING BUT THE TRUTH. William nodded to himself; he had been in the house, at a guess, until the empty place had grown unbearable; now he would remain outdoors and watch, at least for a while longer. William hurriedly rejoined Annabel. “Do you suppose your back door is >?) “JT don’t know.” “Well, if it is, ’m going to sneak in that way while Jackie’s out front, get your bag and bring it back here!” William said, rather astonishingly. “‘ You just wait by the car.” : But if he sees you—if any one sees you—”’ ‘“ That’s just one of the chances I’m go- ing to take,” said William, with a brief grin. “If you’ve anything better to suggest—”’ “T haven’t.” ‘Neither have I,” said the adventurer, “ Don’t be nervous. I have a hunch that I’m going to get away with it in great shape.” Having delivered which optimistic thought, William turned away abruptly and started for the corner behind. Thirty sec- -onds and he had rounded it and disap- peared from Mrs. Eiton’s view. Down in the great city of New York there was business which must have his at- tention this morning, small though the re- ' maining chance of putting through. Of more acute and immediate bearing upon the situation, Jackie could not be expected to stand out there indefinitely and gaze up and down the street. Another ten minutes, at most, and he would have taken to tele- phoning the police or to grabbing his hat and racing about to the neighbors for clues or—well, here was the vacant plot which William planned to cross on his way to the Elton home. He considered the houses on either side. The commuting owners had left for the day, of course; their wives were doubtless busy within—or at least they were not in sight. After luncheon, they’d be at win- dows and on verandas, but just now William could detect no eyes upon him. | And where one wishes to do the uncon- _ ventional without attracting undue attention 227 it is always wiser to move in the most con- ventional way. William, albeit his hair rose at the possibility of Jackie walking to the side of his lawn and looking to the rear, merely stepped on briskly, pushed through the hedge and marched down up- on the house. fie The back door was open! He came to it and tugged at the screen door. It gave immediately and William, the amateur burglar, stepped in <-ases and stepped straight ahead, too, for this was no time to pause and soliloquize! Five seconds on the wrong sid@é might mean that Jackie would return to his home and find the intruder; and indisputably Jackie had a perfect right, in such an event, to snatch out the pistol he might well enough be carrying and to put William in such condition that Loomis—once he had drawn checks for the undertaker and the incidentals—would be forced to seek another job! It was a pleasant train of amas: of course, but it certainly lent speed to Wil- liam’s movements. One lightning glance through the curtains showed Mr. Elton ‘down by the pretty gateway, conscien- tiously gazing up and down Griston Avenue, William set his teeth and sped. up-stairs —and stopped short, cold! Which was the spare room? He had forgotten to ask! A bead rolled from his forehead and dewn his nose. It wouldn’t be the front room, of course. No, it would lie to the rear of the house and—well, it would be the room with a new yellow kit-bag behind the door. On tiptoe, he shot to the back of the corridor, cursing his own stupidity. With a jerk, he opened the first door; and just there William’s heart béat again, for he had made it at the first try. This was a spare bedroom and there was the bag! His hunch, apparently, had been right, He gripped the prize and slid down-stairs again. A wild chuckle escaped him, too; Elton was leaning over the gate now, peer- ing still! William waved one hand toward him and dashed for the rear door again— and he was out in the sunshine! : He was walking, slowly and unconcerned, toward the hedge and through it. Yes, and ~ comicbooks.c