Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 77: what you’re looking at

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

THE YELLOW EMERALD. maladorous, dingy, and crowded artery down which Tarton, after many inquiries, finally found himself shouldering a slow progress. The court, an even blacker and more for- bidding oblong, lay at one side of the street from which: it ‘opened off. It occurred to Tarton, as he paused in the lee of the cor- ‘ner block and peered down into its murky depths, that it was like a foul sore, a car- buncle, or an ulcer, festering out horridly © from a diseased limb. Unconsciously holding his breath, he started down, straining his eyes to see the numbers, and in the end obliged to bring his pocket flash into play. The figures on the doors ran consecutive- ly with those in the street, it appeared. No. 497A would be the last one on the side— down in the corner, probably. Stepping into the paved street to walk around a chattering crowd of natives who blocked the narrow sidewalk, Tarton came to it, ascended the steps, and pushed the button of his light. At last! Dingy and tarnished, but cor- rect, the figures lay before him. He snapped out the light and pulled the bronze handle at the right. Far within, a bell tinkled fret- fully, then all was still. After a moment, muttering profanely, Tarton yanked it again, and listened intently. ' This time the jangling was louder, and more insistently prolonged. But no one answered. ‘ Stepping to the edge of the narrow porch and holding on to the door frame, Tarton leaned out to the right and peered in at the window. Within, all was a black sepulcher, except for one tiny yellow sparkle of light that seemed to come a considerable distance, as if from a room far in the rear. It was so faint that it did not illuminate the inside of the house at all. And while he still looked at it, the thing went suddenly out. Tarton swore softly and swung back in front of the door. Somebody was in the place. Why didn’t he—or she answer? Instead of ringing again he tried the knob. It turned. .The door swung softly in. Stepping, catlike, he stood in the hall, list- ening. _ house. rd The place was pitch dark and utterly si- lent. trance, before he had closed the outer door to shut out the racket and foul smells of Pearmain Court, he was conscious of a dif- ference. For one thing, it was the rug under his feet. The fibers, he was sure, were long, soft and silky—probably a lux- »* ie iy as vr Sy) ‘4 urious hand-woven Baluchistan or a Saruk. ~ Then the atmosphere. Every house has its special odor, a flavor absorbed from and characteristic of its fur- niture, its inhabitants, its food, its gar- ments, its whole place in life. If one is clever enough, he can stand still, as Tarton was doing, and picture them all out—in pitch-black darkne€. Possibly Tarton wasn’t clever cama to do a complete job, but he was instantly aware of the difference—of something quite otherwise from what he had expected. There were books about him, and some flowers. An excellent cigar had been smoked not long ago. Besides all of which, there was a tincture of something unrec- ognizable—an ethereal, slightly pungent smell, suggestive of nothing so much as a kind of Asiatic incense he had once noticed in an antique shop. He took a step forward and pressed the button of his flash. The white halo showed him a somewhat long and narrow corridor with three or four closed doors opening off on either side. The one immediately at his left was ajar. He listened for a moment, and then hearing nothing, turned the light into the crack ‘and followed it over the threshold. It was an eery sensation, to be prowling . about like this, burglarwise, in a strange Subconsciously he realized that he shouldn’t do it; he ought to ring the bell again or pound on a door or do something to attract attention. But there was about the whole business such an air of grotesque adventure and unreality that it seemed quite natural to be left alone to blunder about and explore. The room was a fairly large one, fur-~ nished with exceptional taste. were not numerous, but as many as there were, of the best. A large round table, piled with books and papers, occupied the 4ieO?t ae tay Yet at the very moment of his en- The objects