Argosy, Vol. 117, No. 2 — page 139: what you’re looking at

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

A TIGHT ties, in a turn of the stairs. Neither spoke until an eventful night in which he sur- prised her waiting a few steps below the customary place. ‘Taken aback, she vented an. exclamation. a “Do you wait here every night?” slipped ° out at the suspicion. Abashed, she simply nodded. ‘A moment’s confusion in which the girl drooped her eyes and raised them, only to find the young man betraying a friendly curiosity. Social life, even though the merest fringe, has a charm of its own. He had been living like a recluse. ‘‘T was wondering if you would ever rec- ognize me!” she uttered simply. “ Recognize you?” he repeated question- ingly. “ That night, I looked through the glass near the door, and you sat in the chair.” “The chair? The glass?” The mystery was too much for him. “And you let the revolver fall—” her words had sunk to a whisper. The surge of Druce’s thoughts was a mill- race. Did it mean that she had witnessed the tragedy? Perhaps it was only a “ plant ” to get him. What a catastrophe! And he lulled into security and circumstances all coming his way! “JT don’t understand you!” he declared, although it did not come natural to lie. “We can’t talk here,” she counselled. “Tm dead straight! If you have business, some other time will do.” Druce made to pass on. The thought of what suspense would mean to him, consider- ing what he had already suffered; the shat- tering of all his hopes if he adopted flight, and then the possibility that the girl meant well, pulled him up again, and, he said, “I was only going out for supper—”’ “T know,” replied the girl. “ I’ve often watched you go into Chonton’s.” Her candor held him nonplused. ‘“What do you follow me about for?” he demanded. , ‘““T wanted to meet you.” The young fellow was disconcerted. He leaned against the wall, she against, the balustrade. There was silence for a long “moment. “ What are you going to do?” she ques- 9 Arcosy _shot missed and struck the back wall. CORNER. 289 tioned, anticipating him by a fraction of a second. ‘“Up-stairs, if you like,” he assented, turning as he spoke. They walked together. ‘Yours or mine?” was what he asked, when they reached her landing. ‘““ Mine,” she replied, without the slightest indecision. They entered her room. “You sit there,’ she indicated. He occupied the only chair, and nursed -his hat. She drew a suitcase from under the bed, up-ended it, and sat with her hands in her lap. “You don’t remember me,” she began, ‘because I had only held my job a week, at Bernstein’s, when you got fired in Octo- ber, twelve months ago.” She had his record, there was no denying that, but he did not move an eyelid. ‘You remember Flossy Dixon, though? She was my cousin. It was she that Erm- shaw beat.up. You remember what Mr. Saddler said?” With the shock of the question the events of that night returned. “You think that you killed Emshaw, don’t you?” The question was two much for him, his stolidity bent like a bow, his face slowly mantling with color after a moment’s pal- lor; his lips parted, but without a word. “You’re wrong, J did!’ she surprised him with. There was a moment’s break before she resumed, and then she explained: “1 stood at his elbow, waiting, hidden, and, as he paused at the door, I fired. Your Had I missed, I must have shattered the glass beyond him, The papers only mentioned one wound, didn’t they?” She spoke meas- uredly. ' John Druce’s reasoning faculties seemed to have deserted him, he was dazed, the confession was sO mysteriously gratuitous. ‘“Why do you tell me this?” he asked. “Simply couldn’t contain it longer. have wanted to break in upon your reserve, but you would not recognize me—” “T never saw you to my knowledge, be- fore meeting you in this house!” COmmicloool< I (C@