Argosy, Vol. 117, No. 2 — page 140: what you’re looking at

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

290 THE ARGOSY. She did not seem to comprehend. “ You falling on its side with startling effect. A saw me that night,” she argued, “I stood moment’s pause, and there came a tap. at looking over the wood paneling, and you. the door. They exchanged glances, the girl stared at mé!”’ “T did not see you!” The denial, simple as it was, was an ad- mission of his complicity; he realized this. “Did you tell me this to relieve your mind, or, mine?” he asked her pointedly. “« Both, and, I felt you should know.” Druce breathed freer than for months. The next moment he was more alarmed than ever, the girl had not finished speaking: ‘And, for the last few mornings a man has been watching this place. When you go out and board the street car, he cuts straight across the track and down the side street. I followed him this morning to an office in Sacramento Street, and he spoke to a police officer waiting for him. I walked slowly past; on his door was, ‘ McLean, Detective.’ ” Druce sat pale and silent; double responsibility. “YT don’t want to dig into your affairs,” he apologized. ‘‘ Tell me, what made you shoot Ernshaw?” Her eyes were burningly bright, her lips set vindictively. ' “ He was noting but a spoiler, a beast! He made a plaything of my cousin! She clung to him like a beaten dog, without a will of her own! I tried to tear her from him—send her away—but it was hopeless— he had ruined her, and nothing, short of his death, could set her straight again! “T am forewoman at Bernstein’s, and have keys to the place. For three nights I had watched and waited. I saw and heard all between you and the other partner, and, when he dropped dead, it was horrible! My strength seemed to give out, but I waited. When Ernshaw stood in the doorway, I could not fire! I was sick with fear. somehow, he pulled a revolver out of his pocket. I pressed the trigger, and it was done. When you turned to the ’phone, I sneaked away—”’ The recounting of that. night brought a chill into the room. With it, from beyond the door, came a suspicious sound; slight, but audible. They rose of one accord, the suitcase he felt a Then, ' indicating by a raised hand that she would attend, the young fellow crossing over in the shelter of the door. ‘“ Could you tell me which is John Druce’s room ?”’ “What do you want with him, anyhow?” her tone detonating a rising ire. ‘‘ You are the shrimp,” she snapped, ‘‘ who has watched this house! There is no room for crooks in here,” she assured him, “ and it’s a cinch Mr. Druce is no friend of yours!” ‘“ My dear lady,” came suavely from the man, “‘ Mr. Druce, I don’t doubt, is a friend of yours! You'll forgive me? I have a communication I wish to deliver to him per- sonally—at least, I was instructed to—and I —— I would meet him as he goes out— “It’s very kind of you!” she declared, frigidly. “Yes! Ahem!” he coughed, passing over the sarcasm. ‘‘ The gent who commissioned me is a personal friend of Mr. Druce!” ‘“ Not McLean, Inquiry Agent!” she shot at him. “Oh, dear no!” he affected. ‘“ But, say—” he broke off with, “ take this letter, and see that he gets it. You will confer a great favor on me and the gentleman I re- ferred to, a Mr. Frederick Pilkington.” He rolled the name out with great unction. “Do you mind signing for it?” he re- quested, as the girl took the letter, some- what ungraciously. She wrote, in a rather mannish hand; “Grace Agnew.” Druce’s face shone with anticipation as he took the letter. | “ Say, girl,” he exclaimed approvingly, in a robust whisper, ‘‘ You’re a fighter for sure!” She glanced swiftly at him, then turned away abashed. He opened the letter. It ran: DEAR JOHN: Yours of the twenty-first to hand, with the amount enclosed, which, I confess, I feel sore -at receiving—but there, lad, it’s your way of doing things. I am indeed glad that you are on your feet again, in a double sense of the word, and GO 0)(06) nn) S (Go)