Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 2 — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

212 chair and watched her as he built up a quick fire. He knew her well enough, tihouk he had never seen her that close before—she was Irene Downey, home from a convent, rumor said, a few months before and al- ready known as the Devil’s Daughter. The things that the respectable ones of Presbury said of her were whispered. All Spaulding knew was that he had seen her in company with her father’s thugs and that she could run an engine or sail a sloop—he’d seen her doing those things. Now she sat limply, with her arms hang- ing and her blue-black hair a sopping mass. From her slenderness it was marvelous that she had been able to hold the skiff before the wind—yet there was an undimmed fire in her defiant eyes that spoke of a power- ful will. She was still breathing hard when Spaulding turned from the roaring stove. ‘“Didn’t you know any better than to leave the cove? You must be mad!” ‘“T wanted to see if I could beat the squall!” She laughed at him _ between gasps. ‘‘ Have you got an extra pair of overalls and a shirt?” Spaulding went silently to a _ chest, opened it, hesitated, and laid out on the bunk a loose bundle which, under his slightly shaking fingers, resolved itself into a complete set of woman’s garments. There was a summer gown of dark blue silk and even small, useless shoes. When he had locked the chest again he found the girl leaning forward, her dark face vivid with interest and her lips parted as though to speak. “ Help yourself,” he half growled, “ and you needn’t bother to return them. I’m going out now for ten minutes.” He slammed the door behind him, and heard the bolt grate as he walked away. The storm was already beginning to abate and it seemed likely that the night would settle down to wind and rough water, as Devil Towney had predicted. Spaulding pulled the skiff farther up and saw to it that the moorings of -the sloop had _ held intact. Then, his ten minutes being up, he knocked upon the door of the shack; and he had been thinking very hard during that interval. . THE ARGOSY. He shuddered at the sight of the girl, standing there as neat and trim as though the blue gown had been made for her. There was high color in her tanned cheeks, and, it appeared to him, the devil’s own light in her eyes. He even fancied that he saw mockery in her smile. “Come in, Mr. Spaulding,” “and get dry yourself.” He shrugged, but he walked to the stove, nevertheless, and faced her as he stood steaming beside it. His eyes traveled over her: she had been handsome in red—she was softly beautiful in blue. The thought drew his brows down blackly. “You're a generous host!” she laughed. “But not a cordial one!” “No,” he replied meditatively. “ The gown fits wonderfully well!” ‘““Yes—and you are more dangerous in blue, I think.” “You're afraid!” she mocked. “Not at all.” He found himself won- dering at her air of good breeding, the intonation of her voice, her savoir faire; but he was so sure of himself that he did not feel the need for anything more than the simple denial of her accusation. “Red is the color of revolt,” she said. “Tsn’t it quite correct for a devil’s daugh- ter?” “Undoubtedly. But for a daughter of the devil with such finesse it is rather too dramatic.” ‘“T'll lose all that in time!” Just for a moment the smile passed from her lips. “Twelve years in a good convent is not to be erased by a few months.” “No,” he agreed. “Any more than a year in a fish shanty has erased whatever you were—this wo- man’s gown—” “Stop!” Immediately he was furious at having shown emotion; he made himself laugh. ‘ You are doing well, but I knew your errand as soon as I got a fair look into your face.” | “My errand?” “Certainly. Devil Towney’s daughter takes a long chance to get into apparently accidental contact with me just after Downey has failed to bribe or threaten me into doing a night’s work for him.” she said, CORMICLOOOLK< Cc (C@)