Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 2 — page 85: what you’re looking at

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THE HOUSE OF You should foster it. Would you accept such an offer—were it made with the single stipulation that you give up this girl you call your sweetheart, and devote yourself exclusively to a career? She seems the sort of girl who would probably look at it in a fairly sensible way. She thinks you have genius. Would you embrace such an op- portunity to prove it?” Alan stood dumfounded—shocked by this unheard-of proposal. At last he found his tongue, and responded vehemently: “T have ambition. But, whether you know it or not, madam, there is something that is called affection. And this something is as strong in me as my ambition, strange as it may seem to you. Sophia knows con- ditions. She will marry with her eyes open. And she is willing to risk hardship—pre- sumably for this same sort of something termed affection.”’ The Echo smiled coldly; then, with a slight sneer, said composedly: ‘‘ Very well, Dmitrieff. JI have your answer.”’ “The young fool!’”’ she muttered, when he had bowed and gone. After a reflective frown she turned to the work on her desk. Alan, his brain in a whirl, strode down the hall. Was Zelda correct, after all, in her surmise? he asked. himself. And yet (this was a curious fact) despite the Echo’s attempt at bribing him to throw over So- phia—in spite of his momentary: rage against this unscrupulous woman—he could not bring himself to despise her. She must be a witch. He thought, too,-of Zelda’s warning. Suddenly, when near the staircase, he distinctly heard Zelda’s voice, raised in en- treaty, and calling his name. To his dis- traught mind the sound came from the room opposite him. The girl must be in danger—in need of help. Without deliberating, Alan hurled him-. self against the door. It yielded readily, for it was unlocked and hardly latched; and he stumbled into the room. He caught a confused glimpse of a man shaving before a mirror, and another who held something in his hand. That was all, for the mo- ment. A heavy object, wielded by a third bystander, had descended with force on Alan’s head. THE ECHO. 230 He revived in time to hear Zelda say fiercely: “ It was my fault, I tell you. He’s on the level—in solid with the Echo her- self. I called to him from the stairs; and he must have thought I was in here.” Shortly the men were making handsome apology. Apparently the only polite thing for Alan to do was to apologize, in turn, for his uncalled-for intrusion. This-he did with as good a grace as he could muster. “ Gee, I’m sorry, kid,’”’ lamented the girl, accompanying him into the hall. “ But you're not going out with that cut on your head! Come up and let me bandage it for you; and sit down awhile,” she pleaded. Sick and dizzy as he was, Alan curtly re- fused first, or assistance in descending the stairs. Zelda watched him until he had gained the lower floor. “He might ’a’ been killed, butting in like that—did it for me, too,” she breathed. “Tf it wasn’t for the hell-cat, he’d—-”’ She finished by glaring, in hate, toward the Echo’s office. «@ Not even the Echo, or Zelda, or thought of the fool he had made of himself, irked the young musician’s buzzing brain just now, however. He was thinking how dif- ferent the man in front of the mirror looked with the remaining half of his mustache shaved off, and was speculating upon the value and history of the sparkling contents of the velvet case held in the other man’s hand. Would the police be interested in this, and should he tell them? CHAPTER VII. SWAG. HAT Alan did, or did not, do—subse- quently to his experience already nar? rated—may be deduced from the Echo’s action the Tuesday afternoon following. After an unusually long and meditative stay on the porch, she strolled to the cashier’s desk and announced to the discreet Charles: “T have decided to put Dmitrieff on full time—either six or seven evenings a week, which ever he prefers. His new schedule can go into effect to-night. JOO COMEGE (E)