Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 2 — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

THE HOUSE OF THE ECHO. had left the bookshop girl weeping incon- solably, she was perfectly satisfied with the manner in which she had “ disposed ”’ of one rival. After having given Alan such a bad name, she was certain that he would be compelled to break with Sophia now. Also, with so much of feverish conversa- tion, Zelda had acquired a slight thirst— and the inn being only a half-block away, she decided that she still had time to quench it there. Her happy, triumphant expression was not reflected, however, in Charles’s ordin- arily urbane countenance—which the strain of the day’s accomplishments had drawn into haggard lines. The Echo had given him the hardest day’s work of his life. So there was a dangerous glint in his eyes and his glistening white teeth were bared, not smilingly but savagely, as he stepped to Zelda’s table, the moment she had taken her seat. “Mademoiselle had finished her work already?” he inquired sarcastically. Then— with rapidity and vehemence— ‘“ You are here—and you know how necessary, how important, it is for you to be on the job! At this, of all times!” “Tm no horse—I need a little rest,” was the surly reply. ‘‘ Don’t see the need of all this rush, anyway.” “ Careful, Miss! Charles, significantly. Zelda quickly bent a discomfited gaze on the table. The Echo—brows knit and evi- dently still in the tigerish mood that all day had possessed her—was advancing an- grily toward the girl. ‘Where have you been?” was the sharp demand. It was no use telling the Echo a lie. She invariably found out the truth, and soon, Zelda muttered: “ The Ukrainian bookshop. “ “ Indulging your craving for literature, I presume,” came back the ironic retort. The Echo’s countenance suddenly darkened— she announced impatiently: ‘““T shan’t bother with ydu any longer. You have dropped off in your work lately; you have not been adhering to the plans laid out for you. So long as you wish to work independently, you shall. Careful!” warned 243 ‘“'You will receive no further instructions from Charles or assistance from me. Vacate your room—and this neighborhood—by the end of the week.” Zelda was banished from the House— gone from the Echo’s protection. It was virtually equivalent to saying that her career was finished. There was nothing now to stand between her and the “ dicks.” “Canned!” murmured Zelda, dully, to herself. She—the star of her profession; the chief over a dozen outside operators; the’ ablest instructor of all new outside “talent,” in her branch, thai the House ever had had! She went dumbly to her room. There, in a paroxysm of fury, she dashed the vase of red roses to the floor—fiung herself upon the couch—ripped and tore at the pillows. ‘She breaks me—throws me out of the House and even the neighborhood—just because she’s afraid of me grabbing Alan from her!” The girl screamed into a pil- low, with tears of rage. After a long while, Zelda became deadly calm. No tears now—but schemes for ven- geance. As a member of the Echo’s council, she possessed certain information. It might mean death to use it, but—well, why shouldn’t she take the chance? So Zelda lay sleepless throughout the night. She had determined to defy the Echo. CHAPTER. X. “THE DEVIL’S BROKEN LOOSE!” THE gray-haired man had been at his desk, at Police Headquarters, virtually all night—and looked it. The gray hair was rumpled and twisted into little quills; crowsfeet were deep-imprinted under blood- shot eyes that glared wildly about. Men hurriedly came; jumped at his sharp, iras- cible commands; and departed on the run. A typewriter clicked madly. A messenger hustled in with a report;—the gray-haired man glanced at it, and swore savagely. The phone bell jangled; he jerked up the receiver—replacing it with a bang. “The devil’s broken loose!” he groaned, as he slumped back into his chair, with the weariness of exhaustion. Comichook (E@)