Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 2 — page 96: what you’re looking at

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

246 of the Russian publishing company, women in tenement doorways—even the tailor’s mangy little dog—seemed to be regarding him with contempt, and saying cunningly: “ You may swear you are innocent, but we know you are guilty!” Nor could Allan altogether blame them. How could he explain the rank injustice of this false position in which he somehow had been placed? It was maddening. But the final, most cruel thrust came with his sight of Sophia’s face. There was no warmth of affection in her smile—in fact, there was no smile at all. And when Alan tried to blurt out the story he had laboriously composed, it sounded no more convincing than that which he had stammered to Uncle Boris. Suddenly interrupting his tale, he exclaimed harshly: “ Surely, you don’t believe me guilty!” The bookshop girl responded slowly, in a tone of cool reserve: ‘“ Bad as things look against you, I can’t quite believe you’d stoop so low as to steal—if that’s any con- solation to you.” Then, with a quick flar- ing passion she hurled at him the accusa- tion: “This is what I never can forgive you: You pretended to care for me, while you were making love to that evil old woman— that witch—and perhaps to others!” Alan stared blankly at her. “What are you talking about?” he hotly demanded. ‘‘ Why, I never—” “You did! You can’t tell me. Didn’t the Echo move Heaven and Earth to get you out of jail? What else did she do it for, then? You’d be in there now, but for her. Oh, one of the Echo’s crowd—from the inn where you work —told me all about it. ““ Alan—you’ve broken my heart—” and the bookshop girl, unnerved—torn by jeal- ousy, and now crushed under the weight of utter misery—hid her face and cried. The bewildered “ culprit ” believed him- self on the highroad to madness. He had lost his reputation—his music master—and now his sweetheart, and through a crime of which he was entirely innocent! Instinct, if not reason, cried out that the “‘ House of the Echo ” had brought all these woes upon THE ARGOSY. him. Then—by all that was just—it should — pay! He would go to its mistress and demand the truth of the jewel theft; he was posi- tive that what he suspected, she knew. He would wipe this stigma from his name. Also, he would learn exactly how he had been freed from jail. And—if it were the last thing he did in this life—he would visit punishment upon the accursed House. Thereupon—for Alan realized the futility of pleading then with Sophia—he rushed in a wild rage from the bookshop and turned his face toward the Petrograd Inn. Arriving there, he was halted at the en- trance to the corridor. A determined indi- vidual said his orders were to see that no one ascended the stairs without the man- ager’s permission. ‘Impossible for you to see her just now, Dmitrieff,” Charles said firmly to the heated young man. ‘She is busy—very busy.” Then, with a sly glance at Alan, he sug- gested: ‘“ By the time you have finished playing, this evening, no doubt she will be glad to see you.” Another trick to retain his services as musician to this house of thieves—thought Alan. Very well, to gain his end he could be as foxy as they. “Tl try it at that time,” he said. If this were the only method by which he could secure admittance to the Echo’s office, he would employ it. After all, it merely added to the score he meant to settle! ot CHAPTER XI. THE TRAP, ZELDA shoved her packed traveling-bags a little farther beneath the couch; ex- amined again the revolver she had taken from the table drawer, and thrust the weapon into her waist. Her countenance dissatisfied, she moved restlessly about the room. All at once the frown cleared: she picked up an American Beauty rose and placed it against her bosom. While she fumbled with the pin, it pricked her—drew blood. The girl looked at the tiny, oozing drop, and shuddered. (e() DOO ANU (E@)