Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 5, 1921 — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

$88 the affliction of Julia, she loved it. More- over, it was Julia’s home as well, and surely it behoved Letty to remember that fact. She hadn’t behaved any too well toward Julia, and perhaps if she changed her atti- tude Julia would show a correspondingly good feeling. With this high purpose in mind, she went straight through to her own delightful cor- mer of the old house. There were cheerful fires and fragrant bowls of flowers from the hothouses, and Dorcas, the maid, ready to help her off with her things. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Letty had finished her bath, and arrayed daintily in a silk peignoir, was sitting be- fore the dressing-table brushing her hair when the door behind her opened and Der- rick came in. She saw his face first in the mirror, and it was so drawn and ghastly that she wheeled about with a sharp exclamation. “ Derrick, what’s happened!” she cried, “The end of the world—if it’s true,” he replied quietly. “Letty, I want to ask you a question—did you ever know Gerald £ Stansbury?” (To be continued NEXT WEEK.) Y Edgar Wallace able risks. Their business. carries them into strange adventures, and many and weird are the policies which are~issued by those particular companies whose pleasure itis to gamble with A. that B. will not rob him. We think of insurance companies as dreary corporations wherein, for a consid- eration paid monthly, quarterly, or vearly, our executors will receive, upon our demise, fabulous sums the like of which we have never been fated to touch or handle in our own lifetime. But there are certain msurance compa- nies which do not bother with the lives of men, or with the conflagrations in their houses. They will insure your pearls [ abersns corporations take remark- against the burglar, and your furs against the moth, thereby providing at least a semblance of protection for those who lay up their treasures on earth. Bob Brewer was eating his solitary din- ner in the Windsor Restaurant when to him came his employer and manager, Mr. Douglas Campbell. “ Bob,” said he without preliminary, “T’ve been round to your flat and heard you were here. ‘The fact is, I want your advice.” . “My advice,” rejoined Bob, with a magnificent wave of his hand, “ is—marry the girl!” The outraged Mr. Campbell spluttered his indignation. eonnicloos CO