Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 4, 1922 — page 170: what you’re looking at

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

480 Marshall’s face frightened him. It was a veritable mask of fury. “TF don’t know why you should—should mention my wife to me, even if you have met her,” he said in a choking voice. “T’m awfully sorry. I only thought—” ** Well, you thought wrong.” ‘Will you accept my apology? I meant no harm.” Dick’s head went down on the cleared table, now, encircled by his arms, the hands clasped tightly together. “Forgive me, doctor,” he said in muf- fled tones. “I’m sure you don’t know everything. If you did you’d understand why I can’t bear even the thought of her. Yes, I saw her in Witcham. I saw her and I came away. If I’m not allowed to forget I shall go mad. I thought with you I’d be safe from certain memories. The plague? That pit of death from which you dragged me? My soul would be easier if you’d left my wretched body there. The hell we went through is nothing to this—nothing!”’ ‘“‘ How he loves that woman!” the puz- zled doctor muttered to himself. Had there been a quarrel? If so it could have been no ordinary one. Perhaps—and this seemed to be the only solution—per- haps that little gray-eyed girl who had de- fended his innocence so splendidly had been in some way responsible for Dick Marshall’s disgrace. Perhaps it ‘was through some fault of hers that he had been sent to prison, and—although he loved her—he could not forgive her. There are men like that, devoid of the power of forgiveness, but Hugh Sanders would never have suspected Marshall of being one of them. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. _ Dick was heartily ashamed of himself. He had been betrayed into a gust of emo- tion against which the bitterness of his heart should have protected him. He loved Amy. He loved her in spite of what he be- lieved she had done to him. While ever since that horrible night when he had seen her, the woman he had no reason to sus- pect was not Amy, coquetting with Peter Tremlett, a cigarette in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other—Trem- lett’s “‘ wife’? — he had told himself that she was the one woman in the whole world that he hated. Yet here was plain proof that he could never forget her. ‘“‘[’m rather tired,” ‘he said, raising his head. His face was quite composed now. ‘“‘ There’s a hotel on the other side of this square. Perhaps I’d better—”’ But Hugh Sanders would not hear of such a thing. : ‘‘Old Henry has made up the spare . bed,” he said. “I’ve got a nice little room for chance guests, and it’s yours, Marshall, as long as you care to stay. I wouldn't have said a word, old chap—” Dick clasped the hand held out to him. “TI know you wouldn’t—if you knew. There’s just one thing—if ever you see her again, will you be kind enough not to men- tion—not to say anything about me?” “Of course I'll promise,” Hugh agreed heartily. He felt sorry for the little gray-eyed wife —troubled by her conscience, no doubt— but his first allegiance was to Dick Mar- shall. So closely had the lives of those lovers touched as they winged past; a breath might have blown them together! (To be continued NEXT WEEK.) U U U U A NEW TYPE OF HEROINE WILL APPEAR IN EDGAR FRANKLIN’S NEXT SERIAL “A NOISE IN NEWBORO” scheduled to start in an early number of this magazine 10 A COMmicCcbooks.Gonm