Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1923 — page 77: what you’re looking at

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

THE LEDBURY FIST. “You've got to let me be with you—”’ “T don’t want you,” he said determined- ly brutal. “ Can’t you understand? I’m not quite the person you thought I was— nor that I thought I was myself.” ‘You don’t want me—even when I say T believe in you? And I do believe in you, Dick.” ** No—I don’t want you.” “You don’t love me?”’ He hesitated. What right had he to adopt half measures with this sweet child who adored him as passionately as he adored her? “T tell you, I’ve changed. That ought to be enough for you, Evelyn. You don’t want to force me to speak more plainly than that.” He let her go away by herself, a pitiful little figure pushing her bicycle, shaken to the very soul and blinded with tears. “ After this,’ Dick muttered to himself, “ there isn’t-anything I can’t go through.” CHAPTER XI. TAKING IT UP WITH THE POLICE. UT Dick had to go through a few things which he had not counted upon. His “confession” directly involved quite a number of other people. It was not merely a matter of going to the police, telling his story, and letting them do what- ever they chose with him. To his horror, he found this out too late. He had expect- ed that Jimmy Creigh might come in for something verging upon the unpleasant, but it never occurred to him that Evelyn would be drawn into the affair. Detective Inspector Lewis, who had charge of the case, received him in an office in one of the towers of the old stone build- mg known as New Scotland Yard. Despite the fact that it was sunny, it could not be called a cheerful room. Inspector Lewis evidently had a passion for collecting souve- nirs, There was a glass case of handcuffs, each pair labeled with the name of the notorious criminal they had served to manacle; there were old revolvers, guns and other weapons arranged in patterns as wall decorations;! 539 there was a bullet-riddled shield with which some unfortunate police constable had pro- tected himself during the famous Sydney Street siege; there were framed photo- graphs of criminals, their victims, and the scenes of their crimes. Short of the Black Museum, Detective Inspector Lewis’s office was probably the most interesting and most gruesome of all the apartnaents in Scotland Yard. Dick Ardell wondered, uneasily, if one day he would figure in some way among these morbid exhibits. “T’ve come to tell you what I aire about the Stern murder,” he began bluntly. “ Or, rather, what I don’t know.” The inspector, from behind his big flat- topped desk, invited the visitor to be seated. “T haven’t been informed that you knew anything,” he replied. ‘‘ Will this be in the nature of new evidence?”’ “T believe so.” “You wish to make a statement, Mr. Ardell?” “Yes—that is what it would amount to,” Dick said. The inspector coughed and pushed a but- ton, which brought a tall young police with a notebook. “This is Mr. Richard Ardell, who was one of the party who went back to Alma Stern’s house the night of the murder. He wishes to make a statement, which may be produced as new evidence. Will you take it down, please?”’ The policeman secretary nodded and seated himself with his notebook at the side of the desk. Another man—also in uni- form—entered the room and stood hear the door. A series of chills chased themselves dowi Dick’s spine. He had let himself in for it now with a vengeance. “This is a voluntary statement, of course?” Inspector Lewis queried, but more as a fact than a question. “Oh, yes—quite. How—er—how should I begin?” ‘Just as you like. What is it you most particularly want to state?” Dick cleared his throat. “The truth is, inspector, I may be the man who murdered that unfortunate woman—”’ Go .OO — (EO) == a ee . 2p OP Pr EO SS =e : pr ae