Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 6, 1923 — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

MARKED DOWN. means of her own, some one else might be furnishing the money. Again the strange and inexplicable transfer of property sacred- ly inherited by Dorothy Cavendish from her dead mother, limned across _ her thoughts. What vitally pressing and im- perative thing had caused the girl to at- tempt the transfer of such a bequest? Sighing deeply, Nancy at last turned to the summoned Kent. She was now striv- ing to tie up the business and occupants of each office and bundle them out bodily, clearing the way for further vital investiga- tions. “Mr. Kent,” she began, “‘ do you know why Miss Cavendish wished to transfer her mother’s property to this Mlle. Mignonne?”’ “ Certainly not.” “Was Mr. Shoreham with you from the time of his arrival at eleven thirty until you left him in your office, when you hurried out upon hearing the chauffeur’s cry for help?” “He was.” ‘Were you expecting Miss Dorothy Cav- endish?” ‘Naturally, her signature was neces- sary.” ‘¢ At what time was she to*come?”’ ‘“ At her convenience between eleven thirty and twelve.” ‘Were you expecting any one else at that time?”’ “No. Naturally I do not make two ap- pointments for the same time.” ‘Why didn’t Mr. Shoreham rush out with you when you heard the cry for help?” ‘“T didn’t ask him. But I presume, since he is a very cautious man, that he shrank from any unnecessary publicity.” “Was the reception room in darkness when you hurried through it in response to the cries?” Mr. Kent appeared to think. “ Why, ves,” he replied in surprise. ‘‘ I hadn’t re- called it before, but it certainly was, I remember because I hit my shin sharply.” “ Was your waiting room unlighted when Mr. Shoreham arrived?” ‘“Tt was not, nor when he entered my office. I was expecting Miss Dorothy mo- mentarily. My reception room would not be without lights with her coming.” 871 “Where was Mr. Fulton?” “He left just before Mr. Shoreham’s ar- riva! at’ eleven thirty.” “Have you a secretary?” ‘Yes, but she has been out for three days with a severe cold, which has left us badly handicapped.” “ Mr. Kent, when you plunged through your darkened waiting room you saw noth- ing of any one that was waiting or lurking there?” The question appeared to startle Mr. Kent. “ Certainly not. “‘ Ah!” he breathed as an idea flashed into his mind. “ So that was where the extra veiled woman was, whom the matron just escorted to the door with Miss Dorothy!” Nancy did not reply. Her silence was broken by the knocking Jenkins. As she stepped alertly to the door, he shook his head vigorously. The grocer already wore his hat and coat preparatory to dismissal. Again, as one door closed on a witness, another opened, this time to admit the rat- faced, self-styled Joseph Graham, alias Slippy Gates, whom M. Renaud had iden- tified as a prison bird. This shabbily dressed individual, caught almost on the rebound by the swooping hand of Denby, was wizened and unhealthy looking. The prison pallor still sponged all traces of color from his face. His bullet- shaped head was closely cropped and his weasel-like face was weak rather than vicious. Nancy studied him thoughtfully. Slippy Gates watched her sharply, con- sternation and surprise racing over his fea- tures. Obviously he, too, had been thun- derstruck by the manner of girl the famous Nancy Davland proved to be qn close view. He squared his narrow shoulders and held up a defiant head. A little smile quivered over Nancy’s lips, to die away instantly. She read the actions as truly as if they had been deciphered for her. Slippy Gates had set her down as a mere girl, not of the underworld, and there- fore unable to fight him with his own weap- ons, to cope with his ratlike cupidity. ‘Terrence Gates,” she began, ‘ what have you against the slain Hugh Caven- dish?” TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK COMiiclooe (©