Argosy All-Story Weekly, March 15, 1924 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

658 “T can’t tell you how much I thank you,” she said; and he wondered. that she could be so heartily thankful for a service done for an idiot boy who meant nothing what- ever to her. Even as he wondered she ex- plained it. “ Summer people—like you” she said, _ don’t often help us as you did to-day. You couldn’t have been kinder if he’d been your son. I want you to’know we are grate- ful.” “ But it was for you—”. he blurted out. He found that the gift of smooth talking had miraculously deserted him, and decided he had better shut up. “I must hurry,” he explained. ‘‘ That was a bad fall.” And he sent the car plunging forward. ““T’}] be here when you come back!” she cried after him. CHAPTER VI. QUICKSAND. P the road along which he had rolled so leisurely in the morning, Corvan now drove with headlong speed. His foot pressed the accelerator with uncompro- mising tension, and he grudgingly released it to whirl about every curve with the aban- ‘donment of a racer on the saucer track. Words were ringing in his ears, and his thoughts dealt fugitively with them, as he deftly played with the wheel. - “Summer people—like you,” she had said.. She had excluded him from her world with the definite and unconscious exclusion of the proudest society. And hers was a world worth living in; a world where the tragedies of one were ‘the tragedies of all; where a fallen idiot was an object for succor by the fairest, the most delicate of mortals, as if he were her brother. And from that she shut him out. ‘Summer people—like you!” Yet she was more generous than she knew. The Great Corvan was not-even to be included in the innocuous snobbery of summer people. He brought to these quiet roadways a touch of something less desir- able than snobbery; something of the reek of a city’s underworld. He remembered Jed Grimshaw in the dox and two youths of the village. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. lantern light as a man remembers. that his hands are: stained with pitch. His lips curled savagely. _ As he sped through the green meadows | past the clear, clean coastline, he wished that he might belong to that old manor house in which he lived. He vaguely wished that these might be his people. And, which the driveway led into the grounds of the estate, he nearly ran down Snake Mad- On a stone by the roadside Maddox was throw- ing dice with them. | Corvan brought his car to a whining halt. “‘ Hello, Maddox!” he snapped. And the Snake arose to approach him with a grin. “‘ Easy money, chief,” he whispered. * Put ’em up, Maddox!” Corvan said in a low voice. ‘ And don’t bring ’em out again until we've looked ’em over!” : “ What dyer mean?” Maddox was sur- prised and hurt. “What I say. Put ’em up: If there’s big money, don’t spoil it for the little stuff.” There was no mistaking Corvan’s tone, and Maddox slipped the dice into his pocket with resignation and disgust. “There’s an’epileptic boy down in the village,” continued Corvan. “ He’s had a bad “fall, and needs the doctor. I won't be home for lunch.” Maddox looked up at him quickly. This was a new turn. ‘“‘ Aw, there’s clam fritters,” he laughed. “ Telephone from the house.” “No, I’m driving in. And I’m only hit- ting the bumps. Tell Mrs. Bland; it’s im- portant.” Maddox ,was at a loss. Surely. the great and leisurely Corvan wasn’t going to run around the country just to fetch a doctor for a bughouse kid. ““What’s eatin’ you, chief?” he asked. “ Leave ’em run an ambulance down for the dummy.” Corvan started his engine. “ Keep that line for the city, Snake,” he snapped impatiently. got to play square with our neighbors.” ‘* Neighbors!” gasped Maddox. “¢ Sure. The people who live next door.” “ God, chief, I believe you got ’em,” cried COMmiiclooe whisking about the corner from | “Down here we’ve | ~ CO