Argosy All-Story Weekly, August 9, 1924 — page 157: what you’re looking at

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

CHECKMATED BY CHANCE. the night he was supposed to have been murdered.” ““T see,” the detective answered vaguely. “And you never saw him again until the night you returned from New York, and saw him in his casket; is that right?” ‘“‘ Right,” returned Bronson shortly. ‘¢ Ah—how did you, and your uncle get along?” “Pretty fair,” and Bronson secretly chuckled as he thought of the numerous battles that had been waged between him- self and the departed one. “ Of course,” he continued, taking out his handkerchief, and delicately wiping his eyes, “ we had our little spats now and then, but uncle was very fond of me. Poor uncle!” and he sighed. “ Uh—er—yes; poor uncle!” muttered Reilly abstractedly. ‘“‘ Er—how about that little scrap you and the old man had that night?” Bronson started violently. Was his im- agination playing him falsely or was Reilly’s voice changing? Changing, for the worse, too, hé told himself. Panic, for the moment, gripped him. Bronson had flattered himself that no one knew of his last bitter quarrel with old Abner Dawson, and yet, here was that hick detective, staring dully at him, and asking him what he knew about it! A premoni- tion of coming disaster coursed through his brain, and for the first time to-day he be- gan to feel uneasy. With an effort, he pulled himself together, and endeavoring to make his voice sound natural, and realizing, with a pang of dis- may, that it didn’t, he replied: ‘“‘ Oh, that? Merely a small quarrel about money matters. Uncle was very close fisted, you know.” “Yes, uh—huh—TI know,” returned the detective. ‘‘ At least, so I heard!” And Bronson knew that the detective had xot heard! For Abner Dawson had a reputa- tion of being anything but mercenary. Bronson nervously wondered just how much this mysterious, stupid looking Reilly did know! Reilly appeared lost in deep meditation for the next five minutes; then straighten- ing himself in his chair with a jerk, he asked: 307 “ Did you know that your uncle changed his will that night, Bronson, and cut you off with a dollar?” For a moment the room, and all it con- tained, whirled madly around. His uncle changed his will? Preposterous! This hick was trying to have some fun at his expense. That was it; it was a joke. But, merciful Heavens, what a joke! He stared wildly at Reilly’s vacuous face as he burst out excitedly: ‘You surely don’t mean that! You must be joking!” ‘““No,” the detective returned lifelessly, ‘“‘T’m not joking!” and he resumed his va- cant stare. Chaos again reigned in Bronson’s mind. A sickening wave of despair rushed over him, and a dread, insistent thought began hammering at his brain. Had his carefully planned murder been for naught? He had imperiled his liberty, and maybe his life —for what? He could have cursed aloud, in his impotent rage and fear, but out of the awful chaotic jumble of impressions that were seething through his brain one thought, and one thought only, stood forth with alarming clearness: he must get out of this with a whole skin! Bad enough it was to lose the vast fortune for which he had com- mitted cold blooded murder, but now that his liberty—nay, even his life!—was im- periled, his natural cowardice rose to the surface. Hastily he reviewed the evidence that might be against him, and then he thought of his alibi. Ha! Maybe he would beat this yet! His brain suddenly became con- scious that Reilly was again speaking: “How long, Bronson, would a small pocket knife lie in a very damp, or slightly wet, place before it would show signs of rust, could you tell me?” Bronson stared at the detective. The fellow must be taking leave of his senses! Seeing that Reilly was waiting in his usual, listless manner for his answer, he managed to collect his flying thoughts sufficiently to reply: “Oh, I couldn’t say—why?” “Oh, nothing!” and Reilly relapsed into his brooding silence. Presently rousing himself he asked: GoMmililGebyoo O S GO) nn