Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 25, 1924 — page 146: what you’re looking at

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

136 be he is; but she is damn fonny how ev’ry- v’ing work out right for you. Huh! Well, you get somet’ing to eat; I put up the team.” He was gone, then, and I was left alone with his taunting, insinuating words ring- ing in my ears. What an interpretation to make! I wanted to rush out and beat the life from his leering face. I ran to the door and flung it open and called to him to come back, and as I stood there, waiting for him to answer, Sheila tottered into the kitchen. ‘* Deveraux!” she cried, ‘it is you; you are safe!” There it was—her first thought of me and not of the man for whom I had searched. Ledoux’s laugh came back to mock me. The grianing devil! Had he foreseen this moment and with fiendish cun- ning deliberately poisoned it for me? And the world—would it believe what he in- ferred? How could it? It was a lie—a cowardly, contemptible lie! And yet I stood there peculiarly embarrassed, struggling for words, my conscience clear, but unable to throw off the memory of Ledoux’s accusing eyes. My voice trembled as I murmured awkwardly: “Ves, I got in all right.” CHAPTER XXII. OUT OF THE STORM. E stood facing each other without W speaking as the seconds slipped by. I knew she was waiting for me to tell her what I had found. The desire for speech was great in me, but the words would not come to my tongue. Her grave, inquiring eyes searched mine as though she would learn the result of my trip even though no word passed my lips. I saw her sway suddenly and reach out to catch the door for support. “YT shouldn’t have kept you standing. here,” I exclaimed, berating myself for my stupidity. ‘“‘ You’re worn out; I can see how tired you are. Come—take my arm and let me help you back to bed.” She shook her head so determinedly that ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. I stopped before her with arms out- stretched, realizing the folly of trying to persuade her. ““ No need for me to ask,” she murmured then. ‘“‘ Your manner is answer enough: you didn’t find him.” ““No, I didn’t,” I answered, glad that she misunderstood my perturbation. “I covered a lot of ground, too. I didn’t spare the dogs nor myself. I didn’t find a sign— not a trace of him.” “Not a sign—gone!” she gasped, her voice choking her. “ This terrible country, —oh dear God—”’ For a moment I thought she was going to faint. “It’s not so hopeless as all that,” I hastened to say. “Oh, no, Deveraux. It is hopeless, Please don’t try to deceive me, I know you are hoping only to soften the truth. Crosbie’s gone.” She covered her face with her hands despairingly. “ It’s my fault,” she exclaimed; “I am to blame; I know it! If I had only been frank with you from the first! I never should have come here.” ** Please don’t say that,” I begged; “ you are not to blame for what has happened.” “Oh, but I am, I am—you don’t under- stand, Deveraux. When he didn’t come in the first day, I should have gone out after him.” “You don’t know what you are saying,” I pleaded. ‘“ You couldn’t have gone. Muir was strong, wise. Surely you don’t believe you could have succeeded where he failed? The three of us were helpless here for days. We have no cause to reproach ourselves; least of all, you.” A sob shook her, and, in spite of her ob- vious effort to restrain herself, tears filled her eyes. I don’t know what I had expect- ed her to do, if not this; and yet, to hear her crying softly, her back half turned to me, as though she would exclude me from this moment, stabbed me to the heart. I had always deferred to her wishes, in one way or another, but I realized that I must assert myself now; that I must not let her stand there, overwrought as she was, the cabin far from warm and she clad oaly in a night dress and a robe of some flimsy material she had found in Simpson’s stock. GOmiGchdooks (E@)