Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

170 ly more than my own little baby, even now! Neville—” “ There!” her mother cried triumphant- ly. “Tve got his infernal name at last— Sneath!” “‘ Sneath?” “Richard P.—or maybe it was Richard F. You remember, Corney—the man who engineered that slimy Kandrick divorce case. I read every word they printed about that thing from day to day, and it was dis- gusting; so disgusting that they finished it with the public and the press excluded, and I never did find out how it wound up, ex- cept that the Kandrick woman disappeared for good. However, from what came out, that man Sneath must be a genius in such things! We'll send for him and make a dicker with him and turn him Joose on this girl!” “And risk a scandal that might easily blast Neville’s whole life? No!” cried Mrs. Ronalds, with unusual force and earnest- ness. “And it isn’t necessary, mother. I have a better way.” “e Vou?”’ ‘Ves! Even—even a creature of* this kind must have a better nature, don’t you think?” ‘“‘ Anything’s possible, Corney.” “ And where a man, particularly of this Sneath type, would never suspect its exis- tence, that better nature could be reached by a woman, by a mother!” “You mean that you’re going to call on this damsel and plead with her not to marry the boy?” ‘‘T—-es, I could do even that for Nev- ille’s sake, although it was not what I had in mind. I thought that I’d phone her and ask her to call here.” Mrs. Stone waved a large warning hand. “ Don’t even think of it! She’d find out too much from your voice, Corney. Send her a note.” “Very well, then—a note.” ‘“‘ And make it smooth, Cornelia; make it oily!” her parent went on, with rising en- thusiasm. .“ Smear it all over with honey, so that she'll bite hard and drop right into the trap. And when she does get here I'll take a whack at her! I'll show her a little old-fashioned—”’ -ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “No! That’s one thing we must have understood now!” Mrs. Ronalds said, with the same astonishing firmness. ‘I must have her all to myself. This will need all the tact and delicacy in the world.” “And I haven’t got ’em, eh? Maybe you're right, Corney, but first and last I’ve accomplished a lot in my rude way. Good enough! I'll keep out of sight till you've done what you can. Sit down and write your note. You’re going to mail it?” ‘I’m going to send it by messenger,” said Neville’s mother, and quite swept to her desk in the corner. ‘“ What time is it?” ** Just past five.” “Will a—a woman of that kind be awake now?” Mrs. Ronalds mused, and shuddered a little despite herself. ‘‘ They sleep all day and carouse all night, do they not?” “IT presume so. But don’t suggest any- thing like that in your note. You—” Cornelia’s smile was downright sly. ‘““ Have no fear, mother; this note will be a masterpiece,” she said. “ This is to save my boy! I—” Her voice trailed off. Pen poised, she gazed fixedly upward at the portrait of Neville’s father—which, in sober fact, re- sembled nothing so much as the portrait: of a particularly well-dressed coal heaver —and although a tear trickled down her cheek, her smile, persisting, grew inspired. “Yes! Yes! That’s it!” she breathed and wrote swiftly. CHAPTER III. SUSTENANCE. MONG all the bromidic and age-be- whiskered axioms, one at least shines forth as absolutely foolproof and in- controvertible—the broad: proposition that, living, one is bound in whatever degree to learn. To cite just one instance out of the un- counted billions, take the case of Nora Blair. 7 These last six months, Nora had simply learned and learned and learned! She had learned that one does not descend upon New York and inevitably become at once the CORNICE DOOK<S (E@)