Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

210 unreal; and the more I think on it, the more unreal it still seems.”’ Howard nodded sympathetically. ‘“T think,” went on his client, “ that he got as far as the corner of the library table. At the time I had a feeling he was going to the hall to get his raincoat and get these papers he mentioned—whatever they were. I didn’t know—but, just then, something else happened.” ‘““ Now, just what next happened? Take it easy and tell it—your impressions in- cluded.” “T heard a report. I saw something fall to the rug. I saw Ordway sag down. That’s all I know.” The lawyer looked nonplused. there anything else?”’ he persisted. ‘“‘ Something,” said his client, “* but it was so unreal—well, I hesitate to méntion it.” ‘““ Please do.” “T thought I saw that silk umbrella I gave Dorothy on her birthday hanging in the air, near the library table. But I’m not sure. It was rather weird—that and the shot—and his sagging down. I rubbed my eyes to make sure. Then I didn’t see it.” “Where was it?” “Tt seemed to be in the air, between the table and the curtains—I’ll be hanged if I know.” “ You'll be electrocuted if we can’t find out,” said Noble Howard. His client shrugged. “Tam in your hands,” said he. ' “ Wasn’t CHAPTER X. ° LOOSE ENDS. R. FITCH’S last trite remark no less than his incredible story left his at- torney nonplused. It would never do—at all. Myers would riddle such a de- fense mercilessly, with his incisive analysis and scathing summing up. “See here, Claude,” he expostulated, “ the shadow of the chair—”’ Mr. Fitch grinned sardonically. “My dear fellow, the morning papers, except the T7zmes, are full of that shadow, except where casual references to my chiv- AP.GOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. alry and wads about Dorothy’s seraphic beauty do not blind the readers to the bald fact that Ordway Marshall was foully mur- dered, almost within a hand-breadth of me. “Now, that Times chap showed _ faint gleams of almost human intelligence. He points out that had I become genuinely en- raged, I might have kicked Ordway out of the house, unless he either apologized or ex- plained his cryptic allusions to Dorothy and myself; but as for killing him, out of hand, the contention is unsound if not absurd.” “Myers doesn’t think so,” pithily retort- ed Howard. ‘“‘T regret I have only one life to lose to add to Mr. Myers’s already well established reputation as a human bloodhound. So why shouldn’t he convict me for something IT didn’t do, if he can, to add to his reputa- tion?” Howard, from the tail of his eye, noted the look of “ducal disdain’? which was quite marked on his client’s face. More and more bewildered, he blurted: “What about your pistol on the rug?” “That’s all rot!” “ But it’s your pistol. And the bullet that killed the mayor fitted it. You only heard one report and one chamber is dis- charged.” “ll explain that, Noble. Some weeks ago a stray cat was making life hideous one night with a serenade quite unlike Schu- bert’s. I took a pot-shot at him or her out of the window. If you can find that feline and get his or her affidavit—” “Then you didn’t bring the pistol down with you when Ordway came?” “The only deadly weapon I had was a sheaf of opera tickets. I told Aunt Cora, as she testified, to have an early breakfast for me as I was going to the city.” ‘Was the pistol in your den when you came down?”’ “I don’t recall seeing it for a long time. Yes, so far as I know.”’ “Why didn’t you summon some one when this mysterious shot was fired?” “At first I was absolutely numbed and dazed. I sat looking at Ordway like a man in a trance. I saw his face flash with sur- prise, then contort with pain. I thought— when [ finally realized he was hurt—that COMIC OOOKS (E©)