The Argosy, March 1907 — page 162: what you’re looking at

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

wate SS Sr sna ~ <= > Paes =~ 2 Sot me 473 <-_ —_ Re i + oS ait eee 2. Ss ee —— . nN ie a ee tee Sa z + an gee Sa eet? a, ~The” A = - ee = ~ b! ~ = >t ~ P a - es =. ane gina oft - = ‘Se + —_ = 2 € - 734 THE ARGOSY. Tom’s face was deathly pale, and there were big circles under Cecilia’s eyes. They sat in a stage box. The lights in the auditorium were sud- denly darkened. ‘The orchestra stopped short in the middle of sa lively air, and the curtain slowly ascended. The momentous moment of moments had arrived. ‘ Courage, Tom hoarsely. Cecilia was shivering as though seized with a chill. . tightly. Dazedly, they watched the progress of the first act, and as it proceeded their apprehensions grew. The audience seemed to be cold and unsympathetic. When the act closed and the curtain fell there was a painful lack of applause. As the curtain went up on the second act, however, Tom and Cecilia’s gloomy faces brightened with renewed hope, and even Manager Smiley looked optimistic. This was the great act. Undoubtedly it would make a hit and save the play. ‘The audience would be aroused from its state of lethargy to a high pitch of en- thusiasm. There would be deafening applause and insistent calls for the authors to come before the curtain. little girl,” whispered But, alas, as the act proceeded ‘Tom and Cecilia became more and more con- vinced that this was not to be. The actors did their best, but their heroic efforts -were unavailing. The audience sat, bored, restless, and yawn- ing. On the faces of the dramatic critics were sardonic grins. The curtain came down at the end of the act amid a terrible silence that was a death sentence. Tom and Cecilia looked at each other despairingly. Manager Smiley groaned in anguish. ‘A frost!™ he moaned. ‘“ The worst frost I’ve ever seen in all my experience in the theatrical business. And I actu- ally thought we*were going to make a hit. Good Heavens! What could have been the matter with my judgment? I thought I was wise at the theatrical game. I’m the biggest fool living. After this I ought to retire from the business. I’m a dead one.’ The third and last act was as coldly She squeezed his “hand: received as those which had gone before. : — When the curtain came down at its con- clusion, the audience arose wearily and listlessly filed out of the theater. Their faces white, their hearts heavy with dull despair, the wretched authors were about to leave the playhouse, when their progress was arrested by a short, stockily built man who displayed a flash- ing gold shield. “Pardon me,” he said gruffly. “ This is Tom Grey and Cecilia Vivian, I be- | lieve. ‘Thank you, I thought I was not mistaken. I am_ Detective-Sergeant Butts. You will have to come with me at once to headquarters.” Cecilia clung in terror to Tom. The young man turned fiercely upon the de- tective. “What do you mean?” he growled. ‘““We don’t feel at all in a mood for joking, my friend.” ‘Of course not,” replied the detective. ‘Tm not joking. I never joke. I ar- rest you both on the charge of being responsible for the murder of Cyril Bates.” Cecilia uttered a scream. Tom glared at the detective indignantly. “This is nonsense,’ he declared. ‘You can’t be serious. What grounds have you to suspect us? For Heaven’s sake, don’t bother us, officer. We are feeling wretched enough just now.” “Tm sorry,” said the detective grimly. ‘You'll probably be feeling a little more wretched by the time’ we get through with you. I advise you not to make a scene, but to come along quietly.” * e But what evidence have you to jus- tify you in making this ridiculous charge against us?” protested Tom. For reply, the detective took from his pocket two pages of typewriting. From another pocket he produced a wrapper bearing a postmarked stamp and a type- written address. ‘These pages are from the typéwritten manuscript of your play,” he said. “ The machine which typewrote that play also typewrote the address on that wrapper. How do I know that? Easily. “Some of the type of the machine is worn. You'll notice that the B and T, the W and S in the address on this wrapper aren’t printed properly. Part of the out- line is missing. ‘Those same letters are ‘ tee) HE f ohirt a Th 4 CPs RS AT et Te ea 2 a ECOMIcHOOKS.com