The Argosy, Vol. XXV, No. 1 — page 128: what you’re looking at

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

128 AN AMATEUR IN DYNAMITE, Soaking off the heads of a bunch of brimstone matches and adding a little of the dilute nitric acid her father kept for staining wood carvings, she per- fumed the mess. When her work was done, even an expert would have had to make some experiment to determine which of the two dynamites was real, and that Gott- lieb would not detect the substitution, she felt well assured. ‘The package remade, in the original wrapper, but with new contents, she put under the hat on Gottlieb’s table, again traversing the plank, to and fro, for the pur- pose. Having stowed the ironing board away in its accustomed place, thé last thing she did was mixing the dynamite with water, to the consistency of a thin gruel and pouring it down the sink, with enough water following to carry it well into the sewer and on its way to the sea. ‘‘ Now,’’ she said triumphantly to herself, as she went back to bed, ‘‘ let Gottlieb go a Max-ing if he will. He will do no harm and if he is caught it will not go so hard with him when they find what sort of dynamite he uses.’ *K * 8 * “K *K ok The next day, Gottlieb remained in his room until late in the forenoon. Ottilie knew when he went out and noted that it was full two hours later than his usual time, even since he had been out of work. She surmised and rightly, that he was occupied in putting her dynamite into the shell, which she well understood, from reading about such things in the newspapers, was meant to be a bomb. It took him a long time to make up his mind to actually commence the work, and when he did, his awkwardness and excessive caution made him slow. But at last he finished the task, according to his instructions. That afternoon he visited Ottilie, as usual, but was nervous, distraught, and preoccupied, as she had never seen him before. ‘‘It is for tonight,’’ she said to herself, ‘‘and his conscience is troubling him already. Oh! If it could only speak loud enough to his mind to stop him, how glad I would be, and how proud of him !”’ Unhappily Max’s voice was louder in his mind than that of conscience. He took supper with the Boldtner family and made a great effort to be con- versational and appear at his ease, but could not keep it up long and, soon after the meal was over, went out, saying he had a meeting to attend. Ottilie watched all night for his home coming. He did not return until after five o'clock in the morning. She got a newspaper at as early an hour as possible, and anxiously scanned its columns, but the only dynamite events reported were a little real one in Spain anda bogus onein England. Never- theless, she was not easy. Things happened sometimes, she knew, too late at night to be chronicled in the next morning’s papers. Gottlieb did not show himself until afternoon, and when he did, his appear- ance startled her. She did not believe that the loss of a night’s sleep could have so affected him. Often she had seen him alert, bright, and jolly the morning after a whole night of dancing at a bali. But now he was haggard, his eyes were sunken and bloodshot, his face pale and drawn with sleep lines, and he was so nervous that his hands trembled. Eomicbooks (S@)