The Argosy, Volume XLIV — page 268: what you’re looking at

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

264 sticks so—you would only jump from it to find Death waiting with open arms for you at the bottom. As to the Inn itself, by now the gates are closed. “Tam going into this outer room to the telephone, to ring up Central and to ask for the despatch of a policeman to take vou into custody.” I remained quict for a moment after this, hoping that threat of a policeman would induce her to speak. She wanted to say something—I could see that quite plainly. Words seemed to be trembling on her lips, and vet, so great was the terror which had her in its hold, she was unable to frame them. Slowly I walked in the direction of the door. As I reached it, there came to me again that same half-moaning cry. It flashed across my memory then where I had heard a sound like it be- fore. The recollection, with memories of falling, rustling leaves and crisp, frosty air, on a November day, in a field; had followed the pulling of the trigger of my gun—a rabbit cried so in its death throes. It made me pause and look round. The girl’s hand had gone up—a trem- bling hand—a movement which seemed to voice what her lips were unable to compass: an entreaty to me. Then the dumb spoke. The words found their way out, cloaked in a voice which was piteous by reason of the depth of intensity in it. She cried: “Don’t! Don’t! Stop! Oh, stop! lor God’s sake, hear me first! *’ I halted as abruptly as kinemato- graphy pictures terminate. CHAPTER IIT. NEEDING MEDICAL AID. Cunrtostry, of the unreserved kind, held me back: I was as full of it as I could well hold. When the girl called to me, I 1m- agined from the nature of her cry that that feeling of mine was on the point of being satisfied. “Oh,” I said, coming round on my - heels, “ you had it in your mouth all the time! You have found your tongue at last?” | THE ARGOSY. So speaking, I walked back toward her ; getting close, looked into her eyes. A moment after I was feeling sorry I had done that: they made me feel ashained of myself, of the tone of harshness J had allowed to creep into my voice when addressing her. Her eyes were so gentle. “Come,” I said, shame inducing me to speak more kindly, “I suppose you are going to give me an explanation of your presence here—aren’t you?” “Ts it any use?” Although there was not a tear in her eve, sobbing almost choked her ut- terance—dry sobs of the throaty de- scription: really most unmanning things to which to listen. Perplexity made me raise my eye- brows; I had not expected an answer of that kind. “Any use!” Jor lack of words I took refuge in echo of hers; then added: “ Don’t you think I have a right to demand an explanation? ” “Oh, yes!” She answered as quickly as the plainly uprising lumps in her thfoat would allow. “ More than a right. I did not mean in that way: I meant was it any use—anything I could say—trying to convince you that I am not what you think me? Things look SO—sSO—SO 7 Then her voice filtered away—died down to silence; she remained looking at me blankly. It had been a long speech for a girl in her condition to make; the making of it told on her. She had to do fierce battle with the obstruction in her throat, and she was panting—almost breathless—bv the time she reached the last disjointed words. Still, for all the pity that so -unaccountably thrilled me, I could not resist saying: “What I think of you! What can I think of vou? You break into my private dwelling-place after sunset! There’s only one interpretation to put on such an act: vou might as well be wearing a label with the word ‘ burglar ” on it.” Her firm white throat was again the scene of a hattle royal: Fear conquer- ing Distress. Then her voice was heard again. She brought both hands together, (GO) MICO SS (COL