The Argosy, Volume XLIV — page 269: what you’re looking at

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

eee eee BY THE ENEMY’S WILL. 265 and, clasping them as if in prayerful entreaty, she said: “ And yet it is not sq—oh, it is not so! I beg of you to believe me—lI did not come here to rob you.” Despite the gravity of the situation, I could not help a little smile shaping on my lips. Seeing is believing. The girl had made straight far the bureau; had lighted the way thereto herself; had come prepared with matches. “Why are you here then?” I asked; adding sarcastically: “Is this part of your usual evening’s walk—a little ex- ercise ?” ““T came,” she answered in a tone which showed her disapproval of the levity in the suggestion, “ for what was my own.” For a moment a thought existed that the girl had made a mistake and en- tered the wrong suite of rooms. A wel- come thought because it cleared her of guilt. But its sojourn was temporary; was ousted by another reflection: how un- likely it would be for the adjoining chambers to have locks similar to those on my own doors! Such a coincidence might exist with one lock, but to expect it to do so with two was stretching the long arm too far. The girl had first opened the outer door and then the inner one. Recollec- tion of that—the manner of her entry —made me say: “You seem rather expert in the use of skeleton keys. Due to what? IEx- perience? It did not take you long to gain admission.” She looked at me, her puckered-up brow showing misunderstanding. Then, apparently, light dawned on her—a hand went to the pocket of her dress. From it were drawn forth two keys, tied together with a piece of string. It was easy for me to recognize them in a moment: there was nothing skele- ton about them; they were actually such keys as I had on my bunch in my pocket at the very time! I was more bewildered than ever. Be- wildered? Well, it is scarcely an ade- quate description. “ Where did you get them? ” “It is a long story. The look on your face almost prompts me to tell it you. In the hope, the faint hope, that, strange as 1t may sound, you may be- lieve what I say.” “I wouldn’t place too much re- liance on what you think you see on my face,” I answered, with a renewed at- tempt at grimness. “I’m as hard as nails f I think any one’s trying to vet the best of me It was a silly specch, because it gave her an opportunity. Lour “if” is the only peacemaker—much virtue in If. She caught at it as a drowning man might clutch at a straw. “Oh, believe me—I am not! I am not!” Fighting the desire in me to accord her credence; feeling how unutterably foolish would be such credulity, I said: “That remains to be seen. So far the weight of evidence is against you. Anyway, explanation of your presence here will clear the ground. How would it be if you started from that point? ” “T will.” “I suppose it is useless my saying that you might find truth more profit- able—better wearing—than the other article? You might think it expecting too much from you.” The girl’s eves flashed as she drew herself up proudly. Then, recollecting her position, shrinking back into her- self, she said: ‘““T intend to speak the truth. As a matter of fact, I did not know you were here ” T'o have refrained from interruption — would not have been in accord with hu- man nature. ‘Pray refrain from the obvious! ” “TI happen to have come,” she con- tinued, “at a time, unfortunately for me——” “ But just as fortunately for me.” I interposed, “when I was on hand to receive you. Otherwise you would have robbed me.” “Oh, no! No! No!” She was so distressed at my suspicion of her, so vehement in expression of it, that I positively nearly hastened to sympathize! My feelings were running away with me—it was only by a superhuman effort that I was able to clap on the brake. ECOMRRIC LOG Colin