The Argosy, Volume XLIV — page 299: what you’re looking at

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

THE COIL OF CIRCUMSTANCE. poor old fellow is evidently a personage of some consequence. Now, whats to be done? ”’ “ Bury him?” “ But—a duke, a prince! His govern- ment must be notified at once.” “There’ll be a blasted to-do in the vellows then,” I prophesied somberly. “Yowll have to stand for it. Me, Alfred H. Stringer, M. D., /’m not shoving any princes underground, and an assumed name. Not for mine; there’s too much trouble in prospect. “ T.ook here, Tom, tell you what Ill do: I know a young chap connected with the Spanish consulate here. I'll go and advise with him; if there’s any possible wav to keep this quiet he'll know it, and he'll help us, too.” “ How do you know he will, doctor ? ” Stringer laughed. “Well, you see, he’s under obliga- tions to me. As a matter of fact. he owes me a bill. We physicians control some little imfluence that way, you know.” “ You’re a shark,” I told him; I was feeling better for some reason. “ T know it. Now, you keep quiet here and hold the fort—and get what in- formation out of that diary you can while I’m gone. I won’t be any longer than I can help, old man.” “Don’t, please,” said I. To my sur- prise [, who had been so independent, found myself leaning heavily on Stringer for strength. “ Don’t, please,” I repeated; “ I need you, Alf—and I can’t lie idle for long with—with her 7 “1 know, Tom.” With kindly sympathy he patted me ‘on the shoulder. A moment later he was gone. CHAPTER XII. A STRANGE COINCIDENCE. ALONE, I lit a cigar and began to smoke comfortably for the first time in two days as I examined the packages of papers. I have said that there were three of them; they were neatlv bundled to- gether, wound with much red tape, and sealed with a curious device which struck me as familiar until I remem- 290 bered that it was repeated on the locket. I took the latter from my pocket, frowning with perplexity. What con- nection could there possibly be between Anita Plympton, nce Suarez, and his grace, the Prince of Montebiancia ? The problem was too deep for me. But J had hopes that this private jour- nal of the Spanish grandee’s might draw aside the dark portieres which veiled from me the light of complete understanding of this coil. But first IT would look upon mv wife's face again. _ I opened the locket and gazed long and deep into those dear eyes; they smiled back into mine so very con- fidently, with love so boundless. Imagination, vou say? I prefer to beheve that between us twain there then existed, and does now, a bond of sympathy, mtangible as the invisible current that bears words across the seas, but as real. Laugh at me if you will. I care not; she was my bride—and we loved. This at any rate is true: that in that swift flving minute wherein I looked into the eves of the miniature doubt and fear fell from me. I knew that we would be reunited; that all was well with my beloved; that, sooner or later, our skies would clear, and all be plain to us who now walked blindly groping in darkness. I already was more comfortable in mind and body, and, wondering at this, I traced it back with no difficulty to that moment when I[ had first laid eyes upon the face in the locket. You may, if you prefer, blame for this my meal—the influence of good food and drink—or the cheering com- pany of Stringer. I blame the minia- ture. As I tenderly closed the leaves of the locket and was about to take up once more the little red book, I was startled by a ring at the door bell. I jumped to answer it; Nolan had re- turned, I was thinking. But ere I reached the hall I stopped and debated; strange things had come to pass in this house within the past eight hours. Dared I take any risk? I returned to the dining-room and COMM ElOOO CO