The Argosy — page 39: what you’re looking at

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

The Mystery of Allan Grale. g “But why should he do that? ” “T cannot say. The whole matter 1s puzzling me, sir, more than you may think for.” “He denies knowing where Allan is.” “He does. And so far I think we may rely upon him. One thing that he said, I must mention to you Dr. Palmer paused. He was about to speak of the “ yellow woman,” but an idea suddenly struck him that he must do so with caution, for he had been half wondering whether that mysterious personage might be a detective employed by Mr. Grale to pry into the movements of his son and Edgar Vivian. “You were about to say ?” said Mr. Grale. “Yes. Do you know anything of a woman who has come to lodge in Dering, and goes about in a yellow cloak ?” ronunted the Doctor. “Not likely,” curtly answered Mr. Grale, as if he considered Dr. Palmer was wandering from the point in discussion. “I’ve heard one and another mention such a woman; I never saw her.” And Dr. Palmer felt that the rough-spoken words were true. “When Edgar Vivian asked me who it was that had enlightened you upon the box waiting at Corrabuin and other things,” he went on, “ he said he thought it must be that individual, the yellow woman.” “The yellow woman !—enlightened me !” cried Mr. Grale, in sur- prise. ‘* What made him say that?” “T do not know.” “What should she know about my son’s business ?—or Edgar Vivian’s 2?” “Again I can only say I do not know. Mr. Grale I am deeply sensible how little I have helped you with your cause in undertaking to question Edgar Vivian, but I assure you I was met by some opposing influence at every step. I wish you'd see him yourself. You may be able to make more of him than I could.” Mr. Grale did not say whether he should take the advice, or not. He leaned back in his chair, musing, his hands in his pockets. Dr. Palmer rose. There was nothing more to wait for. “ After all, Doctor, I look upon it that we are just about where we were and no further,” he said, suddenly. ‘‘ Allan has disappeared, and no living mortal seems to know where.” On the day following this, Mr. Grale, upon going home to luncheon, found by some chance remarks passing between Mary Anne and her mother, that the ‘‘ yellow woman ” was absolutely at that time working at Moorland house. He pricked up his ears, remembering the words of Dr. Palmer. “Who is this Miss West?” he asked. “A seamstress ?” “Yes, papa,” said Mary Anne. ‘She works beautifully.” “ But who is she ?” “I'm sure I don’t know,” returned Mary Anne. “It does not GOMMGIO@ S (C(O) a |