Argosy All-Story Weekly, 4 February 1922 — page 155: what you’re looking at

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

Author of “Folly’s Harvest,” “Diana the Hunted,” “The Greatest Gamble,” eic, CHAPTER XXXII. THE WILL. ORAINE really made a determined ef- L. fort to pull herself together, as ad- vised by her husband. She had little or no will-power left, and the ordinary task of making herself look neat and changing her clothes was nearly beyond her. It was better when finally she was dressed and out in the air, which revived her considerably. Peter walked with her to Mrs. Dun- das’s gate, where he waited while she went in. He, alone, knew how important was the outcome of this business. It was a for- lorn hope at best, but better than nothing. Loraine had long since forgotten that according to Amy, Elspeth McQueen was supposed to have been her one friend dur- ing that time of desperate trouble. Hav- ing securely established herself as Amy, there was no need to worry about small details. She had treated Elspeth with in- difference upon the few occasions when they happened to meet, and instinct told her that Elspeth did not like her, but it had not told her quite enough. Never once did it occur to her that Elspeth was con- i she was not the former Amy Mar- shall. 10 A Elspeth came to the door herself in re- sponse to Loraine’s ring. Yes, she said, Mrs. Dundas was very ill, but not suffering any pain. She was just growing steadily weaker. “It’s not likely she'll last much longer,” Elspeth added. For her, she was quite cor- dial to Mrs. Tremlett, and bade the latter to enter while she went up to inquire if Mrs. Dundas felt equal to seeing anybody. In a moment she was back again. “Yes, madam, she would like to see you. She doesn’t know she’s dying, you under- | stand.” “Heavens, you don’t imagine I'd tell her, do you?” said Loraine. “Certainly not—only I thought Id mention it,” the servant replied stiffly. ‘* Hateful creature!” thought Loraine as she dragged herself up-stairs in Elspeth’s wake. “Giving herself airs already. I shouldn’t wonder if she’s not poisoning the old woman.” Anna Dundas was not in bed. She sat in one of her big chairs close to a window, which despite the lateness of the season, was open. They had banked her around with pillows and wrapped her in shawls. To Loraine she did not look in the least as though she was dying. A table was at her right hand, and on This story began in the Argosy-Alistory Weekly for January 7. 465 a Eomichboo S) (ee)