Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 124, No. 2 — page 101: what you’re looking at

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

BING, BANG, BOOM! She told herself that it was her great dis-. like for him that brought him so often to her mind. He had spoken to her that morning of their second meeting as no other man would have dared to speak! He had accused her of unfairness, of unfound- ed prejudice, of stubbornness! He had ig- nored every precept of gentility by forcing her into a conversation that had been dis- tasteful to her! The indictment that she drew up against him listed every crime of which a gentleman might stand accused, and yet— She wondered why he had not been present. at the dance that night. It was Turner, undoubtedly, who had forbade the sending of an invitation to him; and he had been forced to spend a lonely, forsaken evening, ostracized by the will of a single man. How dismal it must be to be a thou- sand miles away from home, among stran- gers, and to meet with antagonism and un- friendliness on every side! Of course, it served him right. His un- heard-of insolence merited him no better fate. Had he not dared to tell her—and, with burning cheeks, she relived in mem- ory that meeting on Majestic Road. So she argued with herself, not realizing that she was arguing, so convinced was she that her mind was firmly set against him. She did not realize that it was only by this “constant mulling over of her supposed hu- miliation before him that she kept alive the shattery belief that she cordially disliked — him. The single chime of a clock, drifting in to her from the hallway, put an end to her reflections. It was half past eleven. She suddenly realized that the mending of Sara’s dress had long since been completed, and that she had been sitting there idly, busied only with her thoughts. The lingering life of the clock’s single stroke had scarcely ebbed away, when her ears caught the sound of a door opening be- low, and then the soft click of its closing. She listened to hear the expected voice of - Sara, but unbroken silence followed. With a small shrug, she rose, putting and hanging Those faint away her sewing-basket, Sara’s dress in the closet. sounds must have been the product of her — 283 fancy; or, perhaps, it had been the wind, toying with some half-drawn shade. She walked to her dressing-table and, drawing the pins from her hair, let her dark tresses fall in gentle ripples about her shoulders. She picked up her comb; then held it suspended in a brain-forsaken hand when her ears caught the unmistakable sound of cautious footsteps that came to her through the silent house. This was no © product of her fancy; this no flapping of a breeze-swayed curtain. Some one was moving across the hall below her. Of course it must be Sara and her father. But why such cautious quiet? Surely they had seen her lighted window from without, and knew that she was not yet asleep. “Sara,” she called, turning to face the door,” is that you? Father, that you?” There came no answer; but after the moment of awful silence that follewed upon her call, her straining ears picked up again the sound of careful footsteps. Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch. A cold, unnameable thrill of terror raced through her, tingling at her scalp. Some one—some one—was slowly mounting the stairs! And it was mot Sara; mot her father! She stood, rigid, her comb still held aloft, as if some witchery had turned her into stone. Even with the creaking footsteps in the hall outside’ her door, she did not move; nor until the doerway became the frame for the massive’ form and leering face of .- Mr. John Blake. In the unknown there was paralyzing terror; in the known there was sickening fear. The comb dropped from her hand, and she crouched back against the dressing-table, her wide eyes fixed upon the intruder. Paprika stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, and, leaning back against it, inspected the girl with burning eyes, from her blue-slippered feet to her tumbled hair, feasting them upon her beauty. “You ain’t dumb, are you?” he said finally, grinning at her. ‘ Don’t you know how to act when you got comp’ny?”’ “You!” she breathed. ‘“‘ What — what are you doing here?”’ He laughed. COMIC DOO S COM