The Argosy — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

Winifred Power. 21 little, and searches warily for the matches. Unperceived by her, Mrs. Hatherley has also slipped in to the lbrary, and is even now crouching in the friendly shade of a deep bookcase. As Gertrude has her back to her, she counts on escape from detection. Lady Hatherley has found the matches and strikes one; then endeavours to re-light the lamp; but the chimney is too hot; it burns her delicate fingers, and she desists from the attempt. She finds a taper, set in a little brass candlestick, and lights that. ‘Then she turns, surveys the room with the help of this flickering, tiny flame ; approaches the door, closes and locks it. That was the worst moment of all for the watcher. She stood squeez- ing herself into nothing against the side of the bookcase; hardly daring for an instant even to shoot out her slender head, and white, tense face, set with two burning eyes, that gleamed like a wild-cat’s in the shadow of forest leaves. The next thing Gertrude did was to produce a jingling bunch of keys; Sir John’s keys evidently, for she walked to the bureau and unlocked it. | Mrs. Hatherley’s blood ran cold at sight of the audacity. And how could she have obtained possession of the keys? It was known that her husband—ever since the loss of the Psalter especially —always slept with them under his pillow. Through the Creole’s excited brain galloped all kinds of fantastic ideas. Perhaps this vile young woman had drugged Sir John: or—even poisoned him? Oh, if she had ! Mrs Hatherley very nearly put her hands together— to petition some unknown power of darkness for such a consum- mation, sostrong in her at this moment was hatred, so deadened was civilised conscience. Gertrude, meanwhile, all unconscious of the Witch’s Sabbath Dance of unnameable thoughts whirling madly within twenty paces of her, was quietly, but not slowly, turning over Sir John’s most secret papers. Clearly she was looking for something, which as clearly she could not find. Every now and again she gave a weary sigh of disappointment ; more often it was a little exclamation, apparently of surprised dismay. She seemed to be making a series of discoveries. What could they be? Mrs. Hatherley’s thin fingers clenched themselves involuntarily, and tugged at the folds of her dressing-gown in a very excess of nervous impatience. If she could but know the secret—know it also to be damning to her rival—then spring upon her, and wrest it from her, and expose her! But, no. She must wait and watch, and have patience ; when patience there was none in her soul. She must grow every moment more numbed with cold and sicken with hope de- ferred, while the library clock ticked the minutes with a maddening calm, and the chilliness of the coming dawn crept slowly through the silent house. All at once Gertrude took to tapping the inside of the bureau, and (A) COMM LNOOKS,.EO