The Argosy — page 362: what you’re looking at

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

The White Witch. 333 “‘ What are you doing ?” said she at last, huskily. *‘T am writing a note before I go to bed.” ** May—may I see it?” “No, Iam sorry, but it is on a private matter.” “‘ Godfrey—I am sorry—for what I said to you to-day. I wish—” “No, no, aunt, you were perfectly right. I was very rude to rush away. I will apologise properly to-morrow morning, but I am tired now. Good-night.” “T am nervous to-night, Godfrey. You don’t look well. Let me stay and sleep on that arm-chair there—as I did when you were ill.” “You would not get proper rest like that, aunt. If you are nervous you had better have Dunning to sleep in yourroom. I am not an invalid now.” He was holding the door, patiently waiting for her to leave him. She sprang across the room to the table and tried to seize the letter. He was too quick for her; in a moment he had snatched it up and crumpled it into his pocket, as coldly, as gravely as ever. ‘“‘ Godfrey, Godfrey, tell me what has happened to you to-night?” “Yes, you shall hear all about it to-morrow. I really am so done- up now that I can’t tell you anything, except that I am tired out.” “You are not—not—going to hurt yourself in any way?” she continued suspiciously. ‘Certainly not. Why should I?” ‘Why did you lock your door?” “*T will not lock it if it makes you nervous.” ‘‘ You promise, Godfrey?” “Yes, You can take the key of the door ’”’—handing it to her. She kissed him gratefully as she received it, and left him, feeling half satisfied. When she was gone, Godfrey tore up the crumpled, half- finished letter, wrote another, which he left on the table; undressed, blew out the candles, turned out the gas and got into bed. Then, hav- ing settled his head on his pillow as if for sleep, he unfastened in the darkness a tiny paper packet which he had taken from his waistcoat pocket. Having unfolded it, he carefully shifted the powder it con- tained so that it should lie in a neat ridge in the crease he had made down the centre of the paper, and was carrying it to his mouth, when a hand was suddenly laid with a sharp grip on his chest. He seized and held the clutching, skinny fingers with his left hand, while with his right he brought the powder to his lips. But even as it touched them, the second hand of the silent, unseen figure beside him dashed the paper away with a fierce sprawling blow. A moment later he felt a tear fall on his face, and the bony hands joined round his neck, “God forgive you!” said Dunning’s voice, huskily. She had stolen into the room and hidden herself behind the bed-curtains. “You have done me a worse turn than you think, you stupid old thing.” . - | Gomichboo