The Argosy — page 284: what you’re looking at

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

The Missing Rubies. 265 It was still early in the evening ; Vordenberg, sitting in his usual place by the window, had taken up his guitar and struck a chord now and then. The sky was beautiful with the intense calm of June; a few thin white clouds sailed aloft ; the air was sweet and still. He leaned back in his chair and began softly singing an old song. The first verse was scarcely ended, when the door opened, and Michael Stavieski—more gaunt and haggard than ever—came slowly into the room. His entrance was so quiet, and his manner so gentle, that Vordenberg looked up at him in surprise. What new spirit had taken possession of the man, and made him so subdued in voice and bearing? Michael’s first words answered the question. ‘ Ah, Casimir, that is one of our Polish songs! Paul used to sing it to Nathalie,” he said, with glistening eyes. ‘‘ His voice was some- thing like yours; but not, I think, so rich and sweet. Go on, my friend ; let me hear it to the very end.” Glad to humour him, and give pleasure to the poor worn heart, Vordenberg went on singing. And Michael, sitting near him quietly, drank in every note with silent rapture. When the song was done, he rose with a deep sigh. 3 “Does Paul ever sing now, I wonder?” he said, dreamily. ‘‘ Ah, no ; if he is still living, he has no voice left and no heart for music. Torn from home and hope and love in the very flower of his youth— chained and driven along the weary road where so many fall by the way.—Poor Paul!” © A PAB RAG KX V: THE STOLEN NOTE. STAVIESKI did not sit down again. He stood for an instant looking into space, then held out his hand, saying quietly : “ Adieu, my friend.” Vordenberg, still in surprise, pressed the strong bony hand, and let him go his way. He was used to Michael’s varying moods; but this strange quietness, produced, perhaps, by the music, was not usual ; and he remembered it long afterwards. Even then, when the door was shut, and the sound of retreating steps was slowly dying away, he felt a sudden impulse to rise and recall his old companion. But he did not doit. He sat, with the guitar resting on his knee, looking up at the evening sky and letting his thoughts stray back again to Beatrice. | With the notes of that old song still echoing through his brain, Stavieski descended the stairs. The drawing-room door stood open ; and as he approached that room he paused, forgetful for the moment of his promise to Vordenberg. The house was very quiet at that hour. There was neither steps nor voices to be heard, and the first golden lights of sunset were shining GOMG OOO () <S (SO)