The Argosy for May — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

270 “it’s dollars to doughnuts that it was him who sicked the National Guards onto that De Groo count last night. Must have spies at the hotel. When them spies tell him Miss lise got away from the convent, he'll start another game to get her locked up, if he ain’t done it already. ‘There, son! Don’t look so sick. Pull yourself together and face it like a man.” I had quickened my pace almost to a run in my haste to reach the hotel. But the backwoodsman’s long, easy stride readily kept up with me. ‘He'll most likely ask questions at the convent, too,” eontinued Shadrach. “Then [Ud like to see his face when the abbess tells him it was Jack Braith that let Miss Elise out. That'll give him the tip you’re in Paris, if he ain’t al- ready got it from somewhere else. You got scana’lous little time to waste, Jack.” ‘What do you advise, then?” “Git your traps together, an’ light out o’ Paris before night.” ‘“And leave Elise here to—” “‘You.can’t help her any by stayin’. Make her come away, too. If she won't, then kidnap her, if you like. I'll help you. Carry her and the old man acrost THE ARGOSY. the frontier. J’ll think up some way to “arrange it.” I made no reply. We had turned into the Rue St. Honoré, and I broke into arun. Into the hotel I dashed, and up-stairs to De Périer’s suite. The door swung wide. man was moving. ceremony. observances. I came upon Gelat, the proprietor, taking inventory of some personai effects that lay scattered about. ‘Where is—” I began. He cut me short with a grunt of anger. “Gone!” he snapped. ‘“ He and the citizeness, his daughter. An hour ago. A pretty name this sort of thing will give my poor hotel with the government! To think that—” “Gone?” I repeated. left Paris?” “They will leave Paris by way of heaven,’ he grinned. “ They were ar- rested—both of them—by a squad of National Guardsmen. For the crime of ‘harboring and aiding a_ proscribed aristocrat.’ The guillotine deals quickly with such cases,” Within, a It was no time for etiquette ‘They have (To be continued.) Her Ideal in the Gray Overcoat. By R. K. THOMPSON. The man she saw in the street-car, regretted she should never see again, only to have him turn up in the guise of a thoroughly unwelcome visitor. “rT HERE,” I decided, stealing a sec- ond glance across the street-car, sits my ideal man!” The Adonis in the light-gray over- coat looked in my direction, and I hastily lifted my eyes to the advertisement of a breakfast-food farther down the car. Riding up-town to the studio-apart- ment I shared with Grace Marshall, an old school-chum, my idle gaze out of the opposite window had suddenly been ob- scured by the broad shoulders and hand- some head of the man who dropped into the vacant seat across the aisle. ‘Unconcernedly, I swept another glance at him. From the crown of his becom- oe ing derby to the tips of his shapely shoes —taking in his clean-cut face, athletic build and well-formed, perfectly-gloved hands—he was the ‘capitalized Real Thing in twentieth-century Prince Charmings. Aware of my eyes upon him, he glanced at me again—to discover my gaze riveted on a section of atmosphere eight inches above his head. When I felt him look away I took another peep at him out of the corner of my eye. Why was it, I wondered a bit petulant- ly, that conventionality made it so hard to meet people you didn’t know, but liked on sight? Here was an utter stranger, a man 0)(0)(6) AMUG S I entered without’ (C@