The Argosy for May — page 86: what you’re looking at

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

~ HER IDEAL IN THE GRAY OVERCOAT, The man in the gray overcoat was leaning over the front of the piano, studying on its top a photograph in a silver frame. As I paused in the door- way, he turned and looked at me; the picture—one of my own I had ‘given to Grace—dropped clatteringly to the floor. In silence he stared at me over the ruin of broken glass and twisted metal. Full as were my eyes of contempt for the creature, there was still room in them > to see, as I looked steadily at him, that he was vastly handsomer with his hat off. His hair waved back from a splendid brow,-behind which, I thought, with a curling lip, was a brain only capable of earning a living for its body by house- breaking. : ‘““T’m afraid I’ve spoiled this picture- frame,’ he remarked, not taking his eyes from my face, but indicating the wreck on the floor by a slight motion of his head. He smiled attractively. ‘I’m sorry for my clumsiness,” he added, “ but your unexpected appearance startled me.” My appearance had startled him! There was no cringing away from my accusing gaze; neither was any attempt made to intimidate me by threatened violence. This burglar was probably of the new school, the gentleman-cracksman type. Evidently he was going to bluff it out until a means of escape from his pre- dicament offered itself, Very well, I thought, if that was his game I, too, would take a hand in it. I felt no fear of him. ‘Tt is of no consequence,” I answered coldly. ‘“‘ The picture has no value.” “IT beg your pardon,” he said quickly, his eyes still steadfastly on me. “It is a photograph of you? Then it is de- cidedly not valueless.” My face burned at his look and words ; I could not doubt their meaning, and his insolence angered me. ‘Perhaps you refer to the frame?” I replied evenly. “ The silver is possibly worth something to you.” | His eyes widened, and, in turn, he had the grace to blush. Stooping, he carefully picked up the bits of bent frame and broken glass from the floor. “You must have fallen on lean days in your business,” I remarked spitefully, as I watched his bowed back and lowered 6A 273 head, “since you need bother to gather up such a trifling amount of silver.” He rose to his feet and laid the wreck- age on top of the piano. As he dusted his hands he looked keenly at my face, while a slow smile curved his lips. “Come!” he said cheerily.. ‘ You aren’t going to cherish any ill-feeling against me because, in effigy, I ‘ threw you over’ are you? I dropped your pho- tograph quite by accident, I assure you! ” “I am more surprised at your clum- siness than anything else,’ I retorted, thinking of the neat manner in which he had forced open the studio door. “TI should have thought you far too clever for such carelessness.” He was stung by the sarcasm in my voice, for I could see the muscles of his jaw tighten as he clenched his teeth firmly at my words. He turned and walked across the room. “Since you find you cannot pardon my unintentional carelessness,’ he said, arriving at the mantelpiece, ‘I presume I had better go.” He reached up for the heavy onyx- and-gold clock over the fireplace, and brought it down,in his arms. Could I believe my eyes? Was the man going to carry off our most sacred belonging under my very nose? ‘Indeed you had better go!” I cried out, unsuccessfully struggling with a quaver of excitement in my voice, ‘ but not with our clock!” The man turned. “But this is what I came for,’ he said, shifting its weight more comfort- ably in his arms. ‘“ And since I have it, I may as well leave at once.” The vandal actually admitted that the purpose of his visit to our apartment had been to steal our clock! And it was the one possession prized above all others by Grace and myself. Often we had told each other that it was the only worth- while thing we owned. Its _ polished marble and gleaming gold, shedding its effulgence from the parlor-mantel, formed the ficce de résistance in the decoration of our home. Was I to see it stolen before my very eyes—lost to us forever? Only over my lifeless body, I mentally determined, as I threw out my arms, barring tke door- way with a hand on either casing. Gomichbook (<C (CO)