The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 168: what you’re looking at

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

154 As Miss Kennedy drew back, im- pelled by some unpleasant inference drawn from the words, Plunkett arose and let his eyes wander about the room. The shadows had begun to fall, and Horton, 7, passed to a table and uncapped the tin of condensed light he had brought with him into the room. A sunny glow diffused itself about the place, and Plunkett rubbed his double chin thoughtfully. “ H-m,” he mused, “can you beat it? Chased by guards with electric guns, picked up by something out of a comic supplement, carried off in an air«ship, brought down through the roof-door of a house, and now some one illuminates by opening a tin can! Ouch! This is getting so deuced seri- ous that it hurts. Wonder if I’m going dippy? Wish I could get an expert medical opinion.” ! Lumley, prompted by a generous in- stinct to reassure a distressed mind, came forward. “Mr. Plunkett,” he asked, “ don’t you remember me? Don’t you—’ A wild bellow came from Plunkett. “Know you?” he cried thickly. “Don’t you think for a minute, by James, that Pll ever let you slip out of my mind. You're here, and you're alone; I guess that’s enough for me.” With that he bore down upon Lum- ley, his face black with anger and his fat fists clenched. Miss Kennedy screamed and wrung her hands. Hor- ton threw a chair in front of Plunkett, over which he tripped and went crash- ing to the floor. Kennedy seized Lum- ley by the arm. ‘Come with me, Lumley,” he whis- pered excitedly. “The man will kill you if I don’t get you out of the way.” Lumley regretted the circumstances while yielding to the force of them. Giving himself into Kennedy’s hands, he was conducted into a dark passage, and finally into a sleeping apartment. Here Kennedy pressed a button which opened electrically a can of light fixed in a wall-socket; and then he closed and secured the door. THE ARGOSY. Greatly perturbed, he walked up and down the room, while Lumley dropped upon the bed and reclined there to await further developments. “There is no peace, no happiness for any of us since those dictators have been promulgating their decrees,” said Kennedy finally, coming wearily to a halt and facing his guest. “ Nothing goes as it should; even the ordinary course of events continually develops one thing after another to keep a New Yorker of the period in a nervous con- dition. Everything is being changed, and changed for the worse.” Lumley had a soft heart, .and, felt keenly for his friend. There was little that he could say, however, and so he held his peace. “When you were here before, Lum- ley,” pursued Kennedy, “ muglugs did all the work for us. We had house muglugs, factory muglugs, air - ship muglugs, and so on, so that it was nec- essary for us simply to speak and our orders were obeyed by tireless autom- atons of steel. Now these drudges have been taken away from us, and we are obliged to work with our own hands. “TI, even I,” and his voice filled with bitterness, “ have my back yard filled with pig -iron, and am compelled to manufacture rain-plugs for the weather department. This manual labor 1s sapping the life out of me. Unless-there is a change very soon I shall pine away under my misfortunes. This latest edict from the food depart- ment caps aclimax. I cannot offer you supper, Lumley, for there is not a par- ticle of vaporized food in the house; and I would not give you any if there were. To-morrow morning I shall try and have a breakfast according to the anchient culinary standards, but I can- not promise you anything even pass- able. My chef, Brown, 206, has one of these cook-books the dictators have forced on us, and the mere reading of half a dozen recipes sent him into a swoon. So I have my doubts about that morning meal. CoOMmicbook CO