The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 169: what you’re looking at

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

CASTAWAYS OF “Now, friend Lumley, there are a great many things I must talk with you about—and not the least of these press- ing topics is this man Jefferson Plun- kett and his hostile attitude toward you—but I am in no condition this evening to discuss matters of impor- tance. To-morrow, if you please, we will consider your case in all its bear- ings. Meantime, let me urge you to get a good night’s rest. You are obliged to go supperless to bed, but the dictators are responsible for that.” He moved toward the door. | “Horton and I will take care of Plunkett,” he went on, “‘ but it will be just as well for you to lock the door after me.” | “T’m obliged to you, Mr. Kennedy,” said Lumley, “for your kindness to me. Before I try to rest, though, I’d like to pick up a few transmits about my scattered friends. I’m badly wor- ried, and—”’ “The information regarding your friends is incomplete and unsatisfac- tory,’ interrupted Kennedy. ably it will be to-morrow morning be- fore we can secure anything definite. Have courage and patience, Lumley. Those on our side won’t dare do any- thing desperate, and of course your friends have nothing to fear from the dictators. Good night, my friend.” Kennedy passed from the room, and Lumley locked the door behind him and went to bed. On his previous visit to those luxurt- ous times every household had mug- lugs for menials. Each guest had a dapper little muglug valet to serve him, and throughout the establishment there were steel servants to fetch and carry. Lumley was having the — striking changes in the year 2000 brought home to him in a most telling manner, -and his mind dwelt upon the subject for an hour or two before he went to sleep. At last he dropped over the edge of consciousness and began swimming through a sea of dreams. Now he was confronting electric guns that belched their thunderbolts in his face, and now THE YEAR “* Prob- . 2000. 155 he was frantically pursuing the time- ball and the chain of a hundred links through frightful centuries. Again, he was tormented by the amazonian attentions of Miss Tibijul, otherwise Hortense Kennedy, or was strapped in the iron chair of the think- ograph, or was battling to the death with Jefferson Plunkett. The fight with Plunkett came along at the end of his dreaming. He had struck at the fat hardware salesman and missed; with a taunting laugh, the salesman had let drive at him with conspicuous success. The blow landed with a crash, and Lumley’s ears were still ringing as he opened his eyes. He discovered that he was sitting up in bed with fists doubled. It was broad daylight, and he drew a long breath of relief as he realized that he had been the victim of a nightmare. Then, the next moment, he realized, too, that some one was pounding on his door. “Lumley! Wake up, Lumley! ” It was the voice of Kennedy, and was fairly crackling with excitement. “‘What’s wanted?” inquired Lum- ley. “Let me in—hurry! You're in dan- ger, Lumley!” Lumley rolled out of bed and made haste to open the door. Kennedy, very much out of breath, staggered across the threshold. His face was ominous, and Lumley’s heart sank. “What has gone wrong, Kennedy? ” he gasped. ‘Jefferson Plunkett has been using the transmit,” panted Kennedy. “ Hor- ton showed him how to use the thought- waves, and Plunkett sent out word, broadcast over the city, that you were being harbored in my house. The man must be crazy! Get into your clothes, Lumley, as quickly as possible.” This last admonition was useless, for Lumley was already pawing wildly at his garments. Kennedy helped him. “What am I to do?” faltered Lum- ley. “ T haven’t been able to think of any- thing, as yet,” was the response. “I’m cComicbooks CO