The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 74: what you’re looking at

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

60 ly, Ordway looked at me, and I looked at Ordway. Then we both looked at Donaldson. He was devouring Alma Sanderman with his hungry eyes, as a tiger might gaze at a gazelle he wanted for dinner. Ordway looked as though he was going to be ill. I felt it. Alma Sanderman was the same kind fora woman the islander was for a man. When Delatouche, with that masterful politeness of his, presented him as Crusoe Donaldson, the sole in- habitant of the island of Orsgov, Miss Sanderman looked straight into those hungry eyes, and a slight flush burned up on her cheeks, immediately leaving them like chalk. “Then, sir,” she said, “we must look to you for information concerning my brother. We saw his air-ship, the Alma, which was named after me, and so feel assured he has reached your island alive. Is it not so?” For the first time since we had spotted him clawing the jaws of a bear apart, Crusoe Donaldson’s face showed that it was made of ordinary muscles and not iron. He smiled. Have you ever—you have, of course —seen the bright, glad sun burst through a cloud which had promised a storm? You have felt the immediate change—the effect of the sudden light, the warmth, the beauty. That was Donaldson’s smile. He had seen a woman and knew how a woman looked. “He arrived alive, man,” he said quietly. “And—is he quite safe? well?” ~ “He was—when I—when we saw him last.”’ “Ts he not here now, then?” she asked in quick alarm. “The men from the war-ship « are searching for him.” 66 Oh! 99 She looked at Delatouche and then at Ravary. She evidently knew. the latter’s official position, for an expres- sion of terror came over her face. Miss Sander- Is he THE ARGOSY. 3) “I did not realize,” she murmured. “Of course you are from the police to arrest my brother.” “It is my duty, mademoiselle.” The mother clasped her hands to her bosom and seemed about to faint. But there were more to come from the launch. At least one, and his face seemed to indicate a peevishness that he had been neglected so long. “Ah, you—it is strange—”’ began Ravary, and then he stared at a stout, florid man who took his place at the side of Miss Sanderman. “Well, the boy was my employee, and an American. I accompanied his nother and sister to help find him. He is mistaken about the air-ship. That is all.” “Mr. Joloff,” said Miss Sanderman by way of introduction. There still sat in the launch a tall, spare man, with a long, light brown mustache. He seemed utterly bored by the entire proceeding, and slowly lighted a cigarette. “ Ain’t you comin’ mondy?” asked Joloff. “Oh, get Sanderman and let us re- turn to the yacht. This is beastly cold, you know.” So here were the mother and sister of the airman in company with the American and English corners of the triangle that had robbed him. It was, altogether, the queerest mess I had ever been mixed up in. No possible con- jecture as to how the matter would eventually be adjusted could be got at. “They all wanted to come, so we made a happy family of it,” said Gor- don Morley. “ Better come ashore, Lord Dulmondy. There seems to be a question as to where young Sanderman really is.” “He is hiding somewhere in the forest,” explained Inspector Ravary, showing his unqualified disapproval of so much talk, and so many cooks to help spoil his broth. “ We'll know when Captain Delatouche gets through his social business and remembers that I am a policeman.” ashore, Dul- CoOMmicbook CO