The Argosy, April 1916 — page 145: what you’re looking at

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

FOOLS OF ‘“‘For Heaven’s sake, Addie,”’ she sobbed, “ask him who is dead. Ask him—I can’t.” Scott, who had placed himself beside Susan’s chair, with his muzzle laid lightly against her, emitted a long, doleful howl. Rebecca and her mother groaned anew and beat their breasts, for a howl like that from a dog was to them a surer token of death than even the statement of Jolly George. Before Miss Addison could frame her question so that the shaken wits of the boy should furnish a complete, intelligible an- swer, Susan sprang from her chair. “T must not be afraid—I must not!” she cried. ‘Keep Scott with you, Addie,” and she ran toward the door. Miss Addison now made no effort to re- strain her, for she herself was tortured with the enigmatic phrase of Jolly George that “the two of them” were dead. The door was flung open from the outer side as Susan was about to put her hand to the knob. Oscar Molle entered hastily. He glanced coldly at Susan, who took no notice at all of him, but passed on. She did hear him exclaim nervously some- thing about ‘trouble’ and “gathering the Servants,” but shut the door behind her as she walked, having little heed for whatever message he might be bearing. Even though the shadow of death was in her house Susan could not see Oscar except with loathing. Nor was there aught of hate in her feeling. She looked upon him now as if she had seen him for the first time only recently and he were loathsome in her sight from the beginning. Stephen Weir again hailed her in the en- trance-hall. “T could not leave by that door,” he told her in a lower voice, “because there’s a negro on guard there with a rifle.” ) “Doesn’t he know you?” | “T hardly think so. Few of the Settlement men outside of Ransom, Jake and Pete - have ever laid eyes on me. However, he didn’t seem to be thinking about anything except his orders that no one was to pass him.” ‘“‘Whose orders?” asked Susan. Since she and Miss Addison had been re- stricted to their wing of the house Susan was not in the way of learning the various commands her father might issue from day to day. Also, Oscar had mentioned “trou- ble” and “gathering the servants,” she re- called. Then suddenly and overwhelmingly there SACRIFICE. beat in upon her brain again the fear that her father might be dead. ‘Tm sorry, Mr. Weir, but I can do noth- ing—nothing. I must go.” She ran from him into the great hall. He was at her heels, saying: “It’s not myseli—it’s for you I’m afraid. They won’t touch me, I think—or—”’ At the other end of the hall Michael Sands was carefully climbing the winding staircase with the inert figure of Captain Neville slung across his mighty shoulders. Susan broke into a leaping run to over- take him, but her knees doubled under her. She went ahead tottering a few steps far- ther, then fell sprawling with outstretched hands over the reading-table. Stephen Weir, whose hands were raising her gently, heard the hoarse, faint groan of her voice. “My father! father!” He steadied her on her feet. Susan made a brave effort to walk, yet would have fallen if it had not been for Weir’s sus- taining arm. ‘Why, this is silly!” she muttered, laughing hysterically. ‘Come to the door a moment,” he pro- posed, leading her toward the veranda that fronted on the bay. ‘The fresh air will do They have killed my _you good.” “But my father! My father!” she moaned, glancing over her shoulder to the stairway. There was frenzy still in those eyes, he knew, and with it stealthiness and sus- picion. She continued to moan: “They have killed my father—killed my father—killed my father!” Weir was not even hearing now what she said. He was urging her before him out upon the veranda, when the noise of hur- ried, heavy footsteps struck his ears. The next instant a gun-barrel barred the door- way and was thrust inward, driving Miss Neville and Weir back into the room. A hideous,’ grinning black face flashed on his vision. A coarse voice bawled: ‘Get in there! Nobody comes out o’ this house no door or window this night.” There followed an outburst of sickening profanity and the door was jammed shut from the outside. Weir swung about with Miss Neville and pondered a second. ‘“That’s about the same greeting I got when I tried the other door,” he said. cComiclool 135 C©