The Argosy, April 1916 — page 163: what you’re looking at

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

S17 34: The detective turned inquiringly to the physician, who nodded, saying that the girl was in condition to leave. “T feared a fracture at the base of the skull,” he added, ‘“‘but she showed none of the pathological symptoms of such injury.” A nurse gave the girl a cup of hot milk and a clerk telephoned to the Nealis home, bringing back word that Arnold Nealis would leave for her in an automobile at once. While waiting Helen sat talking with the detective, who, by the way, knew of the ac- tivities of the secret service men about New- port and was gathering information from Miss Granger with the idea of turning it over to Griscom, the latter being at all times in touch with the local police. As the detective completed his inquiries there was a commotion in the office and the sound of a smooth, unctuous voice which Helen recognized at once. She flushed and then her eyes grew stern. The next instant Count Apponnetti rushed into the reception-room. “Helen, my dear girl, what are you doing here?” he cried. “What are you doing here?” she coun- tered. ‘I understood you were going on to Washington.” “TI was obliged to come to Newport, and I came to the hospital to visit a friend who is ill, when I heard your name mentioned as having been injured. I am so pleased to knew that it is not serious. Now come, I'll take you away from here at once.” The girl shivered and her tone was one of scorn and anger combined. “T don’t know how long you imagine it takes a fool to wake up,” she cried. She then noticed that the physician and - attendants were regarding the two curiously, so she bit her tongue and ceased talking. Apponnetti laughed easily. “Of course, of course,” he murmured. “That is a matter to be perfectly under- stood by both of us. Come, I'll order a cab.” “Not for me,” the girl rejoined. “I am waiting for Mr. Nealis, who is coming in his car. He will take me to his home and his sister. The advice I give to you is to em- ploy your cab in leaving Newport at once.” “So!” Apponnetti gazed at her, still smil- ing. ‘So you will go to Mr. Nealis’s home. It is very well. You will do better there. I have the honor, my girl, to bid you adieu.” He faced about with his mincing military *-a colored traffic cop here. 153 manner and strode hastily out of the door without once glancing behind him. “A rather interesting man,” the house physician remarked, gazing curiously at Helen, wondering whether to order the fel- low detained. ‘‘Do you wish him not to leave the hospital?” He moved toward a push bell. “Oh, no!” Helen raised her hand. “By no means; let him go. It is better. He is a relative of my mother’s, by marriage, but I have no regard for him.” “Do you connect him in any way with— with your accident?” inquired the doctor. “In that event perhaps it would be wise for us to make some move.” But the girl shook her head, saying that he had had nothing whatever to do with her- being injured, and adding that she had given the complete details of that incident to the detective. “My dislike,” she said, “‘is personal.” Five minutes later Nealis arrived, his round face wreathed with excitement. ‘Thank Heaven yow’re all right, Miss Helen,” he exclaimed. ‘‘When we got word we didn’t know what had happened. Were you struck by a car?” “T’ll explain it all as we go home,” the girl returned. “If you don’t mind, I think I shall have to lean a bit heavily upon your arm.”’ “Lean as heavily as you wish,” boomed Nealis. “It can’t come too strong for me. That’s right. Now we’ll be in the machine in a jiffy and Dorothy will be waiting to make you comfortable.”’ Helen, however, found that she was stronger than she thought and was able to make her way out of the hospital to the automobile without putting too great tax upon her escort. He placed her on the seat, jumped in beside her, adjusted the self- starter and. they were off. Turning into State Street Nealis guided the car at a fair rate of speed along the car tracks until, as he came to the bad cross- ing at Pelham Street he slowed down. “This,” he explained, ‘‘is the street used by most of the traffic coming down to Thames Street from Bellevue Avenue, and you have to be careful. Usually they have I don’t know where he can be now. He is usually on the job. You ought to see him, he’s the most—”’ What more he would have said was inter- rupted by two men, who ran out from be- CoOmuiclboooks C@