The Argosy, April 1916 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

A MYSTERY OF ROSCOE CONKLING PARK. “Tt wasn’t all walk. We rode in about all the cars. Miss Wayne was interested in the peculiar lighting system of Utica, in the light-towers, and after we had been all around we had a light supper at the Hotel Utica.” ‘“‘And what did she say about herself?” ‘“‘No more than you have already~ been told.” “She is, then, a reticent, non-communica- tive girl. Conversation with her is difficult.” “Quite the contrary. Miss Wayne is the most delightful companion I ever met. She is witty, and, in a measure, unconventional. She can talk on any subject under the sun. Loc’ into her eyes, which, by the way, are violet, and you will believe everything she says.” “But Mr. her.” 3 : ‘“‘He has not looked into her eyes.” “By Jove, I would like to see a girl who Raymond seems to suspect can make such an impression on a man in ° so short a time.” Yale stiffened. He held up a warning finger. Distinctly the two heard a clicking sound at the door. “You will probably have that pleasure now,” said the young defender of Miss Wayne’ s good name. ‘“‘Here she comes.’ Blake stood staring at the still unopened door. CHAPTER VII. AN ASTOUNDING ADMISSION. Y ALE S prediction was immediately veri- fied. The heavy oaken door swung in- ward, and a vision of the dawn appeared to Blake. Yale heard the quick intake of his breath as the Lady of the Camera en- tered. She was dressed in the dark gray tailor- made suit she had worn when first she burst upon the vision of Greenland and Yale as she alighted from the car. Her violet eyes were clear and sparkling with bounding health and the pleasure of being alive. Her gold-brown hair was becomingly ar- ranged, and atop of it perched a Small cap, primarily designed for a man with a dimin- utive head, or a boy, and held in place by two hat pins with red and yellow gems as heads that would have been worth vast sums had they been anything but cheap glass. “Wayne. 13 They pretended to. be nothing else. They would not fool a blind man. Miss Wayne’s cheeks were flushed with the early morning exercise, and she was the most beautiful creature that Blake had ever seen. He was stricken dumb. This was the girl against whom a charge of burglary, or complicity in a burglary, or conspiracy, must be made. The inevitable camera hung from her shoulder. The key of the front door twirled defiantly on her little finger. “Morning,” she said, beaming at Yale, and giving Blake a quick, inquiring look. His presence needed no immediate ex- planation. There was to be a wedding at eight o’clock, it was almost that now, and Blake might easily be one of the guests. “T got him,” proceeded Miss Wayne with an air of having triumphed in some great endeavor. ‘Got him right, too. I had to get up early because the——” “Got who?” blurted Yale, disregarding manners and grammar and everything ex- cept the fact that a detective was there to get somebody and Miss Wayne had “got him.” ‘“‘Why, Baron von Steuben, of course.” Miss Wayne spoke as one who was ac- customed to get barons and things like that, and turning calmly to the door, in- serted the key in the lock. “Mr. Blake,” came the voice of Miss Raymond from the dining-room, “the list is ready, as far as we can remember.” “Oh, is Nance in there?” said Miss “T’ll go in.” The entrance of the Queen of Spades could have caused no greater sensation. “Oh, Bev!” cried Miss Raymond in a tone of reproach. And there was reproach, depths of it, in her glance as she looked at the returned photographer. ‘“‘What’s the matter? asked Miss Wayne. guests? You are not dressed for a wed- ding! Oh! You’ve put away all your beautiful things! I’m so glad I didn’t miss them.” “We miss them sorely, Miss Wayne,” snapped Mr. Raymond. “We miss them very sorely indeed. I wish you would be more explicit in your remarks. Do you know anything about the presents?” “Do I what? What do you mean? Do I know anything about the presents? I think you are the one to be explicit, Mr. Raymond.” Are you ill?” ‘“Where are your IODOOLK nn) C@