Argosy, Vol. 85, No. 3 — page 44: what you’re looking at

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

386 have her come up there with her par- ents. Her father’s a pretty old man, and they haven’t a man servant on the place under sixty or so. It may be silly, but I can’t help it.” “Then telephone her and don’t wait here till she arrives!’ Hemmett snapped. ‘“‘T understand, but time’s too precious now to waste one minute.” He scowled as the telephone-bell rang. He would have liked to snatch Girton from the room and out on the chase; and he snapped his fingers impatiently as the retired secretary of war picked up the instrument and called: “Mr. Hemmett’s home. ‘Girton speak- ing. Well?” Then, while Barton gnawed his finger- nails and Hemmett gave over his finger- snapping and tried to soothe his little son, to still the frightened weeping that had come with these last few minutes, and to answer evasively the questions about ‘‘ mother,”’ and where she had gone, Mr. Girton listened—impatiently for the first five seconds, mouth opening through the next, cheeks whitening steadily through another five! And _ having listened so _ long, whirled upon Barton and Hemmett. “Mercedes!” he shouted. ‘‘ Ned— Mercedes!” ‘“ What is it, Steve?” ‘““They’ve got her, too! Mercedes!” he They’ve taken CHAPTER XII. JONES SPEAKS. N Hemmett the gift for swift thinking was temporarily numbed. “‘ Mercedes?” he repeated almost stu- pidly. ‘‘ You don’t mean—”’ Girton, pale and panting, was chatter- ing at the telephone again. ‘Go on! Go on!” he said. ‘‘ Yes, I’m listening. What? See here, Tesoro! Don’t waste one second in weeping. Yes, she’s your daughter, but if you knew what she means to me! Yes, pardon me! THE ARGOSY. I understand. Go on, please. Mrs. Bar- ton has been taken the same way, and Carmen, too!” He ground his teeth as the diaphragm clattered frantically for a little; and then it stilled and his white face grew more tense. Girton modded thrice, listened again, and finally rang off with a groan. “It’s the same thing!” he reported wildly. ‘It must have been all worked out in the finest detail beforehand. Mer- cedes and her parents were coming up here for dinner, you know.” “Td forgotten it!” Hemmett con- fessed. ‘“‘ So had I, for that matter. It seems, according to her father, that she was all dressed and ready even to that fuzzy white opera-cloak of hers. Her mother wasn’t quite ready, and Mercedes went into the garden and was walking around, when—” His forced calm broke for a moment. ‘What else? What else?” Hemmett cried impatiently. ‘‘ She—she was down near the foot of the place, Ned, and her father happened to be looking that way from his window. He says that there wasn’t one second’s warning of what was coming—that he saw no sign of an automobile coming into the back street or anything of the kind. That big latticed gate at the bottom of the garden opened, and two men shot in, threw something over the poor little kid, and carried her out bodily to the white automobile that was waiting. ‘“‘ He says that before he could even get breath enough to shout the thing was gone—and when he went down there, as fast as he could go, the little policeman who was just coming up the street vowed that no white car had passed. D’ye hear, Ned? Even the uniformed police—” ‘““T hear,” Hemmett answered grimly and with a calm that had come suddenly to him. Barton was on his feet. ‘“And now let us start, gentlemen!” he cried. ‘‘In the name of Heaven. let us start and—” MICLOOOK C©