The Argosy, Vol. 90 No. 1 — page 132: what you’re looking at

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

126 THE street, in the basement of the St. Opposite. Should he telephone the police, or go there first? He debated this a minute, and finally concluded to go to the tailor first, for if he telephoned the police they would come on the run, and he must be on hand when they arrived. He felt there was no hurry to get back, for there was no possible way for Prince to escape. Had he not himself found it most difficult to get out of the Harlingood house? He entered the tailor-shop. It was empty, but an open door led into a sub- cellar. He penetrated there. The tailor was arranging some stock. Responding to Jack’s imperative summons he came out, seated himself at his bench and began work on the torn coat; while Jack planted him- self by the window where he could com- mand a good view of the house across the street. He could plainly see the library windows behirid which Una and Prince were talking, and so felt doubly secure. About the time Welling planted himself in the lowly tailor-shop window with a clear command of the one behind which the man who called himself Prince had been receiv- ing the advances of his volunteer “ pal,” that worthy was led to the rear door and offered an easy way of escape. However, to Una’s astonishment, instead of making a dive for the seldom-used stairs as she had expected, this odd specimen of criminality the more stockily stood his ground. ‘You want me to run away?” he asked incredulously. “Certainly. If you stay here they will put you in jail. Didn’t you hear Mr. Well- ing speak of the Tombs?” Instead of frightening her new pal this seemed to challenge him. “Of Will they?” he exclaimed bel- ligerently. She placed her hand over her bosom where reposed the match-box containing the diamond ring. “You haven’t anything but this, have you?” she asked sweetly, as though to re- assure herself that she was not compound- ing a felony, or whatever it was they called being a party to a theft. “No,” he chuckled, “I guess that’s all ARGOSY. I took. Leastways, I believe it is,” and added thoughtfully, “there’s no telling, though, for sure, seeing the way I came by that.” He started to tell her the absurd way in which he had come into possession of the match-box, through starting to light a cigar and being interrupted by her entrance to the living-room. But she was in no mood for reminiscence. Instead of listening she tried to push him down the stairs, insisting that he must hurry or some one would come and dis- cover him. He lingered, looking at her fondly. “I prefer this,” he said. “I’d rather have your interest in me in this way than— She did not let him finish, but pleaded desperately: ‘You must go. I don’t exact any prom- ises from you. I don’t believe in promises. I am going to rely on your honor never to steal anything again.” He ignored this magnanimity, but sud- denly reached over close to her and asked: “If I do go how about you? Won't they take it out on you? Won’t they hold you responsible?” He was too uncomfortably near and she stepped back a pace, protesting that she would tell them he had overpowered her. His eyes twinkled. ‘And how did you get the diamond?” he asked, raising his two manacled hands to point to its soft resting place. “T seized that from you. And as that is all you have actually stolen, my conscience will be safe.” Fle was speechless for a moment at this triumph of feminine reasoning. Then he shook his head gravely, saying: “I am afraid I could not accept a sacri- fice like that.” ‘It’s no sacrifice. protested. He was quite serious. ‘Maybe you don’t know the law. see, Ido. I’ve had occasion to.” This was a point where she felt she could safely “ sympathize ” and “ understand.” “I know what you mean,” she said covertly, as though agreeing to a subterfuge I want to do it,” she You oO Comicbooe S CO