Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 4 — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

WHISPERING ROCK. Rock took up its moaning; that the pines began their shrrrshing which is the weav- ing of the shrouds; that the waters bound- ed higher and lashed themselves to greater . frenzy in a clamor for vengeance! CHAPTER III. THE BIRTH OF HATE. 4 3 HE lights had been lighted more than afl hour when Dorothy reached the Serviss home with news of the tragedy that was to bring such a blight. Jacqueline’s father was sitting before an open fire, the book in his hand neglected for thoughts of his girl—the girl whe would be home from school to-morrow to complete the family circle in the Thanksgiving. He — smiled into the flames—he could see her there, his girl—their girl. They had been talking of her until a few minutes ago, when her mother, slight and frail and gentle, had gone to rest a while. They had talked of how the house would be filled again with the spirit of Jacqueline, with her laughter and her quick step, her joyousness, and the permeating, gladsome essence of her presence. Jacqueline was so remindful of what his wife had been it. her youth—embodying all that was sprightly and happy. His wife was happy still, yes, but. for many years she had been virtually an invalid—since the coming of the boy who was the only other child. He looked over at Rex, busy with his school work. They loved Rex just as much, but Jacqueline was the first—she had brought into their lives the first gleam of their greater happiness. Jacqueline— He recalled the day only a couple of months ago—months that had gone by as years because she was missing from the house—when they had left her at boarding-school. That had been the first parting, and it would have been unbear- able had it not been for Jacqueline’s good. He remembered the wistfulness with which she had watched them go—how he had turned hurriedly away so he would not see the quiver in her lip. Her mother had cried, frankly and openly, while he—he 517 had blinked hard, and hastened, lest the teachers in whose care they were leaving their treasure v vuld see his gathering tears. And to-morrow—to-morrow Jacqueline was to come home! cc Rex—” “Yes, dad?” They turned, the boy from his lessons, the father from the scenes he had conjured among the spurting flames on the hearth ‘That trout waiting for Jack?” The boy laughed. ‘‘ Was down to see him to-day, dad. He’s there, all right. And I wrote Jack—” ‘We'll have a picnic, son—” Serviss went back to his musing. It would take ten years off his life to see Jack scampering around. _ Half closing his eyes, he saw her search- ing into the deeps of the pool for the trout that Rex, himself hungering to take that prize, had nursed along for her, warning others that this fish: ‘belonged to Jack, and on two known occasions fighting a who went after it. To-morrow—_ The barking of the dog kenneled in front of the house broke in on his thoughts. That bespoke an intruder. The barking ceased, to be followed by a thumping on the door. With that he heard the padding of the dog’s feet on the porch, and knew that this was no stranger who so frenziedty demanded admittance. “Tl go, Rex.” He stopped the boy, who was moving to open the door. A damper seemed to fall upon him as he went through the hall. A noisy summons in this quiet countryside was unusual enough, but this sustained slap-slap-slap- ping on the panels ominously foretold some one in extremity. His hand was on the knob when besides the pounding he made out a ‘quivering, long- drawn sob. As he opened the door Dor- othy fell into his arms. With vacant, staring eyes she looked up ° at him. Her features worked into a vacu- ous grin, and-her chin hung loose as she attempted to speak. Serviss shook her, more savagely than he Was aware, to rouse her. He observed the bruised cut on her temple where the slayer of Jacqueline had‘ struck her down. JOO (C(O) SS (C(C)