Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 2 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

152 -“T came to have that talk with Miss Spalding,” announced the prosecutor con- fidently. Brent shook his head: “‘ She’s too tired.” ‘“‘ Come, doctor, I must talk to her,” the prosecutor insisted. ‘‘ You can be sure no idle whim brought me here at this hour.” The acting county physician could only offer to show him up-stairs. ‘““J’ll wait here,” said Collins. “Cigars in the living-room,” said Brent. “* Help yourself.” Mammy answered the doctor’s whispered summons. For all her bulkiness she opened the door softly and stepped out into the hall without noise. Without saying any- thing, the old colored woman advanced on Brent and Pendleton, compelling them to retreat to the head of the stairs. “Now, yo’-all shoo yo’self down to the groun’ flo’,” she ordered them. ‘“ They ain’t no one mo’ goin’ to speak wif that chile to-night.” “But this is the prosecutor,” protested Brent. | _ “Ah doan kyah if he am George Wash- in’ton hisself,”’ declared mammy. ‘“ He ain’t goin’ to talk wif Miss Peggy—”’ The door of the front room opened, and Peggy Archer stood there. “Mr. Pendleton has some ACEO to ask you,” said Brent, in spite of mammy’s menacing glance. ‘Where is he?’ asked the girl. “Here, Miss Spalding.” This from Pen- dleton. | ‘“ Mr. Pendleton,” she said, “ I’m afraid I’ve given you a great deal of useless trouble. I don’t think any investigation will be necessary. I agree with Dr. Brent as to the cause of my mother’s death, and as for the money missing I imagine that it is merely because my mother changed the pe in which she kept it—please ore me.’ ‘“But—” began the prosecutor, when mammy hissed: ‘‘ Yo’-all git right on down- stairs.” Peggy Archer had closed the door, and Pendleton, after considering a moment, took mammy’s advice. As he was leaving he said: “It’s quite plain that she won’t talk willingly, and THE ARGOSY. that’s enough to indicate to me that there is more in this business than appears on the surface. But mark my words—we’re going to get to the bottom of it. The law can make her talk.” CHAPTER MV. THE SCAREHEAD. WENTY-FOUR hours later Pendleton’s investigation had established these facts: Mrs. Spalding was last seen at four thirty Thursday afternoon. She was in her gar- den. : There was a light in the kitchen of the cottage as late as eight thirty that night. Between seven thirty and eight o’clock, the police blotter would show the exact time, the man who lived in the corner house—sturgis by name—had seen two strangers loitering in the neighborhood. To quote Mr. Sturgis: ‘“ Just after I went to the window one man turned the corner into Maple Street. I saw him pass under the light. Then I telephoned. When I got back to the window I saw the other mov- ing off along Crescent Avenue.” “That isn’t whaé you said Sunday morn- ing,” objected Mrs. West, the wife of the ner By that time she had been called to order. Sturgis repeated with cients ‘When I got back to the window I saw him walk off down Crescent Avenue.” Some time during Thursday night—time not known—Marvin Johnson, who lived next door, had heard a dog barking. John J. McCabe, who lived at No. 77 Maple Street, also had been wakened by the bark- ing of a dog. Mrs. Marvin Johnson at nine thirty o’clock Sunday morning had tried the doors and found them locked. Policeman Collins, on special duty, had investigated, and found the premises locked as reported. He had broken in and dis- covered Mrs. Spalding lying on the floor, dead. -A starving dog was watching the body, and Collins had to kill the animal COMICLOO© na veliae salesman, “I remember distinct- SS C@