Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 13, 1920 — page 118: what you’re looking at

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

396 I wondered whether, as the physical appeal of Gloria was dead, his madness was dying. I knew that he had been ashamed of it, and that usually argues a_ short-lived growth. , No man who has to apologize to his own soul after every kiss, goes on kissing for-_ Ever. IT am quite sure that Gustave’s stay in -—that bleak, little cell did not harm him. Perhaps he saw some things that had hap- pened, as they were. Certainly he was most healthily humble, and the very fact _ that he did not speak to Jane at all, and avoided her eyes, made me certain that his heart was calling to her continually, and that he saw no one else. 3 ‘““T wonder how it will end?” I asked, as we trudged home that day. The dust was heavy, and the growth at the roadside was powdered thickly with it. ‘ Gustave,” I said, ‘‘ mustn’t be convicted. He didn’t— I know he didn’t!” Dick Codman grunted a_ reflective * Um—” and I felt the irritation which arises from being tied and unable to help some one who needs it. “I can’t see,” I thought, ‘* why Billy puts so much faith in him,” for at that time mine had entirely evaporated. “ He’s going to fix it up, April,” said Billy, and then: “I wish we’d motored; you're tired.” “He isn’t guilty?” I asked sharply, turning to Dick. ‘Oh, no,” said Dick easily, “ Then why,’ I demanded; “ why can’t you do something?” “ Maybe I will, next week,” he answered. ** We'll see. We'll see.”’ “The judge?” I asked. ““ No—don’t think it’s the judge.” “ Can’t you tell me what you think?” I asked. “No,” he replied. ‘ No, I couldn’t do that. Thank Heaven, we’re nearly home— nearly home—” suddenly he _ stopped, looked down the road, and took out a pis- tol. He took aim, fired carefully, and then told Midgette to be quiet; that she made him nervous. ‘Oh, but ”—she said between long gasps -—* what—you make me nervous, Dick!” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. He took her hand, pulled it through his arm, and said: “‘ Come on, we’ll go down and see what I bagged.” He had hit a mirror; the mirror frame was gone and could not be found, but frag- ments of the mirror lay on the ground, shining brightly. Well, well,” said Dick; ‘ guess I hit some of Nathan’s bird photograph scenery. Too bad—” and at that moment Nathan appeared. I thought he seemed disturbed, but when Dick explained that he would make good, and that he was sorry, Nathan brightened. I didn’t understand it — Dick’s having done that, but I didn’t give the matter much thought. Nathan said he could easi- ly get another mirror. He explained that he used it at night, back of a lantern, for moth catching. I went on, helped Nan get dinner, and forgot it. I even remember I complained about Dick’s slowness, and his having done “nothing at all; positively nothing, Nan!” I was stupid. CHAPTER XXIII, THE MAN WHO SAW AN ANGEL. ILLY sent for his motor, and it ar- rived in time to help us to and from town. We spent much time there, as the case continued, growing more exciting, more involved with each day’s testimony. All sorts of things were said against the judge; all sorts against Gustave. The judge’s trying to warn people against old Nathan was held against him as a serious charge, and his acceptance of this made another black mark to his discredit. ‘“ Look at that old woodsman,” said Gus- tave’s lawyer with something that ap- proached a sneer; ‘“ doesn’t he look like a murderer? Do faces tell us anything, friends? Look at his face!” “Tf I could tell you,” blatted out the judge, and then, with a change of color, shrunk back in his chair, shaking as if he had the palsy. “Do tell us!” said Mr. Beagle. But the judge had an attack of “ indigestion ”’ which ended up that matter for the mo- ment. However, the feeling that he had AMIE (E(6) JOOKS (E(O)