Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 13, 1920 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

O12 sleep robbed him of his strength. But this night for the first time as he awakened to consciousness, he made no movement, but lay still, eyes open, listening in the darkness to the muttering. Soon he turned his back upon the tormented sleeper, closing eyes and ears as best he could. But he could not sleep himself, and the dawn was creeping in through the latticed shutters, in that brief moment of the peene fur hours when the noises of Paris are stilled as though by magic, before he dozed off, still tingling with a vague irrita- tion against the. brother by his side. When he wakened, Adrian was up and shaving before the mirror, whistling softly to himself. Adolphe regarded the naked back, study- ing the firm muscles flexing under the move- ments of. the raised arm. ‘““T am tired as a dog,” sullenly. Adrian turned. “Eh! Didn’t you sleep well?” “Sleep? Did you?” “ Surely. Didn’t the young lady wish us pleasant dreams?”’ His tone was cheerful. “You kept .me awake half the night,” Adolphe grunted. Adrian laid down the towel and stared he announced at him suspiciously. He advanced to the foot of the bed. ‘What do you mean?”’—his expression was disturbed—‘ was I dreaming?”’ ‘“‘ Dreaming—you ask me if you were dreaming?” A startled iook leaped into Adrian’s face. He drew back, then laughed harshly. “Bah! I’m sorry I disturbed you. Good thing I was with you, Adolphe.” “Yes, you are right. Just as well no one else heard you,” said Adolphe signifi- cantly, The two men stared at each other as though probing to the depths of memory, then Adrian turned his back and resumed his toilet. But in the face of his brother mirrored in the glass, the man in bed could see a strange expression of horror, as though some recollection wrapped in the grave clothes of the past had suddenly stirred to life. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ‘ Well, I suppose I had better get up. We *have a lunch party to-day, brother,” Adolphe said, leaping from bed and fum- bling for the sponge. “ Yes, yes,” muttered the elder, ‘‘ Mlle. Berson. We have been pretty severe with ourselves lately, but then you know why.” Adolphe nodded carelessly. “Oh, yes. But you needn’t be afraid of my tongue slipping, I have it too well trained. When we agreed to dispense with our wine and beer, I thought I never could get along without them, but it doesn’t ther me now. As for women—they are more dangerous ‘than drink.” oe eH Sa ai I suppose we can for once—” his brother stumbled uncertain- ly with the words. “No chance for secrets, either in or out. We shall both be there. How long is it since we were in.a woman’s company—do~ you remember the last time?”’ ‘“ Stop!” Adrian commanded sharply and shuddered. __ Adolphe showed his white teeth good humoredly. ‘“ My sentimental brother!” he said laz- ily. “ Well, set your mind at rest. What we have to think about now is making money. Nothing else. JI think we can work Rossin up still another couple of hundred francs and play the season. After that— we should have some money to spend in South America.”’ His lips curled and he smiled slyly to himself. The lunch had been successful. Mlle. Berson had been aimiable, somewhat shy and restrained, and the conversation had been carried on in a colorless neutrality. Three friends, that was all. There was no suspicion of coquetry in this girl—she did not impress one with her sex as did La Perosini, and the brothers as if by tacit consent effaced their masculinity. After lunch she had -left them to see alter a stenographic position she had heard of. - . That evening hearing she had been suc- cessful in getting it, Adolphe suggested they celebrate at a café, and there it was ar- ranged that she was to go next evening to the circus. She went, and from that day GEomichoo <S' (EO)