Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 16, 1921 — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

102 a little table in a sequestered corner of the gerill-room. She was mortally curious to learn what this man had to tell of Tom Fagg; but she was also too well-bred to press the question at once. So the talk at first ran to non-essentials—the grill-room, London, the waiters, the weather. That gave Ruth a chance to collect her thoughts, and to try to analyze her companion, as she knew Glory Adair would have done. He looked younger than he was. “T’m_ thirty-three,” he said abruptly. ‘** Mining engineer, but have not been work- ing at it. Had a more important rush job in France the last few years.”’ “Oh!” she breathed. So this man, too, was a soldier—and she wondered what Captain Grant would say if he could see her here. “IT was out West,” pursued Cassilis. He was engagingly frank. ‘‘ Making good money, too—and then along came the war. Well, of course, there wasn’t anything to it.” She smiled approvingly. She wished he wasn’t in civies; then she would have known whether he was captain or lieuten- ant. As it was, she had to ask him, point- blank, what rank he held. “Private,” said Cassilis. “Oh,” he added, “ they made me a sergeant at last, but I signed up as a private.”’ She was disappointed. ‘“ But you should not have done that,” she exclaimed. ‘A professional man with a good income and a—a standing wh the world—to enlist as a mere private!” Cassilis gazed at her very hard. “Lots of better men did it,” he said dryly. She flushed at the tacit reproof and fixed her gaze on the consommeé. There was an embarrassed silence. She looked up at last. He was smiling at her. His smile brought back her equanimity. “Did you meet Captain Grant over there?” she asked. He laid down his spoon to look at her the better. “ Captain Ken Grant?”’ She nodded. <4 Yes.,”’ “ He’s visiting us now,” she explained. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “At Carisford. My mother—I mean—’’ She checked herself. She had almost be- trayed her real identity. She reminded herself, just in time, that this man knew her as Glory Adair. Again there fell an embarrassed silence. She felt rather than saw that Cassilis re- garded her with a sort of fixed stare. “Ken Grant!” he repeated. “ Captain Kenric Chisholm Grant, of the Kighteenth,” said Ruth proudly. _ Cassilis seemed to relax. “Well,” he said carelessly, “ that’s not a name to forget in a moment. It’s easier to remember than Tom Fagg, for instance.”’ He smiled. Of his own accord he had brought the conversation to the topic which he evidently felt must be uppermost in his visitor’s mind. “Tom Fagg,” she repeated. And then she fell silent, very white and mutely embarrassed. For a dozen paces away, and approaching her with her steady, relentless nurse’s tread, was Glory Adair herself. Cassilis apparently failed to note his companion’s embarrassment. He gave the newcomer a casual glance. Then he regard- ed her a second time. He turned to Ruth. “Do you know her?” he inquired in a swift aside. “Do you?” countered Ruth desperately. The man’s fine forehead wrinkled. “IT can’t place her,” he said in a low tone. “ But Ill swear I’ve seen her before. There’s something vaguely familiar—” The waiter came just then with the sec- ond course. Glory Adair, halting close to the table, turned and seemed to see Ruth Ferintosh for the first time. She smiled. ‘“ Miss Adair!” exclaimed the nurse. “Miss Ferintosh!” exclaimed Ruth, catching her clue. Then she glanced at Cassilis, who had risen. ‘You will join us, Miss Ferintosh,” he urged. Ruth flushed again with embarrassment, as the fictitious Miss Ferintosh sat down, with a courteous, composed bow of ac- knowledgment and a word of thanks to Cassilis. comicloool< C@