Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 16, 1921 — page 140: what you’re looking at

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

SOME chair, and he tossed his hat upon the top of a dresser. His movements were deliberate, and there was a thrust to his jaw that un- mistakably advertised his intention. Frayne got up. There was a wild light in his eyes, his face was ghastly. “What are you goin’ to do, damn you?” Frayne’s voice betrayed the terror that gripped him. As Hamlin again approached him he backed away—this time down along the foot of the bed. He reached the farther side and brought up against the wall. There he halted, and involuntarily threw his hands into a defensive position. Hamlin had followed him closely; with a grin on his face which should have told Frayne that Hamlin meant to have an an- swer to his question. As Hamlin got close enough to strike ‘his lips moved. “Frayne, where did Morrell take Bar- bara Alden?” “Damn you!” shrieked Frayne. don’t know!” With his lips still in a grin, Hamlin struck again. Frayne’s head hit the wall with a resounding thump. He slid downward, landing in a sitting posture, his back against the wall. His head was wabbling, his lips were drooling blood where the blow had landed. His eyes were glazed and he placed his hands on the floor beside him to steady himself. After an interval of silence he felt Ham- lin’s fingers sink into his shoulders. He was lifted, until. his feet were under him and he was standing, his back against the wall—Hamlin holding him in that position. Hamlin’s voice, icy and _passionless, reached his befuddled senses. ‘Frayne; I’m going to keep asking you that question until you answer it. You and Morrell have been working together. You know where Morrell took Barbara Alden. You're going to tell me. More—you’re go- ing to take me where Barbara Alden is. Perhaps I am mistaken in thinking that you know where Morrell took her; but I’m going to take a chance on that. Whenever you feel that you have received punishment enough you can tell me. I’m asking you again: Where did Morrell take Barbara Alden?” Le | MAN! 181 ‘Damn you; I don’t know!” screamed Frayne. Heavily, almost passionately, it seemed, Hamlin struck once more. This time Frayne collapsed on the floor near the wall, and lay there, groaning. And Hamlin, feeling that the wretch knew the truth and was determined not to tell, stood near him, his arms folded, wait- ing for Frayne to rise, so that he could again ask the question he had asked before. At this moment Hamlin was conscious of no nice scruples regarding this inquisition. He could not appeal to the law, for he was outlawed. The situation in which he found himself had narrowed down to the necessity for primitive action. Frayne was receiving no more damage than was being inflicted at this instant upon Barbara Alden—in Mor- rell’s clutches, enduring the ignominy of his hateful presence, forced against her will to submit to—at the least—confinement at the hands of a man who was governed. by the instincts and passions of an animal. CHAPTER XIX. CARDS ON THE TABLE, AY RICHARDS, alias Sayle, had been J trained in a rough school, where he had been compelled to receive blows, both physical and mental, to which a man of less constitutional vigor would have suc- cumbed. But never in his life had he been hit as hard as Hamlin had hit him. He had not seen Hamlin’s face, and therefore he did not know who his assailant was. He only knew that when he had been awak- ened by the wrecking of the door between his room and his daughter’s, he had seen a man come through the opening, to bring up with a crash against the foot of his bed. In Richards’s day, in the old West, a gun in a man’s hand had been the magic which commanded respect; and when he had seized it from beneath his pillow he had ex- pected awe from the intruder. Instead, he had got action—swift, terrific. When he regained consciousness he was lying flat on his back on the bed. He sat up, feeling his jaw, and wondering what had happened to him. Then he saw the pis- COnmiclbooks (C@