Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 16, 1921 — page 141: what you’re looking at

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

182 tol lying beside him, the moonlight glitter- ing on the metal; and recollection of what had occurred instantly came back to him. He clambered out of bed, ran to his daughter’s room; noted that she was not there and that her bed had not been occu- pied—and leaped to the telephone to ap- prize the clerk of what had happened. He dressed hurriedly, still dazed from the effects of the blow. But his jaws were clamped with passion, cold and vicious. His first thought had been that Morrell was the man who had struck him, though upon that point he could not be certain, for it had seemed to him that the intruder had been a smaller man than Morrell. How- ever, he was convinced that Morrell was somehow connected with the outrage. He be- lieved that in some way Morrell had discov- ered where he and his daughter were stay- ing, and had abducted the girl, following out his idea of securing the vengeance he had sworn to obtain. After dressing, Richards picked up the pistol, examined it, and stuck it into a hip- pocket. He had started toward the door when the telephone-bell jangled shrilly. He took up the receiver, to be greeted by Law- ton’s gruff voice: “‘ Hello—Jay Richards?” And after be- img assured that Richards was listening, he went on: ‘“ What in the devil is wrong?“ Richards told him; and Lawton’s voice grew chill. 3 “Lane Hamlin just called me up—from somewhere. I «couldn’t get the damned idiot to listen to me—he cut me off. I’m dressed, and I'll be with you in fifteen min- utes. Don’t say a word about the affair to anybody until I get there!” However, Richards was impatient. He called the hotel clerk, and to his inquiries the latter replied that he was certain Miss Alden had not gone out. Had any other person gone out? Yes; a man who had registered two days before as John Hammond. Hammond had asked the same question Mr. Sayle was ask- ing. The clerk wondered about Mr. Ham- mond’s interest. tified? “Very well,” he answered to Richards’s abrupt negative. Should the police be no-: ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Richards jammed the receiver back on . the hook. Hammond! Richards’s eyes gleamed with speculation. The man who had struck him fad looked like Hammond—Lane Hamlin. Richards was convinced that no other man in the world could hit like that. But Hamlin would not abduct his daugh- ter. That supposition was ridiculous. Richards endured twenty minutes of tor- turing impatience, at the end of which the telephone-bell rang again. “Mr. Lawton is calling,” the desk in- formed him. A few minutes later Lawton entered. After a swift examination of the rooms, Lawton related what Hamlin had told him over the telephone some time before. He pointed to the open window—one of the curtains was torn. “ That’s where Lane got in,” said Law- ton. “It’s too damned bad he couldn’t have made it in time to head Morrell off.” ‘‘ Bah!” sneered Richards vindictively. ‘“‘ Lane Hamlin is an idiot—a strong-armed young fool!” ‘Complimentary, eh?” Lawton’s grin was grim. “ He said something of the kind about you. Called you a ‘ rake,’ a libertine, and some other pretty names. Said he’d walloped you—plenty; and intended to do it again. That’s what comes of not telling him the truth.” ‘* Blame that on Ella,” growled Richards. “1 wanted to tell him, but she wouldn't have it. Some damned nonsense about her wanting him to fall in love with her—for herself. Now it’s happened. I ought to have put Morrell away long ago. I kept thinking he was bluffing. I’m going to put the police on this thing, Lawton, before Merrell—”’ His voice grew thick. “ Law- ton, if Morrell harms a hair of her pretty head I'll kill him sure as hell!” “Wait.” Lawton’s voice was cold, steady. It was plain that he did not intend to yield to the sort of panic that was threat- ening Richards. “We'll play one string out before we tackle another,” he declared. ‘I’m going to rely some on Lane Hamlin. He loves your girl, Richards—even if he don’t know her real name—and you can gamble he ain’t GO DOO) nN) S (© S|