Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 21, 1922 — page 118: what you’re looking at

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

108 thing pleasant to your wife. don’t kiss me. It ’ll come off.” He offered his arm stiffly, and she took it with a gurgling laugh. “‘ Do we have to go down like this? How grand! ‘Enter the duke and the duchess.’ Oh, I shall go mad, mad/ Why did I ever—”’ This was one of her uncanny moods which he dreaded. When they were on her he always expected her to speak of Dick Marshall, to throw it up to him that she was a changed creature because he had murdered her first husband and compelled her to marry him. But she never men- tioned Dick. Often he wished that she would. Sometimes it seemed that he him- self would be forced to drag that skeleton into the light of day, since she refused to do so. Down the broad staircase they went together. Mrs. Dundas had arrived early and was removing her wraps in a room allotted for that purpose, when suddenly a housemaid appeared and winked hurriedly at Elspeth. “Tf you want to see her—” she whis- pered sotto voce. Elspeth left her mistress without cere- mony and flew to the head of the stairs. She had a very good view indeed of Mrs. Peter Tremlett’s back, and there wasn’t the vestige of a brown mole to be seen on the slimly white expanse. “TT knew it!” she muttered to herself, ‘“ She’s not Miss Amy.”’ She was still mut- tering when she returned to assist Mrs. Dundas. The latter reproved her. ‘Why did you go away like that?” “T only wanted to see Mrs. Tremlett, ma’am,” Elspeth replied meekly. ‘“ Emily said she was wearing such a wonderful dress as I wouldn’t believe.” “ Humph!” ejaculated Aunt Anna. No, no— CHAPTER XXV, A CURSE UPON THE TREMLETTS, EVER in the annals of Witcham had anything equaled the magnificence of Mr. and Mrs. Tremlett’s dinner-party that night. Altogether it was an unquali- fied success. The staid old councillors ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. were charmed by Mrs. Tremlett’s wit and cheered by the fare she had ordered for their delectation. Their wives were daz- zled. Aunt Anna wondered how long the money would last at this pace, and where Peter Tremlett would end. She thought she could name the place. Rumor had it that Tremlett’s mills were in a bad way; but of course Peter knew his own business best, and it was unlikely all his eggs were in the one basket. Twenty strong, the guests sat at a table which fairly glittered and groaned under its wealth of sparkling glass and silver plate. The massed arrangement of fruit, flowers and candles was perfect. Having no need to regard expense, Loraine could give full rein to her luxurious tastes. After dinner there was music. Aunt Anna was genuinely puzzled by the proficiency her niece had attained, and forced to give a grudging admiration, while at the same time there was something about Mrs. Peter Tremlett that she hated. The night was warm for Ocober, and the drawing-room windows had been left open so that Peter’s guests could enjoy the fairy sight of the Japanese garden all lit up with lanterns. His mood toward his wife had changed for the moment. He was proud of her, and her strange, baffling beauty made its usual appeal to his senses. He was looking for- ward to the time when everybody should have gone and left him alone with her. Perhaps to-night he could bring himself to break that long silence regarding Dick Mar- shall;*get her to acknowledge that she was happier here than ever she could have been in that poky little cottage in Mount Street. Witcham kept early hours, and as the hands of the clock passed ten the council- lors’ wives began a tentative process of taking leave. They were dazzled by Mrs. Tremlett and her smart ways, but rather shy of her. Finally they had all gone, and Dorcas immediately retired to her own room. The Japanese garden was still illumi- nated. Peter made a-move to turn off the lights which were controlled by a switch in the hall, but his wife begged him not to for a little while. comicloool C©