Avon Fantasy Reader No. 13 — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

“Did Mr. Hoorne have his dinner here last evening?” Dr. Johns began at once. “Yes, sir, he did.” “Alone?” SY es, sit.” “You told me you did not notice he was ill?” “No, sir, he ate very well.” “What did he do after dinner?” “Came right up here, sir. I think he spent the first part of the evening reading.” : I looked over the few books scattered on top of the library table. Lying under the electrolier I found an opened volume of Freud’s Psychoanalysis, several sheets of music, and two or three operatic scores..I picked up the volume of Freud and showed it to Dr. Johns. “Very probably,” he said, and continued his questions. “You retired about half past eight?” eS, Sirs a, “And very soon afterward you heard Mr. Hoorne begin playing?” “Very soon after; yes, sir.” , “How long did he play?” “I don’t know, sir; I fell asleep listening to him.” | Dr. Johns looked at her curiously. “Do you know anything about music?” he asked. ei 8 2 3 The housekeeper smiled a little through her-tears. “I ought to, sir, I’ve been with Mr. Hoorne 4 long time.” “I know you have—yes. What sort of music was it he was playing?” The old lady thought a moment. “I don’t rightly think I can say, sir,” she replied. “I don’t remember he played anything I had ever heard before.” “If he had played any ordinary piece—anything in his repertoire, or those he sometimes plays for diversion—would you have recognized it?” “Yes, sir; I think so, sic—though I might not know its name.” "But you are familiar with most of the standard pieces, aren’t you?” pur- sued the doctor. : | “I know a great many—I do love music,” she added earnestly, and her eyes filled with tears again as she looked at the motionless figure on the divan. “What about the music, Fred?” I asked impatiently. Dr. Johns raised his hand deprecatingly. “I was just recalling a conversa- tion I had with Norton last week. I'll tell you later.” He turned back to the ° housekeeper who stood looking at her master with pleading eyes. “Oh, sir,” she burst out. “Isn’t there something I can do? Is it right just to let him lie there? He isn’t—oh, please tell me he isn’t dead.” The doctor gently led her to a chair and sat her down. “No,” he said, “he isn’t dead. And there’s nothing we can do just now. Don't you worry too much—perhaps he’s not in great danger. We were talking about the music,” he went on. “What sort of music was it? Did you notice anything peculiar about it?” “Yes, sir, I did, now that you mention it. It was very curious music, sir.” 45 im : lcomichbook , ) i ~ * You Don't lentimental * Tennessee Toddy vensming Owe Me a Thing. B-2527 |