Avon Murder Mystery Monthly No. 41 — page 181: what you’re looking at

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

A. MERRITT 183 body. flashed, speeding toward the Pit. Like fleet-footed Atlanta she fled —and far, far hehind us was the blue bower, the misty barrier of the veils close, when Drake with a last desperate burst reached her side, gripped her. Down the two fell, rolling upon the smooth roadway. Silently she fought, biting, tearing at Drake, struggling to escape. “Quick!” gasped Ventnor, stretching out to me an arm. “Cut off the sleeve. Quick!” Unquestioningly, I drew my knife, ripped the garment at the ‘shoul- der. He snatched the sleeve, knelt at Ruth’s head; rapidly he crumpled an end, thrust it roughly into her mouth; tied it fast, gagging her. “Hold her!” he ordered Drake; and with a sob of relief sprang up. The girl’s eyes blazed at him, filled with hate. “Cut that other sleeve,” he said; and when I had done so, he knelt again, pinned Ruth down with a knee at her throat, turned her over and knotted her hands behind her. She ceased struggling; gently now he drew up the curly head; swung her upon her back. “Hold her feet.” He nodded. to Drake, who caught the slender bare ankles in his hands. She lay there, helpless, being unable to use her hands or feet. “Too little Ruth; and too much Norhala,” said Ventnor, looking up at me. “If she’d only thought to cry out! She could have brought a regiment of those Things down to blast us. And would—if she had thought. You don’t think that is Ruth, do you?” He pointed to the pallid face glaring at him, the eyes from which cold fires flamed. “No, you don’t!” He caught Drake by the shoulder, sent him spinning a dozen feet away. “Damn it, Drake—don’t you understand!” For suddenly Ruth’s eyes softened; she had turned them on .Dick pitifully, appealingly—and he had loosed her ankles, had leaned for- ward as though to draw away the band that covered her lips. “Your gun,” whispered Ventnor to me; before I had moved he had snatched the automatic from my holster; had covered Drake with it. “Drake,” he said, “stand where you are. If you take another step toward this girl I'll shoot you—by God, I will!” Drake halted, shocked amazement in his face; I myself felt resentful, wondering at his outburst. “But it’s hurting her,” he muttered, Ruth’s eyes, soft and pleading, still dwelt upon him. “Hurting her!” exclaimed Ventnor. “Man—she’s my sister! 1 know what I’m doing. Can’t you see? Can’t you see how little of Ruth is in that body there—how little of the girl you love? How or why I don’t. know—but that it.is so I do know. Drake—have you forgotten how GOGO .S (GO)