Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 64: what you’re looking at

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

ae OF eae eee Cee hal ake a v. \ tay * Ge Pade Pit w a the cabin below them! PO Fe alt. @ PES Om MOP Sat Saee é : ’ . 5 ys ; 62 and, turning, descended the companionway. Ward opened the paper which he held in his hand. Instead of a list, it was a hastily scrawled message to him. It said: We must change our plans. Wire Mr. Greiner to watch them from the minute they reach New York. Come to the yacht as soon as they leave camp. I must talk with you. He folded the paper tenderly and put it in his pocket. Somehow it seemed to breathe a note of close companionship with him, of an alliance between them more in- timate and mutually dependent than any- thing she had yet done. It thrilled him with _ a sense of joy such as he had never felt in his relations with other women he had known. He recalled the regal poise of this girl as she had stood there on the deck, listening to her uncle as he unfolded this story which Ward now felt to be a tissue of lies. She had not demeaned herself by any revelation of her suspicions; had, indeed, conducted herself under the circumstances in a way that had won his boundless admiration. And her fine scorn as his nod had told her that Mrs. Herriot was eavesdropping in As he recalled the steps by which Stephen Blaydon had led up to his excuse for leaving them alone, he saw now that it had been deliberately planned so that this woman could find out for her- self whether he or Nellie had formed any suspicion that the story of the telegram from Carter was untrue. - And another conviction came to him with this one as he walked slowly toward the tents. Stephen Blaydon was not the type to lay any such shrewd trap as that. His mental processes were too cumbersome; his brain was not the clever brain of the con- spirator. He was carrying out a plan made for him by a more devious type of intellect, and this intellect, Fenton now felt sure, be- - longed/to the seemingly open and frank and honest widow Herriot. , He heard Blaydon again blustering as he reached the tents. From the man’s words, Ward gathered that Carl was demurring at the task of carrying them to Sea View in the tender. He entered as Blaydon’s voice boomed a threat to have Carl discharged if he refused. “What is it, Carl?” he asked quietly. “Why, Chief, Mr. Blaydon says I’m to take him and Mrs. Herriot to Sea View in Adventure the tender, and I told him my instructions would have to come from you. That’s all.” “Very well,” Ward said. ‘Consider that those instructions are from me. Is that what you want?” “Yes, sir.’’ Carl subsided, but his eyes gleamed at Stephen Blaydon with unmis- takable hatred as he went about his tasks. “Thank you, Fenton,” said Blaydon. Then, turning to the operator, he held out a paper. “There’s the answer,” he said. “Rush it through as soon as you get back. T’ll call at your office this evening to see if | it brings a reply.”’ He stamped out toward the flap, but turned to Carl. before passing through. “We'll be ready in five minutes, Loder,” he said. “If you keep me waiting, you’ll get some instructions from me that you ~won’t like. IT’ll break your dirty little car- cass in half.” He left them before the mechanician could reply. “Steady, Carl, steady!’ Ward warned him. “I’m gathering the clues. Don’t spoil them by your temper.” “You need not wait for me,” he said, ad- dressing himself to the operator. “‘T "had intended sending a message to Mr. Conway in New York, but I think I shall have Carl call him up on long-distance instead.” “Mr. Conway?” the man asked, appar- ently puzzled. “You mean the Mr. Philip Conway who was with you all the time while you were giving your exhibitions at Sea View?” “Ves; why?” “Why, he’s here, isn’t he?” “Here? No.” 3 “Excuse me. I thought that message yesterday said he would'arrive last night.” Ward stiffened suddenly. “What message yesterday?” he de- manded. “Why that one for you. The one from Mr. Greener or Gainor or something like that in New York.” Fenton mastered the excitement that threatened to show in his eyes. “Mr. Greiner, wasn’t it?” he asked. “Yes; that was it. Mr. Greiner. you get the message?” “T haven’t received it yet. To whom did you give it?” “To that fellow who was with Mr. Con- way’s chauffeur. Big, dark, swarthy-look- ing man, he was—looked almost black. He al Eomichoo cS Didn’ t (E@)