Adventure, February 20, 1922 — page 102: what you’re looking at

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

100 She seemed gone overlong and I stole back into the house to see if she had departed by the front door. The moment I entered the long hall I knew something was wrong. A path of light emanated from the room across from the butler’s room and extended across the hall. I drew a pistol and leaped for the open door. The girl was standing before the blazing fireplace stirring up something afire in the fireplace. She heard me and wheeled and aimed a pistol at my head. The weapon was long and heavy and of large bore, of a pattern preferred by the Spaniards to the south. I marveled that so small a hand _ and wrist could hold it so steadily. She ge was dressed as a maid and there was an expression of deadly earnestness in her small face as she confronted me. “Drop your pistol and sit down,” she softly commanded. “Tt have never met a.woman who would kill in cold blood,’ I said, yet tossing my weapon on to a small divan. “I must see what you are burning.” “Not even the genuine Kerry could do that. Try it and I shoot.” “T can’t believe you’ll shoot me.” With that I made a rush for the fireplace; . and the hammer of the huge pistol clicked venomously. Before she could make a ‘second essay I wrested the weapon from her grasp and holding her with one hand attempted to investigate the burning papers. With a feline snarl she raised the poker she had been holding. I threw up my arm to fend off the blow and she cleverly extended her lithe form and thrust the poker far forward, like a duelist lunging, separating the mass of papers and setting them to burning more fiercely than ever. It was the devil’s mystery, and Bucks might come in any time and betray my identity. With small gentleness I yanked the poker from her grasp and still holding her began clawing at the charred mass. The papers crumbled at my touch. I gave it up and released her. She stood panting for breath, one hand caressing her wrist, her eyes afire. “You miserable coward!” she painfully exclaimed. I seized her by both shoulders and yearned to shake her. “What were you burning?” I demanded. “You're a beast and bully,” she softly said. Adventure ~ “Harsh language even for a lady’s maid, who sometimes wears breeches. For the last time I ask what were you burning?” “Oh, la!’ she mocked. ‘For the last time! Quite like the playhouse. Well, your lordship, I was burning papers, papers I did not wish you and some others to see. And now I’m going.” I wanted her to go. I feared a meeting between her and Bucks. High praise from her Tory mistress would be hers if she could give me into custody. And yet there was the genuine Kerry to be explained. She knew him and had known him before I borrowed his name. She darted toward the door but I threw my arm about her waist and drew her down beside me on the divan and said— “Mistress Osmond, you may go when you explain about the two Kerrys now in New York.” With a little cry she went limp and in dismay I released her, thinking she had swooned. Instantly her right hand shot out and seized my discarded pistol, and she was triumphantly crying— “Now, you impostor, I say I am going out of this house.” Her ruse angered me, and I ducked cad grabbed at herhand. The charge exploded and my wig gave a jump. ““Oh, I didn’t mean to fire!’ she sobbed, trying to pull away from me, and my wig flew off. I secured both her hands. She ceased struggling and her eyes became dis- tended in amazement, and she astounded me by whimpering: “You! You! NowI know!” Some one was trying the front door; ten- tatively at first, then impatiently. I CLAPPED on my wig and secured my pistol. She darted into the hall and back to the rear door. I fol- lowed her and whispered for her to wait. Once she was through the door and in the garden I lost her within fifty feet of the house. I gave my attention to the house, wondering who could be trying the street door. Perhaps some passerby, attracted by the muffled report of my Highland pis- tol. Had the genuine Kerry told his story to the town major there would be no parleying at the front of the house. The place would have been surrounded in silence and when the maid and I ran from the back door we would have been bagged before we books (E(0)