Adventure, December 1914 — page 123: what you’re looking at

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

A Man With Nine Lives let himself in when he returned. He had a very late dinner with his acquaintance; then spent an hour or two with him in his rooms in Devonshire Place, returning to Putney in a taxicab which he dismissed at the end of the lane. It was a fine night, or rather morning; all the world seemed asleep. He walked up the hill toward the Dovecote, and had nearly reached it when he became aware that at least in that house some one was still awake. Voices reached his ear—not soft ones. Some one seemed to be shouting. He stood still. It sounded as if in the Dovecote something unusual was happening. Several people seemed to be speaking together, all of them in angry tones. All at once a sound rose above the others—a sound which was very like a woman’s scream, as if she were shrieking either in fear or pain. An exclamation broke from Mr. Adair. “That’s Winifred Dennis! Something’s u bias He hurried toward the house. As he reached it, some one from the back of the house came hurrying along the garden path. Hestepped back into the shadow of - the house. “It’s Miss Dennis!’ he told himself. ‘‘Where can she be going at this hour? Can anything have happened to her mother?” As the garden-gate opened he moved forward, his hat in his hand. ‘“‘Miss Dennis,”’ he asked, “‘is there any- thing I can do for you? I hope there’s nothing wrong.”’ Coming on her so unexpectedly, since she could hardly have been aware of his nearness, it was not strange that his voice and appearance should have startled her. She shrank back so suddenly that her foot seemed to catch in her skirt. She stum- bled; fearing she might fall he put his hand upon her shoulder. Clearly his assistance was not required. She drew herself suddenly straight, and stepping a little back struck him, first with her left and then with her right fist, full in the face, rushed through the gate and went scurrying down the lane like a hare. He was amazed. The blows had been hard ones. One of them had reached his mouth; he was not sure that it had not cut his lip. The other had struck him with surprising force upon the cheek-bone. He felt more than a trifle stunned. I2I1 “Well, I’m hanged!’’ he exclaimed. “If that isn’t the top brick off the chimney. That wasn’t Miss Dennis; it was a man, in a woman’s things—which explains why he caught himself in his skirt and nearly trippec himself up. , ‘He was handier with his fists—those were two nice ones which he got home. What a fool he must have thought me to give him such an opening! I should like to have a chance of returning them. My word! If he hadn’t for the moment nearly knocked the sense right out of me I might have had one, too. ‘‘What in thunder was he doing in the Dovecote, in woman’s clothes? He cer- tainly was no burglar; some one let him out of the back door. It appears that, after all, I’ve come back before my presence is desired. I wonder if this time any expla- nation will be offered.” None was. As he walked up the garden path, along which that petticoated figure had so recently rushed with such dire re- sults to Martin Adair, all was still again. So far as he could perceive, the entire house was in darkness. He walked around to the back of the house to see if there were any lights there. There appeared to be none. He tried the handle of the back entrance. It seemed to be both locked and _ bolted. He let himself in with his latch key at the front door. He could not tell whether any one heard; there was no challenging voice. There was food on a tray in his sitting-room, which he left untouched— everything, apparently, was prepared for his return. wre IN THE morning, descending at the usual hour, Miss Dennis brought him **s his breakfast. He glanced at her. “T hope I didn’t disturb you by my late return.” | “T heard you come in,” she said. He noticed how pale she was, and that she seemed flurried. Before he could de- cide what else to say to her, besides the exchange of the most ordinary greetings, she was gone. As usual, he made certain comments to himself. “There is something wrong! This time I’m going to know what it is. She looks as if she were worried half out of her life; she seems to have aged since I went away—in less than a week. ‘This time I am going to DOOLK (C©