Adventure Magazine Cover — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

The Killing of Tom McCray “Why, no, sir; I—I didn’t kill him.” He had not found it hard to believe Trueman’s story of Jepther Ross’ oppression of Tom McCray; but he felt now a sense of amazement at the passion that seemed to grip the old man because death had cheated him out of wrecking his vengeance on the absconding assistant cashier. “Who did kill him, then?” Mr. Ross was demanding. ‘‘Were you present at his death? What) you know about it? How did you get the bank’s funds? Did you see him at all?” “TI was with Tom McCray from the time I reached Dolvin,” Willis replied quietly to this volley of questions. ‘We occupied the same room. On the night the funds were recovered he—he killed himself.” Again Jepther Ross sank weakly back in his chair. ‘Killed himself?” he whispered hoarsely. ‘Oh, my God! My God!” And he covered his face with his hands. Released from the fierce eyes that had seemed to-hold his own, Willis turned ques- tioningly to Thelpin Martin and, to his surprize, found a satisfied smile on the old detective’s lips. Sinking weakly into a chair, Willis mopped his perspiring face. “To think that it should have come to this,’ Mr. Ross said softly. “A fresh coun- try boy, son of the man who had been my best friend, I brought him here and ruined him. And I didn’t realize it until he had gone. Though I loved him as if he had been my own son, I never let an opportunity pass to crush out his individual impulses and ideas, thinking to graft my own upon him in their stead. “And —— how I worked him! Two years ago he moved from my home, and I knew then that he was beginning to hate me; but I would not relent, thinking that my course was the best for him. It was only after he III was gone that I realized what I had done— that I had persecuted him until he had lost his manhood and his mind was ripe for crime. If—if you had brought him back to me, Thelpin, I would have told him so; and on my knees I would have begged his for- giveness. But now se Jepther Ross’ body was shaken with a convulsive sob, and Willis saw tears slipping from between his fingers. Then, before Willis realized what was taking place, Mr. Ross was on his feet, his thick white hair seeming to stand straight up upon his head, his face contorted with passion; his arms extended, he leaned above Willis, his long, strong fingers closing and unclosing, as if they itched to get at the young man’s throat. “You hounded him to death,” he hissed. “You damned, contemptible scoundrel! You hounded that poor boy until he took his own life. I—you—you = But Thelpin Martin was now between them, forcing Mr. Ross back to his chair. ‘There, there, Jep,” he said gently, with the familiarity of a long, long friendship. “Sit you down; sit you down. It’s all turn- ing out just right—like I figured it would.” With a nod over his shoulder, he dismissed Willis from the room. Having forced Mr. Ross back into his chair, Thelpin stood behind him with his hands resting affectionately upon his shoul- ders; and as Willis moved quietly across the room and tried to slip without noise through the door, he heard the old detective add: “Now that you’ve learned your lesson, Jep, we'll have a little further talk, then we'll run out to Dolvin on the noon train, and somebody, and it won’t be Tom Me- Cray, will be given another chance. And if you make good, we'll see— Oh, well, we'll see what'll we'll see.” Eomicbooks.com