Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 87: what you’re looking at

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

“GENTLEMAN ROGER’S GIRL, erty to look after, many business affairs. Even in prison I was able to keep in touch with my agents, to oversee things. But now, cut off from everybody as I am, every man’s hand raised against me, I am help- less. My agents may very well have ab- sconded with every penny I possess. What recourse has an outlaw?” This was near enough to the truth for Roger to deliver it with heartfelt feeling. Celesta looked at him aghast. “Surely, surely, no man could be so base!”’ she murmured. “You don’t know the possibilities of men’s baseness!”’ “We must talk it over,’ said Celesta agitatedly. “Surely some way can be found of communicating with your agents.” ‘‘T have thought until my brain is tired,” he said. “We must tell Hal. Roger audibly ground his teeth. ‘““You are unjust to Hal!” “ Maybe. But leave him out of this.” “Who are your agents, dad?” “One of them you know. Miss Divart.” Celesta’s gentle face hardened a little. Roger glanced at her sharply. “She was not the principal,” he said. “‘ She merely did errands for me.” “Who was the principal? That man who came to see you--Mr. Chalmers?” “No. It was—you’ve got to know it some time—it was Dexter Inchfiawn!”’ “ The artist at Mrs. Blakemore’s house!” said the surprised Celesta. “ Why did you never tell me?” Roger was never at a loss for an answer, “T was obliged to keep it secret. Nat- urally he didn’t want it known that he was acting for a convict. You mustn’t tell any- body.” “ But how petty!’ Celesta remarked. * And I liked him.” ‘‘ Now you know what’s preying on my mind,” said Roger. ‘“ Everything I possess in the world is in Inchfawn’s hands. Why, while we’re living here in squalor, I’m a rich man, comparatively. And I have no hold on him—none! Suppose he converts it to his own use. It drives me wild!”’ “You must have had reason to trust him,” suggested Celesta. Maybe he—” <¢ No! 9> 713 “You cannot trust any man beyond a certain point.” “What a dreadful thought! any idea where he is?”’ “If he’s honest he’ll stay where he is until I have a chance to get in touch with him. But the house is watched by the po- lice. Because your things are there. That much I have gathered from the newspapers. I am tied hand and foot!” * T’ll try to think of a way,” said Celesta. “ T wish you'd let me talk to Hal about it.” ce No! 99 Have you As the biscuits were being drawn from the oven, an appetizing golden brown, Hal came in. He was wearing the rough clothes of a mechanic; he too had shaved his mus- tache; and he had donned a pair of heavy- rimmed glasses that had the effect of dim- ming the keenness ef his glance and altered his whole expression. He laid them aside on entering. He loeked pale and a little surly with fatigue. Celesta, with a glance, saw that he had had no luck, and forebore to question him. The two men looked at each other like strange dogs. To do them credit, they gen- erally succeeded in keeping the peace for Celesta’s sake, but their glances were elo- quent. “ Find anything?” asked Roger, just to be irritating, “No,” said Hal. ‘“ And I’m done look- ing. I’ve made the rounds of every ma- chine shop and garage in town a dozen times, I guess. They laugh when they see me coming. ‘There are about thirty stiffs on the same round. I know them all now.” “How about trying something else?” Roger suggested with a sneer. “Bench work is ail I have any skill for,” said Hal. ‘ Except doctoring, which is out for the present. When you come to un- skilled labor—Lord, the searchers run up into the hundreds! Men are offering them- selves for a dollar and a half a day and finding no takers.”’ “What are we down to?” asked Roger. “ About seven dollars. I pawned my gun to-day.” “There is still my pin,” said Celesta quickly. COMMICLOOOkKS (E@