Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

A HATFUL OF TROUBLE. erately she sat down on the arm of his chair. Then she rumpled his hair with a caress positively motherly. “Science,” said Felice gravely, “ is a very wonderful thing, isn’t it?” Then, swift as a hawk pouncing down on an unprotected chicken, but with a far dii- ferent result, she remarked: “TJ jike you, Arthur. But I think I might like you a little better if you weren’t quite so mysterious and elusive. The police, for instance—what did they want with you?” It had to come—like everything else, so it seemed—that gruelling question. Felice was well within her rights to ask it. He bowed his head. If he hadn’t been quite such a blithering jackass as to play fast and loose with the police, this moment of su- preme humiliation might not—certainly would not—have come to him. There is no fool like an old fool unless it is a young fool. For if there are self- imposed limitations upon pure mathematics, there are none upon that no less invisible but far more golden sagacity which goes with starry eyes, dewy lips and wisps of silken hair. Then, like a mighty sun bursting through gloom, something happened which no mathematician ever born can equate. Lips which had always seemed carved from a celestial strawberry, since the night of that immortal prom at Schofield, brushed his ‘ own lightly—then Felice sprang from the chair like an elf, and glanced down at him, her finger upraised in warning. Arthur, his brain spinning like a deliri- ous sun in superspace and his heart pulsing with such speed that dejection had turned to glory, heard a discreet cough. Foster was padding in from the rear of the house. “May I have a word with you, Miss Moran?” “Come in, Foster. There is no one here but Mr. Tower.” “The two gentlemen who were here at luncheon from New York wish to know if they can use the telephone.” “You may take them to the library, Fos- ter, Papa’s private wire is there, you know.” | | “Thank you, miss.” 063 A moment later the three were filing past and into the big room opening at the right of the spacicus hall. They entered the library. As Foster switched on the light, the badly fuddled young man from Schofield could see, plainly, the gleam of the white bandage in which Cassidy’s head was swathed. — The door closed: What unpleasant sur- prise were they planning now? CHAPTER XXV. CONFUSION BECOMES CHAOS. ‘ W ‘spot the trio emerged, Cassidy spoke to Foster. “Will you let us out of the side gate, please?” With pleasure, sir.” Arthur Tower thrilled. He glanced over at Felice. The side gate was not far from the big tree in the shrubbery which had been behind him when he had made the ‘photograph of her. His mystification had been rather pro- found; but now it suddenly became entirely too deep for even his keen, incisive analysis. Felice, curled up in the window seat, re- garded him enigmatically, with starry eyes. Then, as the three walked out, she turned to look almost wistfully at the great fronds of the tree outside the wall, its plumed branches etched against the indigo sky. ““T really must be going. to bed,” said Felice, presently, ‘ Foster will look after you in the morning. Have you any plans for to-morrow?” “T should go up to the city, I think, and try and get in touch with my boss. Hf I can de that, I may be back again.” “Do so. But can’t you get in touch with him over the wire?” Arthur sat erect, with a little jerk. “ That’s not a bad idea,” said he. “May I use the phone in the library?” “Why, to be sure. Use it any time. It’s a private wire, you know. And from what you have said, I judge that your talk must be private.” “Thank you,” said Arthur gratefully. ““ Felice, I am quite sure that all of this mess will clear up. I’m to blame for some, but Eomichboo S im (E@)