Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 95: what you’re looking at

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

A HATFUL OF TROUBLE, “T asked Miss Moran’s permission to use this same wire. The request arose from a suggestion on Miss Moran’s part that it might save me a trip to the city on business in the morning. When I came in here I could not get the connection.” “T quite understand, sir,’ said Foster imperturbably. 7 “What do you mean by that?” “JT saw you coming in, sir. I was just returning myself. I was intending to ask you what hour you wished to be roused and — if you would have coffee in your room. I waited, and then, hearing you exclaim, I stepped to the door, within earshot and sight of you, sir.” Arthur saw that if Foster was lying his dissimulation was perfect. His expression comported perfectly with his statement; and his statement was exactly what a discreet servant would do under like circumstances. ‘“‘ Are there any- other servants about?” asked Arthur, “T think not, sir.” “ How many—and their names?” “ The cook, whose name is Mrs. Poindex- ter; Pauline, who is Mrs. Moran’s maid, and Jane, the housemaid. They are all in bed long since in the servants’ wing. Alexander and Peter Rodwell are the gardeners. Alex sleeps in the little lodge by the main gate. Peter has quarters near the greenhouse. “T roused him to get the keys to the side gate, which is chiefly for his use in bringing in material or taking out rubbish. He went with us, and I told him what had happened. I saw to it on my way back that Alexander was also informed of intruders, and he promised to keep a strict watch, in case trouble arose again.” Arthur nodded, Foster was an enigma. The sinewy chap belied his profession as a butler in all but his impassivity. He went on: “That leaves only James Atkins, one of the two chauffeurs—the other man is in town, constantly, with Mr. Moran. I found Atkins asleep in bed over in the garage, and told him what had happened. He is a de- pendable fellow and quite fearless. He has worked for Mr. Moran for five years.” “Do any other servants sleep on the grounds?” = “ There are no other servants, sir, except Benjamin Fisher, who. is pilot and mechanic for the motor boat: and he sleeps down at the pier where the boat is kept.” “Thank you, Foster. Well, I will retire and go to the city in the morning. You may rouse me about seven thirty o’clock.” Foster bowed, Arthur followed him up to his room. There was nothing else to be done. S What had been confusion before was now chaos. He remembered retirmg. His next con- scious thought. was seeing Foster, standing bland and deferential, with a tray and a .robe at the side of his bed. The pink and topaz of a new day was limning the room with ghosts of last night’s largely futile con- jectures and all-pervading confusion. CHAPTER XXVI. A LITTLE LIGHT. = H! Good morning, Foster! You O may put the tray here. Thank you.” “Good morning, sir. well?” : ‘“ Like the Seven Sleepers in the Oriental tale.” = ‘““The shower is ready, sir. Miss Moran says that her mother has a slight headache. She will not see you until your return from | the city,” said Foster when the guest emerged from the shower. Arthur nodded and inquired the time. H was about eight and he speeded up by order- ing the car brought around while he dressed. Atkins drove him to Bonicrest station in time to catch an express to the city, and shortly after nine o’clock Arthur was de- positing a nickel in a coin box booth and calling “ Shelby 8900.” Nor did he forget to keep an eye out for the y-man with the tall figure and angular features. He saw nothing of him, however. Did you sleep The same flat, distasteful voice, as on the day before, cut in with a reply. | “This is Mr. Smith-Jones speaking,” said Arthur Fower, shearing his —— off short. “Yes, Mr. Jones.” = comicbooks The viperish tones com