Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

THE MAN WITHOUT HANDS. ly, it seemed to Val. ‘ You have seen me before, however, and it—” “Yes, so I have,” said Val. ‘“ Twice be- fore—” “Once,” corrected the man with no hands. “No, twice—once in my bedroom—”’ “Surely you’re mistaken,” interrupted the man who had no hands, suavely, but Val noticed a slight contraction of his eyes. ““T have never had the pleasure of visiting you.” Val shrugged his shoulders. “It’s of no consequence,” he put in. ‘‘ You have some- thing to say to me?” He looked at him inquiringly. “Tf you don’t mind,” said the other. **T won’t take a minute.” Well, ’'m on my way uptown,” offered Val. “If you'll ride up with me—”’ “* That ‘Il be fine,’’ smiled the older man. They stepped into the car. ‘‘ Home, Ed- die,”’ called out Val, and the car slid out into the street and hummed on its way. They sat shoulder to shoulder, strangely and constrainedly silent for a few moments. As for Val, he had nothing to say to this man until he had spoken to Jessica and knew what relationship there was between them. He did not know how this deformed man came into this plot, anyway. The other, on his part, seemed a bit reluctant to begin the conversation. There was some- thing on his mind—that was evident enough; it did not appear easy to Say it, however. The limousine swung up Lafayette Street and joined a home-going stream of automo- biles that must have included nearly every car in New York. From all points they added themselves to the live stream, noisy, with brakes and springs squeaking and horns braying. “By Jove!” said a calm voice at Val’s elbow. ‘‘ You would think they cost a nickel apiece.” Val nodded. “You were saying—” he began tentative- ly, turning to his companion. “That I had something to say to you,” _ completed the other. “ Well, I have. It’s about Miss Pomeroy—and things connected with her. Through a curious series of events, Mr. Morley, you have—to a certain \ 45 extent—been drawn into matters concerning Miss Pomeroy—and myself. These affairs can be of no interest to you—”’ “You're impertinent, sir,” interrupted Val, turning and looking at his companion squarely. The other met his eye, gaze for gaze. “You wouldn’t say so if you knew the circumstances. But I am not here to dis- cuss them with you. You have seen Miss Pomeroy—lI know you are to see her again.” He paused for a moment, “What if I am?” queried Val, calmly. “I’m not in the habit of permitting stran- gers to censor my calling list. You—” “Only this,” went on the man who had no hands, calmly. ‘It would not be ad- visable for you to keep up your acquaint- ance with Miss Pomeroy, or to see her again. It will be well for you to withdraw from all the affairs surrounding her—” “You dare to threaten me!” Val said this softly, but his tone was of ice. The other took his hands from his pockets —his stumps, rather, and held them up in front of him, misshapen and grotesque. “Nonsense,” he burst out. ‘‘ How can I, a helpless cripple, threaten you? You see—” He regarded his hands, and was silent for a moment or two. ‘Then just what do you mean by—” “Exactly what I said. You are a stran- ger to Miss Pomeroy—it would be well for you to remain a stranger, and not to mix in affairs that do not concern you in any way.” ‘Ts this a warning?” asked Val. The other shrugged his shoulders. ‘It is anything you choose to make it, my young friend.” “And if I choose to disregard it—” “Well, we shall see what we shall see, in that event. You are young and healthy —why not remain that way?” He looked at Val significantly, his scar glowing in the semidarkness of the car like a phosphores- cent gash in his evil face. Val was silent— he did not choose to answer him, and after a time the man went on: “You will find it best to take my—ad- vice,” he purred above the noise of the motor. ‘‘ And now, if I may leave you—”’ ‘Stop on the corner, Eddie,” directed ComicoookKks COLA