Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 44: what you’re looking at

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

670 “But it was I, not your husband, who so disgraced himself. And I shall take steps to publish the truth, that he~—and you—may be cleared. I don’t at all mind the ridicule!” The lady calmed a little, drying her eyes with a scrap of lawn, “This is at least generous, monsieur, and I thank you. But who are you? I do not know your name.” “Tt will mean nothing to you, madame. I am a stranger, and of no importance. George Strong, very much at your service.” Again the lady’s eyes widened. “ George Sirong? But then you are that terrible man who has been giving such— such risqué parties in the Latin Quarter—”’ A curious look came into her eyes. She leaned forward, almost confidentially, and asked in a quieter voice: “‘ And by the way, under what nom de plume has Monsieur le comete been concealing himself?” Panic seized George. He beheld his splendid defense tumbling about his ears. For, while he had exculpated the count so far as the perambulator episode went, it was but to mire him all the deeper when his wife learned that, as George Strong, he had won notoriety in a quarter which is not easily surprised. From every pore, it seemed to him, a little jet of cold perspira- tion shot. ‘“‘In all justice to the count,” he man- aged to say, “I must let him answer that question. In truth, I never have so much as seen him.. The affair was arranged by his secretary, M. Sangrado.” “ A-ah! It sounds like that slippery, plausible scoundrel! Sauerbraten ”—turn- ing suddenly to that motionless figure— ‘“‘ do you know where to find your master?” “Not precisely, madame la comtesse; but I dare say it can be managed.” George rose. “ Let me go along with him,” he urged. -* Two heads are better than one!” The countess raised an imperative little hand. “ Nenni, M. Strong! I insist that you remain with me. Once you two men get your heads together, Satan himself could not disentangle the threads of the story you will cook up. Sauerbraten, in one hour ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, —or less—you will be here with your mas- ter. Do you understand?” Sauerbraten bowed, and murmured. In another moment. he was gone. The conversation that ensued was desul- tory. The countess asked a few questions, buy they were innocently subtle. The gar- rulous George as usual spoke freely of him- self. Although he did not know it, in a very short time the little lady had his card- index number in life, and had in her heart almost entirely exculpated him. She even liked him. People nearly always liked George. It would have amazed him to know how perfectly she had matched to- gether the broken bits of information she extracted. Here was a green boy, frank, likable, whose harmless pranks had enraged a stern, wealthy parent. He becomes a re- mittance man, and at once, upon his arrival in Paris, falls into the hands of the oily Sangrado, who molds him to his odious pur- poses. The natural vanity of a bourgeois youth is tickled with the thought of play- ing the prince for a while. Meantime her Edouard, whom she knows like a bocek, adopts the name of the lad, and safely en- trenched behind it, as he fondly believes, plunges into a life that as a world figure he could not have enjoyed. And but for the ridiculous affair of the perambulator, Sangrado’s stratagem might well have suc- ceeded, and the count would have returned to her with his escapades unsuspected! Having completed her picture, she rapid- ly outlined her campaign. She would not, she decided, tax her husband with any- thing but the unwelcome publicity brought upon their name by the perambulator in- cident. She did not propose to engage in a domestic quarrel before a mere common- er—even though he was a nice boy, with a wonderful physique, and such unspoiled eyes and lips. How strong he must be—in reality, as in name! For a fleeting instant she speculated as to how it would feel to be caught up in his arms, and, with a start she checked herself. These were not the reflections proper to a wronged wife! She wrenched her attention back to what George was saying. “ Madame, after your journey — won’t = comicbooks Eom