Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 118: what you’re looking at

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

748 and I made the death cards come out right mext to the jacks of clubs and hearts, mean- ing ‘ Uncle Charlie’ and the man who was to have telephoned to him and didn’t, and she gave a little scream. ‘She was so white I thought she was going to faint, and then cried: ‘ He didn’t have anything to do with it! Oh, I’ve been afraid of this! My Gawd, if it all comes out!’ Then she remembered herself and stopped, and I told her a few nice things to sort of take the curse off and then quit. She asked me to come again in a few days, but I’d got all I could out of her. She knows about the murder and that Charlie is mixed up in it in some way, but I could not get her to mention the name of the other man. “Look here, Mr. Nichols, Bessie may tell me something to-morrow in the park that you ought to hear. If you aren’t going to be busy, why don’t you take a newspaper and hang around, and if you see me talking to her and I should happen to drop my - scissors you could pick them up for me and I’d recognize you. ‘She might be shy again and shut up like a little clam, but you might suggest taking us for a little ride or something, and I'd get her going again. What do you think of it?” ‘“T think it’s a sensible plan,” Cliff ap- proved. ‘‘ I’ll be there early.” He was as good as his word, and appar- ently deep in the morning’s news when the little girl appeared, this time alone. She had a large paper pad instead of the doll, and looked about eagerly before seating herself on the bench opposite, spreading out her small skirts primly and turning out her round little sandaled toes. Her face was not overintelligent, but very sweet, with calm, steady eyes and a sensi- tive mouth, and her pensive gaze was fast- ened on the gate till at last she jumped up with a pleased little cry. Ethel was en- tering with her workbag on her arm. “ Hello, Mith Jefferthon!” the clear voice piped. “ I brought my pad with me! You didn’t forget?” ‘“ About the paper dolls?” Ethel laughed with a childish note in her own tones. “ No. And I have a big pair of scissors. See them?” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. She seated herself beside where the little girl had waited and held up a huge pair of shears in meaning reminder to Cliff Nichols. “You cut them in a row?” Bessie sat ‘down again, too, and watched absorbedly while Ethel folded and cut, and finally evolved a series of rather acrobatic looking dolls holding each other by the hand. The child was delighted and appeared to be chattering gayly, but her small voice, now that it was no longer raised in excitement, failed to carry to Cliff’s ears. He could could tell by watching her ex- pression and that of Ethel as she put an ap- parently innocent question or two, that the dolls had ceased to be the subject of the conversation. At last, to his relief, the scissors sudden- ly fell ringing on to the pavement. Bessie slipped down politely, but Cliff was before her, and, retrieving the scissors, he present- ed them, hat in hand. Then he paused in ostensibly pleased surprise. ‘Thank you— Why, Mr. Smith!” Eth- el exclaimed. ‘ To think of it’s being you! This is a gentleman I used to work for, Bessie. He has a toy store all filled with the loveliest things, and maybe he’ll show them to you some time. Would you like to sit down with us, Mr. Smith? I wish we had one of your paint boxes to give our dollies nice pink cheeks and blue eyes.” “You shall have one!” Cliff promised as he seated himself. ‘“ Il] be glad to send it to your little friend if you’ll give me her address.” He turned to the child, who was blushing with embarrassment and joy. ‘‘ Why, she lives in the same house I do, but I don’t know what apartment. Tell Mr. Smith, Bessie.” | The child complied shyly, and Cliff grave- ly made a note of it. Then Ethel added: “ Bessie’s got a big doll, Mr. Smith— nicer almost than any in your store—and it was given to her by her Uncle Joe.” “No; he isn’t my uncle,” Bessie dis- claimed politely. “ My uncle’s Uncle Char- lie, but Joe’s a friend of his.” ‘““He must be a friend of yours, too,” Cliff remarked with a smile. ‘““Yeth, thir, he ith!” She lisped as she oO CoOmmiclooOokSs (C@