Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 136: what you’re looking at

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

770 ing instinctively it was for her. How could she have forgotten it? Returning to the table Mary placed the lamp on it and then drew the letter from the bosom of her gown. It was blank, but she tore it open with trembling fingers and sank into a chair. The writing was the same as that when he had signed as a witness at her marriage ceremony, almost the same as that which had appeared in the photograph of the forged check, and she read it with a fast beating heart: Dear Lapy: I am going away because I must, before my presence brings further trouble upon you, more than you can know. Please remember what I begged of you, that all investigation be dropped. I will give myself up voluntarily if it is continued, for the truth shall never be known. Please also explain this to your friend who has offered to aid me and tell him that I have sworn this. If I am taken, neither you nor he have ever seen me. If I go free, you will never hear of me again, but if-you think of me at all know that I shall always remember you with deepest gratitude and honor as the noblest woman in all the world. May God bless and keep you and bring you happiness. It was unsigned, and as Mary stared at it her eyes slowly dilated and her face blanched. Again she read it and yet again; then it fluttered to her feet and she started up stifling a wild cry which rose to her lips. She was “the noblest woman in all the world!” He had gone to save her—her— from further trouble, “more than she could know!” She was to tell her “ friend ” that George Lorrin had sworn the truth would never be known. He would give him- self up first, go back to prison—to keep from suffering some one who was very dear to him! She was the woman for whom he had made this terrific sacrifice. She was the “noblest in the world,” the woman he loved. If knowledge of the identity of the real forger would cause her suffering, it could only be because the criminal was closely connected with her, the man whose name she bore—Wesley King. She shrank back, cowering from the hor- ror of the thought, but a thousand inci- dents came flooding back to her brain, con- ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. © firming the truth: Wesley’s uncontrollable start when he read the name of their con- vict witness over the latter’s shoulder in the parsonage, his brutally expressed efforts to get rid of him afterward at the earliest opportunity, his rage when she announced her intention of giving the fugitive further help, and obtaining his address. Surely there had been guilt then in his manner if only she might have realized it. Then their parting. His alternate abuse, insults, threats and pleading with something underlying it all that was not love, not ex- actly fear, but craft. He had wanted her for his wife, he had tried again and again in their meetings since to persuade her to come to him, but, thank God, he did not love her! She saw that clearly now and in relief at this knowledge she did not yet question his motive in rushing her off her feet, carrying her away on that reckless elopement. It was enough for the moment that no spark of affection bound her to this despicable crea- ture. There was that dinner under the swaying lanterns at Tommaso’s. She had been sur- prised and shocked at her own cynical in- difference to his love making, but his face as she had seen it in all its latent evil had risen before her again as on the night before and she had been undeceived. How careful he had been when she asked him about George Lorrin, how cleverly he had ad- mitted knowing of him and his trial through their mutual association with Mr. Wharton and how he had tried to convince her of Lorrin’s guilt. Only when she made an issue of it had he promised to help prove the other man’s innocence, and what had he done to keep that promise? How could she have been so blind as to trust him? Mary covered her face with her hands, feeling a cold chill clutch her, sweep her as with a gale. She had placed George Lorrin in his hands. Even now she had sent him forth to hunt down the one person on earth who could betray him. The worn latch of the old studio door had slipped and it swung inwardly for an inch or two, but she was oblivious to it. King had not betrayed George Lorrin to the au- thorities because he was afraid of losing her; that could be the only explanation. oO Comichbooks (S@) S|