Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

GENTLEMEN “ With a pass key,” supplemented Carl Howe firmly. ‘‘ We’ve suspected him from the first, you see—” “We had his number all right. is there—” “Oh, but you shouldn’t have! How do you know the things have been stolen!” ‘‘ She’s coming to identify it!” cried the wireman triumphantly. ‘“ She—whoe”’ “The woman who—” “Now just a moment you two,” broke in Philip Swift severely. ‘“‘ Can’t you see you are frightening Mrs. Ladd?” He patted her hand reassuringly. ‘‘ You’re muddling the thing horribly. You say you found stolen goods?” Charlie Dew opened his lips, but the de- termined Carl spoke first. “One of the boxes had a name on it— and address. I waited while Dew went out, looked it up in the directory and tele- phoned—” “T got a woman” the wireman ‘0k up the story, ‘‘ asked her if she’d been missing anything lately—antiques, jewelry, and she said yes. I told her where we were and she’s coming to identify them.” ‘Then he is a thief!”” gasped Amalie. “Fence, probably,” contributed the wire- man. ‘‘ You know—the guy who receives the stuff, keeps it until the cops get care- less and sells it.” ‘“Come in and see for yourself,” urged Carl Howe. With Philip’s gently supporting hand on her arm, she followed the triumphant wire- man and the portentous Carl Howe to the parlor floor front. The room was ablaze with light and the fervid machinations of the self appointed detectives had left typhonic chaos in its wake. “You see—here!”’ ‘“‘ And this!” A pair of exquisitely embossed silver mili- tary brushes! A jewel case crypting a plump gold watch. ‘* Priceless,”’ breathed Philip Swift. antique—you see the key!” ‘“* And these!” Carl Howe came forward with further evidence. “They don’t look like aieh to me,” admitted the wireman sourly, The loot ss An ONLY. 685 Amalie peered unhappily at the box they held out for her inspection, formless bits of bone and mineral meticulously tageed and numbered. “But what are they?” she demanded. “That’s the box we found the name Gite “ Fossils,” Philip Swift was explaining authoritatively. ‘‘ They are immensely val- uable. Probably from some famous col- lection.”’ ‘“ But—but these things may be his.” ‘Only they ain’t,” Charlie Dew said grimly. ‘ You'll meet the owner soon. She’s on her way.” “Oh, but how could you!’ Amalie ap- pealed to them in her despair. ‘“ Why didn’t you let him alone?”’ Philip Swift spoke gently. “It’s like you to want to befriend him— even now. But you see when you told me about him, I was afraid you had made a mistake. I knew there was something strange about him.” “You knew!” interrupted Carl Howe with elaborate sarcasm. “Be good enough not to interrupt me,” said the literary light frigidly and turned back to Amalie. “ And, as I was saying—”’ “That’s about all you do is ‘say,’ ” broke in the wireman scornfully. “If I’d had my way, the darned crook’d be doing time by now—” ‘And a pretty mess you’d have made of it,” Carl Howe blurted disgustedly. ‘‘ In- stead of having a pass key made, doing the thing quietly—” “* Well, who got the pass key?”’ demanded the wireman furiously. Carl Howe shrugged a contemptuous shoulder and turned to Amalie, found the lean bulk of the literary Mr. Swift inter- vening. ‘Now, if you had consulted me,” he was saying gently, but Charlie Dew’s disdainful laugh cut him short. ““Oh, I suppose if she had consulted you, you’d have told the crook to go away from here! Yes, you would!” “This is a matter between Mrs. Ladd and me,” Philip Swift said haughtily. “ But since this has happened, I advise—”’ “Oh, I guess Mrs. Ladd can manage with- oO COMMGCOOOKSsCO