Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 120: what you’re looking at

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

910 out a hand and shook Bartley’s, himself smiling. ‘““ Er—charmed—all that!” he murmured. “No, Prue’s not in trouble—not in what they commonly call trouble, at all events. I fancy she’s just gone, she and Wayne!” “But you don’t happen to know where?” “Why, of course I do,” the other said, quite unexpectedly. ‘“ She’s on my yacht. The Myrma. You've heard of her, I imagine? Bought her two years ago from the good old impoverished Duke of—” “On your yacht?” Bartley cried. “ What in blazes is she doing on your yacht?” Mr. Sneath laughed heartily. “ Sounds odd, I know, but it’s quite all right, old chap,” he said. ‘‘ I’ve known Prue ever since she was a baby and I wasn’t a lot more myself. Families have always been more or less friends, of course, but I’ve always been a bit soft on Prue, even if she couldn’t see me.” - He hesitated and stayed the flow of con- fidences. “‘ That is to say, she knows mighty well—and I know mighty well!—that when she begins to wheedle she’s bound to get what she wants. yacht, it was hers!” “ YVou—you gave it to her?” cried Bart- ley Greer. “T lent it to her. She’s boss while she’s aboard, be sure of that. I gave Ordway, my captain, instructions to that effect and he’ll follow ’em. He knows Prue and he is as silly about her as the rest of us, I suppose. One thing about Prue—” Bartley’s hand on his shoulder gave him pause again. “Friend,” Bartley said, somewhat thick- ly, “ you don’t happen to know just why she wanted a yacht this afternoon?” “Why—yes, of course I know,” Mr. Sneath replied. ‘She wanted it for her honeymoon!” CHAPTER XIV. LOOKING SEAWARD. HERE were blood vessels in Bartley Greer’s temples and a rather prom- inent vein in his forehead. On very rare occasions these swelled visibly. They So when she asked for the ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. swelled now, for it was indeed a rare oc- casion! : ‘““ Prue’s—not married?” Mr. Greer gasped. “To be sure. How the deuce would one have a honeymoon without getting mar-~ ried?” Sneath inquired. ‘“In various ways; and if she’s been listening to the rotten teachings of this in- fernal Leigh woman she—” “Hey! Hey!” Mr Flynn put in, angrily. “Oh, dry up!” Bartley snarled. “ Was it—was it Armstruther?” “Oh, you know him? Yes, naturally, it was Armstruther. Demented about the silly ass, Prue is—she has been for weeks, and that’s a long time for Prue to stay de- mented about any one.” ‘““ ‘Yes—yes!” Mr. Greer said, as from a great distance. ‘“ When did the ceremony take place, if there was a ceremony?” “Well, there was, of course, but I’m blest if I know when they ran it off,” he confessed a trifle blankly. “In fact, I didn’t waste much breath asking questions; and Prue talked pretty rapidly and she’s not any too easy to understand over the telephone. Main thing was that she want- ed the old tub for her honeymoon and she wanted it quick. “* Sometime or other I must have promised her the yacht whenever she wanted to use it, for she reminded me of that—and the upshot of the whole thing was that when I said she was lying at anchor and could have steam up in an hour, the kid shrieked with joy and swore she’d kiss me a thousand times the next time we met. Reward enough in its way, eh? Well—” “Wait a minute. This yacht—about its stores. Is it provisioned for a long trip?” 74518.” “Enough to get to a Russian port?” Mr. Sneath’s eyes opened. “Why in the world should any one want to go to a Russian port?” he asked. “Ts it?” Bartley Greer barked. “Yes, of course. Or an African port or a Chinese port, if it comes to that. Been contemplating a jolly little ramble around the world with a few friends, for several weeks, and they’ve got the fresh meat all frozen in the refrigerating plant and—” O. Comiicbooks C@