Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 122: what you’re looking at

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

912 I'll chase her from here to Singapore, if I have to, but I'll bring her back and—” A surge of the old, hot variety of fury clogged his throat. Richard’s low laugh vibrated strangely in the taxi. ‘“ You won’t be alone on the job, and you won't be hauling back just the kid!” he stated. “ You can’t see through this, even now, Bart; you get one idea stuck in your head and it crowds out everything else. Armstruther isn’t carrying off that kid; he’s taking Wayne!” Bartley only laughed. “TI tell you, he is!” snarled the obsessed Richard. “ I saw the way he looked at her —and he knows I saw! And, Bart, if ever I have a knife in my hands when I see him again, I’m going to lose myself. iS”? “IT wouldn’t!” Bartley chuckled. “‘ Any- way, you’d have to get a pole-ax or a saber to prod into a vital spot on Arm- struther. What time did you leave the flat when you came up to meet me?” “About half past seven.” ‘““Umum! Took Armstruther five min- utes to write that note and perhaps an- other five to find the boy. Prue had her packing done by that time, from the general look of things,” Bartley mused. ‘I’m as- suming, you see, that the dear child had her whole cheerful plan outlined by the time you were in the street. Then there’s next to no doubt that she managed to have a private subway in operation or an airplane on the roof, so it hardly took them more than half an hour to get uptown—and it’s quarter past nine now. She’s sailed by this time.” “I don’t believe it! I won’t believe it! I don’t believe Wayne ’d ever—” Mr. Flynn began violently and ended with an almost piteous: “ Bart, what ‘ll we do if she really has sailed?” Young Mr. Greer looked him over calmly. “We'll bring that kid back,” said he. “ That’s the beginning and the end of the proposition, and everything in between— we'll bring her back if we keep at it until she’s a white-haired old woman and we’re chasing her in a couple of wheelchairs. And now that that’s settled, just get one ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. word of warning into that poor, addled brain, Dick; have all the fits you like be- tween here and One Hundred and Fortieth Street—only be finished by the time we land there. We're going to need our heads.” This delivered, Mr. Greer sat back and hummed a little tune—which by the way was the same little love song. Oddly, he had just caught himself wishing that Mary Severn, instead of her father, had answered the telephone—had caught himself wishing other odd things, too—had caught himself wondering whether, after all, this soldier- of-fortune business was the best one for a young man who, in the nature of things, must settle down some time or other. One really doesn’t work up in the soldier- of-fortune industry to the point of turning one’s business into a million dollar corpo- ration or of selling out at a profit to a group of faithful employees. In fact, view- ing the proposition in the peculiarly dispas- sionate way of which Bartley seemed ca- pable this evening, one does not accumulate enough to— “Ts this the place?” the driver inquired, as he stopped near a little flight of wooden steps leading to a plank walk that stretched riverward with the hazy white bulk of a house down at the water’s edge. ‘““ This seems to be the place,’”’ Mr. Greer responded, as he stepped down and be- stowed ten of his presumably ill-gotten dollars on the man. “You can’t get down to the club to- night, boss, if that’s where you're goin’. The gate’s locked.” “We'll get down,” Bartley said serene- ly. ‘ Farewell.” The gate indeed was locked, and it was a fan-shaped aifair of stout pickets, extend- ing forbiddingly beyond either side of the plank walk. Young Mr. Greer gripped the pickets and swung quite easily through the air, meeting Richard as he negotiated the other side in similar fashion. Much as if nobody ever had bothered to build a gate at that particular point, they hurried down the walk—down more steps—down to the wide plank flooring at the water level. And there they halted abruptly as a big form loomed before them and a hard voice min- Bap COMICOOOkKSs (©