Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

THE ISLAND OF DOUBT. “You beast!” “T had to do it—” “Thate you! I—” . “And another thing’? — abruptly he seized her shoulders and made her face him—“ you are strong, but you must under- stand that I am stronger. I do not want you to struggle again, but if you interfere with my duty—” “ Liar!” Helpless in his grasp she poured out her defiance. ‘‘ Liar! Your duty! You mean your precious liberty—liberty to swindle!” When finally she stopped he said quietly: “You have finished? Very well. Now you will come with me in the boat. Unfortu- nately you’ve made it absolutely necessary that I prove what I have said. I am sorry, because it will hurt you to know the truth. But—” “Tl not go!” He released her shoulders gently and looked down on her. “You can’t make ine go. I won’t! I—” “For the last time I ask you if you wilk come.” ce No! > He stooped, his arms circling her. She was swept off her feet. Ignoring her cries, her beating fists, her frantic struggle, Tom Francis strode serenely down to the float. He deposited her with little ceremony in the cockpit of the Walrus, slipped the painter and shoved it off. He gave her no further attention then, busy at starting the engine. Natalie crouched, her eyes turning from his broad back as he stooped at his task about the boat. She saw and her hand clasped it as she saw it, a heavy wrench. It was weapon enough to kill the man. Her eyes burned with an insane anger as she raised the wrench for a blow. Francis did not deign to look behind him. Even when the wrench dropped from her band with a clatter, when she flung herself on the bench and began an hysterical sob- bing he remained absorbed in his study of the gas engine. VI. THE Pacific, bound northward to Colum- bia her last port of call before the return 3 923 to San Francisco, slowed down at the hail of a man in a motor boat. The man helped a woman to the ladder, made fast his boat for towing and followed her to the deck where she was now tenderly embraced by a rather elderly, gray haired, anxious passenger. While Tom Francis watched this scene he was hailed by name and turned to clasp hands eagerly with another passenger. It was this passenger whom Francis brought presently to Natalie Reed and her father. Foster Reed knew the man and introduced his daughter to Warren Fenimore, a super- vising official of the Federal Bureau of For- estry. ‘‘ Mr. Fenimore is my boss,” Fran- cis added. “In view of what Francis has told me and the peculiar circumstances of the case,” Fenimore smiled, “I’m going to explain him to Miss Natalie. The bureau sent Tom Francis into the timber country behind Hope on a special mission. The Coast Timber Corporation for years has been cut- ting government timber—stealing it, in other words. Recently in an effort to legal- ize their stealings they have been asking Congress to withdraw certain lands from the forest reserve. Tom Francis had to get his facts and get them to our Con- gressmen in Washington at once, if we were to stop the fraud. And Hand, the store- keeper at Hope, has been in the secret em- ploy of the timber people for years. Un- doubtedly Hand’s instructions were to de- lay our man—to hinder him as long as pos- sible, for with the present session nearing an end hours meant millions to our timber crooks. I think that will explain to you why Hand identified our man to you as the swindler of your father—and also why Tom Francis could not explain himself.” Fenimore was tactful enough to leave Francis with the girl after that, taking Fos- ter Reed away with him. “What can I say? What can I really do, to show how ashamed I am?” Natalie sobbed. “Just this,’ Francis dictated gently. ““Let me come back to you. And never let me go away again. I was your prisoner, dear, from the first moment I saw you—and will always be!” oO Ccomicbooks CO