Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 53: what you’re looking at

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

THE PASSING OF “T do not know.” The policeman came with the footman, and the latter admitted instantly that Miss Lanson came out of her room and hurried down the stairs soon after he was stationed at the angle of the corridor. 2 “You had your orders!” stormed Win- ter. ‘“‘ Why did you permit her to pass, and why, having done so, did you not in- form me?” “Sir,” stuttered the man, ‘‘ Miss Lanson is my mistress.” “You, and every other person in this place, are under my control now. Go back to your post. If you allow any other man or woman to open a door once they are locked in, and do not report it, you will be arrested as an accessory after the fact, and that means you will be charged as an accomplice in the crime of murder. Be off!” : He hammered loudly on a panel, and waited a few seconds, but neither he nor his companions could hear a sound with- in. This was only to be expected, how- ever; the door was solidly built and lay in a deep recess. After knocking again he stooped, and tried to shout through the keyhole: ‘“* No matter who is inside there, the door will be broken open without further notice!” He was still bent when the key was turned, and Irene Lanson appeared, a tragic figure framed in the bright light of the interior. Far within, a limp form still lay back in its chair. “Oh, it’s you!” she cried. you want here?” The chief executive officer of the Crimi- nal Investigation Department had seldom been called on to answer a more discon- certing question. Moreover, he had been caught in an undignified posture. But his blood was up, and, as was his way when roused, he attacked without mercy. ‘“ Miss Lanson,” he said, with icy dis- tinctness, ‘‘ do you want to be regarded as a criminal?” ‘“How dare you speak to me like that?” she shrilled, though there was a hint of fear as well as of indignation in her voice. Probably never before had she been brow- beaten by any one. “What do CHARLES LANSON. - frail woman standing in the passage. 843 “Why do I find you here, sneaking into a place of death, when you had prom- ised to remain in your own rooms?” ‘“ Who has better right than a daughter to weep by the side of her murdered fa- ther?” “You have not been weeping; you have been prying, searching. For what?” Winter’s air was commanding, threaten- ing. His mere physical bulk overawed the She backed away from him involuntarily. ‘““ How dare you?” she breathed again. **I dare more than words!” he almost shouted, springing at her and grasping her slim shoulders. “I am here at your fa- ther’s request. He knew he was surround- ed by traitors. Are you one? What is my daring compared with yours, who, with the devilish nerve of all evil doers, disobey the commands of the police, and are ready even to rob the dead? Did you quail before the presence of that blood-stained dagger on the table? Not you! Give me the docu- ment, or whatever it is, you came here to rescue. Give it to me, I say, or I’ll tear the clothes off your body to find it!” He shook her violently. Adopting wom- an’s last means of defense, she burst into a storm of tears, and strove to free herself. “Resistance is useless,” said Winter fiercely. ‘‘ You must confess now, this in- stant. Women of your type understand nothing but force. Why are you in this room ?”’ Davidson grasped his right arm. “Really, Mr. Winter—” he began. The bigger man’s eyes blazed at him in wrathful astonishment. “Constable, arrest this fool!’’ came the ready order, and’ the secretary was torn away promptly. Winter’s right hand seized the front of the girl’s dress, a demi-toilette affair, cut fairly high in the neck. “ Tll give you no further warning,” he growled. “ Tell me the truth, and produce the papers you have been searching for, "ai es His grip on the frail material tightened, and it began to yield. ‘Please, don’t!” gasped the girl. ‘I! came for no papers. I—I have been tele- phoning.” Oo ComiclbookS.sc©