Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

844 “To whom?” ‘“ To—to Mr. Sevastopolo.” “ Why from this room?” ‘“ Because—because—I heard that man, Mr. Glen’s friend—quarreling with the people in the hall.” ‘“ And how is it that you had a key?” ‘““ My father gave it to me. He did, in- deed. No one was even to know I owned one, and I was never to use it without his permission. Poor darling! He cannot tell me now whether he approves or not.” She faltered on those last words, which had a genuine ring about them. But Win- ter distrusted her profoundly. Somehow, she never seemed to be natural, but always on the stage. Nevertheless, he released her. “Did you get through to Sevastopolo?” he demanded, still dominating her by an unbelieving and piercing look. “Yes. My orders overbore Mr. Pink- “ney’s with the telephone operator. Am I not mistress here?” ‘‘'You are mistress in all things that do not concern your father’s death. In that respect the law is supreme, and I had most special reasons for wishing that Mr. Savas- topolo should not be in private communica- tion with you to-night. What did you say to him?” ““J—I only wanted to hear his voice— to make sure he really was in London.” “In other words, you feared he might be in Sleaford?” “Ves, yes. Something—not quite that.” “Oh, yes, it was! You knew that your father suspected him of double dealing?” Irene Lanson collapsed against the table, and would have fallen but for its support. “No, no. There was nothing really seri- ous!” she almost whispered, apparently yielding to the terror of a half-formed thought. “ Father and he disagreed about the handling of some matter of business. Of course, Mr. Sevastopolo gave in. Why shouldn’t he? He went to London to rectify his own mistake.” “Miss Lanson,” said Winter, cooling down a little, now that he knew the girl was not trying to mislead him at the moment, “you are interfering in grave matters, go- ing far beyond the depths of your knowl- edge, a fact which you yourself will admit ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. readily within a few days. If your are escorted to your rooms again, will you re- main there till the morning?”’ “ Yes, I will! Indeed, I will!” He turned to Davidson, still held firmly by the policeman. “ And you?” he said sternly. ‘“ Are you acting with or against the police in this in- quiry? You must have seen Miss Lanson crossing the main stairs!” “I’m sorry, Mr. Winter,” was the im- mediate response. ‘“‘ My excuse is the foot- man’s. She is my employer’s daughter. Nor could I stand by and see violence of- fered her. That is all.” This young man had the rare quality of reticence, at least. Not by the quiver of an eyelid did he convey to the detective that a few lurid words had revealed to him many things previously hidden. “Let Mr. Davidson go,” said Winter to the policeman. ‘“ Remove that key from the lock, and bring it to me. Then take Miss Lanson to her own rooms, the first set in the main corridor on the left, and when you are sure her door is locked, come back here.” The girl, recovering her poise marvelous- ly, swept out. The policeman, being nearer the exit, got there first and secured the key. At that instant Glen appeared. “May I come in?” he said. The words were out of his mouth before he saw his cousin. Then he was so sur- prised that he could only stare at her as she flitted past. The policeman, eager to obey orders, ran to and fro across the par- quet floor, which creaked loudly under his weight. “May I come?” repeated Glen, when the girl and her escort had vanished‘ with- out any one seeming to pay the slightest heed to him. “ Certainly,” said Winter. “ Both Mr. Davidson and you can help me greatly.” Glen strode forward, but his eyes were not on Winter or the secretary—they flitted, with an awe deepening into horror, from the cadaver lying back in the chair at the head of the table to the dagger resting where Macgregor had placed it. His pace slackened. He was evidently not prepared for the ghastly appearance of the dead oO cComicbooks C@