ComicBooks.com Register / Loginit's free!

Pulp Fiction, 1924 · page 78 of 180

Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 78: what you’re looking at

📖 Open the full issue in the page-flip reader →
Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 78: Pulp Fiction, 1924

A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1924. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.

📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)

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

868 was on his own. But he wouldn’t do that. He then told me that he knew you; and so I insisted on his dining to-night.” ‘““Is he coming?” asked Midge. “Yes, he is coming. I had some dif- ficulty in persuading him. I could see he didn’t want any fuss made about what he’d done. But all brave people are like that. I knew you would want to thank him your- self, Midge,” he added, with a look of simple and devoted affection. “Yes, of course,” said Midge. She did not know how she lived through the rest of the day. She prayed frantically that she might fall ill. Anything—any- thing to escape this ordeal. The White Horseman in Calcutta, sav- ing Sir John’s life, being asked to dinner, to meet her, to receive her thanks! Thank God she was prepared! She had not been taken unawares. But how could he come? She raged in miserable fury, and yet her common sense told her that he couldn’t get out of it. How could he take such risks? How could he come to Calcutta, where it was so possible that he might meet men who had known Lord Lovell Beaudesir? How could she bear to meet him, to speak to him, to touch his hand? In Sir John’s house, at Sir John’s table. He would see—oh, what would he not see? Those eyes would see how it was with her. They would read her heart and soul and know that she didn’t love Sir John, that she was carrying on a bitter and cruel deception. He would despise her because she was marrying a man she did not love. As the day wore on, another feeling took possession of her heart—the awful, breath- less joy because she was going to see him again. She could not drive it away. No stern measures would stamp it out. It was the unconquerable rebellion of nature. The moment came. They were assembled in the drawing-room, and Mr. Drake was shown in. It went off all right. Elsie was exuber- ant in her welcome and her congratulations. Midge managed to say a few appropriate words. Sir John beamed on them. The dinner was like a dream to Midge. She was grateful because the guest set Up ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. no mental communication between himself and her. He was the quiet, pleasant Mr. Drake of Banzat. He looked better and his voice was a little less muffled. Once or twice, while talking, he took off the tinted glasses and wiped them. Midge trembled at such recklessness. He looked at her and she returned his gaze with an anguished appeal. But the others had no clue, and did not dream that those slaty- gray eyes belonged to the outlaw whom the whole frontier had been trying to cap- ture for years. Afterwards they sat in the big drawing- room, among softly shaded lights and scents of flowers, and talked. Mr. Drake did not talk much, as a matter of fact; but he was deeply interested in Sir John’s account of his trip to China. Sir John had visited some very out of the way places. Presently Sir John was called away to the telephone. Mrs. Inglis, who was passionately fond of music, and a very good pianist, went into the smaller drawing-room and began to draw waves of beautiful sound from the Bechstein grand piano. Midge and Mr. Drake sat silently for some moments. Then the man rose, and on the pretense of examining a curious cab- inet, drew the girl to the extreme end of the large drawing-room. ‘‘T want to tell you that I could not help myself,” he said in a low voice. “ It would have caused suspicion, if I had not come.” ‘‘T know,” she answered, looking ner- vously across the room. But their voices could not possibly reach the player, who was obviously absorbed in her music. “How can you take such risks?” she asked. “Tess here than on the frontier,” he answered. Instinctively they both pitched their voices just above a whisper. ‘So this is going to be your home! I wonder if you will be happy in it. I can’t see you in it—somehow. It’s big and grand—but it’s a cage.” She looked at him in blind anguish. “ Sir John loves you,” he went on. “ Is it fair to him?” “ Don’t! Oh, don’t How cruel you are!”’ oO CoOMmiclbooks CO