Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 11, 1925 — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

208 ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ing on the wall. “Oh, of course I could move away; drop my friends; drop my work; leave everything that has been dear to me since childhood—drop every hope and aspiration—” She halted. “Can you understand?” “No. Go on.” “« Ah, the virtuous viewpoint is so easy to one who has never been tempted!” “Go on. You were explaining.” She spoke through rebellious lips: “I was approached by a—gentleman— who needed money. He offered a chance for a sure investment. I did not know exactly what it was, but he proved his case so well that I took a chance with the last of my funds—making sure that I should not know exactly what the investment was. Can you understand?” “Yep. Too much. Kidding yourself!” She nodded coldly. “The investment was successful. I made money. I have always made money, until -recently. . But I got in deeper and deeper.” A grim line straightened her curved lips. “Now they even come to my home!” Sud- denly she clutched her napkin in clenched fists. ‘“‘ Can you see the daily, hourly terror —the fear of discovery—haunted—living over a volcano—oh, my brother, why did you tell me last night of the good _ fortune that might have been mine!” Steve had nothing to say. Her appeal was too piteous. He watched a freighter plowing through blue waters below him. Something moved outside the window. He focused his eyes upon the front steps. A familiar, sturdy, hook-nosed man in good blue clothing was arriving. * Who is that?” snapped Steve. Paula turned and glanced outside. “That is Joe Hammond, one of the chief lieutenants of the gang!”’ _ “Who is the big chief?” “Steinemann. You met him.’’ Contempt crept into her voice. ‘“‘ He wanted to get into ‘society.’ I had no recourse!” “Of course not!” The doorbell rang.: Paula, with a neg- ative nod to the maid, arose and walked to the anteroom. Steve hesitated. Suddenly, without Paula’ s knowledge, he arose, slipped toward the big vase, and quietly extracted his short- barreled pistol. He tiptoed into an alcove. The front door opened. The newcomer was ushered in. “IT didn’t want to telephone,” he ex- plained, quickly. “I was near here, any- how. They’ve traced the moving vans into the Peninsula hills. We’re goin’ to round em up. To-night.” His voice became dulcet. ‘“ We'll not see you suffer a loss! Not you, Paula!” Steve’s anger arose. Paula! And so his father’s daughter—bearing his name—was subject to familiarities from a gang of cheap. lawbreakers! Impetuously Steve stepped forward, holding the pistol. The other man’s mouth opened. He threw a sharp inquiring glance at Paula. “T’ve heard enough!” roared Steve. “There are some things I can’t stand for!” “Who is this fellow?” demanded the other, recognizing Steve and speaking to Paula. ‘“ Your brother?” “ Not exactly,” said Steve, truthfully. “Oh. A spy! He was at the landing last | night! »” “An officer of the Federal Secret Ser- vice!” announced Steve. “‘ Stephen!” gasped Paula. The visitor’s face turned purple-red. “So you’re a spy! A-spy! I knew it! Well, you haven’t got anything on me! You haven’t any witnesses—” Steve cocked his pistol. “No!” screamed Paula. “ Stephen—not that!” Heavens, stop this melodrama!” The last word inspired Steve with a new idea. Deliberately he pannbest the eigen toward her. “Stephen!” he scoffed. “Cut out the pet names, please! Come down to earth! I’ve worn a mask—yes, I’ve fooled you, leading you onward, letting you tattle your little secrets in my ear while getting enough evidence to send you and your fine crowd of crooks to the penitentiary! Never mind the endearments now! We'll dispense with them! You’re trapped! You poor fool, so you tried to throw me off the trail with your cheap love! Do you think I’ve been blind all these weeks?” “ Paula!” groaned the reproachful visitor. Paula looked stricken. e eae 3A ~ oe