Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 12, 1927 — page 106: what you’re looking at

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

100 me, I believe Cronk was the first on the scene; for I remember he was running down the stairs even before the doctor opened his door. Cronk—as he told me afterward, had heard the cry, and knowing that I was down there sitting outside the judge’s door alone, he had feared for my safety. Accordingly he had leaped from his bed, and out to the gallery without pausing to fumble for matches and a lamp. We adjusted the ladder, and the doctor scrambled up. He said it was pitch dark in the judge’s room. Indeed I saw no more evidence of that strange light. ‘That yell was like a death cry,” Cronk said. ‘‘ The judge has another victim.” They all turned to me with a volley of questions. I recounted my experiences as best I could. But I imagine I must have been very inchoate. ‘‘ There was a light,” I said. ‘A materialization,” said Cronk. “ The photograph will show us something when it’s developed.” ‘And I heard the clinking of coins—as though some one were counting.”’ Miss Shirley had come up to join us. The announcement that I had heard count- ing had a very decided effect on her. She asked me several times to repeat my de- scription of the sound. Maizie still re- mained on the gallery above, not daring to come any closer to the scene, but she heard everything I said. “The judge was in the habit of count- ing over his money in there,” she called down in a high-pitched, nervous voice. “Every night he did it—till we were all crazy with the sound of it.” Cronk seemed to become more enthused than frightened over these strange details. They were perfect manifestations of a spir- it, he said. ‘Who was it that the judge picked out this time?” he asked. “The best way to find out is to go into that room,” Miss Shirley said calmly. We were all surprised at her for this very nat- ural statement. The fact is, none of us, the doctor, or Cronk, or myself, had enter- tained the slightest idea of going into the 2 a - fateful bedchamber.. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. himself with another errand. He climbed up to the transom, and took down his cam- era. The doctor was wiping his forehead. “We must all have a drink first,” he said. Miss Shirley seemed to smile at our hes- itancy—if you could call her expression a smile. It prodded me into saying: Saab go in.” “Then [ll get the key to the room,” she said. “ And Vl as the doctor a glass of sherry.” When she vetiiinsd with the key, a rather peculiar incident occurred. She held it out to me, but at the same moment, she caught sight of Maizie’s face, a terrific mask, vivid and reddened by the beams of the lamp she was holding staring down at us. ‘Miss Shirley held the key_in her hand tightly just as I reached for it. Then she said quietly, still looking up to the top story where Maizie was: “Where is Pasqual?” That question, given out in such a calm, quiet tone, had in it the power and the devastation of a thunderbolt. We all looked at each other, bewildered, chagrined. Why hadn’t we noticed that point before? Pasqual had not appeared. He was the one member of the household who had not come into the hall in response to that cry from the judge’s bedchamber. Maizie went back immediately to the mozo’s room, and returned. “ He’s not in his room,” ‘“ Maybe it is Pasqual who was in there,’ the docior said. I objected: “It was not the Mexican’s voice. I can tell his accent. It was a Negro. I believe it was the old fakir—but his voice was muffled. There is a strong probability that he was being gagged while he was yelling.” “We'll soon find out,” Shirley said. “ Here’s the key.” I took it. The doctor, after tossing off his glass of sherry, followed me. Cronk stayed out, feverishly rolling and extracting the film from his camera. Miss Shirley—contrary to the doctor’s admonitions—came into the room with us, = one of eos lamps. 5 comicbooks.com