Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 189, No. 4 — page 143: what you’re looking at

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

THE DEVIL’S FLOWER. a hundred excuses and apologies as we hur- ried toward track 21, _Yes, the redcap found from another por- ter, my train had come into the station on schedule some ten minutes ago. My eyes searched everywhere, frantical- ly. There was no mistake, I was at the right gate, a little late, perhaps, but where “was Julia? Surely she would wait awhile. Had she, after nervously looking for me, gone directly to the Albertson? Back to the apartment hotel we hurried, fast as a taxi could take us, which wasn’t very fast, and there my worst fears were realized. No lady, nor any one, in fact, had called or telephoned there. Nearly crazy, I went up to my rooms and paced the floor, as near a candidate for a lunatic asylum as a man could be. had missed the train—a hundred possibili- ties suggested themselves for recognition. But, receiving no counter word from Julia, I had an anguishing fear that some- thing strange and terrible had happened to the girl I had expected to marry that after- noon. I was positive no ordinary slip-up could explain it. CHAPTER XXIV. THE TRUTH! ND I was right. After getting Mercy Hospital on the long distance tele- phone, I confirmed that Julia had left on the 1.30 P.M. train. A nurse friend had accompanied her to the railroad sta- tion and seen her off. So that was settled. But I had been sure, if anything had stopped her taking that train, she would have let me know. Even the prettiest and most attractive of girls doesn’t break an appointment to get married without send- ing some word. And now? Nothing! A blank for the imagination to fill in. Julia had left Clif- ton Falls on a train that had arrived in New York on schedule time—and then what? One can’t very well call up the police station and send out an alarm for a lost fiancée, missed at the Grand Central Sta- tion. They are missed every day, lots of places, Maybe she. a 613 Alas, in a big city, every one has his own private grief, and you must have a genuine murder tragedy to draw tears from the tab- loids. | Harry stayed with me, vainly trying to console my tortured spirit, as long as he could, but he finally had to go back to the hospital for an evening shift. While he was with me I could annoy him with endless questioning, but now I was left along with a strange buzz in my brain that I was sure would drive me mad. I was too nervous to stay put in one spot, so about nine o’clock, having touched not a bite of food, four whole hours after Julia had been expected to join me, I set out for a long walk. | Several hours later I reached the theater district on my way to the Albertson just as the houses were letting out. As I saw the happy couples issuing from the lobbies I thought of the joyful evening we were to have spent together, the first of our honey- moon, and the stabbing at my heart strings never ceased. - ; Accompany me if you will an unhappy, distraught man, as I walked back to my rooms at the Albertson, to pace the floor and smile at the thought of sleep. That, I knew, was entirely out of the question. For hours I walked the floor, as the say- ing goes, until I was physically tired and exhausted, all but the brain, and there a cycle of recurring thoughts had even brought a certain dullness from asking the same question over and over and over again. About one o’clock in the morning I threw myself into a chair and smoked listlessly, the reaction from the excitement setting in. Just then there was a slight tapping at the door and I rushed at it like a demon. A man whose face was strange to me placed his finger to his lips and sidled inside, “One minute, Dr. Warner, for your own peace of mind—if you will take my news quietly,” he said. ‘I must explain that I am one of Merritt’s men.” I looked at him with heavy eyes. All right,” I replied, “‘ but I don’t know that you can interest me. I am sick with personal troubles.” ‘‘T know all about them,” he stated. Eomichbooks (E(0)