Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 7, 1928 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

“YOU'VE KILLED PRIVACY!” The eves were piercing, intent, and highly intelligent, in spite of the light of madness in their depths. The coun- tenance was that of a man of breeding, the zesthetic lineaments of a scholar and dreamer. This was no mere thug. Ward was particularly interested in the fellow’s statement at headquarters, transmitted by dictograph to a phono- graph disk and so put on the radio. The man’s voice, free from the hoarse frenzy of the morning, was well modu- lated and his phraseology was cul- tured. ‘“T have nothing to say,” he stated, “except that I represent a_ secret brotherhood sworn to destroy the ene- mies of privacy. You may imprison me if you wish, but my work will go on. My name is John Yosoff, and I am a graduate student in philosophy at Midland University. That is all.” The man’s identity had been verified, and the authorities at the university stated that Yosoff had acted queerly ever since a severe illness a year ago and had been absent from his lectures for days at a time without explana- tion. The police were inclined to scout his statement about the secret brother- hood, but were searching for any clews that might unearth such a sinister con- spiracy. Edison Ward returned to his office a little more impressed with the possi- ble seriousness of the affair. But he was too annoyed on the street to think clearly. Pausing to wait, for traffic at a corner, he heard a radio blaring over his head above the entrance to a radio supply store. 7 “Edison Ward has just left the Hotel Flourette and is on his way back to his office, apparently unguarded, but it is understood that he is being fol- lowed closely by plainclothes men from headquarters assigned to guard him without consulting his wishes,” roared the radio. Bystanders looked at the subject of this broadcasting, and grinned. Ward started on in even greater disgust. 153 This was certainly keeping publicity right up to the minute. He looked about for the unsought police guardians, but was unable to pick them from the crowd. Well, he had demonstrated his courage. He would not walk the public streets again right away. He was almost tempted to follow the advice of Morehouse and Coddington and go into hiding till public curiosity subsided. Perhaps his associates meant well toward him, after all. And yet as he reéntered his office it was with a feeling that he was sur- rounded by those whom he could not trust—all excepting Marian Lord. Without any tangible reason at all he felt sure of her fidelity, although he dared hope for no stronger feeling. He had intended to dictate his radio speech to Marian that afternoon, but when it came to the point shyness re- strained him from talking even before so small and sympathetic an audience. He chose to address the dictophone in- stead. Even then his imagination pic- tured that distant radio audience and at times made him fumble his sen- tences. One cylinder had been filled with a halting first draft of the fore part of his speech, and he was replacing it with a fresh cylinder, when a sudden thought struck him. He stood for a long minute with the cylinder poised over the machine, then chuckled light- heartedly and slipped it into plice. From then on his dictation went smoothly. He was no longer haunted by a vision of his radio audience. By the middle of the afternoon the first draft was finished and the cylinders turned over to Marian Lord to tran- scribe. “Tl make the final: draft in the morning,” he told her. “I’m going home early to-day. You can reach me in my study at home if I’m needed be- fore the office closes. If any more bombers call, send them out to the house with a camera man.” Go NOLS mie (E@)