Argosy All-Story Weekly — "Sea Marauders" — page 118: what you’re looking at

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

> cd a =o = few <e = De - ” ~~ a POW bse yet she was sitting there and looking as pleased as if some one had handed her a pretty compliment and a gift of roses—or better perhaps, knowing Gwen as he did, a bushel of diamonds and a million dollars. It was all be- yond Richard! “Gwen! Listen!” he cried. - “ Now I have to go!” The smile died out. Mrs. Bragg glanced up annoyedly. “Dear me, are you still harping on that?” she asked. ; “You bet! And Ill go right on harping, and—” “No, Dicky, you will not!’ the lady informed him, with sudden firmness. «¢ Eh "ie s ** Sit down here beside me, please. You look exactly like a barnstorming tragedian when you prance around like that. There, that’s better. Now, Dicky, I—” “Gwen, before you begin,’ said Richard’s hollow voice, ‘‘ I have to get this one statement in edgewise: if you don’t help me out of here in a hurry, you're going to ruin my business!" _ Mrs. Bragg arched her exquisite brows. : “Do you know, Dicky,” she said slowly, “it sounds to me very much as if there might be a woman behind all this excitement. Have you, perhaps, a sweet little girl down in New York who is calling for you?” “ T_J—” Richard stammered. “ No! T tell you—’ “T thought as much,” murmured Gwen. “ Well, I’m sorry, but she'll have to wait until I’m through with you, Dicky; I can’t stand aside for any other lady just now.” “ But—I mean, my business—’ “Oh, Dicky, do be calm,’ Gwen pleaded, and pinched his ear. “At least be calm enough to realize that I naven’t grown stupid, please. A gen- tleman with a business capable of being ruined isn’t running around under an assumed name looking for a job.” _- Richard’s poor hands went up again! ‘ ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Gwen smiled. “Yes, I know how queer it all looks. _ I haven’t time to explain all the ins and outs now, but—” “You have plenty of time, whether you know it or not, but there isn’t a thing to be gained by explaining them, because I’m afraid I’m not feeling very credulous this morning,” Mrs. Bragg said, quite crisply, and sat up. “And, Dicky, this eternal fussing and fretting about getting away from -here is becoming a downright bore! Candidly, I’m tired of it. I don’t want to hear another word on the subject!” He was against the ropes—yes; but even now Mr. Melton was not quite thrashed. Within him there remained at least a squeak or two of protest. “All right, Gwen! But—” ** See here, Dick! For the last time, will you stop this wriggling and just stay and lend me a hand, nicely,” un- complainingly ?” ““I—can’t!” choked honest Richard. Mrs. Bragg sighed lightly. “Very well. We shall have to bring out the club and give you a wallop or two, I suppose,” said she, and leaned closer to Richard and gazed straight into his troubled eyes. ‘“‘ Dick, you’ve made a certain estimate of Samson be- fore this, I assume? You know that he’s a rather ferocious person of the old, elemental order?” SEhe- Yes.” “Well, now, just what do you sup- pose Samson would do, if I were to take him your letters and—” Letters?” : “Your dear old letters, Dicky,” “They were too pre- cious to destroy. I’ve had letters and letters, but none of them so thrilling as yours.”’ “You mean—what I wrote three years ago?” Mr. Melton stammered. “Yes, dear, but they’re just as fresh ~ as the day you wrote them, because I’ve preserved them very carefully. And you may have forgotten, but you never put a date on a letter; they’re just ‘Thursday’ or ‘Monday after- —