Argosy All-Story Weekly — "Sea Marauders" — page 129: what you’re looking at

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

“Why, just tear these things up as I pass them to you, Dick,” Gwen said, dragging forth bundle after bundle of letters. “I don’t want to leave—I mean, it’s high time this stuff was destroyed. Fill up that basket, Dick, and as it’s filled take it over to the fire- place and touch a match to it. Will you do that?” Mr. Melton was willing enough to do that. The strain was over at last; - any real worrying he chose to do now would be mainly the fruit of a too lively imagination. Joe would catch Bill—and, incidentally, Joe would have to have about another hundred as a reward, for Joe wasn’t a cheap person. Richard sighed heavily. That brought the grand total up well above nineteen hundred dollars; yes, nearly two thousand good dollars, just gone because Gwen had happened to see him in the hallway of Bill Reeves’s office building ! However, nothing of the kind would ever happen again, that was certain. For all time. to come, Richard was cured of nerves and temperament and the habit of worrying over little things, you bet! Gwen must be tearing up all the ‘letters and papers that had come to her since early childhood! That was the fourth basket of small pieces he had carried over to the fireplace and set ablaze. And time was hurrying along, too, and, despite all his ear-straining, never the smallest tinkle of a telephone bell had so far come to Richard. He calmed himself and replied lightly to one of Gwen’s remarks, which had be- come few and far between as she destroyed her collection of writings. It was darned queer, the way she sat and frowned preoccupiedly over those things; it wasn’t like Gwen to be so silent, and— “Say! is that twelve striking?” Richard gasped. EVERY MINUTE COUNTS. - B51 “Yes. Why?” “Gwen, I want to go down and make sure Reeves has called up!” “We'll go: down presently,” said, in her absent way. ‘“ Dicky, tear this lot up in smaller pieces, will you?” She rummaged on. The pigeon- holes were almost empty now; three more basketsful had gone to the fire- place—and still Richard had not been able to catch that tinkle! What if something had slipped? What if Joe had not caught Reeves, after all? . “There! We'll go down now,” Gwen said. “ Come along, Dicky!” Beautifully, she moved beside him to the stairs; beautifully and a yard from him she moved down them. But at the bottom Mrs. Bragg slipped a slender arm through Richard’s and sighed languishingly. 3 “Say, Gwen!’ Mr. Melton’s ag- itated whisper said. “ Don’t do that!” “Take your arm? But you used to like it, Dicky.” “That was before you had a hus- band! Anyhow, I don’t get the idea of it. You do these things only when Bragg’ s in the neighborhood, and he—” ** Oh, he doesn’t mind,” said Mrs. Bragg. “Let’s look in on Samson and see what he’s doing. He ought to —oh, hello!’ breathed the lady, as they came within sight of the library. “ He’s entertaining! |Who’s the sweet little girl, I wonder?” Young Mr. Melton turned his angry and impatient gaze toward the library —turned it in this angry and impatient way for the smallest part of a second, and then stood rooted and unbreath- ing. Mrs. Bragg might wonder about the identity of the girl beside the colonel’s : desk and upon whom the colonel was smiling approval. But Richard did not wonder at all; Richard knew! The sweet little girl’s name was Anne Crosby. TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK Gwen