Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 3 — page 175: what you’re looking at

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

- aa 3 ! ~ CIRCUMSTANCES. ‘Police! Robbers! Help!” shrieked the parrot. Genroe’s tortured eyes tried to . locate the bird, but he could not turn his head. It was the first Brent had noticed that he couldn’t. “I’m going to die, ain’t I?” asked the man. “ Well—” began Brent. © “ Don’t try to smooth it over, doc.” “You can’t move your head?”’ 4 No. +P] “‘ Fall, wasn’t it?” “6 Yes—looks pretty bad, don’t it?” Brent nodded. Then he said suddenly: “ See here, Genroe, I know you're Spald- ing—”’ “ Don’t!” Genroe cried wildly, then, with a twisted smile: ‘“ May as well keep that quiet. No one knows it but Elsie. And you know Elsie—and she’s all right, Elsie is—and if, if—do you think Ill die?”’ “1 don’t know.” “Tf I thought it was all—” mused Gen- roe, then exclaimed: “ Oh, hell, I’ll take a chance. You tell Elsie not to identify me, ‘and I’ll never let on that the old lady—” Genroe’s voice was getting weaker. “ T’'ll tell them,” he whispered. ‘“ Here, kitty. Come, kitty,” teased the t. “Damn that parrot!” grunted Genroe, then went on: “ Ill let on that I was just a_bo lookin’ through the window, saw the old lady hiding the money, went in, and “she got frightened and her heart flopped on her—how’s that? Ob, I'll tell them something.” Genroe was seized with a spasm of cough- ing. When it eased, he smiled. “Had Madden dead to rights, didn’t they?” Brent continued working over him. “Guess I’m done for, eh, doc?” A pause. Then Genroe said again: “I figure that keepin’ quiet about who I am would kind of be doing the decent thing by the old lady. You tell Elsie not to blow it. Oh! Don’t do that again, doc! And say, supposin’ I should die right off! Mad- den’s in pretty bad—” Brent had been thinking of that from the first. The parrot had quieted. down, (The Digiti ity Google 457 ‘‘ Better call ’em in now,” suggested Gen- roe weakly, “I’m getting kind of cold and numb, and there’s no good of Madden— the reason I yelled for a doctar was because I thought they’d get you—and Elsie told me—say, get ’2m-in here quick, will you?” Brent was summoning the others. He heard Genroe tell the whole story, the last very faintly. And Brent helped guide his hand in making the cross that was all Genroe’s strength would permit in the way. _ of a signature. Around it the court stenog- rapher who had taken the halting confes- sion down in long-hand had printed: “ Rob- ert Genroe, his mark.” At that Brent thought that the man glanced at him with a faint gleam of amuse- ment in the dulling eyes. , For a moment there was no sound but the man’s breathing. Suddenly the parrot began to repeat: ““'What’s the matter?” Genroe roused himself surprisingly. “* 'Where’s Madden?” he demanded. ‘ Here,” said Madden huskily. . “é Can't see you, Joe.” Genroe’s voice had again dropped to a whisper. “ But I guess this is so long. ” Madden. Was crying. Again there was silence, except for the sound of Genroe’s breathing. Then the parrot again. And this time it shrilled: “ Go to school, Bob; go to school, Bob!” But Bob did not hear. Six months later Elsie Spalding again changed her name—from Peggy Archer to Mrs. Philip Brent. On the recovery of County Physician Jackson, Dr. Brent had closed his practise and moved to New York, where mammy was given dominion over a pleasant apartment on Central Park West to which Brent brought his bride. Thornton Pendleton retired from active office-holding to employ his talents as politi- cal boss of his district. Simeon Sturgis owns a small apartment- house just built on the ground where the little cottage stood. Madden? Drifted off somewhere. Brent never heard of him again. Mrs. West has the parrot. end.) Original fron OHIO STATE UNWEHUT THE GOOLKS. COM