Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 4 — page 159: what you’re looking at

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

MOORS END. on toward the village. I was glad of both the exercise and the leisure to arrange my ideas, which had been very much upset in the last hour. However much the discov- ery of the trick that had been played upon us had solved the mystery, several ques- tions were still left unanswered. Who, for instance, was the man who had been strug- gling in the room that night with the false Uncle Gregory. I might have thought he had lied about it, except for the fact of having distinctly heard the noise of the struggle, myself. Again, had he found the paper in the safe for which he was look- ing? As I went over the events of last night, I was struck by the ingenuity with which he had turned everything to his own end, and the cleverness with which he had used us doth for his purpose. Had he used Shirley without her knowledge? That was the question that still bothered me. 1 didn’t think for a moment that she had come there expecting to meet him, or had known him at the very first, but I was not so sure that she didn’t recognize him later and be- come an unwilling confederate. Her speech to him in the library had smacked of a defiance founded, perhaps, on suspicion—if not knowledge. Knowing her as I did, I could realize just how unwilling she would be to help on her father’s schemes in any way, and only an unusual pressure could have made her do it. But in that case she must have known about Uncle Gregory being shut up, and that I positively refused to believe. _ ‘No, he had probably made her think Uncle Gregory had fled or, more probable still, threatened her with something unless she would help him. This last would ex- plain her change in attitude toward me the morning on the rocks; something must have been told her then which had changed her from a frank companion into an active enemy, but here another thought stopped me. If she knew her father was there in the réle of Uncle Gregory, why did she take the trouble to leave the note for him down- Stairs on the safe, when she could, with much less trouble, have told him herself? Had" it been a last silent appeal, in case she had been forbidden to speak? 665 - Hang it, everything was in a worse tangle than before, out of which only one fact was clear; that the relations between Shirley and myself were growing more strained, rather than less. I made up my mind that I would have a frank talk with her and clear matters up as soon as possible, and having come to this sensible conclu- sion, I set myself with renewed energy to the task of reaching the village. It was only three miles to the other end of the island and as the sea was calm, ex- cept for great oily swells, souvenirs of the recent storm, I made good time. I left my boat beached on the graveled shore and made’ my way to the nearest doctor. After having been shut up for three days among all these mysteries, it was a relief to be out among other people, and the nar- row, cobble streets of the old town seemed very pleasant to me as I swung along in the October sunshine. I found the doctor that Peter had recommended and, fortunately, he was at home and able to go with me at once. He was a young man who had just come, and had, I imagine, more cleverness than the usual seaport doctors, for he asked no questions, but picked up his bag and started off with me. I was not to get off so easily from the rest of the village gossips. As we passed the combined post-office and town hall, several lounging men stared at us curiously and one of them called: out to me: “‘ Say, are you Carlos Brent? There’s a telegram just come for you.” I thanked him and went inside, ‘well aware that they would immediately ques- tion the doctor during my absence. The postmaster handed me the. telegram and watched me curiously as I tore it open. It was dated from the mainland twenty miles off, and ran as follows: | Look at once in the dressing-room. The key is under the mat. All well. R. D. So, at last, he did not wish his victim to die, and had stopped in his flight long enough to send this warning telegram. It showed, too, that he had not intended leaving the precise moment he had; un- doubtedly Clinch had hastened matters. But the telegram might not have been de- Origi na ror - GOR EloOO