Argosy, Vol. 120, No. 1 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

48 and face. He shook miserably. For Marta he felt a humiliation and a shame that scorched him. Well, what to do? They would be back soon, knowing that he had left the Falcon and must have discovered their plans. He tried to force himself to plan the future. But he could only think of the past, of that crowded day—and Marta Kree. The shame of it, this woman with her gift of beauty, personality, brains; this woman who might have been so lovely a thing, de- liberately linked with leering double-dealing | » and evil! _ He knew his time of waiting must be short. But the could not force coherent thought. His shocked brain wandered. When he distinguished, by an ear uncan- -nily alert to small and strange noises, foot- falls whispering along the beach, he was still without a plan. A moment later there came a sharp rap, hurriedly repeated, against the outer door, Dean rose and, lantern in hand, came from his hiding. He carried the lantern. That it made him an easy target for any marksman in the dark, he realized. But he was indifferent. | | If they wanted to shoot, let them. He ceased to care anything about the next moment. As he crossed the cabin the knocking wes repeated again. The windows were uncur- tained and they must be able to see his light. Yet no shots came. ' He pulled the door wide, holding the lan- tern breast high, carelessly defiant of what- eyer waited out there. The light fell on the white face of Marta Kree. Nobody else was visible. “Oh,” said Dean slowly. “ Well—come in?” Marta started. at the words, hesitated in silence, finally followed him into the caibn. Dean set the lantern on the table and waited. He was aware she was staring at him, but he kept his eyes turned away. It was odd, but his was the part ‘to feel her weight of shame. Burchard’s voice, bawling Dean’s name into the night, had roused Marta to momen- tary attention. She was annoyed at Bur- 7 . THE ARGOSY. chard. Of all things in life she least de- sired to see Frazier Dean again. His abrupt leave-taking had wakened her to her own position. She was engaged to marry, almost as good as married, to Bur- chard. With a burning shame she remem- bered the last minutes she and Dean had been together. As utterly as Dean had done she had forgotten herself in the danger- our excitement of those few moments. She realized now that her brief, happy quarter hour with Dean had burned a scar in memory that would never quite heal. Angry and alarmed, she rose hurriedly and ran on deck to check Burchard’s shout- ing. She saw that Blye was with Burchard, argusing with him, and Burchard already had ceased to bawl Dean’s name. By the light from the open chart-house door she noticed that one of Bly’s hands was muf- fled in white bandages, and there was an- other fantastic bandage plastered down along his cheek and neck. Absorbed as she was in other thoughts, there was time to wonder what trouble the sailing-master. was in. “Shut up, Blye,”’ Burchard said sharply. “ Here’s Marta.” | They turned on her uneasily. “* George, must you behave like that?” Marta began irritably. ‘‘ Dean’s gone home —let him go. What’s it matter if he was rude?” “Eh? No—no, you're right, it doesn’t matter, Marta. No, it doesn’t matter, eh, Blye? “You'll get pneumonia, Marta, up here in that dress,” he added with a frown. ‘“ Go below—please.”’ > “ But Captain Blye? Why, you’ve been hurt!”? Marta noticed now that Blye’s face looked yellow-white. ‘‘ You’ve been badly hurt—I’m sorry—” ‘“‘ Bit me,” said Blye. “Bit you! Something bit you—” 6c Dog.” ‘ ‘Now, now, Marta,” Burchard urged. * Really—in that dress. This wind’s cold. Blye’s all right. Just a little accident. I'll tell you later. If you please, allow me?” Burchard seized her by the arm. ‘“ Back in a jiffy,” he added, to Blye. MMNGID.OG GOUT