Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1923 — page 108: what you’re looking at

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

BIO ‘was the matter with him? Had his whole moral structure broken down or had he turned absolute coward or had this terrible blow of Helen’s definitely shattered his nerve—or what? Well, at least it was not cowardice in the ordinary sense; had there been no Aunt Faith to suffer from the gos- sip and excitement of a revelation, he would have spoken his piece quite prettily and, perchance, would even now have been on the path to Hades’s main entrance, as prom- - ised by Thurlow Wicks. However, the main consideration was that he had not spoken and—now what? Mr. Harley slowed his pace, permitting the down town New York crowd to jostle him as it listed while he pondered wretched- ly. For one thing he would have to lie low for a few days, until he or Wolcott found the true answer. He—yes, very likely he’d have to dine at the Wicks’ home to-night, but apart from that he’d shun Mildred and Althea and Aunt Faith and all the rest of them. He’d spend as little time as possible in Ebbridge and as much down here by him- self. Mr. Harley looked about with stricken eyes: by himself! That was the saddest point of the whole affair. Six months or more, every spare minute had been passed with Helen Stevens, And never, never again would he—oh, that was impossible! A great love doesn’t end like that for any reason in the world. Such a love as Helen’s and his must survive even murder! She had spoken in hot anger yesterday, but, her lim- ited information considered, it had been anger perfectly justified. Long hefore this, she had repented! Mr. Harley stopped short at the thought. Why hadn’t that ray of intelligence reached him before? She was far too proud to make advances after that interview, but he —why, he’d grovel in the dust before her for just one word of forgiveness! Mr, Harley turned suddenly into the drug store beside him and raced for the telephone booths at the rear. She might even answer the telephone! _ She did not. The voice coming over the wire was Cousin Thyra’s—plump, comfor- table Cousin Thyra, who lived for her chil- dren and her home. a, - u TE ete — Pa es ore a —< en re - a See =. ee ge ae A a Re eg ee ee a eS ey ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, “This is—Jack!” Mr. Harley stated rather emotionally. ‘ Is Nellie there?” ‘““ Jack Harley?” cried the voice. “Of course! Is—” . “No, Nellie isn’t here now. She’s down town getting some things for me, Jack. Jack! What have you been doing? Not quarreling?” < Why?” “TY knew it!” Cousin Thyra said with conviction. ‘‘ Was it her fault or yours?” ““ Mine!” Mr. Harley answered promptly, “ Well, you ought to be ashamed of your- self!” said Cousin Thyra, whose whole mind was an open book. ‘‘ She came home here yesterday and went to her room and cried— I think I won’t tell you about it, after all.” ‘She cried!” breathed John. ‘ She does care, then!” “ About you? You know perfectly well she’s mad about you!” the lady said indig- nantly. ‘ And if you’ve been mean to her, John Harley—” “Tf I have I’ll get down on my knees and stay there until she forgives me!” John cried. ‘‘ Thyra, she’ll be home this eve- ning?” “Not until ten or so. She’s helping at the strawberry festival at the church.” “ T’'ll be up a few minutes after ten, then. Thyra, will you just arrange things so that we're absolutely alone?” Over the wire floated a gentle and under- standing laugh. “Oh, I suppose so, John,” said Helen’s cousin. ‘‘ Do you want her to know you're coming?” “I do not, and I don’t want her to know I’ve called up, either!” John cried, and his voice held almost a cheerful note. On the street again he even smiled. After all, when a girl like Helen cares enough to cry about one, it is not such a bad old world! Mr, Harley’s spirits rose, slowly but very steadily. Something insisted on telling him that before midnight all would be well between himself and Helen; and after that glorious condition had been re- stored, he’d have his head to devote to the puzzle itself. Meanwhile he could lose himself in the day’s work, reasonably secure from inter- ruption. He heaved a sigh of relief. He COPMICLOOOKS ac