Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1923 — page 82: what you’re looking at

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

; ivi a ') Se A ARS " a us she was engaged to that little beast, you remember. To-night’s papers may have up- set her. She sounded like it over the phone. So-long, old son. If you get lonely turn on the gramophone. There’s a good Ca- ruso record on the bottom shelf. That ‘ll make you feel nice and creepy.”’ “Tsay, Jimmy—” Dick called after him. “Do you call her Justina?” “Not as yet,” Jimmy flung back, ‘ but you ‘never know, and I’d like to be word- perfect if ever it so happened I was called upon to play the part.” He was not in the least flippant, how- ever, when the most correct of elderly men- servants admitted him to the big house in Cavendish Square and showed him through a somewhat hushed atmosphere to the little maple paneled room where Justina di Trevi had received him on former occasions. “ Everybody is out,’ she exclaimed in stricken tones. ‘“‘ Even Angelo. They have no hearts, and have gone to the opera. Even Angelo says that nothing matters so long as itis not known that I ever was engaged to marry that horrible little brute. Fancy even my stepson having no feelings for me, and he more like my brother than anyching else! Ah, Mr. Creigh, 1 somehow felt that you wouldn’t fail me.” “No, I wouldn’t,” Jimmy replied sol- emnly. He took the little hand she offered him and wondered if he could manage a Continental form of salutation with the erace it demanded. But the hand was withdrawn before he could decide. ‘Sit down here.” The marchesa patted a divan which was comfortably big enough for two. “‘ Do you know what Angelo says? There has been a policeman to talk with him. Not an ordinary policeman, you un- derstand, but a very fine fellow. Of course they are all fine, but this one—he is grand, magnificent.” “ Lewis, by any chance?” Jimmy Creigh inquired bitterly. '“ Ah, that is the name. Inspector Lewis —Detective Inspector Lewis.” ' “ Ves, and pretty soon it will be Governor General Detective Inspector Lewis. 1 know the fellow. You’d better tell the marchese to be careful of him. His other name is Slippery Sam.” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “Oh!” The marchesa was_ horrified. ‘Angelo has talked quite a lot to him. Shouldn’t he have done so?”’ ‘TI don’t suppose he could help himself,” Jimmy said with a sigh. ‘ Other people have talked to him, too. But what did he and your stepson converse about? ‘ Con- verse’ is a word that Slippery Sam would approve of.” “It was mostly about the theft of my dressing case, a year ago, as I have told you,’ the marchesa replied. ‘ According to this detective person, whom I gather you do not like—” ‘You have gathered correctly. But go. on, please.” ‘ According to him, Bruce—I should say Mr. Norwich, for I’ve nothing more to do with him—he was concerned with this Alma Stern and others in a gang of robbers. To me, the idea is incredible. The men of the gang, according to Angelo, traded upon the foolishness of rich and titled ladies, while the women, making themselves out to be something which they were not, deceived gentlemen in high positions. Can you con- ceive of anything like that, Mr. Creigh?” “It has been done,” Jimmy admitted. “| have heard of it, although it’s never come my way before. But you were say- ing—” “That Angelo says if it hadn’t been for him holding out about money matters, that Mr. Norwich would have made a fool of me. And it may be true. I have written him a letter, and I want you to do something for me, Mr. Creigh. I feel I can trust you. It’s a very horrid letter. I want it to get to Mr. Norwich at once.” She produced the missive in question, a fat envelope addressed bluntly and briefly: BRUCE NORWICH AEGEAN CLUB ‘“ But where,” asked Jimmy Creigh, “ is the Aigean club?” “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought you’d be sure to know. The address is 62 Charpen Street.” ““ And where is that?” “ My dear man, you live in London!” “Yes, but not in all of it. I suppose there’s a street directory in the house.” 3 4A COPNICLOOOKS (E@)