Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 23, 1924 — page 157: what you’re looking at

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

“ ACCORDING TO in’ yet, and I ain’t losin’ my job talkin’ about patrons premature.” ““What’s this Long got against Wimble- ton? Is it the girl yer speakin’ of? Who is she?” “Old Harwood’s daughter. Harwood ain’t takin’ to the idea of this young racin’ divil marryin’ his girl, an’ it ain’t been easy goin’. But he’s tryin’ his almighty best to make good. Ain’t been up fer speedin’ ner had an accident in six months. Young Long might be after the girl, too, likely enough.” “You talk like this here Wimbleton an’ this Harwood was tellin’ you all their se- cret sorrows,’ commented Tim wonder- ingly. “Not any. I’m just tellin’ it to ye ac- cordin’ to the evidence.” “* Evidence?” “Sure. I ain’t been usin’ me eyes an’ nose round taxis an’ garages fer twenty years fer nothin’. Not till six months ago did I get any scent o’ perfumery off the cushions o’ that boy’s car, or find any hand- kerchiefs or such that the girls are always losin’ in machines. Then about that time I gets a scent from his cushions, jest a faint one, kind o’ perfume a real lady uses. An’ one night I picks up a lace handker- chief with ‘ M. H.’ on it. That don’t tell me nothin’ till one afternoon ol’ Harwood, who’s keepin’ his car here, too, slips me a case note an’ says, ‘ Barney, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me what kind of hours Mr. Wimbleton keeps, and what kind of condi- tion he and his car are in when he comes in. I’ve a very particular reason,’ he says, ‘fer wantin’ to know whether this young gentleman’s steadyin’ down. Don’t men- tion my speakin’ of it,’ he says. “¢T won’t mention it, Mr. Harwood,’ I says, handin’ back the case note. ‘I'd have ye know I’m not mentionin’ the af- fairs o’ any o’ my patrons to anybody,’ f says; an’ we ain’t been real friendly since. “Then I remembers them initials on the handkerchief and recalls Miss Mary Har- wood. An’ a month ago ol’ Harwood tells me he’ll be away fer a month er two, an’ to jack up his car. I figgers little Mary went with him, fer they ain’t been no per- fumery on Wimbleton’s cushions since.” _ ting himself past the speed limit. THE EVIDENCE O15 Meanwhile, Pen Wimbleton, guiding Lu- cifer along the avenue on this particular night in which Barney had confided to his friend his mysterious forebodings, was again fighting the old fire of speed mad- ness that rushed through his veins. For the moment he was the demon driver again instead of the lover. For the first time since he had fallen under Mary Harwood’s sway, the itch for thunderbolt flight threatened to dominate him again. It of- fered release from the canker of loneliness. He was merely holding himself in check by supreme effort of the will. His hands clutched the wheel with convulsive inten-: sity. The foot over the accelerator itched for action. Up through the Bronx and into the open country he drove steadily, never quite let- Again and again on a stretch of open moonlit road the urge to let Lucifer out became almost irresistible. But each time a foreboding of disaster clutched him. “Be just my luck to let out for one sprint, get jugged or wrecked, and have Mary come back to-morrow,” he warned himself finally and turned back toward home. It was past midnight when he neared the garage again; nevertheless he turned out of his course to perform a rite that had been a regular proceeding every evening since Mary went away. In the edge of the park opposite the end of her street lay a bend in the road from which were visible ‘the win- dows of Mary’s home. The path beside this road had been one of his favorite walks with her. To-night, as on other nights when he had taken Lucifer out, he took several turns about the wide circle of the road, slowing down at the bend next the avenue each time, hoping that he might see a light in her window. As he completed the third turn and rolled into a patch of open road brightly lit by an arc lamp, he saw Officer Doane, with whom he had recently had a sharp tilt, standing beside the way eying him dourly. Pen felt certain that his enemy had recognized him. The park was empty at this hour. His was the only car he had seen on the roads. Gomichbooks (EO)