Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 121: what you’re looking at

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

THE HANDWRITING ON THE WALL. already one of the boys has been drugged and another one gagged and bound at the point of a gun in broad day, so you can see’ what might happen to either of us. I will not have you run any further risk!” “ Goodness!”’ Ethel’s eyes danced. ‘ I’ve missed all that! It—it wasn’t Mr. Powell that any of that happened to?” The question came with a sudden catch in her breath and a note of apprehension that Cliff had never heard in her indomi- table young voice before. He glanced at her in swift surprise. “No, it was Mr. Roper and Mr. Howe. But I must have absolute obedience, Ethel! You’ve paid for your room in advance?”’ “‘ Of course, from Saturday night, when I took, it.” ‘‘So you were here ahead of me?” He smiled in spite of himself. ‘‘ Write a little note telling Mrs. Franck you’ve got a posi- tion to leave the city at once, and send it by messenger from the office, with instruc- tions to get your things. Tell him to check them at the Grand Central and we’ll send for them later. Then sfay in the office, do you understand, my dear? When Mr. Powell comes in tell him I want him to es- cort you home personally every night and call for you in the morning until he hears from me. There mustn’t be any mistake about that!”’ “I’ve taken care of myself since I could walk, but of course I’ll do as you say,” Ethel murmured docilely. ‘Id hate to have Mr. Powell think I was afraid, though! You’re going to find Joe Geiger all by your- self? Why did you ask Bessie about ‘ the old woman ’?” “Because of something Al said to Charlie Curran on Sunday night I think she knows a little about Joe and where he is,” Cliff explained. ‘ Everybody concerned will be warned now, of course, but I’ve got to try to reach Brookfield ahead of any message. I haven’t a minute to lose! Re- member my instructions now, Ethel, and follow them to the letter. I’m going to put you in a taxi and send you straight back to the office.” They found a row of cabs near the park entrance, and handing her into one of them Cliff.added a final admonition. 911 “* Don’t tell any one but Rex Powell that you’ve even seen me, and give any excuse you can for your own absence; I’m not afraid that it won’t be a good one! I'll mail instructions to each of the boys when I want them to take a hand. Good luck, Ethel, and let me find you at your desk when I come in!” Ethel laughed and nodded, but when the taxi door was closed and she bowled off down town the light of adventure dawned again in her eyes and crystallized in a look of resolve. She would obey—to a certain point. Mr. Powell could come for her and take her home, but the hours be- tween needn’t all be spent at that desk, al- though she would do her best to manage to be there when Cliff Nichols returned. The case would be over by then, however, and the murderer found. It was lunch time when she arrived at the office of the Shadowers, but the panel between the anteroom and Rex Powell’s sanctum was open a trifle as she let herself softly in with her key. The first word she heard was her own name uttered in the chief’s resonant tones. “Ethel? No, I haven't been able to learn anything about her, though under a dif- ferent name I met Mrs. Gordon, as Cliff suggested. I don’t mind telling you, gentle- men, that I’m in great anxiety!” ““J—I’m here!’’ Ethel announced in a small, very meek voice. There was a sudden sound of chairs being violently pushed back and then the panel was thrust fully aside and Rex appeared, followed by George Roper and Henry Cor- liss, their faces alight with eager surprise and relief. ‘‘ Where have you been?” the former de- manded. Ethel had not given that a thought in spite of Cliff’s reminder, but now she replied glibly: “‘T guess everybody’s got a family! I’m not boasting about mine, but sometimes I get word from—from what’s left of it and I have to—to look them up and—and kind of steer them off! I said I went away on my own business, didn’t I?” “Yes, and you're about as worthy of be- lief, my dear child, as any other female COMGDOO! (©