Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 17, 1924 — page 115: what you’re looking at

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

THE ROARING FORTIES, of the East. It was a story of places of shame, backed up with a tale of that most shameless charmer, Wanda MacBayne. Pugsley told how this mysterious girl, half Manchu and half Scot, had got Richard Dunbar into her toils. There are some bad places out here in this God-forsaken coast, but there are none worse than the place where Wanda MacBayne hangs out. She’s got Dunbar body and soul. [I must say myself she’s a comely dame to look upon, and of course that’s what turned Dun- bar’s fool head. i Last night I saw that wicked hussy kiss him. Mary Williston read no further. A low, plaintive cry escaped her, while she swayed like some frail sapling riven by the blast. “Last night I saw that wicked hussy kiss him.” These cruel words seemed to burn them- selves into her inmost being. After the first shock there came over Mary Williston a quick revulsion. ““T hate him! Ihate him! I hate him!” she exclaimed aloud in a raging paroxysm. That night when Nat Gertridge came to take Mary for a walk he was amazed at her deportment. As they strolled together down the shadowy street, Nat inquired: “Why so grave to-night, Mary? It doesn’t seem like you not to be laughing and dancing all over the place. Is there anything on your mind?” “ Yes.” * What is it?” “TT am thinking about my future.” Nat jumped for his opportunity. ‘“‘ You’ve been awfully cruel to me, Mary, but I really and truly think that you love me under- neath. Won’t you marry me, Mary?” There was a pause. Nat hardly believed he heard aright, as in a voice scarcely audible, Mary answered: ‘Twill, With the joy of conquest, Nat bent to kiss her, but she withheld him. ‘One promise, Nat?” “Anything, anything in the world, Mary.” “Well, promise me if I marry you, never, never speak the name of Richard Dunbar.” “ T'll swear by my life never to mention that name, Mary.” 265 * But why?” ‘“‘ Because I hate him.” After that night there were no more letters from Mary Williston to some one on the China coast. Letters which came to her _ from there were promptly burned without even being opened. CHAPTER XXXVI. WHEN CHINA STILL WAS CHINA, N the other side of the world, Valkyrie followed the narrow seas, serene and lofty. Her scarlet burgee had be- come the pride and glory of the hongs. There was a touch of mystery about that soaring clipper that claimed kinship to the East. Many a crew of a wallowing junk, at sight of her tall leaning spires of canvas, fell down and worshiped. Here was the old East untouched by West. Here gray and hoary with antiquity, the China of thousands of years remained unchanged. Once a month the treaty ports received letters recalling bright visions of a place called “ home.” Then, for a brief moment, Europe and America revived, only to fade again in shadowy memory. Was it any wonder that customs and lives were changed in such a strange and distant world? The East India Company, with its pomp and grandeur, had passed away, but com- fort and luxury remained, with a lofty race of whites that still refused to tie their own shoe-strings. _ When Captain Forbes came to a berth in the bluest of seas, under the brightest of skies, at Pagoda Anchorage, gazing at the lofty trucks of the Valkyrie, against that oriental setting, he exclaimed: “‘ Aye, this is where her heart belongs.” It might have been observed of Forbes that his heart belonged in many places wherever the women were fetching. No sooner was he ashore than he began to reveal his one and only weakness. On the broad cool veranda of the clubhouse, and in the great hongs of Adamson, Bell; Gilman & Company, and Jardin Matheson, was received with a welcome becoming such a famous captain. COmicloool< (C@