Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

162 she stated. “ Let me have Mr. Halcomb’s wire, please—yes, the general manager’s wire.” Now, for a little, Mrs. Ronalds tapped her slim foot. Behind her, across the bou- doir, a deep voice—although, deep as it was, the voice of another lady——-demanded: “ Didn’t show up at his job again to- day, eh?” wy “Something important kept him away from the office, of course, mother,” Mrs. Ronalds replied firmly. “Tah!” said the deeper tone, rather dis- eustedly. ‘‘ More likely he—” ““Oh—yes! Yes, hello!” Mrs. Ronalds interrupted. “ Mr. Halcomb? Good after- noon, Mr. Halcomb. Mrs. Ronalds speak- ing. Neville Ronalds’s mother, you know —yes. Er—Mr. Halcomb! The girl tells me that Neville didn’t come to the office to-day; some very pressing business must have detained him, I know, because he loves his work there with you. But he was too busy to phone home, I suppose, and I’d appreciate it so much if you’d tell me where he is and—I beg pardon?” The pale eyes dilated afresh; Mrs. Ron- alds caught her breath. “ He did not telephone? Why, that’s ex- traordinary, Mr. Halcomb! That’s very extra—pardon me?” And this time the lady stiffened, indignation rising visibly, and listened for one full minute before “ Well, Mr. Halcomb, it may indeed be the sixth time this month that he has done the same thing; I’m not in a position to con- tradict you, for I’ve a wretched memory— although I’m quite certain you’re wrong, of course. But I am entirely sure that only matters of the most extreme importance could have kept Neville from his desk, at any time. Thank you. Good-by!” She turned from the instrument, proudly; ten seconds, perhaps, she remained as proud; but after that Mrs. Ronalds seemed to sag and grow limp, as she gazed at her mother in the familiar, frightened way. ‘“‘ Well, he hasn’t been there all day!” she murmured. “No, and he wasn’t there all day yes- terday, either, the little fool—and he wasn’t home here last night!” the elder lady re- sponded acidly. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Following which, she leaned upon her heavy cane and stared at her only daugh- ter with a hard, grim smile; and her daugh- ter stared back, weakly, tremulously, with hands tight clasped and’no smile at all; and to one ardently interested in the study of contrasts this pair, staring so, must have furnished the perfect jewel of a specimen. Cornelia Ronalds, widow of the late Randolph, albeit in all her forty-five years no solitary rough finger had ever been laid upon her, inevitably gave one the impres- sion of a broken creature, long since beaten into complete submission to anything and everything. Pale she was and _ slightly stooped of shoulder, with an anatomy which no designer of New York or of Paris had ever been able to render even moderately striking, and a disposition more subdued, more gentle, than the disposition of the very gentlest dove in the whole world. Some small part of this unfortunate ef- fect had been the fruit of contact with Ran- dolph, in his heyday quite the type of roughshod and dominating male; but the credit for most of it belonged to Cornelia’s mother, who had been a conspicuous per- sonality long before Randolph’s birth and who was still overwhelmingly in evidence now that nine or ten crops of spring flowers had done their budding on Randolph’s grave. She was, by richly simple name, Jane Stone, relict of Jason, a high-powered per- son who had accumulated several millions in the most spectacular fashion and .then had died young and without openly express- ing any particular fear of what another world might have in store for him, after a decade of his Jane. Presumably, this lady had been born a cast-iron human; at a little past sixty the first spot of rust, so to speak, was still to appear. Mrs. Stone was heavily built, although with very little adipose tissue; nowadays she moved slowly and with some difficulty; but mentally and physically she moved just as relentlessly as any steam-roller. Her cold gray eyes, overhung by quite startling brows, were brilliant and penetrating; her chin was square, her nose more a lump of terrific character than a mere organ. Much of her physique and all of her mind Mrs. COMMICLOOOKS (S@)