The Argosy, March 1907 — page 124: what you’re looking at

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

696 - THE ARGOSY. “ Poor birdie!” said Mrs. Scales pity- ingly. “Was ums hungry? I wonder what parrots live on? I don’t want to give it anything that might disagree with ot” , She bethought herself of a bird-store which she frequently passed on her way down-town, and, tired though she was, set off once more to obtain some expert advice on the diet of parrots. 2: Mrs. ScALeEs had been gone about half an hour when Mr. Scales, who had done an excellent stroke of business that after- noon and had left his office earlier than usual to tell his wife, ran light-heartedly up the front steps. He was in the act of inserting his latch-key when there came the sound of scurrying feet in the vestibule. The door was torn open, and a pale-faced servant- girl ran fairly into his arms. ‘Good heavens, Martha!” Mr. Scales cried, fairly staggering under the im- pact. “ What on earth’s the matter?” “Oh, sir,” gasped the girl hysterical- ly and clinging to his coat lapels, ‘“there’s something awful going on up- stairs. Listen!”’ Mr. Scales listened, and turned pale to his shirt-collar. “Help! Murder! Help!” shrieked an agonized female voice from the upper floor. “Help! He’s killing me! ” “Jt’s the mistress,” wailed the girl. “JT heard her come in a while ago. Somebody’s murdering her.” Mr. Scales “flung the sobbing abigail to one side, and snatching a heavy cane from the hall-rack, dashed madly up- stairs. A piercing shriek issued from the study as he reached the landing, and with his blood pounding against his ear- drums like a trip-hammer, he rushed along the passage and burst headlong into the room. His upraised weapon fell by his side; he tore frantically at his collar to relieve his laboring bosom, and stared wildly about him. The room was empty. The silence was not broken by even a rustle. Mr. Scales swept his hand across his bewildered eyes. A choking gasp be- hind him twisted him round with ama- zing ‘celerity, but it was only Martha, whose terrified countenance was peering — round the door. “ There’s no one here, Martha,” -he said faintly. “I don’t understand it.” The girl insinuated herself a little farther into the room, and Mr. Scales, advancing a few steps, leaned against a corner of the writing-table which ob- scured the cage from view. “I don’t understand it,” he repeated. “The cries certainly came from this room.’ “It’s a ghost,” said Martha in an aw- ful whisper. “ Oh, I’m so frightened! ”’ ‘ Ghost!”’ snapped Mr. Scales angri- ly. ‘“ What nonsense are you talking? Whoever heard of a ghost - He got no further. A shrill squeal rang out, almost at his knee, and a wom- an’s voice said: -“‘ Get away! I hate you!” Mr. Scales’s galvanic leap landed him in the middle of the room, while Martha, with a frenzied yell, fled from the haunt- ed chamber and was heard tumbling over her own feet as she half fell, half slid, down the back stairs. Mr. Scales, wheeling about with up- raised club, was frozen into a gladia- toriak pose as his gaze encountered the bundle of green feathers and beady eyes in the cage. | “ What the dev ” he began fiercely. “You needn’t swear, George,” said a cold voice, as Mrs. Scales entered and fixed a gaze, half stern, half reproach- ful, on her husband. “ Will you please explain? ” +e ‘Explain? ’’ retorted Mr. Scales ex- plosively. “ Will you please explain? Where did this confounded bird come from?” Mrs. Scales put aside the query: with a wave of the hand. “That is not the question just now,’ she said. “ Oh,- George, I am shocked ! ”’ ‘Shocked? ”’ echoed. the bewildered husband. “ What are you talking about? What have you got to be shocked about ? It strikes me I’m the one to talk about shocks.” “You can’t brazen it out that way, George,’ replied the wife. “ What did you say to Martha? Come, I want the truth.” Gomirchbooks.co im