The Argosy, March 1907 — page 153: what you’re looking at

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

THE LABEL ON THE BOTTLE.* BY MARVIN DANA. A happening in Paris that. had in it more than a single thrill. HE first glimpse of the — girl charmed me; the second frightened me. She was as pretty a woman as there was in the room, and that is saying much, “for the place was a fashionable Paris restaurant, at midnight. Classical features of the brunette type were relieved from any suspicion of pos- sible insipidity by the great lustrous eyes and the sensitive mouth. The per- fect figure was set off by an evening gown of the seemingly simple: sort that only the best taste and much money can contrive. So much I learned in one glance toward the girl alone at the table next mine. My second look revealed that which caused fear to leap in my breast. For the girl’s eyes were wide and’ staring. In them was a look of mingléd despair and anguish. Her lips were trembling. ‘The hand nearer me was lying on the table, and I noticed that it was clenched as in a spasm of torture. I listened to hear her voice as the waiter approached to take her order, but I could only catch the low, sweet mur- mur of a single sentence. The waiter hastened away, and soon returned with oysters and wine. She gave no heed to the food, but when he had filled a glass with claret she took it eagerly. As she raised it to her lips her trembling hand spilled a third of the wine on the cloth. Wholly disregarding this, she drank about half of what remained and re- placed the glass on thé’ table. All this time her left hand, which was next me, had remained clenched. Now, however, she unclosed it, and reached her arm toward the bottle of claret, with the evident intention of refilling her glass, as no waiter was near. At this moment I saw that she had left standing on the table something which her hand had held concealed—a tiny vial, and on its label I saw a skull and cross-bones! Horror: fell on me at the sight. There could be no doubt. that the bottle contained poison—the symbol of death is the same the world round. And it needed no reflection to realize that the girl meant to employ the in- strument of death on _ herself. The agony in her eyes was proof of disaster that she believed to be beyond remedy. I yielded to the impulse of the mo- ment. 3 “ Just as the girl was about to pass the bottle of wine from her left hand to her right, I thrust my cane across the space between. us. I caught the vial in the curve of the stick’s handle, and drew it gently toward me. The girl, filling her glass, noticed nothing, for her face was turned a little from me. As the glass reached the edge of the - girl’s table and within my grasp I leaned forward and took it in my hand. Then I looked up at her, to find her eyes burning into mine. I shuddered at the dreadful prayer in them, but I could not yield’to it. Slow- ly, tremblingly, I put the bottle in my waistcoat-pocket. Whatever her extremity, I could not sit by and see a girl do herself to death. But I reckoned without the masterful- ness of her mood. Her face hardened, stilled. She beckoned me imperiously to the chair opposite her. Shuddering anew as the tragedy thus folded me closer, I yielded to her will. But I had not the courage to raise my eyes again to that look of flame. She spoke in a very low voice, in a monotone of supreme emotion. “You guessed my purpose?” I bowed assent. “You would save me from death?” €omicboo <S o (eo) Petes ee - ree ale! |e + = a> PTS son