Argosy All-Story Weekly, 4 February 1922 — page 160: what you’re looking at

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

ae a ‘1 FT : * 470 ues Peter was looking at her with narrowed She wondered what was passing through his suspicious mind. “There! She admits it,” Elspeth ex- claimed. Will Agnew was being very patient. “But, Miss McQueen, what proof have you that—er—that such an identification ever existed?” Elspeth’s flat breast heaved dramatically. “T think I ought to know. Miss Amy was as my own bairn, a wee thing when first she came ‘to live here. I had the care of her. I mind giving her the hand-glass to see for herself when she might be seven or eight. But it wasn’t only that. I knew long before I hung over the banisters that night at the dinner party—just, as it were, to satisfy myself completely. I knew she wasn’t Miss Amy, although I’ll admit it’s a tare puzzle and not one I can solve.” “The woman is wholly and completely mad,” Loraine said, speaking with more as- surance than before. All this time Peter Tremlett had been silent. If any one were mad, he thought it must be himself. How often he had dwelt upon that same idea, in a slightly different way. Never had he doubted that the woman he had married was Amy, but he had felt times without number that some uncanny soul transference had taken place. Had he believed in such things he would have said that the soul of another woman had entered Amy’s body, pushing out the rightful owner. He knew that Dorcas had felt the same way, and to some extent had Mrs. Dundas. He remembered so many things now, some of them trifles, which tended to uphold Elspeth McQueen’s star- tling assertion. But one or two incidents were not trifles. For instance, although he himself had recognized Dick Marshall that night, his own wife hadn’t the ghost of an idea who the man was. And there was also the episode of the supposed old lady who had called upon her one Sunday eve- ning. That little*mystery had never been cleared up. There was some further disputing in which Tremlett lifted a voice. In any case a hitch must be expected for the necessary legal readjustment. Meanwhile, it was not ~ “ ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, | quite clear who had a right to take charge of the house and personal affairs of the de- ceased. Under Thomas Dundas’s will, his widow and a man since dead were named as trustees. A new trustee would have to be appointed, and Peter Tremlett determined to get that job for himself. He firmly ordered Elspeth McQueen to pack up her things and go, and she as firmly declined. ‘*1’m here, and here I’ll stay until Miss Amy comes to claim her own,” said Elspeth. It was at this point Loraine weakened. Elspeth was making too much of an im- pression to suit her. “Oh, leave the woman alone, Peter,” she said. “ Somebody’s got to look after the place or it will go to rack and ruin. She may be utterly daft, but she’ll make a de- pendable caretaker” “Thank you, Mrs. Tremlett,” said Els- peth with a sour smile. CHAPTER XXXIV. THREADS OF DESTINY. / ILL AGNEW and the minister left the Tremletts at the gate and walked on together, their ways be- ing the same. Agnew was silent, for him, and he still chewed industriously at his toothpick. Everybody in Witcham said that Will Ag- new had common manners and was a bit flashy, but he was a smart young man and they had no doubt he would get on in the world. : Mr. Powell was deeply troubled. He had scarcely known the Marshalls, for he was a newcomer to Witcham about the time Dick was sent to prison. He retained a vivid impression, however, of calling one windy March day upon Mrs. Dundas, and of being kept waiting a moment until a rather shab- by-looking young woman had been dis- missed from the august presence of Aunt Anna. He was standing in the dining-room, and as the door was opened he witnessed a little scene not meant for his eyes. Elspeth, speeding the shabby-looking young woman, had tily, and endeavored t6 give her some money OL Gcomicbhooks ken tenderly, if has-_ (e(0)