The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 226: what you’re looking at

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

212 in excitement. ‘‘ Are you sure? I was planning to go down to the building department this very afternoon to find out who had been responsible for it. ‘“What’s more, Miss Vorhees ’—a flush of elation spread over his usually expressionless face— ‘you needn’t bother your head another moment over those troubles of yours. You are go- ing to be safe back home inside of a couple of days, and it won’t be to marry McKeon, either—not by a jug- ful. Take it from me, he will never annoy you again.” “What do you mean? How do you know?” demanded the two girls in chorus; and Sylvia added: ‘““Why Broke, are you crazy? What possible connection can there be between McKeon’s having built the Poe library and his courtship of Ethel?” He was about to answer, but halted abruptly, and with a quizzical smile, laid a warning finger to his lips. “Hush!” he whispered. ‘“ The landlady is creeping up to listen at the keyhole; so it’s no use to try talking any longer. To-morrow I will call, though, and report developments. In the meantime, watch me give Mrs. Polly Pry the surprise of her life.” As he finished speaking, he caught up his hat and made a sudden dash for the parlor door, flinging it open and bolting through it toward the front entrance so fast that the fat landlady, who had just taken up a convenient position outside, had no time to retreat, but was caught 1 flagrante delicto. Never stopping to listen to her stam- mering excuses, Ramsdell passed on out at the door; but the incident had evidently distracted him from his usual keen vigilance, for he quite failed to notice a figure lurking on the next stoop who glanced up quickly at his exit. If he overlooked this one feature of the situation, however, there were not many things which escaped the ob- servation of his spectacled vision. As he was descending the boarding- THE ARGOSY. house stoop, a big blue touring car went whizzing past driven by a young man with a handsome, rather reckless face. Ramsdell cast a careless glance to- ward it; then halted abruptly and stood staring after the automobile, almost statuelike in his absorption. Only a second did this inactivity last, though. The next instant he was down the steps, and racing at top speed toward a taxicab standing on the corner. “Follow that automobile!” he panted to the chauffeur as he flung himself inside. “ Don’t let it get away at any hazard. See, it is turning the next corner now. You will have to make speed, or you will lose it sure! ” But the chase was destined never to be taken. A long arm was thrust into the cab just then, and, seizing Ramsdell by the collar, jerked him out to the sidewalk. “Oh, no, you don’t!” It was the voice of Detective Brady pitched to a key of triumph. “No getaway like that for yours, young fellow. You'll coine down with me, and have a talk with the commissioner. He told me to shadow you; but, Lord, I never thought I’d have the luck to run you into a hole first dash out of the box.” “And what sort of a hole do you think you have run me into, Brady? ”’ inquired Ramsdell politely. It was a peculiarity of his that anger always. induced in him a courtesy almost Chesterfieldian in its character. “What sort of a hole?” sneered Brady. “ Why, haven’t I got the goods now to prove what the old man’s been hinting at right along—that you and this Felix girl were in on the game together? ”’ | Ramsdell laid his hand to his heart and bowed like a dancing master. “ Brady,” he said, “I pay you my respects. You will pardon the inele- gancy of my language, but you are the nearest approach to a hunk of cheese of any human being I know.” Then, in spite of himself, he began oO COMmMiclhoo S CO