Argosy, Vol. 85, No. 3 — page 105: what you’re looking at

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

FACING A CRISIS. He had told Harden that he would be there to identify the jewelry belonging to his mother, and he never doubted that it would be produced. He sauntered up the lawn by the side of Harden, chatting on indifferent mat- ters, entirely at his ease. He did not notice that his companion’s sun-browned face showed a peculiar white spot in the middle of each cheek, or that the lips were drawn so tightly over the teeth that they, too, were a purplish-white. Marion peeped at them from her kitchen, and there was anxious sympathy in her eyes as they met the fixed gaze of her brother. Then she went back and shut the door. She could do nothing, but somehow she had faith that Harden would find some way out of his dilemma. Indeed, he had hit upon a plan that would give him more time. That, he felt, was all he needed. Time! If he could have a day or two, he would find this wretched tramp who had stolen the treasure. He led his visitor into the office. ' “Ah, I see! In that safe!” exclaimed Bates, nodding approval. “ It looks strong enough to hold a king’s ransom. Open her up, Brooke.” Harden went over to the safe and turned the knob, as if he were working the combination. He did this for more than a minute. Then he stood up and looked in dismay at Bates. “ What’s the trouble, old top?” asked Raymond. ‘“ Forgotten the numbers?” “ It ought to open,” murmured Harden, as if reflectively. ‘Ill try it again.” With deliberate care, as it seemed, he turned the knob a certain number of times each way, watching closely to see that the pointer always stopped at the right place. Then he tried the handle, as he had done before. But the safe would not open. “It must be out of order,” he said in a distressed tone. ‘‘ Unlucky, when you want to see the jewelry so particularly. Perhaps I didn’t do it right. I'll try once more.” 447 But the next attempt was without re- sult. So were two more that he made. ‘Sure you know the combination?” asked Bates, lighting a cigarette and: im- mediately throwing it to the floor and stamping out the fire in his impatience. ‘“Maybe you have the wrong figures. Have you got them written down?” ‘No. But I’m quite sure of. them. I’ve used them a dozen times since I’ve had the safe. But this isn’t the first time it hasn’t worked. I may have to get a man to come from Syracuse to open it. I can’t do it to-day, however. We'd bet- ter call it off for this time, and I’ll tele- phone you when I get the door open.” Never till now had Harden Brooke supposed he could pretend so successfully. It was his disposition to be entirely open and straightforward. Yet here he was, twiddling a knob that he knew had noth- ing to do with fastening the safe, and do- ing it with an air of sincerity that as- tonished him. ‘““T hate to come up here again,” ob- jected Bates. “‘ The mater will go into hysterics if I cannot satisfy her this afternoon that her’ precious gimcracks are all right. You don’t know my mother, or you wouldn’t propose to stand her off even for a day when she is set on a thing.” Harden Brooke was rather glad he did not know the lady, if she were likely to be more insistent than her son, but he did not say so. Instead, he made one more pretense of trying to unlock the safe, and shrugged his shoulders with a most edifying look of disappointment ‘when he failed. ‘“Tt’s no use, Mr. Bates. We’ll have to give it up for to-day. Iam sorry, but you see for yourself that it can’t be helped. That’s the worst of these burglar- proof safes. When they do get out of order, it takes an expert mechanic to get the door open.” Bates was not at all inclined to accept this unsatisfactory decision, however. “ But,” he protésted. “It seems to me— Perhaps I can—” comicloool C©