The Argosy, Vol. 90 No. 1 — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

LITTLE BOSS “What do you mean?” he asked rather hotly. ‘“* Because you have made so much fuss about nothing to-night. And you will stand in front of that window.” Ben’s sympathy for her was crushed under the weight of his wrath. “Very well. We'll continue things ac- cording to my ideas. You won’t get away with that piece of paper. Ill take you to the cottage if you say so. There you can make a clean breast of everything to your father. If you won’t do that, you'll just have to stay here. You can take a while to decide. Meanwhile, go into my room— leave the door open — and bring me my gun. If you try to get out of the window I'll come after you—”’ ‘* He’d shoot!” she exclaimed anxiously. “Let him. If I’m killed, it’s your fault. Now go in and get my gun. It’s lying on the chiffonier. If you’re so wrapped up in that sneak out there you can easily get rid of me. You know how. For I tell you Ill run him down and bring him to justice if I live!” She ran across the living-room. + He moved a step to the left to be able to see her as she entered his room. A picture on the wall opposite the window fell in splin- ters of glass and wood. Fan raced back, frightened almost to death. She gasped as she saw him, white and so angry he could not speak, but un- hurt. She carried his gun with the ease of one used to weapons. Ben’s back was to- ward her; he was facing his unseen enemy defiantly. Deliberately, holding it so that the man outside had every chance to see, she broke the gun and extracted the loads. She held up her fingers to show that she had taken them all out. The gun was empty. A ‘shout rang through the night. It smote the lock of silence from Ben’s stiff lips. ‘You laugh now! But my time’s com- ing!’’ he called through the window. He slammed ‘the window down. He turned to look for Fan. She was standing there, meekly holding his gun. ‘““ Give it to me!”’ he commanded. ‘But what can you do? You are here OF BIG BEN. 73 in the light! You can’t shoot a man in the dark!” she said, without making a step in his direction. ‘“‘ Bring it here!” ‘“‘ Please, Mr. Moore, you only make things worse!” she begged. “Worse?” he exclaimed — scornfully. “‘ There isn’t any ‘ worse’ than this!” ‘““I—I beg you to believe me when I tell you there is!” In spite of his disgust at the situation in which he was held powerless, his eyes took account of her appearance. It would have been hard to believe that she was the fiery creature who had stamped her foot at him. Her wild-rose color was gone. Her blue eyes were dark under the shadow of her drawn brows. Her lips were trembling. She looked as if she had endured all she could and was at the breaking point. “You're not going to cry!” he asserted as if the declaration might keep her from doing it. But it did not. She burst into sobs. She darted to the swinging-couch as if it were a haven in a storm. Moore stared at her, uncertain, as the sobs shook her body. She was completely played out and too miserable to care how much she showed it. ““Miss Fleming, you’re used up. That brute out there—” Ben turned vengefully toward the win- dow. But the darkness outside was as black as ever. And the wind breathed into the open door, hot and swift, as if a storm approached. “I’ve ridden over thirty miles; I am tired out,” she acknowledged between sobs. Ben’s rooted convictions sent up quick, live sprouts. He looked at her, small, shapely, alluring, and he commented silent- ly on the waste of her. ‘“‘It’s an outrage for a girl like you to wear herself out in a kind of life that—”’ “Oh! be still!” she flared, rising and looking at him with blue lightning flashing from beneath her golden brows. ‘ You don’t suppose I do it for fun, do you?” “TI don’t know what you do it for!” he replied hotly, ready to launch into a de- tailed exposition of his ideas.. But she halted him effectively. oO comicbool< CO