Argosy, Vol. 122, No. 1 — page 82: what you’re looking at

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

72 He did not finish the thought aloud. In his mental mirror was again reflected a vision of Allaine Maywell. If he had iden- tified her twin as the lurker before the house on Trevorth Street, their cousin would have sprung the jaws of the legal trap he had set for the young fellow. No doubt of that. Vale wondered if Allaine would ever know how her brother’s safety hinged upon his saying “ yes” or “no”? Quite prac- tical as he was, the policeman was a dreamer, too. Uncle Dan suspected him of this. Uncle Dan scoffed at imagination as being of any possible value in the business of detecting criminals. But Vale’s imaginings just now did not run in any criminal groove. He mused upon Allaine Maywell’s personality—upon her beauty, the sweet expression of her countenance, and, as well, upon the misfor- tune that had overtaken her in the matter of the disappearance of the last will Colonel Hardy Maywell had executed. He had seen something in Allan May- well’s face that he had not liked. He doubted even if the first will—that found by Mr. Wilmot in the safe—were probated, that Allan would be as generous as he should be to his sister. Vale came to the house on Trevorth Street, which had become such a point of interest to him during these past few days. It still had a gloomy appearance. There was but a small light in the front hall. Vale reflectively tried the manhole cover with his foot. It was firmly held in place by its chain. This certainly had been an odd affair— that fellow waiting by the tree-box and all. Vale swung his stick again and moved on. The whole matter puzzled him and piqued his interest. Uncle Dan might be a very smart detective, but he might over- look some little thing that Harry Vale had marked. An hour later the patrolman was at the far end of his beat and had met his boss. There appeared a sudden red glow in the sky over a row of tall buildings in the direction of Barrows Place. He knew about where the fire was before he got the alarm and heard the fire department trucks coming. THE ARGOSY. Spannard had turned in the call. The fire was going up through a studio building in the middle of a cross block. The occupants of that and neighboring buildings were swarming like bees from a hive. The minute the machines were on the block the police lines were strung to keep back the throng. Harry Vale guarded the rope at the cross- ing of Barrows Place and Vandam Street. The fire was on the latter thoroughfare. The flames rose like a geyser through the roof of the house, and made a beacon that drew a huge crowd to the scene. It was at an hour of the evening when all quarters of the city were astir, and a spectacular fire is always a drawing-card. More than once Vale and his partner, Spannard, were obliged to chase out those who ducked under the rope and claimed to have business on the block of the fire. A police reporter who showed his card was let through. Then a doctor whose face was familiar to Vale. Then— She forced her way through the crowd directly to the spot where the rookie cop stood inside the rope. That she had come hurriedly to the scene was shown both in her dress and her excitement. An automo- bile-veil was wound about her head. Her naturally pale cheeks were shot with crim- son. ‘“Oh! Can I get through here? I must!” she gasped. “I’m afraid not, Miss Maywell,” Vale said, putting out a warning hand as she would have stooped to get under the rope. She flashed him an identifying glance. Surely she knew him again. ‘““T must get through,” she cried. ‘“‘ There is a Studio in the house just this side of the fire. I—TI live there.” ‘“That house is afire, too, Miss Maywell,” Vale told her. ‘‘ The firemen would not let you in from the street.” ‘Then I must get in from the rear. There is an alley there. By the fire-escape. I can get into those rooms. There—there is some- thing that must not be burned, I tell you!” ‘Against the rules of the department, Miss Maywell,” repeated the policeman. “Tf I can get up Barrows Place a little way, there is an archway there leading to cComiclbooks.com