Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 2 — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

166 suffering. But murder! Rhoda turned the box over, slid it open, looked at the white powder for the second time that afternoon. This time she speculated about it. A little was good for the complexion, a little more made you sick, and a good dose—she knew what had happened ‘to the rats. Sick! Suddenly the thought of sickness gave her something in the nature of inspi- ration. If Amy were sick maybe she’d lose some of that don’t-touch-me air. Martin Hewes was not the man to see anything in an ailing woman—a dull-eyed woman who dragged her feet. No woman with pain in her vitals could smile the way that little devil did. And the contrast between her and Rhoda would be even more marked than it was now. It would take some of the starch out of her for a little while—long enough. But would it be safe to try it— just a tiny pinch? When Rhoda Barker got up to go into the house she had not made any decision. The shadows were long across the kitchen floor, and Amy was setting the table for supper. This fanned up the hatred of Rhoda. Amy never forgot anything. Al- ways on time, always pleasant, always well! The two women did not speak as they worked together in preparing the meal. The sound of the turning door-knob sent a thrill through Rhoda; fifteen minutes before she had heard the buggy-wheels and had known that Hewes was home again. He came in with his arms full of packages. In silence he carried them into the pantry; but he came out with one small package still in his hands, and as he began to un- wrap it both the women watched him. He held a box in each hand, the same in size and shape, and even tied with the same color ribbons. “I bought some candy,” he said, and without the foolish grin that would have accompanied ‘such a gift from one of the countryside swains he handed a box to Rhoda. Then he turned to Amy. With her candy he gave one of the infrequent smiles that made one forget the fierce steadiness of his eyes, his pointed, fighter’s chin, and the awe-inspiring thickness of his arms. In that moment Rhoda Barker resolved to use the arsenic. THE ARGOSY. She had contrived that her fingers should touch his as she took the candy, and she knew that the touch had gone deeper than the surface. But he had answered Amy’s eyes with a smile. Rhoda told herself that she had to use the arsenic, or lose. Lose she would not! So when the girl stepped out of the room for a moment she contrived to open the box, with her back to Martin, and drop a very tiny pinch of the white powder into Amy’s cup. It lay there inno- cently, and disappeared when the tea was poured. Rhoda handed the cup to her with no other feeling than a kind of tense, satisfied eagerness. But when the tea had cooled, and when Amy had taken it all, a fear came upon her. What would happen? Had she given enough to kill? Or to make Amy ill enough. so that the doctor would come and find out what was the matter? All she wanted to do was to make the girl a little sick— just so she would lose that mysterious some- thing that made her attractive to Martin Hewes. Through half an hour Rhoda Barker suffered such terrors that it took all the power of her will to hold her hand to their tasks, to keep the sparkle in her eyes for Martin, to prevent her trembling knees letting her down into a chair. But by the time the supper dishes were washed nothing had happened, and Rhoda felt her self-confidence returning. She be- gan to feel a kind of contempt for the arsenic, as well as for herself. She had -even begun to wonder why she had not given a larger dose when Amy, drawing a deep breath, spoke to her. “TI think I'll go to bed now, Rhoda.” With mingled fear and delight Rhoda Barker searched her face. There was no look of -acute suffering—only the appear- ance of feeling below normal in health and spirits. Such a look as might be worn by one suffering from a headache or a slight toothache. When Amy went up-stairs, with a step a trifle slower than her usual swift movements, Rhoda became gay. | ‘“ Martin!” she cried, fairly dancing to- ward the rocking chair where he sat and smoked. ‘“‘ Come into the sitting-room and I'll play you a game of hearts.” comicloool C©