Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 16, 1921 — page 115: what you’re looking at

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

106 She was embarrassed. He was calling her Miss Adair. She flushed and broke out im- petuously: “T wish you wouldn’t call me Miss Adair. I’m not Miss Adair. I’m Ruth Ferintosh. I—” : He halted, gazing hard at her. “ And that young lady,” he said at last, “was Miss Adair?” Ruth nodded miserably. “ She carried off the situation very nice- ly,” remarked Cassilis, “I rather admire her aplomb. _I suppose that is your train?” he added. He took her hands. “* Good-by,” she said. She saw Glory Adair beckoning her, urg- ing haste; and she ran at last. “You nearly missed the train,” said the nurse. , Ruth sighed deeply. She had made her confession; she had relieved her conscience of its horrid burden of deception—and had been honest to the last tragic limits with this man, who might be the son of a mur- derer. “Glory,” she said, “I know I was hor- rid.” . “Vou were,” agreed Glory relentlessly. “T don’t know what I can do to make things right.” The poor girl was all con- trition. “7 know,” said Nurse Adair practically. “You can keep all this from Tripp.” Ruth sat silent, in fancy still seeing the dark eyes of Peter Cassilis searching her. rT; Glory.” &¢ Yes.” ‘“‘ Glory—what did his ‘hands tell you?” “Plague take the man!” ejaculated Glo- ry Adair. ‘‘ He never let me see his hands. I never saw a man like him, but—from first to last, he kept his palms hid.” She smiled at him. CHAPTER XX. RUTH KEEPS SILENCE—QUITE. HEN Glory Adair saw her taxicab disappear down the avenue she at once thought of Tripp. Tripp was plainly responsible for this unexpected mis- adventure. Tripp had seen her letter, pur- ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEERLY. loined it—for she could find it nowhere— and had acted on the spur of the moment, - with his usual brisk decision. Her ten minutes’ margin of safety, how- ever, gave her ample time to call a second taxicab and catch her train. Thus, instead of reaching London five hours behind Ruth Ferintosh, as Ruth had calculated, Glory _ Adair reached the hotel barely ten minutes after the dodrs of the grill-room admitted Peter Cassilis and Ruth. What the hotel clerk told her of Mr. Cassilis taking a Miss Adair in to dinner puzzled Glory a little; even then she did not think of Ruth. For she had really not credited the impetuous girl with so much bold initiative. Finding Ruth at table with Cassilis, however, she at once caught Ruth’s cue and played the game. She was perfectly willing to be Miss Ferintesh for the nonce, and Ruth could remain Miss Adair—all the nurse cared about was information, and it did not matter under what name she se- cured it. She was relieved, in fact, to find that the wrench thrown inte the machinery was merely Ruth, and not Tripp. “TI told him,” whispered Ruth, as the westbound train pulled out for Carisford. That, too, was like Ruth. She was hon- est at heart, and could not thrive on de- ceit. She had to make a clean. breast of things, even to Cassilis. _ Now, for the first time, Glory Adair was a little troubled by Ruth’s cognizance of these things. Ruth had promised to keep silent regarding Cassilis, but Ruth was im- petuous. So, Ruth might at any moment blurt out everything. “Now,” said Glory Adair grimly, “I want to warn you again, Miss Ferintosh. You go home. You meet Captain Grant. Then you tell him, first thing, that you met a soldier named Cassilis at London.” Ruth’s telltale glance confirmed the nurse’s worst expectations. “ That is just what is in your mind right now!” exclaimed Glory. “Stop it! Stop before you start. You tell absolutely no one—not even Captain Grant—no, not even your mother—abouit this.” “But,” argued the girl rebelliously, “surely Captain Grant—” Go DOOLK (C©