Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 21, 1922 — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

SHELBY’S HEAD-ON CRASH. keeps. up much longer, I’ll be a candidate for a permanent place in a padded cell.” Still toting the typewriter, he crossed the street and came to the friendly darkness of the street on which the girl lived. He hurried along this and presently stood at her front door. He pushed the electric button. Almost at once she appeared in the hall and opened the door. * Come in,” she said. Shelby stooped and picked up the type- writer. The girl stared at it, but made no comment. She preceded him mto the sit- ting-room. “Is it the machine?” she asked. Shelby put the machine down on the table and pulled off the rubber cover. “It’s the machine,” he answered, with a touch of pride in his manner. The girl lifted the carriage, pushed back the ribbon, and pressed the period so that the letter came to the top. “And the period is gone,” she said. “ Qh, I knew it! Shelby?” Shelby told his story with due impres- siveness, while she sat across from him, wide-eyed with wonder. “ And so Simpson was there?” the girl said. “I wonder what he was looking for?” Shelby glanced at her quickly. His wits had been a good deal sharpened by his experiences. “T guess you know, don’t you?” he asked. ° The girl flushed. The gray eyes were veiled for a moment. Shelby leaned to her. “Look here, Miss Sutherland,” he said, “T don’t deny that I would do anything for you. You're a nice, pretty girl. But is it quite fair to keep me in the dark? A few minutes ago I was within five feet of a policeman. If he had seen me, where would I be now? I’m running a great risk to be seen on the street at all. Can’t you tell me what this is all about?” The veil was lifted from the gray eyes. They were sad and wistful now. “T can’t tell you,” she said. ‘I shall never be able to tell you. But I think that in the end what you did to-night will serve you as well as it serves me.” How did you get it, Mr. Si “T’ve a notion it will myself,” Shelby said. “Did you find something else?” shé asked. ‘ Something that concerned you?” ‘Tf don’t know yet,” Shelby said. “ May I call up Simpson on your phone?” “You won’t tell him you are here?” “‘' He knows I came in here a while ago, What difference would it make?” “‘ He would wonder that you had been here so long. Please don’t tell him you are.” “Very well,” Shelby said. He went into the hall and called Simp- son’s number. A woman answered the phone after a long wait. She said Simpson was not at home, and she didn’t know when he would be. The girl had come to the hall door and had stood there while he waited. ‘What shall you do now?” she asked. _ “Ym going back to my boarding-house and get some rest,” Shelby answered. ‘“‘ Simpson said if he wasn’t home to-night to call him in the morning. I want to be ready to do that first thing.” He went to the door. She followed him. He turned, as he had turned before. Again she put out her hand. He took it and ‘kept it. “You know I thank you, don’t you?” she asked in a low voice. “You don’t need to thank me,” Shelby mumbied. They stood a moment, hand in hand, searching each other’s eyes in their first real appraisal. Shelby’s regard was so in- tent that her color broke into her face and she drew away her hand. “Oh,” she said, “ you’re forgetting your dinner-pail.”’ She went into the sitting-room and re- turned with the bucket. , Shelby took it with a laugh. ‘Tf any cop sees me now, he'll think I’ve been working overtime,” he said. . The girl laughed, too, her eyes bright. Shelby opened the door. ‘““Whatever you do, you’l be careful, won’t you?” she asked. : “TN be careful,” Shelby said, and he went through the door. In the street he walked slowly for a minute. ‘ Great comiclboooks C©