Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 66: what you’re looking at

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

856 flitted and danced through Myra’s mind before the wheels of the motor regained the smooth pavement. She moaned faintly and the recent chauffeur turned to her. ““ Nothin’ to it, kid; I dassent take out that gag,” he said briefly. ‘‘ When the chief out there gives orders, y’ don’t buck em. ‘That’s all. Y’ got no idea what a mean guy he is if you try t’ hand him any- thing!”’ He turned up his collar and hunched down, apparently averse to a conversation which must of necessity be one-sided. Myra Carson, then, pursued her own thoughts once more; and happily they grew rather calmer.. There was something very definite behind all this crazy perform- ance, of course. What? Well, what are the motives that rule the vast majority of human acts? The gain of money, for one —and for the other, love! To the best of her guessing, she had not been abducted for profit. Could it be for love—for love, that is, of the canny Miss Ramsey who had stepped out of her proper role? He! He was infatuated with Miss Ramsey and, unable to win her in any other way, had adopted this method of acquiring her! That would account for the stringent orders that she was not to be injured, too. But it wouldn’t account for the general change that had taken place since that tele- phone conversation, would it? So far as she could judge, the restrictions had been removed since that ill-starred talk; Miss Carson had already been treated with much more roughness than she relished—and an ardent lover never would permit that sort of thing. Still, even as the hypothesis began to break down and dissipate, one little ray of hope remained: when “he” saw that he had kidnaped the wrong girl, she would be released. To tell about it and get them all into trouble? No, that wasn’t likely, either. If he was really the violent and conscienceless person he seemed, it was far from impossible that he would order his crew of desperadoes to remove her to some lonely spot, and there—well, there was lit- tle use considering that grisly phase of the case, either! Meanwhile they were bowling along ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. steadily. They must already have covered miles and miles on this second jaunt; judg- ing by the absence of city sounds, they must also have traveled well into the coun- try. Now and then a car passed them, roaring by in the other direction; again, they stopped for a considerable time, while a long train, just ahead, clattered past. And then, having bumped over the tracks, they swirled on again and on. Later still—hours and hours later it seemed to Myra Carson, whose every mus- cle ached, and whose tender little mouth had achieved the condition of pure agony —they slowed down markedly. Now—- again—even a third time, they swerved to the right side of the road and almost stopped; and on the last occasion Miss Car- son caught fragments of conversation from the front seat!. “It is!” stated the footman. “It ain’t!” contended the dark man. “The sign said it was Powling Road!” “Certainly it did, but this ain’t the house, y’ poor fish!” “Well, ain’t that gate got sandstone pil- lars?” asked the footman tartly. ‘White sandstone — white sandstone! Not red sandstone!” rasped the dark man very savagely. “’F I don’t find that damned house soon I'll drop this jane in the ditch and let it go at that!” The car started again with a jerk. The dark person seemed downright annoyed at the length of the ride—almost as much an- noyed as was Myra Carson herself, in fact. A good quarter of a mile they whizzed wildly along State road; then they stopped suddenly, with a screeching of brakes and a scraping of locked wheels; and the wind outside whistled drearily through dry, crackling trees, and Miss Carson’s heart dropped to her boots. Instinct, frequently reliable, informed her that this was it/ Joseph twitched up one of the curtains and peered out, heaving a little sigh of re- lief. “‘ Looks like we done it without getting pinched, kid!’ he observed § genially. “Sure! This is the dump. Here we go!” The car had backed to a driveway gate, at either side of which stood white sand- stone pillars. Now it rolled forward again comicloool C©