Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 70: what you’re looking at

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

Silvers. ‘‘It’s damned serious — and I mean every word I’m saying! I’m not go- ing to be ruined if I can help it! I’m go- ing to get out from under, no matter who has to face the music! That’s that!” “Will you give me your word you won’t proceed against either of these girls until we get back?” asked Garry quietly. ¢ Yes! 3 “Do you think we can get into Da Cos- ta’s apartment without any difficulty?” asked Garry, then, turning to Fielding. “Sure,” answered Fielding confidently. “I’ve been there hundreds of times. They all know me around there!” “All right,”’ said Garry. “ Let’s go!” And to Silvers, he added: “ How do we get out?” “Not the front way,” answered Silvers. “That might attract too much attention. You know Guy arranged that nobody was to be let out on any account before day- light! God knows why he hit on that idea —but it was just crazy enough to catch ‘em-—and it’s certainly turned out fine for us—now that this has happened!” He indicated Da Costa’s body with his foot. “ Fortunately,” he went on slowly, “ we got a few private exits—planned ’em in case of trouble with these revenue agents —~and one of ’em ’ll come in handy now. This way.” They turned to follow Silvers out of the little French drawing-room. ‘“May I go back to my table?” asked Joan, with an uneasy glance toward the corpse. “ Yes—and wait there until further no- tice,’ answered Silvers rather gruffly. But young Moffat Fielding took her by the shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. “And don’t worry—trust me,” he said. “I’m going to see you through!” She smiled, with tears in her eyes, and left them. The thunder and swing and beat of the music downstairs lent her strength as she passed once more into the smoke-filled, noisy supper rooms. And as she crossed the floor, her eyes met those of Katherine Kendall, who was swaying in the arms of Huxley Reed. But there was ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, no flash of recognition nor of an, aA ing. Though their positions to-night ‘View so nearly alike, they were dwellers in gir. ferent worlds, ¥ Below, around a bend in the stairs, sy. vers swung back a huge mirror that slid easily and nhoiselessly on grooved t acks. and revealed a narrow iron stairway, lead ing downward. The night air—coo] anc damp—blew in upon them as they stoc on the little platform landing. They but toned their coats and put on their hats, ‘“ There’s a door at the bottom th opens outward at the slightest shove,” Silvers; “but you have to have a ke open it from outside. Here’s the key!” Garry took it. ‘“ When you come back, come in ‘thi way,” added Silvers. “TI will be looking out for you!” “ “ And you will do nothing until we re turn?” inquired Garry again. “ Nothing!” The mirror slid back into place, shutting them out. Garry in the lead, they started downward, in silence, There was no moon visible in the over- cast sky—no stars were out: and a cold wind blew, with the hint of coming rain in it. A dismal night, strangely suitable, Garry thought, to the things that were hap- pening. The unreality of it all held his attention. If—a few hours before—he had been told these things might occur, he could never have conceived it possible. To come in contact with murder—with mystery-ewith all the things one reads about in the news- papers and never vaguely associates with oneself or one’s own kind! It was incred- ible—and yet—true—hideously true! That Katherine—of all girls—should be caught in a web like this. Katherine, so dainty, so delicately reared, so carefully bred—so sheltered—so guarded. In spite of her willfulness~— her recklessness — she was so innocent, so young and fresh and really so unspoiled. And to think that by this time, to-morrow, the world might be gazing at her pictures in the newspapers-~ linking her name with Da Costa’s—discuss- ing the murder and her possible gu'tt. comircbooks