Page:Argosy, volume 44, December 1903-March 1904.djvu/673
argued. "Or—if it went into the acid vat, would it have been absorbed by the metal—or what?"
"No—at the touch of that bath it would evaporate into thin air—an odorless, colorless gas. I have but one hope—that it rolled against some of the iron machinery and was absorbed. In that case I may be able to place it by the increased bulk of the assimilating metal. Well, I can but go to work again, test every particle of machinery in the vicinity of the vats—and work—and work. If I had but known before that it was electricity and animal magnetism that were needed to complete the combination—but now, it means years of patience at best."
He shook his head dismally.
" And I?" I mused, rather to myself than to him.
"Oh—you!" he smiled, and his face ran into that tempest of wrinkles. "You can pose as Samson, if you like! Your strength is really almost limitless!"
BY THE ENEMY'S WILL.[1]
BY BURFORD DELANNOY.
The fearsome experiences of a new tenant, involving the strange solution of a dark mystery.
SYNOPSIS OF CHAPTERS PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED.
A London lawyer, who tells the story, hires a set of rooms in Raymond Buildings. One night he hears a key turn in the lock, and while he sits in the shadow a young woman enters and starts to open his desk. The occupant of the room thereupon takes a hand in the proceedings and accuses the woman of being a thief. She seems dazed at her position, and in spite of himself the young lawyer is somewhat touched at her evident distress. She starts to explain, but before she can finish she sinks into a swoon and remains unconscious so long that the lawyer goes in alarm for a doctor.
The physician is of a suspicious nature, and thinks the worst of the man who has summoned him under such singular circumstances. On seeing the girl, whom the lawyer has taken the precaution to lock in his rooms, he declares at first that she is dying, but she rallies under some powerful stimulant, and then, recognizing the lawyer, shrinks away in terror. The doctor administers a sleeping potion and declares that the lawyer must provide a nurse. This the young man is reluctant to do as the doctor absolutely refuses to believe his explanation of how the young woman came to be there. He promises, however, that he will watch by the patient's side himself that night, and do as the doctor bids in the morning, if she is no better. The physician thereupon takes his departure and the occupant of the chambers is left alone with his mysterious visitor and his horrible fears.
The next day, after locking the door on the girl, he goes out to post some important letters, and returns to meet the doctor on the doorstep and find, when they enter the bed-room, the girl dead with a dagger driven into her heart.
Through the instrumentality of the doctor the lawyer is tried, charged with the murder, but when it seems that through the circumstantial evidence he must be adjudged guilty, he is cleared by means of the speech he addresses to the jury. Returning to his rooms in Raymond Buildings, he is surprised, not to say horrified, by a call from a man who announces himself as "The father of the girl you murdered."
CHAPTER XI.
I AM SORE AFRAID.
"I am the father of the girl you murdered."
In utter amazement I stared at the man who had so declared himself. For a moment I was so paralyzed with astonishment as to remain spellbound.
Then I made a movement, intending to rise. But before I could do so his hand—and a strong hand, too—restrained me.
The flat palm of it against my chest forced me back into my seat. Common sense whispered to me that trouble was ahead.
"Sit down."
It was he who spoke, compelling me, by main strength, to obey the injunction.
The voice had changed now, unpleas-
- ↑ This story began in the January issue of The Argosy. The two back numbers will be mailed to any address on receipt of 20 cents.