Page:Weird Tales volume 31 number 02.djvu/69

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THE STRANGLING HANDS
195

I reached the dignified, conservative apartment-hotel at dinnertime. Tony's rooms were on the fourth floor facing a sunny, flowery courtyard. It was a strangely incongruous setting for what was to happen that night.

His secretary-valet let me in. I noticed that the man's face was unnaturally gray and that his eyes showed signs of a sleepless night.

"Mr. Henderson is expecting you, sir." He seemed grateful that I had arrived.

Tony turned abruptly from his position at the window.

"Mac! My God, man, but I'm glad you came!" He came forward eagerly, with outstretched hand.

I ignored the gesture. "Hullo, Tony," I said. Then to cover the awkward pause, "You look damn sick."

He ran a hand across his white forehead. "Do I?" he said, and laughed.

"Well, what's up?" I demanded rather sharply.

"I generally have dinner downstairs. That all right with you, or shall we go out somewhere?"

Our conversation was perfunctory until the head waiter had found us a table in

"The stone of Nyi was never found after the night of Tony's death."