At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

AT A GIRP’S MERCY. 11 midnight visitors, uninvited, unexpected and unwel- come. At last, pausing at the end of the hall near a door leading into the tower room, the leader turned to his companion with a gesture of dismissal. “Take what you find,’’ was his low command; *“earry it below, and wait till I come.” His hand was on the butt of his revolver, and the gleaming eyes under the mask rested fora moment on the other’s with a meaning not to be misunderstood; then the other went his way, well knowing that treachery meant death, and the leader, turning the knob of the door, entered the room. Striking a match as noiselessly as possible, he lit the gas, and turning it onina brilliant glow that | flooded the pretty, airy room—evidently a woman’s. room—he turned toward the bed, standing for a mo- ment so that the light would not touch the face of the sleeper and arouse her too suddenly. Up to this everything had passed off smoothly, better even than he had dared hope, and he did not propose spoiling the game just here. A strange smile stirred the drooping mustache just visible © under the mask as he wondered—watching the quiet face among the pillows, one jeweled hand thrown in a childish fashion above the bonnie head of curls— what the girl would say when he chose to awaken her and make known his errand, an errand he rather dreaded making known with this pure face before him. And then, even as one will at the moment of great events, he began to picture what the lips would say—warm, red lips they were, just parted over the small white teeth—and whether or not the eyes would flash or shrink, and of what color they should be to match the softly colored face and warm yellow Gomicbooks:co m ==>