A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, February 1950 — page 82: what you’re looking at

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

82 A. MERRITT’S FANTASY be, Arthur? It must have been a nice one.” “All thy possessions, and more.” “Not a very large price,”’ said Darrell. “But you've never liked me very well. Tell me this, Arthur—what was it that made Wilbur the son of John so hot to have me dead. He was interested in my experiments up to a few days ago.’ “He says that thou wilt never - complete thg experiment,” said Arthur. “He says that thou art such a fool that thou wouldst rather die than make them and thyself the conquerors of the world.” “So he wanted me dead, as soon as he made that decision about me?” “Yes, then he wanted thee dead.” “And tonight?” “He had bad dreams. He was ttoubled in his mind. He thought of thee, and said to himself, ‘Yonder is the man!’” Some bit of feeling came into the voice of the boy as he quoted the words, ‘It’s a rotten bad business,” said I to Darrell. “Gag this brat and put him away.” “T can learn something more from him,” said Darrell. “He’s the son of the great Wilbur, and Wilbur is the king of them all, when it comes to brains and influence. Arthur,” he went on, ‘what is his reason for wishing to have Sylvia murdered?” “His reason,” said Arthur, what thine or mine would be.” “T don’t quite know what that reason is,’ said Darrell. “Why,” said Arthur, surprised, “‘be- cause he wants to see how far her courage will last when the flames begin to lick up around her. He will have the altar fire low, and fanned so that the blaze will first burn her legs away, and my father swears that before her shins are well roasted, or even cooked brown, she will be shriek- ing!” I groaned with disgust, but to my be- wilderment I heard laughter, and it was from Arthur. “For all her piety and her trust in the goddess,” he laughed, “we'll hear her screaming, and begging for sweet, swift death I held myself hard, to keep from smash- ing my fist against his cruel mouth. Dar- rell, however, watched him in a reflective ce. “Ts just 66PPYHAT’S all, Arthur,” said he. “TE I turn you loose, now, and let you go, I wonder if I could trust your word of honor to not repeat anything that you have heard or seen, concerning me, to- night ?” Fierce fire came into the eyes of Arthur. He glanced quickly down to the ground. “Thou couldst trust me to be silent as a stone,” said he. “All my life, be- sides, I would be a friend to thee!” I thought that Darrell was about to be taken in by these assurances, but sud- denly he shook his head. “You hate me, Arthur,” said he, “‘so bitterly that you. can't lie very well to me.” He waved him ahead. “We'll go on together, Arthur,” said he. “I’ve al- | ready found out that you can jump like a cat in the dark, and therefore we'll be watching you closely. Go on softly and steadily, and perhaps you may live through the night, after all!” We were in Darrell’s room a moment later, and I found it very like my own, except that there were two or three big curtained recesses in it. In one of these we put Arthur, the son of Wilbur, after we'd lashed his feet strongly together, and gagged him thoroughly. I whispered to Darrell, “Are we safe in here? Can the spies reach us?” He said deliberately, “I think not.” I jumped. “You don’t know?” said I. “T don’t entirely know. But I think that I’ve found the way of spoiling their devices, Their electrical eyes and ears fail to work sometimes when the wires short- - circuit the current—fuses burn out—that 39 sort of thing. He smiled a little at me. But I was not in a humor to be amused easily, “Whatever we do we ought to do quick- ly,it seems to me, Cleve,” said I. “J want to,” said he. “The mere thought of getting away from this place makes me dizzy with happiness. I’ve been trying for years to learn all the ropes, to study the navigation of the airships, and to find, if possible, some companion who would be willing to take the chance and run with me. But now that everything is ready there’s one great stoppage.” “What's that?” I asked, “There's the priestess. forgotten her, Smoky?” You haven't