Adventure Magazine Cover — page 87: what you’re looking at

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

The People of the Fourth Dimension regarding his experiences. Remembering this last, he felt sure of her and comforted. Why comforted he did not seek to know. f ~ OF COURSE ‘by this time Sesson PA, had merely to look at the ink with a momentary intentness to drift off into dreams or whatever his condition was. This night was no exception, but hardly had he reached his usual void, when the voice said loudly and with certainty—spoke in such a way that Sesson never even thought of doubting what it told hin— “Sinclair has been murdered!’’ In that state, with every faculty and emotion suspended and waiting to be influ- enced, the words—to Sesson as truthful as if from the lips of God—swung every fiber of the man into frantic, clamoring, revenge- fulness. Sinclair murdered! Then there was only one thing in life for Sesson to do, and that was to get the murderer.’ Fur- ther, the law should throw no protecting mantle over him. Neither would he bave the easy death of hanging. But at this the voice protested. The mur- derer was too clever. He had even imper- sonated Sinclair, deceiving, for that day, even Sesson himself, the stout babu, Sin- clair’s personal servant, the Sikh gate- keeper. If Sesson tried long-drawn-out killing, he would fail. Thinking he had gone mad, Sinclair’s men would grapple with him. Revenged he should be, but cau- tion must be the mother of success. His consuming anger was natural and admirable, as for a murdered father, but a clever villain must be beaten by cleverness. No other way could win. The voice was as greatly angered as Sesson, but knew better than to act rashly. But Sesson was in the throes of a man bound, who sees all he loves violated. He struggled to free himself, to reach, in some way, that murderer. But a month of suggestion—the work of a master—had made Sesson pliable, obedi- ent. The murder must be at once avenged but there must be no chance of failure. A revolver, a shot at close quarters—the only sure way. Sesson was only vaguely con- scious of his surroundings. He was steady enough on his legs, but his brain—swayed and guided by the voice, by the man he felt was his friend, who held his arm—groped, as if under the influence of some powerful drug. ‘“ 8I He knew he was leaving the house with this friend, but it never occurred to him that no man but himself had any right in the privacy of that room. And this was not only due to the utter confidence he placed in the vague figure by his side— white or black, native or European, was something Sesson never considered—but to his having lost all interest in life, except to avenge Sinclair. He neither saw nor thought of Laulee who, wrapped in a whirl of conflicting emo- tions, crouched in a corner, watching. Neither was he conscious of guiding his friend to that carefully hidden house. Yet here, he felt that his friend knew the house, but needed Sesson’s presence to gain admis- sion. (The student of this subject will note conflicting theories, impossible of discus- sion here). If his volition, if his ‘‘free- thought” had been dammed and diverted, as is a stream, there was still the ever-living effort to burst through and again flow free. And Sesson felt his right hand on the auto- matic in the pocket of his coat. The Sikh gatekeeper admitted them, acting as if he neither saw nor sensed anything unusual, and as Sesson and his companion walked slowly across the small compound, the keeper of the gate closed his charge and turned to watch the two men, clearly visible in a streak of moonlight. Out of the forest of hair covering his face his teeth showed whitely for an instant, in what might have been a grin of a snarl. Then a scratching, a feeble knocking on the gate drew his at- tention. He switched on the powerful light which showed what was outside and opened the lookout. What he saw brought again the show of teeth, but this time there was no mistaking the snarl. “So, it is thee, helJ-cat!’”? And he turned aside, to spit loudly. ““Water-buffalo!”” Laulee’s intense emo- tion had lifted her above any sort of fear or thought of self.» ‘‘No doubt thou think- est thyself a brave and clever man, and at times that may be true. But I am all that can save my safib and thy sahib this night! Eet me in, big man. Surely thou art not afraid of a woman, and such a little one?” With her usual cleverness, the girl had made no appeal based on Sesson’s love for her. But the Sikh knew of that fact, and he thought the world of Sesson. Also, he had his country’s idea of women. COMMICLOOOKS Their . (E@)