Adventure Magazine Cover — page 92: what you’re looking at

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

84 gown around him. The deference had leaked out of his voice. ““A strange tale,” he repeated. “‘You come here, unknown to me, reciting the death of a great lord, whose castle hath been deemed impregnable, and claiming to be his son. Yet you have naught to prove your identity or the truth of your story. You ask too much, young sir!” Matteo flushed to the eyes. “You doubt my word?” he asked, his voice level and hard. Messer Gambaglio shrugged his lean shoulders. “Doubt? ’Tisan ugly word. Say, rather I ask some word, some token——’”’ “The night before my father died he spoke to me of you, and planned to send me hither.” “No doubt, no doubt. But proof, Messer Matteo, proof.”’ “Proof you shall have in plenty, if you will but bide your time. I amon my way to Antioch, where my father’s old friend, John the Englishman a “Aye, Messer John I know by repute.” “Will you take his word?” “Gladly, or that of any other lord or merchant known to me. Do you continue on your journey, and on your return bring Messer John with you.” “But how shall I continue on my journey when my follower and I have not one bezant between us?” asked Matteo candidly. Messer Gambaglio permitted a hostile light to shine in his eyes. “Money!” he snorted. “I thought ’twas that!” “And what else?” demanded Matteo in- dignantly. ‘Are you not custodian of my father’s moneys?” “Aye, and as custodian I am not per- mitted to yield them up to any youth who approaches me with a smooth story,’’ re- torted Messer Gambaglio. “Why, that is true,’’ conceded Matteo, striving tobe reasonable. “Yet see you——”’ The Genoese made a gesture which was politely indicative of his distaste for further conversation. “Tt grieves me that we are unable to come to an understanding, young sir,” he said suavely. ‘“Prithee, think over the matter, and mayhap by morning you will have rec- ollected some one of your acquaintance in the town who may make us known to each other. Ho, Giacomo, show the signor out.” Adventure Matteo was at a loss for words. He felt baffled, appalled by this unforeseen stum- bling-block. Messer Gambaglio bowed to him and retired up the stairs. Giacomo suggestively clicked the handle of the door- lock. “By ——!” swore Matteo impotently, and stalked forth. The door banged shut behind him. Ali leaned down eagerly from his saddle, trying to see his master’s face through the twilight. ‘‘What luck, lord?” he cried. ‘The worst of ill luck,’ gritted Matteo between clenched teeth. ‘The merchant misdoubts my word.” “What? He called you a liar?” “‘Aye, you might say so.” Ali started to swing down from his horse. “Let us go within and slay him,” he sug- gested calmly. ‘‘I think there is a way.” Matteo laughed. “Not so, old wolf. Count Raymond would lay us by the heels for common male- factors did we commit murder in his town. Let us, instead, seek out the best inn, brazen a night’s lodging and await what fortune may bring.” “Tis worth trying,’ admitted Ali. “And the merchant, doubtless, will be here some days longer. Perchance we may yet set upon him and carry off his moneys which, after all, are your moneys.”’ ‘You are not on the desert march, Ali,”’ chuckled Matteo as they clattered through the streets, wayfarers dodging in front of them. ‘In these towns only the iord of the castle may*rob.”’ ‘“‘And for that matter, only the lord of the castle may rob on the desert march,” re- turned Ali. ‘But look you, Messer Matteo, how will this inn do for our pilfering?”’ He pointed to a large stone building, set in a courtyard, back from the street, before which hung a signboard daubed with a figure whose gilded halo gleamed in the light of a tall torch stuck in a sconce of the gate- way. “Tt hath the right appearance,” approved Matteo, guiding his horse between the gate- posts. ‘‘Ho, there, varlets,’’ he summoned a brace of serving-knaves, ‘‘bait these horses becomingly. Where is your master?” “At your pleasure, lordling, at your pleasure,” piped up a shrill voice, and an apple-red face showed by the doorway. ‘“‘Come within, I prithee.”’ “Nay,” objected Matteo as they were COIN cClooolkks (©)