Adventure Magazine Cover — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

He that Prepareth the Way him, plucked and peppered! Let me have his feathers, Ivan! Now then, Devil Ef- fendi, we've got you where we want you —eh, Stanko?”’ “The Lord is too high and the Czar is too far, they say,’ the innkeeper sagely re- flected. “But who’d have thought, ikon- dealer, that I was born to see the very Devil right in my own café!”’ ‘Such is life, Stanko. ‘Of a priest’s cas- sock and a Devil’s beard, what ikon-dealer ever is afeared ?’—if he has a brother like my brother the Archdeacon!” “How long till sunset, innkeeper?” the city man Inquired. Stanko consulted his timepiece: hours, traveler.” “You are going somewhere, sir?” Selim inquired, anxious to have as few people as possible around while he examined his pris- oner’s pockets. “Yes, I must be in Tetino by sundown.” “Let me go, I tell you, madman!” the man in cassock was protesting. ‘‘ What in God’s name do you take me for?” ‘In God’s name we take you for the Devil,” Selim derisively explained. ‘But in my own name I take you for a shoveler in the Den of Lions, for one that has deal- ings with some ‘Great on High.’ Do you ever remember your love-ietters, Devil Effendi?” “Oh-ho! That’s who I am, eh?” He looked at his captor in amazement. Then the steely eye of the city man caught his and the prisoner grasped the unspoken mes- sage. A mere shoveler more or less did not matter; but He that Prepareth the Way could not be spared. “So that’s who I am!” repeated the Poli- any schoolmaster. “So that’s who you are!” retorted the Effendi, ‘‘and this is what you have!” He puiled out of an inside pocket from under the victim’s shirt a bundle of papers and some sealing-wax. “Don’t look at these papers, innkeeper,” Selim cautioned; “they'll give you bad dreams! You are going to Tetino soon, friend?” He turned to the city man, who was apparently hesitating near the doorway. “Yes, must be going pretty soon,” the latter answered. ‘‘Gulbenk Effendi is wait- ing for me in Tetino, to close a deal in rice.” Selim Effendi offered the rice-merchant a glass of brandy. The latter merely touched it with his lips. “Four 697 “You also are going back this evening.” There was no question in his voice, but Selim answered: “Yes, as soon as I have made heads or tails of this devilish scribble in his papers.” ‘So you reaily think you have the Devil there?’ “Ivan, go and get me another bottle of Stanimuka wine,” Selim ordered the appren- tice. Stanko had gone to the inn proper to look after the wants of a peasant who was to stay overnight. ‘The Devil he is for these cattle,” he explained, “but, my name being Selim Effendi of Tetino, you can guess who this man is. The capturing of this man was worth some original ma- neuvering. It will be a sensation in the konak to-morrow morning when Selim Ef- fendi kicks the iron gates open and walks in with the trophy—what?”’ “Tt will be a sensation, yes. Well, good road to you, Effendi; Allah take care of you, and the Devil will look after your baggage.” IV @ SELIM was losing patience. “For the third time: Did you see your man from Poliany or didn’t you?” But the prisoner did not look up. ‘“T could open that clam-shell mouth of yours on short notice, but when i do I want to be your whole audience. There has been hardly any one here to-day, but who knows what a rabble of charcoal devils will be around here by sundown!”’ Slowly the minutes passed as the Effendi was struggling with the meaningless jargon of his victim’s papers. He turned to his zaptieh in a low voice: “What do you think, Osman? Id rather be through with the farce and have this thing tied to the post next to that low peas- ant in our cellar. ‘That idiotic innkeeper may catch on to our game, and I don’t know his persuasion on matters political. Besides —that rice-merchant; we should have held on to him. I was foolish to blab so much. I want to try my monkey-wrench argument with this Devil and see whether it will loosen his jaw. Ho, you little one, we are going!”’ Ivan loaded up with half a dozen bottles of brandy and Prespa vintage, and the Ei- fendi and Osman dragged cut the man in cassock. “T wonder whether that schoolmaster of COmiICLOOCkKS. EGO