Adventure Magazine Cover — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

The Great Todescan’s Secret Thrust —well-prepared scholar if ever there was one—was soon to learn under those project- ing gables, Dick Wyatt entered the inn. Little did he dream how fast his knowledge would grow that very night! Mine host of the Roy David appraised the newcomer with one look of an experi- enced eye. ‘““Aye—faith! There is still accommoda- tion, though my house is all but full. And you would have speech with Master Todescan? And, faith, I thought as much. Though what there is in our Todescan that you all should thus—and another English- man too! But I, for one, have no call to grumble. ... And I may make bold to guess further, my gentleman, that you de- sire speech of Todescan even before sight of supper? Eh? Said I truly?” And without more ado the traveler was conducted up a winding stairway to the door of the fencing-room. "Twas a long, low, beam-ceiled gallery, covering the whole depth of the house from high street to back lane; lit with four oil lamps; bare of all furniture but for a couple of forms and an arm-rack in the corner. The last lesson of the day was over. A heavy- looking youth had just drawn on his doub- let and was adjusting its points, ever and anon wiping his face and the back of his neck, spite the icy blast pouring through the windows. “Maitre Todescan,” cried mine host from the threshold, all professional cheeriness, “again I bring an English admirer—one, too, mark you, that can not wait another hour before saluting you! What a man you are, aha! No doubt you would, as usual, partake of supper together? I leave you. But the time to toss that basket of trout into the pan and to carbonade a rib of that veal—say I well? Aye, and a pitcher of the white wine of Morges—eh? I know, I know!” Without waiting for reply, he retired, leaving Dick Wyatt face to face with his great man. The first impression was curiously un- pleasant, and Dick was seized with an unex- pected revulsion—a sense of resentment as against something unnatural. Every mas- ter of the blade he had known in his days, ruffan at heart though he might be, had borne about him the note of joviality. But here was a saturnine visage with a ven- geance! An unformed thought quickly took 585 possession of the Englishman’s mind; in practise with such a one, cunning strokes of fence would assume a new purpose; would savor more of cruelty and treachery than of skill! As a fact, Maitre Todescan’s face dis- played anything but cordiality at that mo- ment. It was with the air of him who finds his time trespassed upon at a decidedly inop- portune moment: that he turned upon the visitor, looking deeply at him. With an engaging glibness, cultivated on repeated occasions, the youth fell to explaining his presence. For a while Todescan listened in silence; then suddenly seemed to make up his mind to more graciousness. A smile found its way to his lips, without, however, reaching the eyes, that remained filled as with some dark and absorbing speculation. He was honored. He would—on the morrow—offer his humble services to the gentleman. Now, he must go forth; he had charge to-night of the burgher guard’s watch. But to-morrow. ... He bowed. There came a furtive look into the close-set eyes. It was happy for the stranger that he had just saved the hour of the setting of the watch. The days were of the shortest. Had he encountered any noticeable experi- ence on his approach to Geneva? Which road had his been? From the Bern side? Ah, from the north! He stood musing fora moment. Well, he must even crave the young master’s leave— until the morrow. He spoke with a conscious air which be- trayed the tardy grafting of courtly manners upon an original stock of camp brutality. And Dick Wyatt, escorted down-stairs, politely but firmly shaken off at the kitchen door, as he watched the fencing-master wrap himself up scientifically in his great cloak and stride out into the night, had a fantas- tic impression as one who has just passed by an unknown personal danger. In some dudgeon, with lingering regrets for the merry taverns of Paul’s Chains (oh, how far they seemed!), he consumed his trout and drank his thin wine by himself. And soon after, the melancholy drone of curfew having sounded from a neighboring tower, he wended his way dejectedly to the bare and very cold room allotted to him just below the eaves. But under the combined influence of bod- ily chill, overfatigue, and mental annoyance, it seemed as though the soothing of sleep COMICOOCKKS. ECO