Adventure, June 1911 — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

sir John Hawkwood hers and drawing the girl forward. They entered the room together, and I closed the door and drew the outer bolt. ““Come,”’ I said quickly to O’Meara, and we ran swiftly up to the battlements of the castle. ‘e horsemen were riding in the direc- “~". tion of our stronghold. They might have been a dozen, not more. ‘There is no danger,” I said to the Irishman, drawing a breath of relief as my eye ranged over them. “But why are they coming here?” ‘O'Meara muttered an oath and caught my -armg “Do you see—do you see?” he cried. excitedly. ‘Tis a woman there in the midst*of them! Now by all that’s wonder- ful;‘Sir John, can you tell me what it is that a@ Woman’s wanting here?.”’ “et AL cat stell you that she i is here for no good purpose, ? T said curtly, “for I have just recognized her as Madonna Violante, Della ‘Torre’ s‘wife, and of all women I have ever Seen ‘she is thé most dangerous. Let us go down. inito the court and set Pierre to par- leyihg with them across the moat.” ' That ‘worthy presently returned with a puzzled face. «It is my Lord Ranucio della “Torte, Sir John—the Prince’s favorite,” he tald itie. { ; “He wants speech with you, and begs. ‘permission to enter with two of his party. He will tell me nothing of - his business. = ower the draw-bridge and let them in,”’ I commanded, “‘but take care that no more than three pass the portcullis.”’ A moment later I heard the hoofs of the horses rattling on the crazy draw-bridge. My troopers came thronging into the court- yard in great excitement. Della Torre came first, a splendid sight, as always, and as serene and haughty as though he were riding into the royal palace at Verona. I had seen very great gentlemen look less at ease when surrounded by my grim-faced ruffians, and much as I detested my Lord Ranucio I admitted inwardly that he was no coward. Madonna Violante followed him. At sight of her a cold shiver ran over me, a presentiment of evil. And yet what harm could come? Truly, I was growing woman- ish! Hastily I turned to look at the third arrival, who proved to be no other than . Gianni Potrero. OFF in the distance a small group of ‘There was a moment’s silence, then ile 2953 stepped forward with a low bow. ‘“ Wel- come, my lady—welcome, my lord the fav- orite, and you, sir knight of the noble order of bravoes!”’ I cried, saluting each in turn. ‘Who would have guessed that one day Sir John Hawkwood would receive so noble a party in his own castle—that the great Della Torre would be kept waiting at the moat! Well, and how can I serve you, that you deign to flatter me by taking note of my existence?” Messer Gianni gave me a very black look, while Madonna Violante stared through me as though I were made of air. As for Della Torre, he dismounted slowly, came forward a step, and spoke in a remote, indifferent fashion. ‘Sir John Hawkwood,” he said, “T have not come here to talk of your mad and fatal act. All that you will settle later with Prince Antonio. I have come here to-day at my master’s bidding to demand one thing of you, which, if you possess any honor, you can not refuse.” “Weil?” I asked curtly. “It is plainly to be seen you are no soldier, you waste so much good time in words.” He flushed and gave me an angry glance. ‘Prince Antonio is filled with anguish at the brutal seizure of his cousin,”’ he said, trying to resume his measured fashion of speech. “If you have any spark of chivalry left in your nature, you will allow Madonna Vio- lante to speak alone with the Princess and to learn from her own lips whether she has come to any harm.” I stood in silence for a time, reflecting. I was sure that some deep plot underlay the seemingly simple request, and yet my reck- less pride rose up. I hated Della Torre, I hated Violante, and I would not have them think that I feared them or anything they might do. I turned to O’Meara, who had stood at my elbow throughout the scene. ‘Go to the Princess,” I bade him. ‘‘If she wishes for an interview, the matter is all one to me.” CHAPTER XX BLACK CLOUDS re I TRUST, Sir John, that this is not a trick,’ Della Torre sneered, as Mi- chael left us. was white at your bidding.” “Pray do not judge Messer O’Meara by Go DOOKS ANG CO) “I know something of that © ‘Irishman of yours—he would swear black