Adventure Magazine Cover — page 118: what you’re looking at

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874 “Why, would you have a ghost talk plainly?”’ “Ghost?” the priest echoed. Mr. Rymingtowne made a clutch at his shoulder: “‘ Will you make oath I am flesh and blood?” he said in a hollow voice. “Are you: mad?” Sir Ralph cried and started away. Mr. Rymingtowne laughed. ‘Cousin, you have ever amused me. But never so much as now that you are a murderer.” “Mr. Rymingtowne!” the priest ex- claimed with dignity. ‘Sir, you exceed the license of a jest! You wrong not me but the whole church. This is blasphemy!” ‘Oh, brave!”” Mr. Rymingtowne laughed. And then witha sudden ferocity: ‘‘ Man, look at your hands!” The priest started and glanced nervously this way and _ that. ‘Good cousin, a man of your supersititions will never enjoy his murders. And I give you warning I’ll take care that you shall never manage mine!”’ He turned on his heel. Sir Ralph cried out, “I protest you are mad!” and as the back contemptuously receded: ‘‘Sir, it does not become my office to listen to such insolence!”’ Then he de- parted with much magnificence of gait. Mr. Rymingtowne went smiling to break- fast and his daughter. ‘‘ Mary,” said he, ‘you will not walk beyond the garden unless Iam with you.” | The child’s broad brow frowned. “Be- cause of the shepherd?”’ she asked angrily. **T hate him.” “‘Of course,” said Mr. Rymingtowne. and considered her with grave interest. THE shepherd’s flock was on the 7. lower slopes of the down, watched oe by his dog. The shepherd lay in the shade of a gnarled old blackthorn, and Sir Ralph, as he saw him from far, fancied that he had a book under his nose. But it was impossible that the silly shepherd should know how to read, and indeed there was no sign of his studying anything but bread and cheese when Sir Ralph came up. The shepherd grinned broadly, with his mouth full. ‘‘Have you brought my five pound?” said he. “Sirrah, what befell last night?” the priest snapped. The shepherd laughed. “They planks was loosed. Squire, he come down in the dark. There was a gurt splash, there was. And you do owe a poor boy five pound.” Adventure “Fool, the: man is alive and well!” The shepherd’s face was contorted with fear. He crossed himself again and again and shivered. “That is witchcraft, that is!” he mumbled. “I told’e he was a gurt conjuror. That is black witchcraft, to be sure! riding of I!” And he rolled on the turf and writhed. A moment Sir Ralph stood over him, watching with alarm not wholly contempt- uous. Then he turned and walked slowly away. The silly shepherd had provided him with an idea. Witchcraft was felony. Nay, it was close akin to heresy and might well be taken for heresy, when the man who practised it was of free thought and speech. The bishops were very zealous after heretics. All across England the fires were glowing. A man could win favor and place by finding fresh victims. And what victim would burn more justly than Mr. Rymingtowne with his magic of alchemy and astrology and his mockery of Holy Church? It was the sacred duty of a faithful priest to send him to the stake. beheld the law of man and God arranging the death that he needed. IV wie IN THE golden twilight of a show- Sui cry day two men rode up to the rectory. They were soberly, som- berly dressed and so much alike that the younger seemed to be wearing the elder’s old clothes. The elder was a heavy man with a keen, tired face; the younger, slim and stolid. Sir Ralph hurried out to meet them and was greeted with precise formality: “‘I am Dr. Oscott, the bishop’s commissioner. My secretary, Thomas Saunders.” Sir Ralph was much honored, and welcomed them effusively into his parlor. Dr. Oscott fell wearily into a chair and looked Sir Ralph over. Mr. Saunders sat on the edge of a stool and stared at the hangings of faded red and green saye. “His lordship commends your zeal, Sir Ralph. It is of high import that the lurking enemies of the faith should be sought out and destroyed. One heretic in secret may do more harm than twenty bold professors. Therefore, my lord thanks you.” Sir Ralph was eloquently grateful and COmiclbooks Oh dear, oh dear, his devils still be. With joyous excitement Sir Ralph - C©