Adventure Magazine Cover — page 152: what you’re looking at

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

908 ‘Please be quite specific,’ he said. ‘What do you want?” She made a gesture of acquiescence. “We are here, you and I, in a land of in- trigue. One vital secret is withheld from you. Gessi and his daughter have possibly destroyed, but have learned the contents of, Mr. Sanders’ plans. You are endeavor- ing to acquire an influence over Signorina Gessi—one which will result in her yielding up this information?”’ He flushed. ‘‘I—I am endeavoring to make her my friend.” She laughed lightly. ‘‘And her—her friendship is to have this saving result? As one woman discussing another, let me assure you that friendship from Lucia Gessi is not to be won by surrender,”’ she said. “You are endeavoring to win a vic- tory—by running away. “I do not run away,” he protested. “I see her constantly—every evening. I make time to see her.” She laughed again and this time with ‘genuine enjoyment. ‘The tone of his voice gladdened her. Jealousy? Had a taint of that been in her mind? Possibly. That shadow, at any rate, was now lifted from her plans. ‘Out of your own mouth I convict you, you—you man!”’ she derided. ‘““Does a woman yearn for the thing she is offered? Withhold a prize if you wish to have it coveted. Avoid Lucia Gessi, and she will seek you. Don’t probe for her con- fidences—evade them. Flout her, and win from her all you want by—jealousy!”’ He drew a deep breath. “Using you as my instrument?” he asked, wonderingly. ‘Using me,” she said quietly. And then, for a full half-minute, the silence was unbroken, except for the plash and ripple of his oar-blades. ‘‘And you do not find the position—de- grading?” he asked slowly. She did not flush. Her face was un- troubled. ‘‘No,” she said. ‘What I can do for the road appears to me very well worth doing. As far as I am concerned you have nothing to look askance at. You are the factor vital to the situation.” Si ZA, HE ROWED on silently. As they We 4) approached the Albanian shore of == the lake the breath of the evening = again sent a long shivering whisper through the rushes. Yet the breeze failed Adventure to fan Katrine’s cheek. The notion struck her for the first time. Wasthere a breeze? Why did not the ripple break the calm? Or else Agnew turned his head. And _ then Katrine, looking over his shoulder, cried aloud warningly. Something had risen behind Agnew’s back—something that lifted head and shoulders out of the clinging water-plants and held itself menacingly. She flung herself forward, bearing Agnew down. A sheen, like the distant glimmer of lantern-light, flitted across the dusk, the point of its ray, as it were, culminating on Katrine’s shoulder. She cried out for the second time—with a sudden twinge of pain. Something splashed and rustled with a vengeance from the hidden depths of green. Something fought through the clinging mud, the suck of limbs withdrawn from its grip sounding harshly in the stillness. Ag- new swung himself up from the bottom of the boat, his hand searching his hip pocket. The nickel barrel of his revolver shone against the darkness and was swallowed by the sudden flame of red. Close upon the sound of the shot a shriek echoed from the reeds, but the churning feet fought on. Agnew fired again, but this time without any answer to prove how true or how false had been his aim. The rustling ceased, but the muffled pad of string-covered shoes flying across the turf showed that the would-be assassin had fled. The proofs of his determination and his failure lay in the bottom of the boat—a long-bladed Albanian knife and the deep rivulet of crimson which welled from Katrine’s arm. A cry broke from Agnew’s lips—a queer, incoherent sound, filled with wrath, re- morse, almost with supplication. His arm closed upon Katrine—he lifted her, held her to him while he pressed his handkerchief to the wound. His eyes were brimmed with an agony of anxious pain. “You took it—from me!” he muttered. “You saved me—and risked yourself!”’ She smiled and lay still, looking up at him with a curiously shy and diffident glance. ‘‘I—I did my best,” she murmured. ‘There was—no time.”’ He groaned. ‘‘ We can’t have you among us to take these risks!’’ he cried. His fingers trembled as he bound the linen about her shoulder. ‘‘Can you stand it—can you stand the pain? Are you faint?” he whis- pered. His voice shook. CoOMmicbhook (©