Adventure Magazine Cover — page 167: what you’re looking at

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

The Fox’s Earth the name it goes by—and it was to discover where he kept the thing that brought me here. By the way, Jacobs, have a look at this paper; it’s a plan of something or other, but I can’t make out what. I think it con- cerns Ostermann, and thought it might— Good gracious, Jacobs, what’s the matter?”’ “It’s a plan of the chapel wing, sir!” said Jacobs slowly, raising his head till his age- dimmed eyes stared straight into Algy’s keen blue ones. “So that’s what the vil- lains were so busy about, is it? And yet— and yet I don’t understand it quite, do you, Master Algy?” ‘The plan of the chapel wing? What on earth do you mean, Jacobs?” ‘“‘Look—the staircase leading up from the oval landing and the big turret? It’s the chapel wing, sure enough, sir!?’ “You're right, I believe. And I couldn’t make head or tail of it!” ‘What gave me the clue to it, sir, was seeing a torn plan which had been left or dropped in the oval landing, and Sir Stephen told me that it was merely a builder’s plan which must have been dropped by one of the workmen. What I don’t understand is all this part of it’’—indicating a more elaborate portion of the traced plan. ‘‘Such a stair- case as this one here doesn’t exist! The chapel wing ends here.” At Jacobs’s words Algy took the plan out of his hand and, drawing the candle to his side, studied the intricate tracing with the deepest attention. ‘That portion of it which Jacobs had so easily recognized as being the facsimile of the incomplete one he had found some time since was simple enough, anda child could easily understand it. But the second half was indeed a thing of intricacy and bewilderment, and Algy’s heart sank lower and lower as he tried in vain again and again to solve the mystery. Certainly till this moment he had not had the clue given him by Jacobs to guide him, and he bent over the flimsy paper now with a grim earnestness which boded ill for his enemy should he be fortunate enough to read the’ riddle. IV hynita Lf WAS more than half an hour iwitq later that he pushed the flickering =—— candle away from him and sat back. ““T’ve guessed it!”’ he whispered exultantly. “I’ve guessed it!” 923 He slipped off the bed and began to dress silently and hastily. When he was ready he handed a pistol to Jacobs and slipped a second one into his own pocket. “Fol- low me!” he said in a tense whisper, and turned toward the door. But before he could reach it a sound as of gravel being thrown against the window arrested them, and they half turned, looking anxiously into each other’s faces. What was it? Who was out there on the lawn tossing gravel at their dimly-lighted window as a signal? Could it be Oster- mann? No, surely not. Impossible! Oster- mann had the run of the house and kept his own set of keys. Who, then, could it be? Brett ventured to the casement and threw it open. “Who is there?” he asked softly, and saw as he spoke, a dark, slouching, sinister figure of a man hiding in the shadow of a bush. ‘‘Who is there?”’ he called again, still in the same soft but carrying voice. And this time the man in the garden answered. “It’s me, Hafner!”’ he whispered sibilant- ly and clearly. “It’s me! Come down; I want yer!” ‘‘However did you get here?”’ asked Algy in intense astonishment when they were face to face on the soft turf of the lawn. ‘*Have you also tracked Ostermann here? ”’ ““No, I ’aven’t. “Ive ’ad enough to do tracking you. Call it fair giving me the slip like this ’ere when yer promised me yer solemn word yer’d let me do ’im in? Didn’t I let you know when I had ’im copped in that ’ouse at Dartford? And now yer give me the slip and do yer ’unting alone.” “But I didn’t give you the slip, Hafner e ‘““No, ’cause why? I saw yer visiting the rooms where Ostermann stays sometimes, and knew yer was up to something—pump- ing old Phelps, no doubt. So when yer come out I followed yer—and ’ere I am.” “And jolly glad I am of your company, old chap!” cried Algy, shaking the man’s hand in spite of his sulkiness. ‘‘You’re a stout fellow, and just the man to help us to-night when we meet Ostermann!” Hafner’s mad eyes lighted up with a de- lirious gladness at this announcement. ‘““Meet ’im to-night? Where? ’Ere?”’ ‘“‘At a place not very far from here. At midnight he has an appointment with a very great personage indeed, and if you care to COmiclbook CO