Adventure Magazine Cover — page 69: what you’re looking at

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

The Witch of Aleppo leading from the tomb into a passage, he would have observed it before now. Her spulse quickened, at a dull sound close by—a grating, rumbling noise, as if a heavy stone were being rolled about. Sidi Ahmad heard it, too, and his black eyes darted into the shadows of the tomb. Nothing there. But suspicion like a flame rismg in dry tinder seized upon him. His powerful hand caught her slender arm, and his lips drew back from his teeth. “Ohat, I can read your soul, singing girl. Allah fashioned you to be a dove, but you would fly like a falcon. You came to Aleppo, and you have spied into what is hidden. You know my name, and the place of my treasure, and now your eyes search for a way hence. Did Mustapha set you to slay me?” His free hand sought fruitlessly for a weapon on the girl, who stood passive in his grasp. His face pressed close to hers. “‘Were you sent by the Sultan, to do away with Sidi Ahmad? The truth, or you will not sing again! Ah!’ Lali’s dark eyes blazed into his. “I came of my own will, and my thought was to cast you down—who slew my father and hunted my people like beasts.” The words came softly, for his ear alone, yet without pretense of deception. Lali had given utterance to what was in her heart, knowing that her next act would _ make her defenseless before the rage of the pasha. Her voice, full and clear as a clarion, echoed in the tomb. “Away Demid! Nine are here with weapons. Away, while there is time!’’ The scar on Sidi Ahmad’s cheek grew livid and his hand groped for his sword hilt. And then he crouched as if struck. Some- thing thudded against the wall across the chamber. Dust and fragments of brick flew out. The bricks of the wall moved and fell inward under a series of shocks. A black opening appeared where they had been. Another blow and a large boulder rolled out over the marble floor. The tall figure of an Arab emerged from the hole. Although he had looked to see something of the kind, Sidi Ahmad felt a twinge of superstitious fear—fear that the dust and bones of the inmate of the tomb had taken human form. But this passed as he made out the dark countenance of the Cossack, blinking in the glare of the lamp. © Demid strode forward out of the cloud 63 of dust from the shattered bricks that had walled up the passage, and stumbled against the massive rock that—fetched from the hillside—he had used to break down the barrier. ‘“‘Go back!” cried Lali, beside herself with anxiety. “Swordsmen wait on the——” Her lips closed on the last word and a moan rose in her throat. Sidi Ahmad had drawn his dagger and thrust it into her side. The steel blade, slender as the tip of a palm frond, passed through the girl’s silk vest without a sound, and the Moslem made no effort to draw it out. Lali’s hands flew to the ivory hilt of the dagger, and her eyes opened very wide, fastening on the livid face of the man as if bewildered. His voice shrilled in a shout: ‘“Ho, Moslems! To me——” His simitar flashed out in time to parry the first cut of the Cossack who had crossed the tomb in a stride and a leap. The lamp flickered in a draught from the stair and gleamed red on the whirling steel. The swords hung for an instant as if suspended m the air. Then the Moslem tore loose his blade and hacked at the Cossack, snarling as he felt his weapon turned aside. The scar on his face made it seem as if he were laughing. Demid was smiling, yet his face was dark and the veins on his forehead stood out. “OQ pasha—O captain-pasha,” he said softly, ‘‘you, who would take the life from a girl, remember the sword trick that I taught you! So, it went, and so—then your sword in the air again, and then— this!” Demid’s_ blade whirled around the Moslem’s simitar and passed through his body. Sidi Ahmad coughed and _ fell heavily, first his knees striking the marble floor, then his head. His followers rushed into the tomb in time to see him stretched out motionless, upon the great cross. The eight men stared from the body of their master to the strange Arab standing before them sword in hand. Swords slithered from scabbards, but before they could recover from their astonishment the voice of Lali halted them! ‘‘The order is fulfilled, O men of the tower. Lo, I was sent hither by com- mand of Mustapha, the Sultan, upon whom —be peace. And the order was that Sidi Ahmad, who would have betrayed his master, should die.” COmiclbook (©