Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 82: what you’re looking at

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

220 “Once, on Le Diable Noir, I asked you to look at a fool, Gefondo. Look now!” “ Sometimes, young master, we are given glimpses of prophecy. Better a fool than a rogue. Better be bitten than be a biting dog. The end holds less of shame.” A tray was brought in by a servitor, and when Basil had breakfasted he followed Gefondo down the passage- way and they saw De Banana wait- ing beside the door of the emper- or’s room. A group of those who had dined with him the night before were also in attendance, and each giant black lord held an article of the emperor’s attire on a silver salver. Gefondo’s lips were opened wide in his silent, horrid laughter, but he stood beside them, one elbow cupped in the other palm and his fingers stroking his chin. 3 He was by far the most sinister look- ing man of that group, although his skin was white. His eyes slanted up- ward at the outer corners with a dia- bolic leer, but when the emperor’s door was opened he darted ahead, to the evident rage of the other lords. Basil followed, his bells shaking in what was to him a humiliating chime of tinkling sound. In the bedroom Christophe stood naked, a great shin- ing black animal, marvelously built except for the accumulation of fat which spoiled his strength. He roared a command for Basil to sing and dance, and to the tune of an English rustic dance step and the chiming bells of the jester he was clad by his lords, each presenting a garment to his valet de chambre. Then a conclave took place, with all standing except the emperor and Basil, who was motioned to a stool at his side. To sit in the presence of royalty had been a prerogative of the Trelaw- ney coat of arms. But now. Basil sat because he was of less importance than the valet de chambre who dressed the emperor. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Nor could he understand their talk, except that it ended in dissension. Later a procession formed to inspect the Citadel, and Basil was dismissed. He went to his room and sat in the window looking down over the Milot Valley, where flowers stretched like carpets of gorgeous color, and palms shivered, and tall spikes of yuccas stood like bayonets between plumy cashaw trees. He saw the white villa of Planta- tion Grand Pré, and the road winding up the mountain deep rutted by mon- strous loads that were hauled for the building of the Citadel. He saw guards pacing the wall, and soldiers posted as sentries in the courtyard, and realized the trap into which he and Violette had fallen. Escape seemed impossible, yet he must find a way out. The news given him by Gefondo, that Christophe con- sidered placing a white queen beside him on the throne to appease the rapid- ly’ growing menace of white survivors after the savage atrocities washed Christophe to his power on a wave of blood. It meant one thing, that the emperor had glutted greedy eyes on the beauty of Violette. And she was prisoner with Basil in the Citadel and in the power of a monster. To find Violette! To hear her speak and assure him she was unharmed and well; perhaps to combine his wits with hers in some plan of escape! For an hour that wish grew and spread until Basil was hanging from the window ledge surveying the rough-hewn blocks of stone and out-jutting ornamenta- tion, and wondering if the guards would face that hot sun and notice if he crept along the stones and found her window. | For he knew by the prettiness of his room furnishings that he was lodged in the woman’s wing of the citadel, and any of those other windows might re- veal the girl he loved. He swung from the window at a Gomichbooks which (E@)