Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 90: what you’re looking at

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

228° ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. But it was the rider whom they feared, until when the last gasp of its neigh was silent, Basil heard a voice speaking English. “Ts that a way to serve our Lord, Céleste? Now, we must turn about, and I had hoped to see what mischief brewed at the jungle fire to-night. Oh, foolish beast !” Basil moved cautiously, and as cau- tiously parted the branches, then he leaped forward, taking Violette with him. Under the stars, somewhat in the jungle shadow, he made out the robe of a priest. “Father,” he cried, “do not be alarmed. Here are two people in dis- tress, come from the vicinity of the jungle fire.”’ He parted the bushes and faced the priest, who exclaimed in amazement at the sight of a woman, young, slender, her fine frock torn and stained, clinging to the arm of a man in jester’s dress. “Ta Marquise Violette de Tour- raine!’ announced Basil, “and an Eng- lishman, Basil ‘Trelawney, both escaped prisoners from the Citadel.” “My lady, I had heard of your ar- rival and greatly feared for you,” said the priest. “It is well to escape evil; but difficult to escape Christophe. Where are you going now?” “We have no place,” said Basil. He spoke quickly, relating the events ot the night. “And you, father, could you shelter her? For me, it does not matter. I shall return to the Citadel.” T have a church at Limonade,” said the priest. “Then you are Father Mathieu, whose brave denunciation has enraged the emperor. Father, he threatens ven- geance on you.” “Tt will not be the first time. And I am glad to offer the lady sanctuary at the convent of Limonade, but God in His. wisdom alone knows if Chris- tophe shall be allowed to search for her. “Vou have little time to waste if you'd return to Bonnet L/’Evéque, young sir. Here, place the lady on my steed. ‘There is little danger on this road to-night, for all that have not gone to make merry at the Citadel are imbibing evil in the jungles, except my little flock at Limonade.” Basil swung Violette to the donkey's back, but she clung to him. “Don’t leave me now, Basil—TI can- not endure another parting,” she sobbed. “ Sweet, there is the marquis, still at the Citadel; an old man and in the pow- er of an emperor, who will resent your flight. I must go back for his sake.” ‘““My brave—and I so selfish I had not thought of his being in danger. Oh, Basil, when shall we meet again?” “In a few hours, my very dear. If Christophe is drunk enough and I can manage, I'll fetch him down the slide as we two came, and join you at Lim- onade. Be brave, dear heart.” He kissed her eyelids and throat and tasted the salt of her tears; then, watch- ing the donkey trot down the road and the long legs of the priest swinging his robe as he kept pace, Basil turned back on the path. How to enter the Citadel he did not know, but that was a difficulty he would decide when it was closer. The jungle trail led again toward the fire, and hearing less noisy sounds of hideous revelry, he went close and peered through the thickets. The gourds had held most potent drink, for most of the dancers lay sod- den about the fire like a strange harvest of death. Gefondo sat cross-legged on a log, the twisted figure he had made and marred between his fingers, like a solemn brooding fate. Then as Basil watched he stepped from the log, and with a sneer twisting his lips stepped over the sleeping black men and took the jungle trail. Basil waited until he was close, then whis- pered his name: ‘ Gefondo!” “ Who calls?’ came the reply like a hissed breath. “The fool.” A scrap of sardonic (€(0) DOOKS MAG (E@)