Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 4 — page 143: what you’re looking at

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

x THE PROGRESS nothing of my promise to Joyce—was ap- parently satisfied that I was at least no traitor or Royalist agent in Roundhead Principally, I could see that he was keen to arrive at the identity of that person in Ironside armor who had shot me—and Fal- coner by mistake—when I tried to capture the king. _That man, still at large, was a menace to Cromwell’s hope of seizing Charles and, by some drastic measure, bringing. civil discord to an end. Also, the man was a traitor and undoubtedly a spy of the most contemptible kind. As for the story -Ruth and Bunyan had told, Cromwell clearly believed it, the more for the maid’s reticence concerning that part which she herself had refused to tell. All that was now necessary to close the inquiry into my conduct and motives—and Bun- yan’s startling insubordination—was to es- _ tablish the identity of» the man who fired that shot, the same man, in all probability, who planned and effected the king’s escape to the Welsh border by way of Sibber- toft. ‘“‘ Where is this woman, Joyce Eveleigh?” he asked suddenly. “She is here!” said Bunyan in quiet triumph, as if he had but impatiently awaited the question in order to play his great card in answer. “ Here?” Cromwell echoed, around the room. ‘ Where?”’ “She waits without,” said the “ great instrument.” “ Foreseeing need of her testi- looking . fying, I did even apprehend the lady.” “ Apprehend?” said Cromwell rather blankly. “Even so I did, sir—aye, and paroled her likewise while I went to stop the Again the ghost of a smile about old Noll’s mouth, while the two colonels shook their heads amusedly, as if saying to them- selves: “To what is our model army come!” ‘Summon her!’ said Cromwell briefly. “‘ I shall see to’t at once, sir,” said Master Slythey, moving toward the door with all possible speed. “I did not address you,” said the gen- OF J. BUNYAN. 649 eral coldly. “Remain! Okey, fetch the woman!” CHAPTER XVIII. GALLOWS FRUIT. ERGEANT OKEY presently opened the door from without, and himself stood aside at respectful salute. Mis- tress Joyce Eveleigh slowly entered the room. She was again, as I recalled her that day in the garden when she walked to the summer-house at the king’s summons, modestly moving in grace. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyelids drooped; but she carried her head high. There was that about her whole bearing of beauty and dignity which made Cromwell stare for .a moment, then rise to his feet. The two colonels had only awaited this example; and now behold the three of them standing up and involuntarily rendering tribute. I was conscious of these things only as a corner of my eye caught them. My direct gaze was all upon her. She stopped in the middle of the room, almost at my elbow and directly in front of Cromwell. Then her eyelids lifted. She returned the salute of Cromwell and his officers with a slight inclination of her head, then looked steadily—for just a moment or two—into my eyes. Upon Slythey, to the left of Ruth, she flashed an arrow of disdain, then turned to John Bunyan, as if she recognized him more than Cromwell, as temporarily director of her affairs. But Bunyan gra- ciously waved a hand toward Oliver Crom- well. “‘ Mistress,” said the general, “I would ask that ye be seated.” She declined the seat which Okey hustled from a corner. The two colonels looked to Cromwell for their cue. Would he resume his seat? He did not; possibly forgot to in the diversion of interest. And so Oliver Cromwell, his officers, Mistress Joyce, and all of us were on our feet throughout the rest of that hearing. “* Mistress,” said the general, clearly choosing his words, “is there aught ye Original fro n EOOOIK