Argosy, Vol. 85, No. 3 — page 176: what you’re looking at

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

518 I have not a quarter of so much money in all the world, and that to give you even a thousand francs would ruin me!”’ Mme. Tournier threw her apron over her head and burst into dismal wails, rocking her body backward and forward, and wringing her hands. ‘““T shall quickly learn for myself how much you have, Tournier,” declared the bandit. ‘‘ You know how gently I deal with liars!” Tournier whimpered and his’ wife sprang to her feet and howled incoherent- ly for mercy. “IT am not easily moved by a woman’s tears, Mme. Tournier,”’ said Berard im- patiently; “much less when they are shed in cloudbursts to the accompani- ment of such devilish howling. Be quiet, now, or your sniveling husband shall be made to gag you.” ‘By all the saints, M. Berard!” cried the innkeeper brokenly, “I am speaking to you with truth and honesty. Would you,’ then, ruin a poor dog who has worked so hard for the little he has?”’ “We shall see how far the poor dog shall be ruined,” muttered the outlaw, settling back comfortably in his chair. “It occurs to me, friends, that travelers from distant lands must be well furnished with money. Come now, we shall see that my desperate need has already touched the generous hearts of this lovely lady and her gallant husband. They will come to your relief, Tournier. May it not be that, in their liberality, they will endow me with—ah!—not a mere twenty: five thousand, but with fifty thousand francs. It will be beautiful—sublime? Yes, yes; that is an end to all my press- ing problems of the moment!” ‘“T fear that you jest rather broadly, monsieur,’ Eastman said quietly. “I am not unwilling to help. a fellow traveler on his way with a few francs from my pocket; but my wife and I are spending even more than we can well afford on our travels, and we are not wealthy persons by any means. Americans are protected by their government at home, you know, THE ARGOSY. from such dangers as capture for ransom and blackmail. Any unpleasantness you might be rash enough to cause us would quickly grow into an international affair. That would mean too much publicity for you, you see, and you would hardly. get off with ten years in New Caledonia. You are a man of evident intelligence, M. Berard, and I think I make myself clear.” The outlaw sprawled over the table and leered at the American. “Fifty thousand francs!” he said, with emphasis upon each word. ‘“ The money must be paid at once or I shall lose pa- tience. Let us, then, have no more fool- ish talk!” “If it is not paid?” Eastman queried, meeting the man’s ugly glance unflinch- ingly. Berard took a sip of wine, then languid- ly drew from his pocket a huge navy revolver, which he placed beside him on the table with elaborate care. “Why, then,” he said at last, “if the money is not paid, the affair will become melancholy—tragic! The lovely madame will suddenly become a lovely widow, and I shall have the honor of being her escort upon her travels. It is too simple to need more explanation, monsieur.” “Look here!”—a note of deep concern sounded in Eastman’s voice as he saw his wife’s face blanch—‘“ I refuse to take this outrageous affair seriously. You are not a fool; you must know what a row you would kick up by making any trouble for us. The world is too small for such villainy as you suggest, M. Berard. As a matter of fact, if the lives of both my- self and my wife were actually at stake, we could not in any way raise such a sum as fifty thousand francs—particularly in this part of the earth.” ‘““ Make me an offer,” drawled Berard with the suavity of a tradesman. “Great Heavens! I’m not haggling with you!” cried Eastman angrily. “I haven’t the slightest thought of being in danger—from you, and I wouldn’t give you a sou! You’re an impudent swash- buckler; you’ve played upon the ignorant comicloool C©