Argosy, Vol. 85, No. 3 — page 180: what you’re looking at

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

622 He watched his mysterious friend as he drove up to the inn and got down from the cart. He saw him casually tie the horse to a post and saunter up to the door; then he followed directions and scurried forward, keeping in the shadows. When he reached the door it was open, and there were loud voices sounding from the room. In a flash he saw his friend engaged with the terrible Victor Berard, and he darted into the room and seized his sobbing wife in his arms. The cart-driver held the outlaw by the collar of his shirt with one hand, and with the other hand he dealt him prodig- ious blows across the face. Crimson welts appeared where the hand rose and fell, and between howls of agony the fa- mous outlaw shrieked that his nose was broken. “This is the beginning!” announced the stranger, desisting for a moment. “ Also it is a punishment too mild. At- tend to what I say! You have fright- ened a lady to distraction; you have dis- turbed a gentleman traveling in a strange land, and you have masqueraded as a better man! What punishment is ap-, propriate, then?”’ | “You mean that this fellow is not Vic- tor Berard!” cried out Eastman, bewil- dered and incredulous. The stranger stepped back, struck an attitude, and pointed at the moaning out- law derisively. “Victor Berard,” he said dramatically, “has been described as a handsome man! Would any one but the unfortunate mother of this goat call him handsome? “Victor Berard’s enemies call him brave!” he went on oratorically. ‘“ Could any one mistake this whimpering booby for a brave man? ‘Victor Berard was outlawed and sent into exile; but when did he prey upon travelers and upon frail women? Victor Berard, believe me, might throw the pal- ace of a prince into panic, but he would not seek adventure in the parlor of an inn!” Eastman, utterly aghast, glanced cu- THE ARGOSY. riously at Tournier and his wife, and was further puzzled. The keepers of the inn were apparently quite as terrified as they had been before; their faces were drawn, and of the color of yellowed ivory. They shrank back -together close to the wall and stared at the stranger in a sort of fascination. ‘" Now,” resumed the person of myste- rious authority, ‘‘we shall get this canaille out of our atmosphere!” and he grasped the culprit again by the collar and flung him upon the floor. “Mercy! Have mercy, monsieur!” pleaded the wretch who had lately swag- gered so recklessly. “I will spare your life—if I do not meet you again,” said the stranger. “A ship leaves the island to-morrow see to it that your departure is simultaneous with hers. This island is my home; I do not wish that travelers should find such rats as you upon it!” The cringing clown, whimpering soft- ly, crept furtively toward the open door. He gained the threshold and rose to something nearer a standing posture, and then the stranger took a long stride after him and administered the world’s record kick, propelling him like a rocket through the darkness. At the same moment the administrator of picturesque justice whipped the re- volver from his belt and fired a fusillade oi shots into the air at random. They heard the terrified clown running on the road a moment later — running, perhaps, as athletes sometimes dream of running. ‘“ Now you, M. and Mme. Tournier!” thundered the stranger, turning suddenly upon the innkeepers with a face dark with wrath. ‘“* But why—”’ began Eastman. “These old foxes also must leave my island,” said the stranger. ‘‘ The rat who masqueraded as a man is their precious son, and he was but playing out their shrewd scheme to wring money from credulous travelers.” oe ‘““Have pity, monsieur!” wailed the CO 1OOOLK nn C©