Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 1 — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

THE CARAVAN shadow recalled Edith to herself. She went below and, for the second time that day, changed her attire. When she emerged from her curtained compartment she wore the ball dress that had come with her from Kashmir. A scarf covered her bare shoulders. Her cheeks were rosy with the touch of the afternoon’s sun, and the tawny hair was dressed low on her neck in the manner Donovan ad- mired. : Aravang gaped, then grinned delighted- ly. His goddess had robed herself in a new aspect of divinity. He announced impor- tantly by signs that he had prepared din- ner—an excellent dinner. Edith shook her head. ‘“Dono-van Khan,” she ordered. “ Find him. Bring him here.” The servant hesitated, pretending that he did not understand. But Edith knew bet- ter, and waved him away on his mission. Experience had taught Aravang the ad- visability of obeying her; nevertheless, he went slowly. Meanwhile, Edith bethought her that her hair would need a flower to set it off. She had made her toilette as anxiously as a debutante at a first dance. It was her wish that John Donovan should think her fair when he came to the house. It was a poor kind of garden, after all, the roses thin and fast falling to the earth. Weeds overgrew the paths and the stone walls. Edith knew, however, where certain blue-grass flowers were still to be found. She sought for them in the swiftly gathering twilight that falls upon the valleys when the sun is obliterated behind the moun- tains. Edith was stooping over a verdant tan- gle in a corner of ‘the wall when she saw a tall, white-clad figure moving toward her. With her flowers firmly grasped, she rose and extended a hand, while her pulse quick- ened. She had not expected Donovan quite so soon. Then the blue blossoms fell at her feet and the hand dropped to her side. The man was Monsey. Edith watched, bewildered, as he hast- ened to her, stooping as he did so under the wall. “Miss Rand,” he said under his breath, OF. THE DEAD, 103 ‘““] did not mean to startle you. We must be very quiet. We must leave at once.” He was breathing heavily, as if he had been running, and a muscle twitched persistently in his cheek. She faced him, surprised, trying to ac- count for his appearance. Monsey had come from the direction of the small gate through which she had passed to the mosque. She saw him glance toward it anxiously. “TI have been watching you through glasses all this afternoon. Yes, Miss Rand —from the hill behind the hut. Now, it is our chance. The native guard in the ravine behind the mosque has been slain, but the devils are thick on the mountain- sides—” Edith would have given much to read his face. Monsey’s coming had at first filled her with expectation. Had aid from Kashmir reached Yahka Arik? “Your father sent me.” The man spoke impatiently. ‘I have risked much to come here to-night. Do not wait to get any other clothing. I have horses and men up the mountain. We came through—from ‘the entrance ravine along a goat path.” He did not tell her of hours spent spying from. the heights upon Yahka Arik, or of several Sarts in his pay slain that day as he tried to penetrate the concealed ravine through which he had once entered the valley—or of the fear that clung to him, close as his own shadow. ‘“‘ My father? Is he here?” Monsey swore under his breath and leaned nearer. “No! He is sick. Come! You do not understand. We must go, or these devils will see us, and that will be the end of us all. Nom dun nom!” Edith strove to think, to decide. She had no reason to doubt that Arthur Rand had sent the Russian. The man’s presence in the garden, which must be decidedly dangerous to him, was evidence to back his words. Likewise, Donovan had not yet had time to warn her of his pledge that she would not leave Yahka Arik without the consent of the Sayak chiefs. It was some- thing in Monsey’s manner that made her pause—and another thought. comicloool C@