Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 13, 1920 — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

o10 He pretended to follow their ascent with an imaginary telescope to his eye, calling out: “ Allo-Allo!” and holding an invisible telephone-receiver to his ear. Then, his part done, he ran off, kissing his hand, with nervous, sidelong leaps as though pursued by the ringmaster’s whip. The audience stirred in their seats, then settled to silence. Outside at the entrance Tipo found Ros- sin staring upward as eagerly as any one. ““ Neat work!” he murmured. ‘ They have been trained in a good school. What do you say?”’ : ‘“A sensation!’’ Tipo assured him. “They have some new ideas. Those skin tunics now. If my friend Atlas were here he would be jealous.” ‘The new school, Tipo. Heaven! He has forgotten to dry his hands before the leap. That is strange. They have all the appearance of experienced artists, yet to do that—it surprises me.” “You have seen their programs?” “A few only. I was in a hurry. But they looked all right. America, North and South, Adrian said they lost all their early ones in a fire. Berton recommended them highly. And he is a pretty reputable agent even if he is a stolid Hollander.” The clown made no further comment. “Pretty music. First class apparatus. All in good taste. Decidedly I shall keep them in the bill,” muttered Rossin at his side. “ Diable! I thought I was proof against thrills—but that—that trick of al- most missing—” The drums of the orchestra began to throb faintly, then with increasing volume, rasping all nerves <o tense excitation. “Nom de nom de nom! Bravo!” A woman had screamed as Adolphe, at the extremity of his swing, let go his grip of the trapez2 bar and twice curling in the air flew into Adrian’s outstretched hands. There was 2 moment of hysterical hush, then a burst of relieved handclapping, which grew louder and louder as the vaulter grace- fully leaped in another double somersault to the quivering net. ‘ Splendid!” cried Rossin. ‘A real hit. That scream is worth another couple of hun- dred francs a week to them.” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Adrian had followed his brother, and and bathed, in the spotlight, they took their bows. “What men!” exclaimed La Bella Pero- sini, the Italian bareback rider, still in her fleshings and fluffy skirt,” I am almost tempted to make eyes at them.”’ Tipo laughed and pinched her plump arm paternally. “Take papa’s advice and don’t. are statues, not men, my child.” ‘Even marble crumbles in the fire. My father had a marble-yard. You cannot tell me anything about statues, M. Tipo. Here they come. Shall I or not?” The brothers strode out of the ring stolidly. “My compliments, messieurs,” cried La Perosini, coming forward, her eyes warm with coquetry. Adrian bowed stiffly. “Thank you, mademoiselle. Adolphe.” Adolphe regarded the bareback rider’s pretty shoulders, white with powder, with an insolent and cold stare, and she shrugged them, displaying their dimples as she said: “Perhaps we shall have the pleasure of seeing vou at the Café des Artistes, opposite the circus, you know. We usually meet there for a little something to eat after the show.” . ‘““ Many thanks, mademoiselle, but we are going straight home,” said Adrian quietly. “We must hurry, Adolphe.” La Perosini drew back with a flush to let them pass, then, catching the clown’s mocking eyes, stamped a slender foot and muttered contemptuously: ‘What sort of men are they, anyway?” “They are not men,” said the clown, “TY told you so. They are gods, my dear. Olympians, n’est ce pas?” “They have cold eyes,” said the rider and shuddered involuntarily. \‘‘ You were right, Tipo. I should hate to be in their power. They are wonderful, but—cruel— beasts walking like gods. Marble, without hearts.”’ And leaving the clown open-eyed at her outburst she ran off. The success of the brothers was assured. In three days their faces were on bills all They Come, Gomichoo