Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 16, 1921 — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

46 facing it blindly—a greater danger here in London than you faced in the tavern on the road. And while you are here, I shall follow you like a shadow—everywhere!”’ He had seen that she was moved by the first part of his speech, but when he ended she was grown thoughtful, and her eyes looked down. He waited for an answer, but at this moment the coachman broke in, ““ We have been expected, my lady, as I told you. The rooms are ready. For Master Northam, he can share mine until another is vacant.” They passed up two long, winding flights - Of stairs to the rooms of the two women; the master of the house merely set the doors ajar and indicated them; but he went on to the apartment of the coachman and stepped in with him. It was a very large room, with a great four-poster draped in blue cloth and several chairs, apparently hand-carved and after the manner of the French. On the whole, it was the most sumptuous bed-chamber that Samson Integ- rity had ever looked upon. ‘‘T hope,” said the master of the house, “that you will find comfort here, sir.’ And he bowed and twisted his lean fin- gers together in great anxiety. The coach- man glanced carelessly about. “Tt will do,” he said. ‘“ Be off to the ladies, old Mammon, and find out if there’s® anything they need; and if you let ’em go unattended in so much as a glass of choco- . late, I'll flay you and tan your hide for a money-bag.” ‘ To thé astonishment of Samson Integ- rity the landlord took this insolent outbreak in the utmost-good humor. ~ “ Good, sir,” he chuckled, bowing him- self out. “ You are pleased to be merry. Bless you, sir; very good indeed!” “Be off and be damned!” answered the coachman, flinging himself back on the cushions which littered a couch at one side _ of the room. “ Run to the ladies and carry me back their commands.” The old man literally jumped back through the door, and they heard him hob- bling swiftly down the hall. “Old skinflint,” said this extraordinary coachman. ‘‘ Damn him for a bloodsucking leech that’s reduced many a gallant fellow ARGOSY-ALLSTORY \VEEKLY, to skin and bones. Slattery was the last that went down before him. Poor Slattery! I won a thou—” But here he noted the bulging eyes of Samson Integrity and broke off short. ‘“ An infernal old hell-spirit,” he muttered in con- clusion. The door was here thrust ajar and the rat-faced landlord looked in on them again. ‘The ladies pray a word with you, sir,” he said. ‘I will be with them instantly,” rejoined Samson, starting up. : ‘Nay, nay,” answered the old man, shaking his head violently. “ It’s him they want!” And he bestowed upon the coachman a grin which brought the tip of his nose and his hooked chin in close juxtaposition. % They want me?” said the coachman, yawning. “ Aye, never a thought for the weariness of a man. My bones may ache for sleep, but devil a bit do they*care so long as they lounge in silks. But the long- est way round is the shortest way home, most like. Ah ha!” And with a short, deep chuckle he left the room. Samson, somewhat perturbed, began to pace up and down the floor; but the coachman returned soon bearing a small pitcher and two glasses. ‘The old lady—-the fat one,” he said irreverently, “has had a thought for us after all. She’s sent us a glass of spiced wine.” He poured the glasses full artd raised his own. . “T rarely taste wine,” returned Samson. “Tt turns the brain to muddy water,” “But this,” said the coachman, growing serious, “‘ is a sleeping draft—doctors highly commend it.” “* Well,” said Samson, whose eae ached at the very mention of sleep, “T shall taste it.” “A toast,” announced the coachman, posing his glass, ‘‘ to forgetfulness.” And he smiled at Samson. “To forgetfulness?” echoed Samson In- tegrity. ‘A strange toast, Master Coach- man!” “And. why not?” countered the other, grown suddenly grim. “And why not? comicboo S (C@