10 Short Novels Magazine — page 85: what you’re looking at

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

are known to be only about a dozen in existence. I had acquired three of them, already, and it was my ambition to gather together the complete collection—if my luck and funds could prove sufficient. This one—as did all the others—repre- sented a group of knights in armor. But, instead of being the depiction of a tourna- ment, such as the other Gottschalk groups I had seen, this one seemed to be the illustration of a romantic incident in some forgotten story. Seven of the nine male figures were ‘mounted, and two were on the ground, engaged in a duel with broadswords, One of these was clad in glistening black armor, the other in white. Leaning against a tree, nearby, a girl in a low- bodiced, velvet gown, watched the scene in an attitude of terror, her hands clasped over her mouth as if to stifle a scream. Not far away, a little brook was repre- sented by a crooked strip of green glass, and by the side of the brook a little tent was pitched. The figures of the men were about three inches high, and the horses and other objects in the scene were scaled accord- ingly. The whole was enclosed in a sort of little show-case, about two feet long, and a foot in height and depth. I cannot express the weird sensation that swept over me as I stood entranced, and took in the details of this little three- dimensional picture. It was a strange mixture of joy and terror. I felt that I knew the story behind the scene; that, somehow, it concerned me intimately. But I could not remember—and the strangest thing about it was the consciousness that I should remember. Whatever its price, I knew that I must possess this particular group. I tore my gg gaze from it and entered the shop. The proprietor was busy with a cus- tomer. The two of them were bending over some object in a black velvet case, but from where I stood I could not see what the case contained. I gave more than a passing glance to the customer, for it was a girl with an extraordinarily beau- tiful form, and as near as I guessed from the three-quarters view I had of it, a face that matched it in perfection. She was arguing agitatedly with the shopkeeper, but I forebore to eavesdrop. I walked over to the window where the prize I hoped to capture rested, and feasted my eyes on its rich colors and contours until, at last, the girl left and the shopkeeper approached me. _ As he did so, he closed the lid of the velvet-lined box, over which he and the girl had been arguing—but not before I had caught a glimpse of its contents. Black Knight’s Bondage * * * 83 With a gasp, I reached out and snatched the box from his hand and opened it. Then I knew my eyes had not betrayed me—and I received the.shock of my life. The box contained the missing half of the charm which, that moment, I was wearing on my watch-chain. It was the lost portion of the so-called sigil of Le The half I possessed was a family heir- loom of great antiquity. How it came to be in the possession of the Kennastons I did not know—nor, I think, had any- of my recent forebears known. It had been handed down from one generation to an- other, but its story had been lost in transit. It had little intrinsic value, being but half a broken disc of solid gold, about one inch in diameter, and inscribed over its entire surface with characters of an unknown language which no philologist, who had seen it, had ever been able to translate. My original mission in the shop for- gotten, I took it from the box and fitted it to my half. The edges matched per- fectly ! “AH ela Y he I looked up at the shopkeeper’s ex- clamation of surprise. “Where did you get this?” I asked tensely. He raised his shoulders. “M’sieu, I know not. For many years I have had it.” “What do you want for it?” Again the shrug, followed by a low chuckle of astonishment. “C’est droll! For so many years I have had it, without one customer wishing to buy! And now, in two days, I have three customers... .” “T’ll pay you whatever you wish,” I said. “As you can see, I am entitled to own it—since already I possess the other half. It is an heirloom in my family. Doubtless the half you own was stolen from my ancestors long ago.” The shopkeeper smiled deprecatingly. “Sinee it happened so long ago, the law would not recognize your claim, m’sieu’— and unhappily it is not for sale. But yes- terday, a man saw it in the window. He came in and paid part of the price. To- morrow he will return to claim it. And today the young lady begged of me that I sell it to her, demanded that I tell her the man’s name and his address. So anxious was she to see him, m’siew’, that even now she has gone to his place of business to bargain with him. Not even until tomorrow could she wait.” “Tell me,” I said, “who is this man —and where is his place of business?” The storekeeper sighed. “Perhaps he will be angry with me,” he said regret- fully, “but since I have already told the pretty jeune demoiselle....Heis M’sieu’ P, Montors, at the Musée Metropolitan. Comichboo (G <S) com