Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 180: what you’re looking at

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

174 thoughts kept him company, kept him from getting cold feet. And then, by degrees, the uncanniness of the whole affair began to tell on his nerves. Waiting there in the darkness, unable to move— lest the camp bed on which he lay should creak—he found it necessary to remind himself that he was a New York business man who believed in a comfortable life, who traveled first class and stayed in the best hotels. He had now a sense of being imprisoned in themidst of an impenetrable, tangled wilderness. He imagined, at the back of the silence, soft footed, prowling beasts. There might have been no other living soul within a hundred miles of him. And then Charles, in the next room, began to snore—or to produce a very good imitation of the real thing. That saved Eade from becoming morbid. Had he not been determined to play his part as well as he could, he would have thanked Charles audibly, for the con- necting door between the two rooms was wide open. Cartwright kept up his nasal serenade for the best part of half an hour; and then, apparently getting tired of it, he confined himself to regular and heavy breathing—so lifelike a reproduction of the real thing that Eade began to fear that he really might be asleep. Once or jtwice Eade was tempted to speak, but his amour propre prevented him from doing that. Time and again he assured himself that Charles wouldn’t be such a fool. And yet, the doubt per- sisted. UDDENLY he sat bolt upright, conscious of the feeling that sug- gests the hair of one’s head stand- ing on end. He had heard noises before, inexplicable noises—rats, perhaps, rep- tiles or bats. But he could not mistake the quick, soft pattering of feet that were either bare or lightly shod. As quietly as he could, he swung him- self round into a sitting position, until his feet touched the floor. At the same time, with his right hand, he whipped out his “you too, Mr. Eade,” she added. CHARLES GILSON automatic from under his pillow. In his left hand he held his torch. He was startled by the sound of his cousin’s voice, quite close to his ear. “Wait for me!” Charles whispered. The bright beam of Cartwright’s torch suddenly stabbed into the darkness like the blade of a simitar—a dazzling, diverg- ent ray that terminated in a golden disc, framing the white face of Madame Scala. She stood perfectly motionless. She had the staring eyes of a blind person, as indeed, for the moment, she was blinded by the glare. She could see nothing, until Charles switched off his torch and lit the candle at the bedside. She looked first at Charles, then at Eade, and then smiled when she saw. their firearms. “You are safe at any rate,” she said. “T was told that you were dead.” ““Valérie!”’? Charles exclaimed. on earth are you doing here?” She was wearing a dress of Shantung silk that belonged to Mrs. Headley—who was a little woman, too. She had evi- dently thrown it on in a hurry, for she was without stockings, and her black shingled hair was ruffled. “T’ve got much to tell you,” she said. “T thank God that you are alive. And “I was assured that Charles had already been murdered with his own razor.” “‘Whoever told you lied, you see,”’ said Cartwright. “All the same there’s a glimmer of truth in it, because my razor has been stolen, and you couldn’t have known that.” “No,” she said, and stood thinking a moment. “My husband is not often wrong,” she added. “Your husband!”’ cried Charles. Scala seen you here?” “It was he who sent the message,”’ she answered. -‘I will tell you. I was asleep, sound asleep, when I was awakened by a voice at my window. The veranda, as you know, runs round three sides of the bungalow; and I was in the end room on this side. The man at the window told me not to be frightened. I thought I recog- nized his voice the moment J heard it. “What > “Has comnlicloooks.com