Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 186: what you’re looking at

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

180 something from the table in front of him. The old man hesitated a moment, and then cried out in French. “Never! Never again. The good God will give me strength!” He must ‘have flung the opium pipe through one of the portholes, for they heard something strike the trunk of a tree in the jungle at their backs. And then again Scala laughed softly. “How often have I heard you say that,” he sighed. “My old friend, your good resolutions grow monotonous. Spare me the trouble of listening to such cant. For once I have advised you for your own good. If you are to be a sane man when Valérie arrives, I suggest you calm your nerves.” E difficulty. They could see his face; he was moving his lips, chewing the ends of his mustache. (Scala had spoken in English; and, as if he found he could better control himself when he used a language with which he was not thoroughly familiar, the old man an- swered in English, too. ‘And if she does not come?” he asked. “You die,” said Scala quietly. “For myself,” ‘sighed Le Camus, “that would be—release, escape from hell.” Scala repeated: “If she is not here by daybreak you die. But, as I have said, my friend, you have no great cause to fear. For Valérie will come.” He said this in such confidence, with such silken deliberation, in a voice so soft and yet so venomous, that the three men who were listening took in a deep breath and tightly gripped their weapons. They could still see Le Camus. His face was like that of a corpse, more waxen, more still than ever. Scala must have been looking the other way, so sure of himself, so despising his impotent and miserable victim that he neglected for the moment the most ordi- nary precautions. For they saw Le'Camus’s face undergo CAMUS mastered himself with a rapid transformation. His numbed, frozen features suddenly became alive. With staring eyes'and parted lips, his ex- pression was that of a fiend. They saw him move forward quickly— a spasmodic jerk of the body as if he snatched something from the table. Realizing what was going to happen, those who were hiding in the jungle could remain in idleness no longer. Madame Scala gave vent to a half suppressed shriek. Cartwright sprang to his feet. Headley appeared in the light streaming from one of the portholes of the launch. with the bright barrel of his nickel plated revolver gleaming in his hand. At that moment a deafening report came to their ears. A revolver shot in the confined space of the little saloon, break- ing like a thunderbolt upon the silence of the jungle. Though they sprang on board almost simultaneously, John Eade was the first to enter the saloon, where he be- held Battista Scala dead. : The man of Signan lay sprawled upon the narrow red plush seat that ran the length of one side of the saloon under the portholes. His attitude was as un- natural as his appearance was terrible; for one elbow was pulled in under him, and that shoulder was several inches higher than the other, while the other arm hung down to the floor. His legs were stretched out underneath the table. He wore no collar ‘and no tie. His great muscular neck was like ‘that of a wild beast. It was ‘clean through the base of the throat that old Le‘Camus had shot ‘him, the bullet having smashed through the cervical vertebrae of the spine. Death had been instantaneous. John Eade had never ‘seen the man alive; but Scala looked formidable even in death. There was a certain massiveness about the lower part of his face that, in spite of his good looks, gave him an ape- like appearance. His lips were drawn back, showing almost perfect teeth under the black mustache. Upon the hand that was visible there was a ring on nearly every finger, including one in which was set an enormous emerald; and these comicloooks.com