Adventure, November 1915 — page 150: what you’re looking at

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

“* ! a ~* ob + Sa LER ALY INA eA Wee UnC Py Oe Wa BeeMDY DT a Sy ALP eae es BaP mG ae UN ‘, ve 1) Aha i : \“ sy, At. 14 ; = ' : APES AD AMES Tele G yi! cat mit ALVES > ? eS ( Aphet au a ' Re Sn ORS SP rer iw Y : ee : es (aete eae? \ i ALS a IAEA ut aula ‘fe r it's yy OS 4G “ s 7 R ‘\ i A t ss : 2 “4 TR (s, TERI LOTT A BEN EA DOR OES ; eek | Fe WX oA . UNOFFICIAL: ) by M:S-WIGHTMAN Author of ‘An Occasional Hero.” é ROSSLY is a man whom, with- out knowing why, one always iS associates with the diplomatic service. Except for a few months as assistant secretary at St. Petersburg, I never knew of his holding a post in it. And you may run across him anywhere— sipping vermuth at a round table on the sidewalk in front of the Café de la Paix, chatting over a cigar at the Wagon Lits in Pekin, or telling a story at the Metro- politan in Washington; and it is as apt to be of the behavior of the Gaekwar of Baroda on a recent hunting trip, as the latest bit of gossip from court circles in Vienna. When Willis told me I would find him, fresh from a trip to the Orient, in the smo- king room of the club, I hurried up the stair- way. - He was sitting with folded arms, his long legs stretched out before him, gazing ab- sorbedly into the fire. The heavy carpet deadened my footfalls as I approached and dropped my hand on his’shoulder, intending to surprise him. I must have done so, for with a hoarse cry he sprang to his feet, wheeling back- - ward, and stood, his fists clinched, facing me. His face was white and little drops of perspiration beaded his forehead. ‘Pardon me, my dear fellow,” I began. He cut me short with a laugh. His color had returned and he passed a handkerchief lightly over his forehead. Never mind—you startled me, all right. It isn’t booze or anything else to be ashamed of. I’m glad to see you.” He waved me to a chair and fell to chat- ting of things which had happened since our last meeting; but occdsionally, as he talked, he shot a quizzical glance in my direction and I knew he was enjoying the curiosity his behavior had caused me. At last I cut in on his remark. He had been speculating on the latest exploits of the German submarines and illustrating a point by recounting an escape he had had when the failure of an air-gage to register had sent to the bottom of Manila Bay the one in which he was cruising as a guest. “T’ll admit you havé me guessing. What caused it?” He turned his gray eyes on me, a smile flashing over his thin face. “You want to know why I jumped? All right, I’ll tell you.”” He made a grimace. - “And I suppose you will hash it up for some of your publishing friends.”’ “Tf it is worth while, I will,” I admitted candidly. This is the hash: Before I come to the story, however, let me ask whether it did not strike you as curious that China kept drawing out her 148 EORME NOOKS (E(O)