Adventure Magazine Cover — page 168: what you’re looking at

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

158 I made a vow. Suffer me to be thy servant for a space; then may I come upon my ene- mies, for the wisdom of the.sahib can find them.”’ Thoughtfully Malcolm considered the matter. He had brought no attendants from Cunningham’s establishment because he had not wished to have any strange na- tives about him—although his dignity in Bhir suffered accordingly. _ He knew, however, the hereditary loyalty of Rawul Singh’s race and realized the value of a trained fighter who knew the terrain. It would be a happy stroke to ride into Bhir village attended by the man who had been almost tricked into murdering him. ‘Very well,” he agreed. Gravely the Rajput took his hand and placed it against his forehead. Then, step- ping back, he said impassively: “The sahib’s horse is groomed and fed. Will the sakzb mount now or partake of food?” Under his arm Rawul Singh clutched a bundle done up in a shawl that contained the bow and arrows he had meant for his son. Fa'l opening into the main hall of the castle—the quarters Malcolm had appropriated for himself—he found his sad- dle-bags, desk and portmanteau as he had left them. But upon the bags were several drops of a glazed white substance. “‘Candle wax,’’ decided Malcolm, examin- ing it. Inasmuch as the Scot used lanterns in preference to candles, and as he had noticed no wax there before, he judged that a visit had been paid to his quarters during the night. “The ghost, it was, my faith! I’m fthink- ing ’tis not a proper spirit if it must light its way. © Well, it would find little worth among my papers.” Malcolm’s outfit was purposely meager and the more important papers, money and reports he always carried on his person. The boldness of the visitor of last evening could have only one explanation; whoever had searched his belongings had known that Malcolm was away from the village and that the Scot might be detained by Rawul Singh. When he first came to the spot Malcolm IN THE small stone chamber Adventure had made a careful examination or the castle. It was solidly built of finely shaded sandstone, much corroded; its deep moss- coated cellars were basalt, as was the great hall, where decaying vegetation covered the floor. All around the undergrowth was thick— junipers and thorn bushes pressing against the crumbling walls and lush grass growing thick on the dahlan, the front terrace. The cellars were half-filled with foul water at their lowest level; openings in the thick stone walls were few and sunlight penetrated only feebly into the chambers of the dead raja. Malcolm judged that it had been un- occupied for three generations at least. Perhaps because of this, a strong odor filled the place. Yet he was certain that the terrace and the slender, square tower had been visited frequently. The soft ground had been trampled by feet whose outline he could not make out; moss had been broken from the tower top and the damp slime on its steps was scored in more than one place. “The demon,” thought Malcolm, ‘does not quarter himself in the castle but comes here from a near-by haunt. . Very well, we will watch for him.” They saw nothing out of the ordinary, . however, for several days. Thick mango groves covered the nullahs below the rise where ‘the castle stood. Often jackals and leopards passed by, but the village cattle were kept at a distance by the herders and no human being approached them. Malcolm, going about the routine duties of his office, was struck by this isolation of the castle. He had observed that the signs pointed to its having been occupied before he came. This led to the conclusion that the person who had lived in or near the castle before Malcolm arrived had vacated the premises in his favor; also, that the villagers who had been in the habit of coming to the castle now made a point of avoiding it. “Tt looks,” he thought, “as if my neighbor demon had had friends in the village. If— as the series of murders indicates—our dis- tinguished ghost is a servant of Kali, a god- dess to whom murder is an acceptable ritual offering, his friends might well be the slay- ers of Rawul Singh’s son. And I think the Rajput knows they are Kali-worshipers, al- Fee for some reason he will not admit it to me.’ COmiclbook CO