Adventure Magazine Cover — page 86: what you’re looking at

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

80 with the thing. To oblige Sinclair he would go to hell. He did not say this. That, also, was not necessary. The men parted in full under- standing. But Sinclair spent most of the night making plans. The matter involved great consequences and not a single inch of the track must be allowed to be out of line. ) NEXT evening, Laulee’s greeting 7 savored of irony. “My high priest of the ink must thou to thy duties at once—ek dum—or hast thou a tiny moment to waste on such utter uselessness as [?”’ Veiling his eyes with a smile, Sesson studied her as keenly as he could; in reality, for the first time. From some hitherto nebulous intuitive faculty a truth came to him, cold anc solid asa steel bar. Or, again, it may have been the sudden re-pulsing of an atavism. Leaving the argument, he knew with a stinging clarity that an ironical woman is worse than dangerous, passes understanding and is false. Love cannot stoop to irony—that is, and mean it. But, did she mean it? “Lady of my life,” his voice had never been more lover-like, “if it pleases thee, thy slave will’ never again stare into ink but will spend every moment of his hours away from his work—and he needs: must work, for thee—in proving to thee his utter and changeless devotion.”’ This, of course, in Hindustani, which~he spoke well, while Laulee caught her breath. Then, before she meant to answer—emo- tion-driven— -“But I would not ask thee to give up thy amusements, my lord.” “Thou art more to me than any fay, any reward—more indeed, than my honor! What a small thing is it for me to cease to stare into ink which seems to displease thee.” “Nay, my Sesson——’ He interrupted, with a careless gesture— “Hush, sweet one, let us forget such little things, for what is a dish of black fluid?” He was surprized at himself. Could that be Sesson, talking so incisively to Laulee? A doubt dragged him from the heights. He loved her, too greatly. Reaction came, and he felt almost as if he had struck her. With one of her lightning-like flashes—she was cobra-like in her rapidity and single- ? ness of purpose—she struck back, one Adventure small, bare foot indicating indignation with a single stamp. ‘So, that is it!’ Her eyes met his, flash- ing venom. “In the first play thou didst doubt me, fearing I would do thee some small meanness. Then thou didst pretend to play. Now thou tirest of this pretense. It is all of a part. Thou hast all along be- lieved me faithless. Maybe the old one told thee and like a calf thou didst bleat belief! And now, careless, thou hast as good as called me traitor!’ Her voice trailed off into heartrending plaintiveness. ‘‘When, my lord, all I wanted in my little ‘game was thy strengthening presence by my side.” She was in his arms, sobbing like a child wakening from nightmare. A very cold-blooded, logical, perhaps in- human, man might have resisted Laulee in that moment, provided he had not the slightest interest in her, did not love her. But, what chance had Sesson, pulsing pas- sion, with five million reds, the normal blood-count of a healthy man—and the girl’s willing slave? He forgot everything; the doubt so recently roused vanished like a jet of steam. Besides, Sinclair had asked him to go through with this thing. Sesson be- came slightly bewildered. So the affair progressed. But the molding was slow, and Sesson became irritated at the lack of tangibility in his ink-experiences. Nothing now but voices in a void reiterating lessons he felt he knew. This fora month. What was it all about? Why didn’t something happen? The man began to doubt, but kept it to him- self, that there was anything behind these weak manifestations—that it was all self- induced hypnosis. Yet Sinclair, who could not make mistakes, had asked him to go through with it? Laulee was a dear girl, who did not know what she was playing with. The tangibility came with an overwhelm- ing suddenness. During the usual preparations, he found himself thinking that Laulee must have penetrated his reason for this nightly per- formance. Then he dismissed this thought —she, with the patient, eternal curiosity of her sex and India, was willing to continue seeking ink-truths all her life. And she did but ask his nearness as a sort of support. She had never asked him a question . CORMICLOOOKS (F@