Adventure Magazine Cover — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

26 We are willing to remit to you one-half of what they ultimately bring—less the ex- pense of craftsmanship and the commission of your friend. But only as the money reaches our hands.” Out of despair Avary struck a spark of resentment. ‘“And meantime you would take all these, without surety, without advance, knowing I have nothing, working on my unfortunate condition?” Hutton held up a warning finger. “You speak too loudly, Saxby. We have taken risk by coming here. This is a haz- ardous matter, compounding with felony. We have our own necks to look to. Lind- say, 2 moment.” They affected to confer together. “We will advance you twenty guineas,”’ said Hutton finally. ‘From time to time we will make remittance as we have said. “As for surety—there are two sides to that matter. On your side I see little. You can give us no bill of sale, I take it. On our side—we are well known as men of honor and integrity. We stretch a point in your favor. “But that is our offer—against my own advice. You may take it or leave it.” He turned cold and fishy eyes upon Avary which held such present indifference, such possibilities of malice, that it suddenly stirred within the wretched pirate the con- viction that he was in the hands of these men. Fall out with them and they might denounce him to the authorities. Instead of paying out money they would gain a hun- dred guineas. He must perforce trust them and keep their tempers sweet to savor their generosity withal. Yet—twenty guineas! He had not the heart to ask for a valuation of the lot. “T will accept,” he said. “You will send me remittance from time to time, as you dispose of the jewels?”’ ‘“‘Assuredly.” Lindsay fished up the guineas, one at a time, dispensing them grudgingly from a leather poke. Hutton did up the jewels in the cloth, and stowed them in an inside pocket. Avary’s friend patted him on the shoulder. “Vou did wisely,” he said. deal fairly with you.” Not until they had gone, until he saw them cross the bridge, did Avary consider that he had not even taken inventory of “They will Adventure the stones. He cursed himself for a fool and a weakling. He swigged at the remnant of his thin, sour wine, then flung out of his house to Bideford’s main tavern, where he threw down a guinea, demanding the best. Night found him staggering up the hill to his lodging, drunk and maudlin. He lit a candle and sat on his cot, reading the chap-book that set forth the exploits of “AVARY THE PIRATE,” the thumbed and worn pamphlet flattened on the coarse bedding, gesturing wildly as he went over the words he knew by heart, his gaunt shadow semaphoring on the wall—a ghost of the old Avary, leading on his men to loot and victory. THE twenty guineas lasted him four months. Then he received mem three. At the end of a twelve- path he had obtained flimsy excuses, in- differently veiled from carelessness, paltry promises, the entire sum of thirty-one guineas. His clothes were worn of nap, his linen and leather a disgrace, his hat a ruin. Most of his money had gone for wine; his account was chalked up to its uttermost limit at the tavern. He was lean to emaciation, hollow of cheek and eye, scrawny of limb. These little moneys came through his so- styled friend. By this time Avary esteemed him little better than a cutpurse and told him so. “You are in no position to make enemies of your best wishers,” said the man, with a smirk that roused the devil within Avary —already stirred by ale into which Oporto wine had been poured, and the product mulled. “One who is looking through a halter must accommodate himself to the view.” “Tf one is to be hanged,” retorted Avary, rejoicing as he felt a swift surge of blood that bore the strength of anger with it, such as he used to find in the old days when he built his bridges for such occasions—“‘if one is to be hanged for piracy, it can only be done once. They may thank me for ridding the world of such a rogue as you. If they call it murder it will not add to my penalty. I have stood enough thievery and treachery from you, you dog!”’ The smirk on the man’s face held for a while. Avary was apt to be boastful in his cups, living on bygone glories. Then the ‘‘friend’’ saw the laughing devil that COnMICGLOO© S (C@