Adventure Magazine Cover — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

The King in Check sting out of the situation. But they burned our abandoned car in sheer ill-temper before crowding us into their own. And they shot the good horse. | The joy-ride that followed was rather like the kind they give pigs on the way to the sausage-shop—hurried and not in- tended to be mirthful. “What’s the use of losing tempers?” I asked Captain Jacques Daudet, who had captured us. He sat on my knees, with his pistol pressed against my chest. ‘‘Why not regard the whole thing as a joke? You’ve done your best and nobody can blame you. Besides, what can possibly happen? What do you suppose they’ll do to us?” He shrugged his shoulders and his little cold blue eyes met mine. “You will all be shot, of course,” he an- swered. ‘After that s He shrugged his shoulders again. But he cast no floom; for Jeremy kept the lot of us, French too, excepting Daudet, in roars of laughter for ten miles until we reached temporary headquarters, where a_ born gentleman in a peaked red cap with gold on it sat on a camp-stool directing things. He recognized Grim at the first glance and knew him for an American in British service. He looked Grim in the eye and smiled. We told our story in’turns, inter- rupting one another and being interrupted by René. The officer turned on the banker savagely, ordered him sent to the rear, and smiled at Grim again. Then he picked up the banker’s belong- ings, including the two packages and tossed them after him with an air of utter con- tempt. Whereat he smiled at all of us. “And you are quite sure that the Emir Feisul has escaped?” he asked. ‘Well: there are those whom the news will annoy, 67 which is too bad, but can’t be helped. For myself, I can not say that I shall shed tears. Madame—” He looked straight at Mabel. ‘““Major—”’ He met Grim’s eyes and smiled. “Messteurs—’ It was my turn, and Nara- yan Singh’s; his steady stare was good and made you feel like shaking hands with him. “Monsieur Scapin*—” That was meant for Jeremy, and they both laughed. ‘You have been adroit, but do you think I could depend on your discretion?” We did our best to look discreet. “You see, Madame et Messteurs, this is not warfare. We desire to accomplish a definite object with as little unpleasant- ness as possible. I shall regret the neces- sity of sending you to Beirut, but that is for your safety. An additional and very sound precaution which you yourselves might take would be to preserve complete silence regarding the events of the last two days. Subject to that condition, you will be given facilities for leaving Beirut by sea in any direction you may wish. Do we understand one another? Good. Now, let me see whether I have your names cor- rectly.” | He carefully wrote them down all wrong, described us as noncombatants, who should be allowed to leave the country, warned Jeremy that in a king’s clothes he looked too “intriguing,” provided plain clothes for him, returned our belongings (except the basket of provisions, which he kept) and sent us off in an ambulance on the first leg of the journey to Beirut, whence we got away in a coastwise steamer within the week. “Not all the French are swabs!”’ said Jer- emy grievously as we took our leave of him. Grim agreed. “Not all of em. Let’s see—there was the Marne, the Aisne, the Somme, Verdun——’”’ * Clown. COnnicloool (C@