Adventure Magazine Cover, December 10, 1922 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

Benefit of Doubt - is the background of them all for nodding paper lanterns. Turbaned servants, flitting on naked feet among shadows darker than themselves, suggest intrigue that never sleeps. A khaki uniform looks golden, a white one silver, and a woman’s bare shoul- ders like a glimpse of heaven. The fortnightly dance at the gymkana differed in no wise from a hundred that. preceded it. A dozen scattered men in evening dress among two hundred only punctuated the color scheme and made the whirling pattern easier to read. One of the men in black was Cotswold Ommony. He never wore uniform, being of the Woods and Forests. You could tell at a glance that he never walked abroad without a gun under his arm—a sturdy, stocky man with a queer old-fashioned look that made you take a second glance at him. He was the only man in the room who wore a beard; one of the very few who danced in the new style. Most of them waltzed round and round in the Victorian way that Byron thought so scandalous and that looks so absurdly antique to Americans. But Ommony did the fox-trot and the one- step. He was no expert, but an enthusiast, and the high and mighty into whom he bumped did not approve. They said so at intervals, and Ommony smiled; whereat you knew immediately why he held his job. Among the scandalized objectors was young Mrs. Wilmshurst, so-called because her husband was a middle-aged high court judge. She angrily chafed an elbow as she talked with Athelstan King against the veranda rail, with a blue Chinese lantern swaying gently overhead. ‘They stood to- gether exactly at the point where the yellow ballroom glare outpouring through wide doors and windows met dark night and defeat. King was safe to dance with. He had not learned the new tricks. Moreover, he did not dance too much and get too hot, and had no beard; and women always liked to talk with him because he had never been known to make love to any one, and in,a case like that there is always hope. Although both men were in evening dress he looked as different from Ommony as a carriage from a cart-horse—taller, although the two were really the same height— lighter, although they weighed about the same—younger, although they were the same age—darker-complexioned, in spite of = v7, : ee = > i = i = . - o + eer 2 £ Ommony’s dark gray-shot beard—more > = active, although Ommony was prancing like — a satyr, and King stock-still. Mrs. Wilmshurst was in her bitterly cynical mood, which she believed becoming to a high court judge’s wife whose elbow has been hurt by a Woods and Forests man. ‘“Hlas India seeped into your blood and made you mad, that you should have left the army in your prime, Major King?” — “Perhaps,” he answered. He was thor- oughly bored with her, but quite able go be bored without letting her know it. “T suppose there’s more money in your present job.” “No. Less money.” “Gracious! Then you surely are mad! Do explain! I’m crazy about complexes. My husband has been reading Freud and talks about it at breakfast.” She tapped his shoulder familiarly with her fan. “Come, let me analyze you!” King turned to face the ballroom and leaned his back against the rail. ‘“‘There’s a man enjoying himself! Look at Cot Ommony!” he laughed. Mrs. Wilmshurst understood that she - had failed to please, and her bitterness be- came as nearly genuine as anything she usually felt. “Toes he prance that way in the forest. glades?”’ she wondered. ‘What a pity a man said to be so brilliant should waste his time among monkeys—and learn manners from them!” “Ommony has learned more from the beasts than most of us learn anywhere,” King answered. : “Oh, is he a friend of yours? I see you’re huffed. So sorry. I thought you had no © intimates—so everybody says.” “Ommony and I are friends.” “T suppose it would be rude to say I don’t envy either of you! I like warmth about my friendships. How can you possibly be friends, when he lives in his great forest, and you disappear over the Himalayas for months on end? Do you write each other billets-doux?”’ “Practically never write. I think your next partner is looking for you,” King an- swered. ‘Here you are. Don’t let me rob you, Campbell.” She left on Campbell’s arm, but had the last word and took care that King heard it. “So glad you came, Captain Campbell. I was frightfully bored.” CoCo} a aiiie 900 S oo” (Eo)