Adventure Magazine Cover — page 132: what you’re looking at

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

Aft at i i Oe ode ie > Jol ay Lae * VS +‘ * . J oe . oh £4 d + Vista The Grand Cham Voyager,” murmured Michael. ‘He says the devil and all the hellish brood have seized upon you.”’ “Madre de Dios!” Clavijo, it appeared, was superstitious and more than a little credulous. Then the boat stopped and the three—for Bembo joined them—stood before an iron-studded door in which a small square slid back, to | cast a stream of light on their faces. Michael saw a masked face staring at them through the aperture. Meanwhile the gondola and its men drew away from the Janding and disappeared in the darkness. Clavijo’s olive countenance went a shade paler when he made out the stunted form of the hunchback. He had not seen Bembo at the féte and Michael’s careless words had aroused his apprehensions. Before he could speak the door opened wide and the figure within reached forth to pluck the Spaniard inside. The door was slammed in the faces of Bembo and his friend. THROUGH the square peephole Michael could make out the two men inside withdrawing down a hall. A second glance showed him that they stood on a narrow stone landing with the black surface of the canal at their feet. The door presented the only means of leav- ing the steps. ‘“Bembo,”’ whispered Michael, “unravel me this coil. Where are we, and why are we left like varlets on the threshold of this hos- pitable place?”’ “Because, signor comrade, ” the jester grinned up at him in the dim light from the opening, “‘we are varlets—or at least the gate-keeper believes we look like such at- tendants of the great Spaniard. Your cloak is— ) Bembo hesitated, fearing to offend, but Michael answered readily. “Zounds, ’tis shabby enow!”’ “This is the entrance to the Consoli di Mercanti. So many masks mean that the council is in secret session. We had best content ourselves with hailing a passing gondola and making off with a whole hide, _ for we are both here by mistake.”’ Michael wondered why Bembo’s presence had been taken for granted until the hunch- back explained that he had often come here in attendance on Contarini and the guard- ians of the place could not know that he was ~ I3I no longer the servant of the great Contarini. ‘““Good,”’ he said thoughtfully and pressed against the door, thrusting his left arm within the opening. Bembo plucked at his sleeve in sudden anxiety. “What would you, szgnor?” “Why, entrance, before yonder masked fellow returns to his post. I must hear what the council’has to say to the voyager.”’ In spite of Bembo’s protest that the night session was secret and that they both might end the evening in the damp cells of San Giorgio Maggiore prison, Michael worked away at the door until he had drawn back the bolts and pushed it open. This done, he pulled the shivering hunch- back into the stone passageway, closed the heavy portal and whispered: “Now, good Bembo, you are verily a lost fool if you lead us not into a safe hiding- place where we may hear what is said in the council. You say that you know the in- testines of this place of masks + Michael’s words received sudden point by the sound of footsteps returning toward the passage. Bembo fled with a crab-like mo- tion down the narrow hall and slipped aside into the shadows of another passage opening into it, and Michael ran after him silently. Taking the Breton’s hand in his, the jester led his new friend through the darkness down a winding flight of steps until the dampness indicated to Michael that they were under the canal. Here they were in a confined space where the air, however, was not stale and two gleams of lightgpierced the gloom from one wall. Michael was somewhat taken aback to hear voices echoing clearly in the stone chamber, although they were plainly the only occupants. “°Tis the whispering gallery,” explained Bembo so softly that the words were barely discernible, “that gives upon the council chamber. My lord Contarini was wont at times to spy here upon the testimony of prisoners before the judges. Speak not, for the gallery runs overhead to an opening behind the councilors.” 99 AS THE Council of Ten ruled po- litical Venice, stamping out con- . spiracies and punishing any man it listed mercilessly and secretly, the Consolz di Mercanti ruled commercial Venice with an iron hand. The prosperity of the Siguory was linked “ (OPNIC OOOKSsEO