Adventure Magazine Cover — page 112: what you’re looking at

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

676 The Queen held out her shaking hand, and, kneeling, Zavair touched it lightly with his lips. Rising, without another word, he silently retired, carrying in his heart the full knowledge of the deadly fear which assailed that stricken figure, bent with grief. As the door closed, Horatia opened her desk and drew out a large portrait of Count Bistoff. She gazed fiercely at the speaking features, depicted with their most pleasing smile. “Put not your trust in any child of man!” she muttered between clenched teeth. “No man is true, not even he who breathed devotion, who whispered flattery, out- wardly swearing to fulfil my every wish and desire—even to the planning of Mal- dio’s death! What can it all mean? If Dugdale lives, is it possible Maldio himself has been taken from the tomb and revived by Bistoff’s skill?” She looked wildly round the room, and her ears were intently alert to every sound. The gentle murmur of the evening breeze stirring the curtains appeared as the warn- ing voice of phantom visitors. The Palace became haunted by a thousand fears. By some strange trick of fancy it developed into a mausoleum containing the spirits of Horatia’s victims. Not only Maldio and the English spy returned to convict the guilty woman of hideous atrocities; forms from the past, long- forgotten, tortured, blood-drenched faces materialized in the suffocating atmosphere. Horatia gasped for breath. The very jewels on her neck were heavy as the chains once binding the prisoners whose fate she had secretly decided. She turned deadly cold, then hot as fire, as she tried to steady her brain, to see clearly, but still the dreaded specters of her tortured fancy confronted her in the luxurious and familiar room. “T shall go mad,” she told herself, ‘if I stay here alone! I must have speech with Gisdel. He must know at once that Bistoff has failed us and that Dugdale lives. Possi- bly a serious situation may bring him to a better mind, and rouse the latent good in him. Sometimes the young see further than the old. He spoke of danger; he knew instinctively there was trouble ahead. In the hour of tribulation he will stand by his mother.” Comforting herself with this thought she hurried to Gisdel’s room and knocked cau- Adventure tiously on the door. Receiving no answer, she shook the handle and, finding it locked against her, rapped loudly on the oak pan- eling. Once more she listened, but no movement within showed that the sleeper heard. “He must be awake, but he is sulky because he especially asked me not to dis- turb him,” she thought. ‘He little guesses all I have to tell.” Bending down, she spoke in a penetrating voice. ‘Gisdel,” she called, ‘‘Gisdel! Open the door. It is I, your mother. We are in danger! Come quickly!” But the words were greeted by deaf ears —or else the room was empty. This thought flashed through the Queen’s mind as she tried to force the lock. She had suspected he might be joining Mademoiselle de L’Isle after the theater, but as yet she had not realized the lateness of the hour. As she flung the whole weight of her body against the strongly-fastened door, a serv- ant appeared, summoned by the unusual commotion in the wide tapestry-decked corridor. Horatia bade him fetch men to break open the door. “T fear he is unwell. swer.”’ The servant hesitated, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Tell me,” she added sharply, “has his Majesty left the Palace?” The servant knew well what it meant to displease the Queen. He had little fear of Gisdel’s wrath. “Since I can but speak the truth,” he answered humbly,“ you have judged rightly, most gracious Queen. His Majesty drove away half an hour ago from a side entrance.” The hard line of Horatia’s mouth might have been molded in iron as she listened to the words. “Enough!” she said. ‘Go below and or- der my carriage immediately. If your words are correct, I shall not forget to reward you. Have no fear of the King’s displeasure; you are under my protection.”’ A sigh of relief escaped the man as his tall figure vanished down the long corridor. In a moment Horatia decided how to act. She would go herself and fetch Gisdel from Caroline de L’Isle’s house. She would tell him that in his official capacity he was in- stantly required. She would also have a I can get no an- GOMmIGDOOKSEEO