Adventure Magazine Cover — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

Can a Man be True? word with the brazen woman who was com- passing her son’s downfall. Hurriedly the indignant and fear-stricken mother veiled her face in thickly patterned lace. The ample draperies of-a magnificent cloak completely hid the Queen’s ponderous figure, giving no indication of the bitter wo it harbored beneath dazzling folds. With stately tread Horatia descended the wide staircase, her chin held high at a haughty angle, her fists clenched. She felt she was going forth to war, starting out to fight for her only son, loved wildly, despite his many faults. Her ladies-in-waiting watched with startled eyes the departure of the Queen on this errand of mystery. They guessed something unusual had oc- curred; they suspected she was about to follow King Gisdel. As she reached the open door, one of the many attendants, in the gorgeous livery of Lambasa’s royal house, stepped forward and handed Horatia a note on a gold salver. Instantly she saw it was in Bistoff’s writing. With trembling hands she broke the seal. For a moment she could not see the letters as they danced before her eyes. The message had no formal opening or courteous ending, but the words were writ- ten clearly across the Count’s stamped note-paper. This is to warn you that King Maldio lives, and will shortly return to claim his crown. He knows you plotted his death. Be advised and fly the country with your son, before the people rise up and tear you in pieces. DIARMID BISTOFF. No word of sympathy or regret; merely “Save yourself if you can—the end is at hand!” The Queen tottered slightly, then, crush- ing the sheet in nervous fingers, moved forward like one dazed and entered the royal carriage. The coachman whipped up his horses and drove away at full speed to the brightly illuminated residence where Mademoiselle de L’Isle entertained her birthday guests. CHAPTER XXXTI CAROLINE’S KING N BUOYANT spirits King Gisdel sought the radiant star of the stage. He came into her presence with glowing 677 eyes that silently spoke his appreciation of her beauty. Never had Caroline appeared more lovely than on this great birthday- night. Her exquisite figure showed off to perfection a shimmering gown created for her by the most celebrated dress-artist in Vienna. Her wonderfully molded neck and arms gleamed with jewels, while a tiara of gems crowned her masses of dark hair. Every movement expressed the grace which had made her famous as a dancer. Gisdel, basking in the light of her charms, felt as if Caroline, and Caroline alone, com- prised the whole world. His kingdom, his power, home ties and bonds of blood, were as nothing compared with this wonderful woman. Her magnetic personality domi- nated him with strong hypnotic force. He lived only to do her will. If she had de- manded his whole fortune he felt he would have laid it at her feet. Never in the past had she held him in so powerful a spell. He was no longer master of his own actions. The magic of Caroline’s smile bewitched him. Her whispered words of thanks thrilled him to the core as she pointed to the dia- mond heart and emerald necklace showing up the pure tints of her naturally fair skin. Though her lips were rouged, she was other- wise guiltless of paint and powder, nature having endowed her with a magnificent complexion. “You must let me present my guests,” she murmured. ‘‘They are all terribly excited at the prospect of bowing the knee to your Majesty.” She spoke in softly seductive accents, but a very keen observer might have traced an underlying note of sarcasm in the mur- mured words. “TI am in your hands,” answered Gisdel, devouring her with infatuated eyes. ‘To- night I wish to be as one of you. Pray let your guests know that all formality is waived. I am only ‘Caroline’s King.’ As such I rule, or, rather, am ruled by her. To-morrow I shall again be the sovereign of Lambasa; this evening I am only myself.” These gracious words of condescension were noised abroad by Caroline’s diplo- matic tongue, and Gisdel was treated merely as a guest of distinction and not as a reigning monarch whose influence might well have sobered the revelries in store. Many of those assembled at the gorgeous supper had already dined well, a fact re- COMICLOOCKKS. EGO