Adventure Magazine Cover — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

788 the present moment and the time of Mul- ler’s arrival; that the morning would do exactly as well. Then he laughingly cursed himself for a fool, and walked swiftly across the square to the Palais Consulaire. II EVERY table in the little Moorish dining-salon of the Hétel des Fleurs was occupied when Holbrooke took his accustomed place. Lighting a cigarette, he leaned back in his little brass-studded chair and looked up and down the tiled aisles for the girl. She was not in the room. The waiter, a huge Soudanese, greeted him in perfect French, took his order and stepped noiselessly forward. There was an air of festivity about the place, a whis- pered invitation to romance, adventure, to abandonment to pleasure, which filled the American’s senses with a thrill of anticipa- tion. At the next table sat two Englishmen. One was an old-time resident, an exporter of per- fume. His name was Germyss Loundes. He was known as a warm friend of the native Arabs and consequently regarded with sus- picion by the Consulate. He exchanged a rather cool nod with the American, then turned to his friend and continued his con- versation. ‘Through the wavering strains of the hotel orchestra a remark caught Holbrooke’s ears and rang there. ‘“‘Arabian horses, especially mares, are unusually sensitive to it,’ Loundes was saying. and balk like the when there isn’t a blessed thing on the road or under or above it. And yet, as sure as Allah is great and Mohammed is his prophet, the sign never fails! Something happens to that mare before the day’s done.” “You say the natives see it, too?”’ asked the other Englishman. Loundes laughed, a half-hearted laugh, as though he were trying to belittle an unpleasant fact which refused to be ignored. “You’ve only to say ‘Red Mist’ to them to be convinced that you’re dealing with the devil himself. It’s a danger barometer that never fails with them. I'll give you an example.”” Holbrooke, uncon- sciously expressing in his attitude and ex- pression the intense interest that gripped him, leaned to catch the Englishman’s words. “Mind you, this comes first-hand. “They'll break into a dead run — Adventure The man was one of my first friends in Algiers. He told me that from the day he met with his first misfortune in the death of his son, a warning in the shape of an intangible red mist, floating before his eyes was the never failing presage of a calamity of some sort. The death-warning appeared as an opaque red ball. I saw him the day it appeared to him the last time. Less than twenty-four hours later he was found lying in instalments behind the counters of his shop.” ‘“Good heavens! You mean he knew the full significance of the thing?” mur- mured the other. ‘“‘He was so absolutely sure of it that he made his will, asked me to witness it and bade me good-by,” answered Loundes. “It was a political affair, and a mighty nasty one. His murderer was caught ” Loundes broke off abruptly. ‘‘I won’t go into details, but the fellow’s death was a slight improvement on my friend’s. His feet, head and torso were neatly laid in opposite corners of his shop; his hands were crossed and tied by the thumbs over the door. His wife was the first one to dis- cover it. As she entered the shop the blood dripping from her spouse’s wrists inconsid- erately spattered her fresh hazk.” He paused with a peculiar twist to his lips, then wound up irrelevantly with, “I say, try this sherbert. They’ve a Viennese chef here.” Holbrooke was barely conscious of the Englishman’s last words. The story of the murder he listened to with half indifference. It was that first statement that rang in his ears: “‘ Arabian horses, especially mares, are unusually sensitive to itl” Was this the explanation of his mare’s strange behavior that morning? . Was it the appearance of ‘Red Mist” upon that lovely African hill-road which told little Jewel of danger ahead? What danger? There had been but two living objects visible on the road beside himself—the Spahi and the girl. Was it possible that they were in any way connected with Jewel’s fear? He wondered and, while he was wondering, the question answered itself so strangely, so abruptly, that Hol- brooke found himself damp from head to foot with the sudden chill that bathed him. He felt as though his body had been sud- denly dipped into ether. The waiter was addressing him. He strove to answer, but CO MICLOOOKS ©