Adventure Magazine Cover, October 1911 — page 190: what you’re looking at

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

1136 *‘At least, Torrance, tell me, if you can, whom you are sheltering—and why,” I blurted. ‘You know that I would do any- thing possible to help.” Rather to my surprise Torrance smiled a little. “Very well,” said he. “If you will under- stand that I endeavor to shelter her not from the result of any ill-doing—of which she is incapable—but from official suspi- cion of ill-doing.”’ “That is understood, of course,” I said. “Then, unasked, I shelter from that sus- picion the Princess Komorzekovna. Be- cause I love her. Listen to me. Before Stark came I had almost won her. But with his coming she changed, withdrew, as it were, into an armor of reserve. She was never less cordial to me after Stark’s appear- ance, but nevertheless she changed. We had been good comrades before; then, sud- denly, the sense of comradeship, the cama- vaderie vanished like a quenched candle- flame. We had been accustomed to take together, with the wolves following, quite long explorations across the forest. The walks ceased. Stark came like a blight to flowers. ‘She leased No-Man’s Court from him, or rather, from those to whom it was mort- gaged. She loves the forest and pays heavily for the house. The rent must have been enough to pay interest on other more doubt- ful loans than that on No-Man’s Court. Stark was attracted to her by the heavy sum his agents had extorted from her for rent, I am sure of that, and he called ostensibly as landlord, enquiring as to her comfort in the place. “He saw her, and, more important to Stark, he recognized the obvious signs of wealth with which she is surrounded. It was plain to me that, from the first, Stark laid siege not to her but to her wealth. To him, she was no more than an appanage to her wealth. He reversed the lover’s order of attraction. He came asa fortune-hunter, nothing more. ‘But she seemed not to observe it. She appeared to like the man, to welcome him. Against my will, and bitterly protesting in my spirit, I found myself in the background —more and more and more—until finally I kept away from the place. She seemed con- tent to let me go—heaven knows there was never an overture to indicate that she missed or regretted the old days! And Adventure Stark came almost daily.. They rode to- gether, walked together, where once I had walked and ridden with her. Oh, yes, I had dropped out! ‘Stark and I remained onterms. There was a pretense of friendship. I think Stark considered me too rich to lose touch with. That was all, up to last Monday. And now Stark is dead, and I have new hope.”’. He paused. ‘Oh, not because he is dead—his death could not alter her feelings to me— but because of the manner of his dying. Herapath, I saw him die—and before he had ceased to breathe I knew that I could hope. Some day you will know why—soon, perhaps.” He picked up his stick. ‘Come for 2 walk,” he said, in a new, restless tone. “We've got an hour of daylight yet.” eel HE PASSED out through the case- aa ment and I turned to get a cap and, I had carricd it all the morning; indeed, I usually carry it. One of my few hobbies is revolver-shooting, and I think I am entitled to say that it is one of the very few things I can do really well. It was certain that the wolves of the Princess were given considerable freedom and, although they seemed to be un- usually tame, nevertheless one of them at Icast had attacked Waynill. In any case, the pistol was not inconvenient to carry and there was a remote possibility that it might be useful. As things fell out, I can never be sufficiently grateful I took the weapon. Torrance was waiting and we set off in silence. Our direction lay toward No- Man’s Court. It scemed to me that Tor- rance’s suggestion that we still had an hour of daylight was exaggerated. The light was failing cven as we started. There was a somberness about the landscape, a graying pall that darkened slowly. The air was bleak and icy. One could not feel any breath of wind but nevertheless the sense of intense cold lapped about one. It was such an evening as ushers in a bitter black frost. The rusty heather lay still and silent, there was no motion nor sound from the lonely clump of naked, bark-flaking firs, and the hardening turf rang under our boot- heels like iron. “The forest in Winter,” I said, “is un- interesting until one gets accustomed to it.”’ Torrance did not answer at first. He was CO incidentally, my automatic pistol.: MICLOOKS CO