Adventure Magazine Cover, April 1916 — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

70 accept this gracious gift for reasons—for reasons that make it impossible—the lady, sire, is promised to ‘“‘As for you, sir!” interrupted the king, as if he had not heard him. ‘Upon my soul, for a secret mission I would rather trust this cunning maid here than any young blood in Christendom.” Nancy smiled, for the words carried her straight back to the little ledging over the pastry-cook’s shop in Lille, and the words that General Sidney had spoken to her. father. “Well, sir,” the king was saying, “‘since I have made over Chillingworth’s estates to his daughter, through you, we will have done with this traitor quest, so leave him be in peace, until such time as he shall come to England with his plots and cursed con- spiracies.’ “Nay, my liege,” returned Nancy, mak- ing him a courtesy, “but he can return to England as safely as any man, and Alger- non Sidney, too, since they have the pro- tection of the king’s pardon.”’ “Pardon!” cried his Majesty. “I know naught of a pardon for either of these regi- cides.”’ “Ay,” said Nancy, smiling frankly and unabashed into his eyes, so that he was as struck with the freshness and i innocence of her youth as with her girlish beauty, “ay, for both of them, sire.’ With this she suddenly drew from her bosom the packet of papers she had first taken from the hand of Captain Collier on the Oxford, and extending them toward the king, cried: ‘See, your Majesty—the royal seal!” “What means this?”’ demanded the king, turning the papers over in his hand and addressing himself to Captain Stillingfleet. ‘““These, sire, be the pardons which were furnished to Captain Collier for such of those English derelicts in the Indies who, needing them, might gain them for some exploit in the service of your Majesty’s government. When Captain Collier was killed in the explosion, as I described to you, the papers came into our possession, and having among us many worthy fellows, your devoted subjects, who could not other- wise come back to old England, to the glory and credit of your kingdom, I made bold, sire, knowing full well the purposes for which they had been issued, to use them as you yourself had intended.” Adventure “Of that I have no complaint to make,” replied Charles. ‘‘But since the rebels Chil- lingworth and Sidney were not among you, how their names appear here above my seal, I can not make out.”’ “Yet ’tis very simple, my liege,” Nancy. “Simple!” fretted the king. “Ay, my liege—I wrote them there my- self.”” Saying which, she assisted the king in unfolding the papers, and pointing to the list of names upon the pardon indicated those of Sidney and Chillingworth: among the rest. ““Ods-fish! Am I ever to be thwarted,” cried the king. Then the smile came back again to his dark face. ‘‘Nathless, and I have put my name upon it, there it shall stand,” he said. ‘‘So worry not, my child, and send for thy father and his friend when thou wilt, and so they comport themselves as my faithful subjects in the future they will hear naught of me again.” said bam HE TURNED to go, the inter- iS S@ view at an end, when his eye caught = a glimpse of Jim Rimble’s keepsake hung by its string about the girl’s neck, and spreading it upon his palm: “‘Ods-fish! Mr. Isaacs,” said he, “here is a medallion more curious than any in your collection. See, the cross-bones and skull. Some pirate’s masterpiece, no doubt.” “Right willingly would I present it to you, my liege,” said Nancy, “‘were it not for the fact that it is a keepsake, given to me by Jim Rimble, the sailor I did tell you of, who hath exacted a promise from me to wear it in his remembrance.” “T recall him—the singing fisherman,” laughed the king. “Ay, that is the one,” replied Nancy. “And this was one of his angling sinkers, fashioned rudely into the shape you see it. ’Tis without value, being but a bit of lead —a chip from one of the pigs that Captain Stillingfleet did sell to Captain Morgan for cannon-balls. Yet would I wear it for him.”’ “Lead, say you!” exclaimed Mr. Isaacs, the goldsmith, who had taken Jim Rimble’s keepsake into his hand and had been exam- ining it. ‘‘Nay, Mistress Chillingworth, say not so—’tis solid silver, ma’am!”’ As they all stood then, looking into one another’s faces, the sound of laughter and music came faintly floating to them from CoOMmicboooks (CO