Adventure Magazine Cover — page 174: what you’re looking at

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

160 close shave. Only for these two night birds, who had obviously been celebrating, it would have been all off with Neill McNeill. “We ran out of gas,” he said, with some difficulty, for the cord had bitten deeply. ‘““My man went back to the house there for a supply and I had a touch of vertigo. I haven’t been very well.” “Vertigo? That’s a new name for it, old pal,” said the second man. ‘“I’ll have to spring that on my wife. We thought we saw a couple of chaps duck out, right and left, as we came along and then we saw you fall. Maybe we had vertigo our- selves.” McNeill summoned a laugh. He was not inclined to give his confidence now that he was well out of it.. His driver was coming back with the gasoline in a can. “Tm all right now, anyway,” he said. “Thanks, both of you. And here’s my driver.” The two got into their car and drove off while the chauffeur replenished the tank. “See anything of the butler?” asked McNeill, as they got ready to start. “Met him in the garden just now. Taking a stroll with a bit of a dinky pipe. Strange lot, them Chinks.”’ “I thought I saw him myself,” said McNeill. reflected and picked up from the seat beside him a souvenir of the occasion. It was a slender cord of Chinese silk, flexible, singularly soft, but strong as catgut and bright yellow. CHAPTER VI NEW YORK NJ EILL McNEILL walked out of Grand ‘ Central Station, scorning a taxicab. The hotel could send for his baggage. With all the fervor of one American born—New York born, at that—who has been ex- patriated for years in a barbaric kingdom, he wanted to see, smell and taste New York. | He bought a paper but did not look at it. People interested him more than news so far. He was already wondering how soon he could call upon the Remsdens—upon Helen Remsden, to be exact. It was mid- morning and he would have to wait until afternoon he decided. But he could send some flowers, and did. He walked down Fifth Avenue to his “Tf I didn’t, I felt him,” he’ Adventure hotel, got his room, washed up and went out again on the streets. The unread paper was still in his pocket. Still on the Avenue, enjoying the bustle of the crowds, the things in the shop windows, he came to Madison Square and sat down among the flotsam and jetsam of the city. Presently he pulled out the paper and gradually became more and more interested. On an inner page was a half-tone engraving of two men in the most modern of conventional attire, silk-hatted yet prominently foreign, Ori- ental. The caption read: Prince Liu Chi and his cousin, Prince Ten Shin, who have foresworn their ancient titles for China’s new republicanism. They come to America as deputies of the new government to study the institutions and policies of the United States. It was interesting reading to McNeill, though he wondered at the strange turn of mind that changed the descendants of so old a dynasty to such ardent liberalists. But the establishment of the new republic upon so firm a basis as to make its envoys recognized generally by the United States Government, as these princes seemed to be, to judge by what they had done and what programs were still in store for them officially, held a measure of comfort. The old powers and traditions of Hoang Lung would die hard, but they might, in the rush of new thought and an open policy toward the Occident, die swiftly. Much of their power would be curtailed with their prestige. They would lie low awhile until the ever turning kaleidoscope of awakening China shifted to a new pattern of the same varicolored parts. There would be a lifting of the ban against the desecrators of the shrine, and the followers of the old legendary faiths would be content with the restoration of their relic. He wondered if Prince Liu Chi or his cousin had heard of the outrage. If so their racial traits would hold the memory despite the ‘camouflage of New World veneer. China’s ancient faith would not change with its policies, save out- wardly. The two nobles were registered at his own hotel, he noted. Another article flashed at him as he turned the page. It was not a lengthy one, but the headlines leaped at him, making the half-inch capitals that formed the name of Remsden seem as large as wood block freak captions. The article read: Gcomichbooks.com