Adventure Magazine Cover — page 125: what you’re looking at

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

Men of the Night was also angered. It seemed maliciously exasperating that there was no escape from this Black Wolf. She recognized him by the subtle, mocking overtones, the half- bored graciousness of his manner. At this moment she remembered with a great, choking leap of her heart that he had warned her almost threateningly not to marry Holder; and she wished greatly that she had not. “T am sure,” Middleton went on with just the suggestion of a bow as he faintly gestured toward the man, “‘that your—ah— your—friend and I can arrange a division of its contents amicably.” No answer from either of them. Javotte was suffering torture. She would probably have given her slim fingers to be crushed, burned, anything, rather than en- dure what she was into. Her face was very pale. The blood had left it, frightened away by the black mask; and she was rigid, strained, as if evoking a great resolution. Middleton took a step closer to the safe. “A Bromley,” he said. “Easy to open, these Bromleys. Twenty minutes.” To the man— “You can be patient for twenty minutes?” No answer. Middleton looked down at the safe’s knob, and from a corner of his eye glanced at the gun in the fellow’s hand. “Ves,” Middleton stepped to the safe. “In fifteen, if I am not disturbed.” He laid his long, delicate fingers on the bright knob and bent down crouchingly. She sprang at him frantically, pushing at him, trying to force him away, and cried with low anguish: ““No—no—no! No! Nevare!”’ The man bent forward, his mouth twisted into a snarl, the gun set at his hip, muzzle on, and said: “Then you were stringin’ me? You didn’t try to open it?” “T did, I did hones’ try; but now——”’ Middleton reached out, snatched the man’s gun hand, swinging it up under his arm and wrenching the automatic free. “You dirty crook, ’]I——” The man checked himself. He had spoken without thinking and without courage; just blurted the words because abuse was ever at his tongue’s end. It mus’ not be. 115 “Yes?”? Middleton inquired indifferently, waiting. It was his incomprehensible air of as- surance, of being so utterly at ease, together with Javotte’s protest, that must have made the fellow feel he was being double- crossed. Anyway something made him feel it, for he cried: “She’s framed this, an’ you’re in on it. It’s a play. But I don’t fall. No, by ——! I get mine or tell the world she is my wife!” Javotte made a low, moaning sound of rage and protest and settled weakly against the wall. 7 “Why of course, Burillo. I knew that,” Middleton answered. — ‘ Ohl? Javotte sprang forward. “I did not know—I did not know, hones’!”” Her face was turned to Middleton. She was appealing to him as to one who had the right to judge. ‘“‘He was hide away an’ tell ever’body he was dead. I did not know. Eet was in the papers. I would give any- thing to have heem go away—for ever! But—” she turned on Burillo— ‘“‘you go tell the world. Tell ever’body! My hus- band love an’ trus’ me. I do not want heem hurt, but I will give nothing—nothing!” Again she appealed to Middleton: “He hide for gear Cabron keel him. I think eet true that he is dead. Some man is keel an’ he—” the gesture that indicated Burillo was dramatically contemptuous— ‘“‘put his letters an’ book in the dead man’s pocket so ever’body think eet is heem!”’ The masked face turned on Burillo. Un- armed, cornered, exposed, he was greatly afraid and seemed almost trying to huddle himself into an inconspicuous object. ‘‘Somebody’ll pay: for this,” he whined. “The devil,” said Middleton without amusement, ‘You'll find him a good pay- master.” Pause, and the eyes within the mask scrutinized Burillo with a steadiness that seemed to make the marrow melt in his bones. “Do you know—” Middleton was speak- ing quietly— ‘I think I shall have to take you under my wing for a while; and—”’ his voice was gentle and smooth, sardonically caressing— ‘‘the next report of your death will probably not be wholly unfounded.”’ “Say,” he cried, snapped up into action by his sense of great danger, and almost NOOK C@