Adventure Magazine Cover — page 149: what you’re looking at

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

The Mask they say it grows on you. You go in and they sit around and talk to you. Give you a drink, maybe. Dance with you if they like your looks. By and by one of ’em croaks you with an automatic.” “My ag Barret felt suddenly sick. Like most travelers in Russia he had heard of such things, but had set them down as wild tales. “Everything de luxe,” commented Morgan. ‘‘And you’re going to that?” “Sure. Why not? I’ve sent plenty of other folks to it.” The key turned in the lock. ‘“‘The paper without the seal,’”’ cautioned Morgan swiftly. ‘‘Don’t make any mis- take. The one without the seal.” “Well,” whined the commissar, draws first?” He held a fur-cap in his hand. Barret stepped forward, white to the lips. “T do,” he said quietly. ‘Well, don’t make no difference to me a-tall. I get me anyhow one—and the ladies is waiting.” “‘Mind what I told you,” said Morgan. To Barret it seemed as if there was only one thing in the world worth while—to wipe that look off Morgan’s face. He felt strangely uplifted, taken out of himself, as he put his hand into the hat, a sort of quiet happiness that made him glow and tingle from head to foot. Carefully he felt of the two papers— found the one with the seal—held it for a moment, and drew it out. There was a triumph on his broad face as he glanced at Morgan. Slowly he unfolded it, and scanned it. Slowly the triumph faded from his face and was succeeded by a look of bewilder- ment. He scrutinized the seal—felt it with his fingers. ‘‘who <e- -* 143 ‘“‘But look here,”’ he muttered perplexed. “But look here——” Morgan, tense, rigid, moved across the room and scanned the paper over his shoulder. ‘Then of a sudden he went gray and sat heavily, his face twitching. “But said Barret stupidly, thought With a visible effort Morgan began to speak, and though his face twitched hor- ribly and the smoke from his cigaret wa- vered his voice was quiet and strong. ‘You win,” he said steadily. ‘I don’t think there was a man alive who had it in him—that honor stuff. I tried to double- cross you because—” the voice broke a little——“‘I’m made that way, I guess. But you’re made right. You’d have drawn the death warrant on purpose if I hadn’t told you wrong.” There was no cynicism in the face now, no hardness. Barret opened his lips, but the other checked him with an upraised hand. ‘Will you believe me when I tell you I’m glad things turned out the way they did? Will you believe that? I know I don’t look ae good—’”’ he glanced with a trace of the old | expression at the shaking hand that held the cigaret—“but some way I am.” There was an eager wistfulness in his eyes that begged for belief. Barret nodded, unable to speak. ‘‘Thanks, brother. I didn’t mean to pull the sob-stuff, but I wanted you to know.” He rose to his feet, still white, but strange- ly steady, as if Barret’s nod had given him a sudden strength, and held out his hand. ‘So long,”’ he said, ‘“‘and good luck.” Then turning to the commissar with the old look— “Come on, kike, let’s meet your lady friends.”’ COmiclbook C©