Adventure Magazine Cover — page 155: what you’re looking at

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

The Edge of the Simitar traveler takes note of his position and the passing of time. At last he controlled him- self and came back to his friend. “‘Cohusac,” he said plaintively, “you don’t quite understand. I didn’t come over here on a lark. There is something of appalling significance about to happen in Abyssinia. In these days no one who has the remotest connection with the Govern- ment at home gives a about what is happening in northeast Africa. They leave . it to us poor beggars to keep our districts in order. But we’ve got to do more than that. And we are!’ ‘“‘And what has this to do with the pretty lady at Abu Khalil’s?” Hickson permitted an exasperated laugh to express his feelings. “T suppose you’re incurable on that score, Cohusac! If I could keep the woman in the foreground, I could hold your interest! Unfortunately the affair has little to do with women except as to the part they play as agents. No! I’m here trying secretly to avert another war; or, if I can’t do that, to try to swing it in our favor.” Cohusac whistled softly. “Tt’s as bad as that?” “Every bit. You heard what Hamid said. Ever since the beginning of the war, when Somalis were permitted to stalk around in the streets of Aden carrying their spears and their insolence with them, it has been getting harder and harder to control the tribes. Here’s this Yusuf Sangoi, exe- cutioner for the old Mad Mullah, boasting within yelling-distance of this very house of the rotten atrocities he has committed. “‘That’s nothing! Creatures like that are simply pawns. But, I assure you, the Somalis are stirred up. They’re ready for a spark! And all my information shows that the spark is coming—coming from the direc- tion of Abyssinia 4 “But, Hickson,” interposed Cohusac, “what has this to do with me? Why have you come to me?” “Old boy, Pll tell you. You know the international jealousy that has existed for years over Abyssinia? How every great European power has been trying to get its finger in that pie? And how they get their fingers burned, too, by the way? Well, there is so much suspicion among the repre- sentatives of the nations with legations in Abyssinia that no one trusts the other. This part of the world is lousy with agents, 145 each spying on the other. There is no coop- eration toward a common end—which just now ought to be to insure the safety of the Allies until the end of the war in Europe. That’s so, isn’t it?” “Exactly, copain!”’ “Well, certainly I’m an authority on conditions in Somaliland; and I know—by , | know—that something serious is going to happen! And yet I can’t impress the seriousness of the situation on my Government. When they realize it, it will be too late. There’s only one thing left for me to do, and that is—go it alone! I came over here to Aden secretly—without any authority—I’ll probably be cashiered if it’s discovered!—to see you!—because—be- cause—” Hickson brought his fist down on the table with a crash that defied all sentimentality—“because you are the only intelligent man I know with ideals, courage and the freedom to act.” Hickson’s voice dropped. “But no,” he added bitterly; “the war has already crippled you.” ‘You might be surprized at what I can do with a little inspiration, Hicky!”’ Cohusac’s eyes were smoldering. He walked unaided to the edge of the roof, craning his neck to look about the corner. Returning, he said— ‘“‘When must you go back?” “Tonight.” “T see. Well, if you can take these risks out of an extraordinary sense of duty you may count on me to help you. I can under- stand that Aden is a center of much intrigue. I will keep my eyes open. You know what that means! Now if you want a look at the house of Abu Khalil, I know a place where you can obtain it without exciting sus- picion.” “Tl be recognized on the street,’ said Hickson, pressing Cohusac’s hand to show his gratitude. “It is only a few steps in the shadow around the corner. A friend of mine lives there—an American named Sevier—a fine fellow, representing an American firm of ex- porters and importers. You will like him. From his living-quarters on the third floor we can peek over the roof-tops at Abu Khalil’s.”’ “Can you walk?” asked Hickson. “In the name of Allah! Give me suff- cient inspiration and I’ll return to Africa with you!” NOOK 1 @)