Adventure Magazine Cover — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

78 he did not believe that, if they really were lamas, they would go out of their way to make trouble for any one outside their own country. It is one thing to attack an in- truder; quite another thing to follow a man through the streets and murder him. He was glad he had hurt nobody—Dawa Tsering’s hurt was plainly not serious. There is no satisfaction whatever in vio- lence—if it can possibly be avoided—to a man of Ommony’s temperament. He walked in a hurry along the narrow, winding passageways and found the street again, bought food for Diana, gave her the package to carry—for she was tempera- mentally dangerous in a crowd after having used her jaws in action, unless given some- thing definite to do—and after fifteen minutes’ search found a gharri, in which he drove to McGregor’s office. McGregor was not there, so he pursued him to his bungalow, where he fed Diana and examined curios for fifteen minutes before deciding what to say. McGregor understood that perfectly. He might not know Ommony as he knew files, the law of probabilities, and criminal statistics; he might, from deep experience, mistrust his own opinion; but he did know that when Ommony poked around in that way, picking up things and replacing them, it was wise to wait and not ask questions. He smoked and watched his servant putting studs into a clean dress shirt. “Have you one man you can absolutely bet on, who could take a package to Til- gaun and could be trusted not to monkey with it on the way, or lose it, or let it get stolen?’”’ he asked at last. “Number 17—Aaron Macaulay, the Eurasian—is leaving for Simla on tonight’s train. He would probably want to spend a day or two in Simla, but he could go on to Tilgaun after that. He’s quite de- pendable.” “Yes. I’d trust Aaron Macaulay. I want a small box, stout paper, string and sealing-wax.”’ McGregor produced them and watched Ommony wrap up the piece of jade and seal it with his own old-fashioned signet ring. He addressed the package to Miss Hannah Sanburn at the Tilgaun Mission. “Better tell Macaulay it contains bank notes,” said Ommony. “That’ll give him a sense of importance and keep him from being too curious. Tell him to ask Miss Adventure Sanburn to keep the package there for me until I come.” “All right. Now what’s the theory?” “Nothing much. I was attacked just now—not serious. The man who got the worst of it will join us after dinner. I'll give you all the grisly details then. Might possibly surprize you. See you again at Mrs. Cornock-Campbell’s.”’ “Who is a fountain of surprizes,” said McGregor, smiling. “Meanwhile, how about protection? Do you want a bodyguard?” It was not exactly clear why he was smiling. “No,” said Ommony, looking contem- platively at Diana, who appeared to have fallen asleep on a Bokhara rug, “I’ve got a more than usually good one, thanks. Observe.”’ He started on tiptoe for the door. Diana reached it several strides ahead of him and slipped out first, to sniff the wind and make sure that the shadows held no lurking enemy. “Tf men were as faithful as dogs—’”’ he began. But McGregor laughed. “They’re not!” he answered. ‘Faith, very largely, is absence of intelligence. Intelligence has to be trained to be honest; it has no morals otherwise. Without a good Scots grounding in religion, the great- er the intelligence the worse the crook.” “Oh, rot!’ said Ommony, and walked out, - leaving McGregor chuckling. CHAPTER VI MRS. CORNOCK-CAMPBELL’S SECRET A certain poet, who was no fool, bade men take the cash and let the credit go. I fird this good advice, albeit difficult to foilow. Nevertheless, it is easier than what most men attempl. They seek to take the cash and let the debit go, and that is utterly impossible; for as we sow, we reap—From the Book of the Sayings of Tsiang Samdup. | since the Armistice, when military glory topped the rise and started on the down grade of a cycle, there still are worse fates than being wealthy in your own right and the wife of a colonel com- manding a lancer regiment—even if your children have to go to Europe to be schooled, and your husband is under canvas half the time. And there are much worse fates than dining with Mrs. Cornock-Campbell, any- where, in any circumstances. To be in a position to invite yourself to dinner at her MICLOOOK (© in