Adventure Magazine Cover — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

Om There was a sureness of touch that men work lifetimes to achieve; and there was a quality that almost nobody in this age has achieved—a sort of spirit of antiquity, as simple as it was indefinable in words. It was as if the artist knew that things are never what they seem, but was translating what she saw of things’ origins into modern terms that could be understood. The drawings were of yesterday, clothed in the garments of today and looking forward to tomorrow. “She seemed to see right through you,” Mrs. Cornock-Campbell went on. “I don’t believe the smartest man in the world could fool that girl. She has the something within that men instinctively recognize—and don’t try to take liberties with. “She seemed equally familiar with Tibet- an and European thought, as well as life, and to know all the country to the north- ward. I gathered she had been to Lassa, which seems incredible; but she spoke of it as if she knew the very street stones, and you'll see there are sketches of bits of Lassa in that portfolio—notice the portrait of the Dalai Lama and the sketch of the southern gate. “And all the while the girl talked Miss Sanburn seemed as proud and as uncom- fortable as a martyr at the stake! When Elsa began to talk of Lassa I thought Miss Sanburn would burst with anxiety; you could see she was on the perpetual point of cautioning her not to be indiscreet, but she restrained herself with a forced smile that made me simply love her. I know Miss Sanburn was in agonies of terror all the time. “When Elsa had gone to bed—that was long after midnight—I asked Miss Sanburn what the girl’s surname was. She hesi- tated for about thirty seconds, looking at me——”’ “I know how she looked,” said Ommony. “Like a fighting man with a heartache. That look has often puzzled me. What did she say?’ “She said: ‘Mrs. Cornock-Campbell, it was not intended you should meet Elsa. She is my adopted daughter. There are reasons : “And of course at that I interrupted. I assured her I don’t pry into people’s se- crets. She asked me whether I would ae not discussing what little I already SI knew. She said, ‘I’m sorry I can’t explain, but it is important that Elsa’s very exis- tence should be known to as few people as possible, especially in India.’ “Of course, I promised, but she agreed to a reservation that I might mention having met the girl, if anything I could say should seem likely to quiet inquisitive people. And that was a good thing, because I had no sooner returned to Delhi than John McGregor came to dinner and asked me pointedly whether I had seen any mysteri- ous young woman at Tilgaun. I think John intended to investigate her with his staff of experts in—what is the right word, John?” ‘“‘Worm’s-eye views,” said McGregor. “‘Not all the King’s horses nor all the King’s men could have called me off, as you did with a smile and a glass of Madeira. Thus are Governments corrupted.” “So you’re the second individual to whom I have opened my lips about it,” said Mrs. Cornock-Campbell, not exactly watching Ommony but missing none of his expression, which was of dawning comprehension. “T’m beginning to understand about a hundred things,” he said musingly. “You’d re though, Hannah would have told ME. Cornock-Campbell smiled at John McGregor. “Didn’t you know he’d say just that? Wake up, Cottswold! This isn’t church! It’s because you’re her closest friend that you're the last person in the world she would tell. She’sa woman ”’ Then there were noises in the garden, and Diana left off dreaming on the bear- skin to growl like an earthquake “An acquaintance of mine,”’said Ommony. “If you can endure the smell, please let | him in. Or we might try the veranda.” Diana had to be forcibly suppressed. The butler, a Goanese—which means that he had oddly assorted fears, as well as a mixed ancestry and cross-bred notions of convention that were skin-deep and as hard as onyx—had to be rebuked for near rebellion. And Dawa Tsering, with his neck swathed in wierdly smelling cloth, had to be given a mat to sit on, lest he spoil the carpet. It needed that setting to make plain how innocent of cleanliness his clothes were; and his reek was of underground donkey stables, with some sort of chemical added. DOOLK CO in