Adventure Magazine Cover — page 185: what you’re looking at

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

A Night in “T see.””? Mr. Westcott considered. “What will happen when we reach the road?” “Nothing. We'll have to pass the front gate on our way down, of course. If the men on guard see us, they’ll think you’re an English sailor taking a walk with a girl! I’m young enough for that, aren’t [?”’ Mr. Westcott thought of his girl at home and nodded. Ada wouldn’t like him to go walking out with other women, but in the circumstances it couldn’t be helped! Clearly, it was his duty to help the woman reach her husband. “You're not afraid, are your” she whispered. Her tone angered him. “Afraid! No!’’ But was he? He was doubtful. It was easy enough to talk, but how, supposing the man in black was still at the gate, how did he think they were going to get past him without being seen? “Tt’s not a bit of use our standing here, doing nothing!” she said. “It’s getting late and I’ve got to get back to my husband.” Mr. Westcott turned and made his way slowly up the hill through the shrubs and mimosa and cypress-trees toward the wall. He listened and heard nothing. The wall was higher on the garden side than on the side of the path by three feet. He could not see over the top. He moved cautiously toward the gateway and found a tree stump which would give him a foot- hold. Screened by an overhanging limb of a fig-tree he climbed the wall and saw the man in black approaching softly in the grass between the wall and the path. He paused to light a cigaret. Mr. Westcott gathered himself together and sprang. The man crumpled under him without a word and lay very still and twisted. Mr. Westcott scrambled to his feet, rolled him over on to his back and gagged him by a piece of stick thrust between his teeth and secured by a handkerchief, its ends knotted at the back of his neck. The woman stood by his side. “You must bind his hands. See if he’s wearing a belt!’’ He nodded and undid a sash the man had about his waist and once more rolling him over, bound his hands behind him. The man wriggled. “Fasten his legs,” she said. this scarf! Make haste!’’ ‘“‘Here, use San Asensio 179 Mr. Westcott rose from his knees. “He’s trussed all right. Let’s go!” “Take my arm,” said the woman. “It'll look more like the real thing.” Together they passed along the narrow pathway and down the winding flight of steps between the brick walls topped with geraniums. Mr. Westcott was troubled. Suppose they were seen! Suppose the man he had gagged were found before they were out of reach! Suppose they were followed and tracked to the house to which they were bound! What if they were? What he was doing was right, he knew. He wondered how the second mate and the fourth engineer would take it if they could see him now, arm in arm with a hand- some fair-haired woman. He wondered what he would do if he met the captain. “Talk!” said the woman. ‘Talk, please!’ They had reached the end of the flight of stone steps. “‘What about?” he asked. ‘“‘Anything,” she said wearily. “Anything at all! You're a sailor ashore for the evening. I’m a girl you’ve met down in the town. We’ve been for a walk.” “Tt’s a great night, ain’t it, Mary?” “You bet!” She laughed. ‘Why, yais! My name no’ Mary!” He knew from the sudden change in her accent that she was acting the part of a girl he was supposed to have picked up in the town. “You bet! LTenjoy mysel’ wit’ you! Yais! You naice boy, hey! Come for walk wi’ naice li’l girl!’ She lowered her voice. “Play up to me, for God’s sake!’ “I could do with a —— big drink when we get back to the town, eh, Mary! Couldn’t you?” “You bet!” she said. “—— beeg drink, hey!” On either side were dark masses of trees and gardens high up above the white, dusty road and walls of rough granite. They came to a large iron gate on their left. The woman tightened her clasp on Mr. Westcott’s arm and he knew that this was the front gate of her home. Two men stood by the wall under the trees. One of them stepped forward. Mr. Westcott began to sing in passable imitation of a man who had had too much drink. COnuclboooks.c© 5}