Adventure Magazine Cover — page 194: what you’re looking at

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

188 “T did my best, eh? You know I did!” “Yes, sir.” Mr. Westcott scarcely heard him. He was wondering now why the woman should look so calm, so happy, almost, lying dead. Was it because her troubles were over and she understood how little the world she had left mattered or what? “Tt’s terrible to die like that!”’ he said. “Oh, I don’t know!” said Captain Selby. ‘“‘When my time comes, Mister, I’d as soon go the way she’s gone as any other way.” “Well, sir, I call it wicked that a man and a woman who’ve done no real harm should have been killed because of their politics!’’ “It was money killed these two, not poli- tics! This man—’ Captain Selby touched the dead body with his foot—‘“this man who called himself Alvarez—which wasn’t his real name—was a thief! A financial genius, a wizard, if you like, but a crooked one! He bolted with all the money he could lay his hands on. God knows how many people he ruined! Thousands! I heard of the crash when we were lying at Barcelona two years ago. He’d bought property here in San Asensio, so as to be prepared. I came on his tracks in Liverpool last year. A let- ter written from San Asensio. I knew there were men who’d give anything almost to get word of him, and I knew it was only a matter of months before they found him. He couldn’t escape. He was sentenced to death the day he vanished from Barcelona! He must have known it, too. So must his wife!” “Captain Selby, how did you learn about this—this Alvarez?” “T made it my business, Mr. Westcott,” said the captain. ‘‘For reasons I had.” “Do you suppose she knew her husband was badP”’ “What difference would it have made, if She had! She loved him, didn’t she? God knows why, but she did! Mr. Westcott, later on, perhaps, you'll learn that when a woman’s in love with a man, it doesn’t make any difference to her if he’s the biggest scoundrel unhung! Decency or honesty don’t weigh in the balance against love! Take it from me, Mr. Westcott, that’s the truth! We needn’t pity her because she’s dead, either! If she’d lived and her husband had been killed, she’d never have known a day’s happiness again, ever! If both of them had lived, she’d have found out in time that he didn’t love her, and that would W. Townend have broken her heart. It’s tough, all the same! tough!”’ The harsh, gruff voice shook. “Poor old Tony, you’ve had a hard time of it, haven’t you?” He stooped and patted the white hand and then very gently drew the slack of her black cloak over the pale face. “Cover the man, Mr. Westcott, for Heaven’s sake!” he said. “TI hate the sight of him! He’s laughing!’ Mr. Westcott waited, awed by the emo- tion In one whom he had always despised for his insensibility to human suffering. He wondered why the death of this woman who was a stranger should have affected him so much! Presently the captain turned once more. “We'll have to rouse some one at the nearest farm and get them to go for the police,” he said. ‘They heard the shoot- ing—must have!” “Captain Selby,” said Mr. Westcott, “‘suppose the police think we had a hand in the killing!” “They won’t think anything of the kind when they hear who he is,” said the cap- tain. ‘“They’ll know who did it!” Mr. Westcott thought for a while and then, rather timidly, he asked a question that had begun to trouble him. “Captain Selby, there’s just one thing more. I hope you won’t think it imperti- nent of me—I don’t mean it that way, I assure you!—but did you know her before?” “Yes, Mr. Westcott, I knew her before. I did my best but I failed. The fault wasn’t hers. She did what was right!” Mr. Westcott heard the sound of feet shuffling along the dusty road. “That will be the people from the next farm,” said the captain. “Let me do the talking, Mr. Westcott. I speak Spanish!” “Just one last question, Captain Selby!” He felt that if he did not ask now, another chance would not be given him. ‘How do you mean she did what was right?” “Mr. Westcott, you’re bleeding! Why didn’t you say you were wounded! Here, let’s have a look!” “How do you mean she did what was right, sir?” “She ran away!’ “Ran away! I don’t understand!”’ “Ran away from me ten years ago, Mr. Westcott. I never saw her again till to- night! She was my wife!” COnmiclbooks.c© 5}