Adventure Magazine Cover — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

24 HAROLD LAMB Margeret addressed him rapidly in French, and waved his hand from the new- comer to Kirdy. “M’sieur Cathayan, this is the good M’sieur Bertrand from Kassa—a merchant by trade, a philosopher from choice. I have not the advantage of knowing your name—”’ “The White Falcon.” Kirdy smiled. “Ah, Bertrand, this White Falcon— whatever he may be—has, I believe, minis- tered to me in good case. But what brings you here at this infernal cockcrowe”’ “Listen!” The merchant held up his hand. Kirdy, already at the window, saw a troop of horsemen spurring into the street in pursuit of two human beings, half clad and wailing, a man and woman. The leading riders came up with the man, who turned with drawn sword. A pass or two of the weapons and the fugitive went down si- lently with his skull split open. The wo- man screamed, and Kirdy swore under his breath. She had been ridden down by the horses, and one of the soldiers, leaning from the saddle as he passed, drove his saber through her body. “Nom d’un nom!” the merchant whis- pered, at his side. “But what has happened, Bertrand?” de- manded Margeret, trying to get out from under the covers. The merchant took snuff again, glanced over the rose-tinted roofs and the gilded spires at the red glow in the east. ‘“‘Ah,”’ he said, and considered, ‘‘the festi- val of mirth has ended, the carnival of death begun, mon vieux!’’ To Kirdy he added, shaking his thin head, “The Tsar and Basmanof have been slain in one of the galleries of the Kremyl.”’ CHAPTER VI When the trail is clear the horse will follow it, even in darkness. If the trail be hidden, the dog will smell it out. But when the trail is at an end horse and dog look to their master, the man. BONSIEUR BERTRAND was a mild soul and a daring trader. a| He bought in Moscow damask ) stuffs, silks and red leather, paid for them in silver and took his chances of robbery and shipwreck with all the equa- nimity of the philosopher that Margeret had named him. Having traveled for some years along the rivers of Muscovy, he spoke the language well, and a knew a deal of the half-oriental and wholly—to his thinking— barbaric court of the Tsar. While Kirdy listened intently and the sick captain swore, he unfolded the tale of the Kremyl. “It has been, messieurs, a night of more bloodshed than judgment. Only yesterday I met the unfortunate Dmitri in all health and hardihood upon the steps of the Kasna— that is how they call their treasury. He was at the head of some followers who were bearing forth certain jewels and monies. “A merchant at court must have his ear sharpened, to catch intrigue. Tor weeks I have perceived a conspiracy against the Tsar—”’ the worthy Bertrand pronounced it “*Zar—“‘and Dmitri must have been drunk as a trooper if he knew nothing of it. Some of the older princes and one Michael Tatikof lead the conspirators. Dmitri drank deep and laughed and feasted his eyes on jewels and fine horses. Good! “Late in the evening this Tatikof, who had been from the city for several days, ap- peared at the head of a company of boyare. They concealed among their horses a sleigh. Upon this sleigh rested a casket. And, messieurs, if you were to think for a thou- sand days you would never hit upon the meaning of that casket.” With a half smile on his thin lips, he paused to glance at the two listeners—he spoke in French, translating rapidly for Kirdy’s benefit when he noticed the youth’s eager interest. “It was the coffin of the real Dmitri, the son of Ivan the Terrible. In the coffin re- posed the body of the child, dressed as when he had been murdered—even a toy in his skeleton hand. C'est incroyable, mats c’est —la Russe! Unbelievable, but—this is Russia. Tatikof and others had suspected for some time that Dmitri was an impostor; but in what way could they prove their suspicions? Dmitri, the false Dmitri, had shown a jeweled cross; he had been ac- knowledged by the empress-mother; more- over he had the army behind him—” The Frenchman shrugged one shoulder toward Margeret, and, with a tentative glance at Kirdy, went on: “Tatikof exhibited the body of the boy to the elder princes, while the false Dmitri was reveling in the palace. The dead lay in judgment upon the living. COmiclboooks.c©