Adventure Magazine Cover — page 35: what you’re looking at

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

THE WOLF MASTER 29 ‘“‘A seeker, who will bring no harm to you.” a! | think—”’ But Bertrand kept his thought to himself, and decided to accompany the Mongol noble. ‘They faced each other over cups of spiced white wine, and the merchant waited for Kirdy to speak. He waited until his patience yielded to his fears. “What master do you serve? Are you Tatikof’s spy?” Kirdy smiled. “Let me tell you a story. Once there lived a sultan who was a very fox for wiles. He was called Motavakel Shah, and he sum- moned his enemy to his house, thinking to teach him fear. A lion—one of his beasts— was let loose into the room by his servants. Though the lion ran past the table, the guest of Motavakel did not rise from his cushions nor uttera word. Then snakes were turned into the room, coiling past the feet of the host and the guest. Still the foe of Mota- vakel did not raise his feet or his voice. A dish was placed before him and under the cover of the dish were scorpions. ‘Nay,’ said the guest of Motavakel, ‘this is a night not of the lion, or the ser- pents, or the scorpions, but of the sword!’ And with the blade at his girdle he slew Motavakel and fled unhurt.’ “Ah, a parable. hidden?” “Good sir,” Kirdy said quietly, “it is not you I seek. But the time for trickery is past, the moment of the sword is nigh. Answer then, swiftly, remembering that what I seek from you is—truth! When you saw the body that lay under the mask, yes- terday, you were troubled by doubt.” “And you!” “T also. The one mark that marked Dmitri beyond doubt—the wart was gone. It might have been slashed away. But when a trail is hidden, a man has fled—who shuns pursuit.” Bertrand leaned forward breathing quick- ly, his eyes probing Kirdy’s. “The false Dmitri has fled?” “Leaving another body to hide his trail.” Kirdy turned the porcelain cup slowly in his lean hand. ‘‘Perhaps. Every soul in the palace would have looked for the wart upon the face of the dead man. It was gone, and the slash was covered by the mask.” “Tonnerre de Dieu! No Muscovite rea- soned thus! What man are you?” Is your sword, then, “One who has tracked beasts. Man is not otherwise. Tell me first why you doubted that the body was Dmitri’s—the false Dmitri’s?”’ Bertrand glanced to one side, then the other. “A little matter,” he whispered. ‘“Two, IT shouldsay. Isaw his Illus—the impostor the day before. Eh, well. I noticed the cut of his hair, being exact in such conceits of dress. The hair on the body seemed to be longer than Dmitri’s.”’ Kirdy nodded silently. “Good!” The shrewd merchant warmed to his contention. ‘‘The late Tsar shaved his chin. The body, also, was shaved, but the hair on the chin was soft and ill-cut—as if, pardie, this man had worn a beard until it was cut off hastily, to make him resemble some one else.” “Then, Uncle Merchant, was there a man in this court who looked like the false Dmitri?” Bertrand chewed his lips reflectively. “Aye, so. One Stanislav Bouthinski, a Pole. A secretary, I believe, to the am- bassadors of that country.” “Hail” Kirdy’s dark eyes gleamed, as if he had hit upon the slot of a stag. “You, my good sir, are no Muscovite. You have lived at other, and wiser, courts.”’ The touch of flattery warmed the French- man, who said again that the Muscovites were savages. “Bouthinski is missing. Today I searched for him, and his people told me he must have fallen in the massacre. Many hundred Poles have been cut down, and trampled into the mud.” A new doubt struck him. “But what of all this? Grant that the false Dmitri may have fled, leaving another body already slain in his bed. Grant that this body is Bouthinski’s—naked as a peeled turnip and slashed on the cheek. None the less, Dmitri is now approved false, and a pretender. How could he escape—” “Three fine horses were missing from the stables that night. Three riders passed through the guards—and who could win out of the gates save this man who called him- self the Tsar?” “Tt is possible.” ‘““Aye,so. Men say that this false Dmitri was shrewd as a fox. Surely he had scent of the conspiracy against him. He left the army, and summoned Basmanof after him. COnmiclboooks. CO