All Story Magazine, December 1913 — page 159: what you’re looking at

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

WARLORD the rounded surfaces of the carving’s edges that a sneeze, a cough, or even a slight gust of wind would have dis- lodged me and sent me hurtling to the depths below. But finally I reached a point where my fingers could just clutch the sill of the lowest window, and I was on the point of breathing a sigh of relief when the sound of voices came to me from above through the open window. “He can never solve the secret of that lock.” The voice was Matai Shang’s. ‘ Let us proceed to the han- gar above that we may be far to the south before he finds another way— should that be possible.” ‘All things seem possible to that vile calot,”” replied another voice, which I recognized as Thurid’s. “Then let us -haste,” said Matai Shang. ‘‘ But to be doubly sure, I will leave two who shall patrol this run- way. Later they may follow us upon another flier—overtaking us at Kaol.” My upstretched fingers never reached the window's sill. At the first sound of the voices I drew back my hand and clung there to my perilous perch, flat- tened against the perpendicular wall, scarce daring to breathe. What a horrible position, indeed, in which to be discovered by Thurid! He had but to lean from the window to push me with his sword’s point into eternity, Presently the sound of the voices became fainter, and once again I took up my hazardous ascent; but now it was more difficult, since more circui- tous, for I must climb so as to avoid the windows. Matai Shang’s reference to the han- ear and the fliers indicated that my OF MARS. 869 destination lay nothing short of the roof of the tower, and toward this seemingly distant goal I set my face. The most difficult part of the journey was accomplished, and it was with re- lief that I felt my fingers close about the lowest of the stone cylinders. It is true that these projections were too far apart to make the balance’ of the ascent anything of a sinecure, but I at least had always within my reach a point of safety to which I might cling in case of accident. Some ten feet below the roof the- wall inclined slightly inward possibly a foot in the last ten feet, and here the climbing was immeasurably easier, so that my fingers soon clutched the eaves. As I drew my eyes above the level of the tower’s top I saw a flier all but ready to rise. Upon her deck was Matai Shang, Phaidor, Dejah Thoris, Thuvia of Ptarth, and a few thern warriors, while beside her stood Thurid in the act of clambering aboard. He was not ten paces from me, facing in the opposite direction; and what cruel freak of fate should have caused him to turn about just as my eyes topped the roof’s edge I may not even guess. But turn he did; and when his eyes met mine his wicked face lighted with a malignant smile as he leaped toward me, where I Was hastening to scramble to the secure footing of the roof. Dejah Thoris must have seen me at the same instant, for she screamed a useless warning just as Thurid’s foot, swinging in a mighty kick, landed full in my face. Like a felled ox, I reeled and tum- bled backward over the tower’s side. (To be continued.) RESPICE FINEM,. By Francis Quarles. MY soul, sit thou a patient looker-on; Judge not the play before the play is done. Her plot hath many changes; every day Speaks a new scene; the last act crowns the play. comicloooks.com