All-Story Weekly, Vol. 112, No. 1 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

16 ples in the water; there was the bird in flight, dropping one—two—three feathers, but saved! Sangree shook. His nerves were failing. But it seemed to him more than ever as if he had seen Muriel in the grip of a deadly peril, had seen her hopeless strug- gles, had then seen her flutter away. Was she saved? Was she maimed? Or had in- tervention come too Jate? Was she dead? Would her fate ever be known? Had this placid wilderness closed over her, like the waters of a secretive river, to keep the secret of her end a secret forever? “Prince Shuiski, sir,” said the steward of the Semiramis III, from the head of the companionway. ' “What does he want?” “To see you, sir.” Sangree permitted himself a gesture of savage dismay. ‘“No news!” . But before he could develop his thought, a smooth voice replied: “‘ Tell him it may mean news.” And Prinee Shuiski himself appeared. 7 He was a handsome creature, large and well made; and, in spite of a certain fawn- ing attention he immediately gave to Enoch Sa.igree, an observer would have said that the prince could not hide the contempt that most big men have for the man less generously endowed. ‘“‘ Well?” said Sangree. He himself certainly had the contempt of the man with brains for the less intelli- gent. He had always allowed Muriel free reign in the matter of acquaintances and guests. But it struck him with an added tinge of horror now that he had ever con- templated Prince Shuiski as a possible mate for Muriel. The prince was as well groomed as if he had just left Palm Beach. He looked well nourished. There was an oili- ness of his body as well as in his speech. He stepped forward, crouched and soft, big but graceful. ‘‘T heard a rumor,” said the prince. “I couldn’t do otherwise than hasten back to tell you about it.” There, for a fleeting second or two, Enoch Sangree’s glasses furnished him with a ALL-STORY WEEKLY, mirage. As he looked at the prince, it seemed as if he were seeing that thick but graceful snake again with the bird in its mouth. The prince was the snake. The bird was Muriel. ‘What was the rumor?” Sangree de- manded coldly. ‘That Muriel is being held for ransom.” ‘“‘ Where did you hear the rumor?” ‘ Back in the woods—a good thirty miles north of here. There we found a camp where a couple of outlaws are hiding away from the law. It was not without personal risk. They suggested—” ‘That she is held by other outlaws?” ‘No; by Indians.” ‘* Indians!” “Yes.” | “J—I don’t believe it” The prince looked hurt, but patient. “I was inclined to disbelief myself.” - ‘‘What proof did they offer?” _ “Their proof was largely negative—that no trace of Miss Sangree had been dis- covered despite the wide search.” “That’s no proof. The whole country is filled with traps and hiding-places. Every fool knows that. Sink-holes! Bogs! Un- derground rivers! Fifty people could dis- appear without a trace on those open prairies!” “ Still, her body—” “Tt isn’t her body,” panted Sangree softly. ‘‘ If she is dead—should she die—”’ He checked himself, ashamed that he should let emotion get the better of him in the presence of this man he had come to loathe and distrust. . ‘““T quite appreciate the strain you are under,” said Prince Shuiski. ‘I also suffer from it. I have not forgotten—nor shall I ever forget—that in a measure I am re- sponsible—that I was the last to see Miss Sangree before—she disappeared.”’ ‘What is your suggestion?” Sangree bit in. “To increase the offer of a reward,” said Shuiski. ‘What good would that do? I’ve already raised it to ten thousand. It’s not a mat: ter of money.”’. _ ‘“It may be,” said the prince sadly “There are many wild men scatterec COMICOooe C S C©