The Argosy, March 27, 1920 — page 40: what you’re looking at

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

190 This time she returned to physical suffer- ing—and to the terror of what seemed at first an impossible nightmare. But she knew that it was real because of the chill that struck through her and because of a terrible strain that racked her body with a pain greater than any she had felt before. The twisted, grinning face of Jacques Bolduc was the central point of the night- mare. He stood swaying on his crutches as a caged animal sometimes stands and sways —with the same loose-muscled power to strike. Light from half a dozen candles re- vealed also oozing rock walls to which clung wet grass and clots of slime. Walls all around, except far the hint of a gray open- ing behind Jacques, and a roof of rock, Dark pools, treacherous looking as to depth, dotted the floor, She realized that she was neither standing nor sitting nor lying down, and that the almost tnendurable pull came from her right arm. She twisted her body and looked up. Her wrist was clasped by a tight iron ring that ran through the bolt set into the un- even, sloping wall against which she lay. She saw where a dark stream had run down her naked arm from the ring, and dried. With a whimper of cold and pain she set her naked feet more firmly on the slippery floor and nearly, but not quite, succeeded in standing. The ring and bolt had been cun- ningly placed. “T've got you now!” The Jaughter of the maniac rang back and forth in the cav- ern. He came nearer, chuckling; with his mad eyes gloating close to hers. “ I've got you now where you can't look at Etienne Dubois. You're down in a cave at the edge of the river—and nobody in the world but me knows where it is! I've got you now where you can’t run off! You'll stay here forever and ever, with the tide coming in up to your feet and out again! T’ve got you where you can’t get away!” His laughter rose to a screech. He rocked with it, as a tree bends to strong wind. His crutches slipped away unnoticed and he stood perilously balanced on his sound leg, with his glaring eyes upon her and his mouth emitting those sounds of hideous mirth. “T’ve got you now!” he shrieked, And THE ARGOSY. as the words left his lips he swayed toward her—swayed until his body lost its equili- brium and his foot slipped from its place.on the firm rock down into one of those still, dark pools that were scattered over the bot- tom of the cavern. He pitched forward, with arms outfhing, and his head struck on the edge of the pool as he disappeared from the sight of Jeanne. The black water heaved and settled again, The ripples gradually died away.* The pool became as still as it had been and there was no sound in the cave but the occasional tiny splash of a drop from the seeping walls. Jacques Bolduc had left the world his will had not been able to shape. The tide came in, creeping, and stopped its welcome menace at her feet. The can- dles that Jacques had set to light her suf- ferings had burned to stumps. Toward him now she had no feeling but forgiveness— she had little feeling of any kind save that an¢ her thirst for Etienne. Through the stillness a cry reverberated. Jeanne heard her mame in a voice she knew as the one that spoke to her soul—the voice of Etienne. She saw the yellow brightness of a lantern flinging back her shadows, and summoned her life forces in a great effort to speak. “The pools, Etienne!” she whispered, as he bent over her. ‘‘ Jacques died in one of them—take -care—” She glimpsed an iron bar above her head and saw his face half hidden by straining arms. Iron grated on stone, a fearful pain seared her wrist, and then she sank down upon the dank floor, free. Etienne lifted her, with the clinking rig and bolt still-on her wrist, and drew a blanket close over ‘her shoulders. “ God forgive me!” he panted. “I went to sleep as 1 watched your house last night —for a week I’ve known what he was doing down here and every night I’ve stood guard to stop him! And he did it in the very hour when my strength failed me!”’ “Your strength fail?” she murmured, aé he bore her out into the sunlit morning. ‘“ Do you call it failure after a week without sleep? My Etienne, the strength of your soul is stronger than iron!” CommiclooOolks.conn