Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

bushy black brows lifted, the red-veined eyes bulged, the pudgy lips opened. Cameron looked around at the faces of the others: Dorset had craned his long neck, showing a gulpimg Adam’s apple. His cavernous, narrow-set eyes lit with a pecu- liar fire. -Wing’s white head stopped nodding—a very intense gesture. ‘The octoroon who was at Cameron’s side turned about and looked over his shoulder towards the dim shadows above. The chatelaine, seated until now in a Buddhistic contemplation of her gods, gave evidence for the first time that evening, of an appalling fright. It was clear enough—this change of look and attitude of every one in the room. Jacqueline was coming down the stairs! She was coming—totally unschooled in villainy—to cast her power, whatever it was, in the balance of that night’s combat. She had a power that, wielded by many women in the past, had won battles. She had the blood of great fighters coursing in her veins. She had a beauty compounded not only of the enchantment of girlhood— but of a long race of Circes. Cameron turned around, impulsively in- tent upon warning her to flee. But it was too late. She came. McCorkle saw the slender fragile hand lifting the edge of her robe—she had thrown some sort of embroidered garment about her—a dazzling flame of color. Dorset’s long jaw dropped as the gold slipper flashed in a ray of light, with a gleam of a high and delicate instep and the pale skin of an ankle. Parson’s muddy eyes widened as he saw the wax-like shoulder emerging from the dark, as if floating from fathomless depths of black water into the soft green sunlight just below the surface. Thus were the paintings of the Raiglons eternally emerging from their shadows. She descended to the landing where Cameron was waiting, and there she stood, beautiful, flaming with a coquettish scorn. Her ancient grandam saw her, and she stood up, clasping gnarled and mummified hands. She had prayed to her gods—those six presences—to save the remnants of their earthly kingdom. ‘ ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. And from the darkness above—which they imhabited—they sent down this avenger! CHAPTER XXTI. JACQUELINE’S WILES. S she stood on that stair landing, Jac- queline was on a level with the por- traits of her ancestors. This was per- haps the reason why McCorkle noticed the similarity between her features and the fea- tures of her ancestors. The faces of those portraits, grim and menacing, had imprinted themselves deeply upon McCorkle’s mind. They haunted him. Although he did not look at them now—such was the intentness with which he stared at the girl—he saw those lineaments dimly reflected in this one living and lovely face. All the grimness and cruelty of those visages had been ren- dered down into a composite of rare beauty. Before any one spoke, a thought passed through McCorkle’s mind. It was a thought which seemed to tickle his risibilities. His swollen paunch, sagging over the tightly drawn belt, began to ripple, sending a suc- cession of chuckles into his throat. Till now he had been actually afraid of the third occupant of the Raiglon mansion—the girl. This was the dreadful unknown quantity, whom he had pictured hiding in one of those dark rcoms, ready to kill whoever came too near her! He had expected to see another woman built on the heroic lines of Madame Raiglon and with the added danger of youth! Here instead he saw this little shadow of a being—this spirit. His guffaws rolled out. The very gusts of his breath might have been enough to blow her away—so McCorkle felt is you blow out a candle flame. “So this is the jane I thought was goin’ to stick a knife athwart our backs—ay mates?” he laughed. “A jane? No that ain’t quite the word. A queen’s more like it!” “A Lulu, says I!” the undersized Dorset piped up gleefully. “ Shut up, you little skunk!” McCorkle growled. “ When it comes to women there’s only one thing to say to. such n, BS_ven— and. Ot