Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 74: what you’re looking at

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

212 to plead or protest. His eyes turned, fell on Gefondo, pleading silently for the hunchback to help him. Then he saw Gefondo gazing at the red-headed giant beside him, and Basil clutched at that frail straw. “Then, majesty, pray grant a lesser boon. Allow this man to go with my lady as bodyguard. For women of France, and most especially this frail lady, are timid among strangers. But he has hair not unlike her own in color, a trifle ruddier only; and he is strong enough to carry her.” The head of Emperor Christophe nodded; then impatiently he pointed to the coach. Basil flew to Violette, brushed her hand to his lips just as Jack Butts, urged by Gefondo, stepped to her side. The big Cornishman’s pigtail had been severed. His red hair stood in a fury about his face, which had been stained, as well as his whole body, to black. He wore a loin cloth of blue and a seaman’s kerchief bound about his forehead. In his belt was thrust a mur- derous looking knife, and his hand totiched its hilt. “To the death, lad!’ he muttered between his teeth, then, catching up the half fainting Violette, he swung toward the carriage beyond, followed by her father, De Tourraine. The Baron de Banana, whose jowls were purple from the shame of listen- ing to that song deriding him, sput- tered his way to the closed coach door just as Basil slumped on the forward cushion, glad now of any rest because his legs tottered under him. “Your gracious majesty,” stuttered De Banana, and got no further. His hands clung to the window frame, and the clenched fist of the emperor pound- ed down on his fingers. He swayed and fell aside as the horses plunged ahead and the coach rolled on, circling the house and emerging again on the road, followed by a line of carriages, in one of which ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Violette clung to her father, and Jack Butts blinked in bewilderment at the swift changes of scenes into which he had been hurled. “Palmetto wine, that hunchback gave me to drink,” he muttered. “Tis a heady drink, I swear.” A scream from Violette silenced his musing aloud. “M’sieu’, you speak the tongue of Angleterre.” “Aye, lady. [’m a Cornishman, across the channel from your land. I followed the lad Trelawney, and got into the mess. They’ve blacked me like themselves, and I’ve near lost what wits I had from watching dreadful sights in the woods with that tongue- less ape who sought out Gefondo and led us to their great fire. “But I’m no blackamoor. And if my brawn can serve you, rest certain that for the lad’s sake they’ll only tor- ment you over the dead body of Jack Butts.” Violette laughed in hysteria of re- lief. She took his big rough hand be- tween her own white palms, and Jack felt hot tears falling on his fingers. “Tell me, what is the meaning of all this? I was so pleased when they welcomed us with such display. You see, my kinsman, who owned great es- tates here, died suddenly, and the land was left to me. France was in such a turmoil that we came here to this haven. Haven, did I say? ’Tis any- thing but that.” “They decided to wife you with De Banana, I take it.” Jack rubbed his shock of hair. “I don’t rightly under- stand it all, but anyways I’m here, and your father’s here. Between us we will keep you safe until the lad is ready for his bride.” “Bride? You mean young Trelaw- ney?” exploded the marquis, his voice still quavering from the ordeal through which they had passed. “ She'll -wed no man whose father sells guns to fight France.” “ Faith, an’ those last outpourings S (E(0) 0)(0 0) AMG (F@)