Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 92: what you’re looking at

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

230 back to your hell, you demon—Sans Souci!” Shriek after shriek of terror rang through the room. From the outer chamber the guards ran in, then stood as if spellbound while the sheeted figure whirled and swooped, and clawed the air, and the emperor cov- ered himself under the lace coverlet he had snatched, and buried his face in its folds, groaning in terror, then screaming to his guards. Their dark faces were gray. ‘Alone and hidden among them, Basil had recognized the - pretty, pink-nailed hands of Little Fire, but he could not guess what whim had set her to this prank of frightening Christophe. She held them all in a spell of terror while she danced. She moaned, and the moans ended in a wild burst of silver laughter. Quite evidently the mad dancer enjoyed the consternation she was causing. Then she suddenly whipped aside the sheet and shook her mask in his face. At once the guards leaped, but Chris- tophe had recovered his courage. “You dogs, you curs, you—’” he called them names of unutterable in- decency—‘“ to let a woman frighten you. Come here, Little Fire. Tell your emperor who told you to waken me by a ghost dance and provided you the death mask of Sans Souci?” “T frighten you? It was a merry dance. My Lord De Banana said it would prove so. I shall show it to the empress and tell her how her emperor hid his face from so small a woman as me!” “De Banana! De Banana told you and gave you the death mask of Sans Souci. We'll find this De Banana, and think of ways to show how we appre- ciate his jesting. “Take away this Little Fire. Id as soon touch a fer-de-lance; but mind you treat her gently. ’Tis said the gods protect those whose wits have fled, and I have trouble in plenty now. Take her to my empress, and fetch this De Banana, quickly.” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Christophe broke into oaths whose violence grew with his rage. Foam gathered at his lips, and his frenzy was madder than the dance of Little Fire. He caught up a chair and crashed it against the wall; snatched at an- other and, whirling it like a club, heaved it at his guards. They crowded the door making their escape, and the room was empty of all but the frightened valet de chambre, for Basil had seized that opportunity to escape with the crowd who cared not a whit about the jester. He went to his own room, where, to his amazement, he saw Gefondo seated in his window, arms wound about his knees, chin on his breast, asleep. “A precarious perch, Gefondo,” he said gently, so not to startle the hunch- back. Gefondo opened his eyes, dropped his feet, and stepped inside, then yawned prodigiously. ‘“‘ How did you reach this room so quickly. I thought you’d be at Sans Souci.” “TI have ways and means, young master, to travel quickly. But tell me how you fared, and what is this sound of screams that disturbed my own slumber ?” Basil told him of the scene in the emperor's bedroom, and Gefondo grinned his silent, horrid laughter. ““T knew he’d have more dreams,” he said, and was again convulsed with soundless mirth. Weary to death, Basil dropped on the bed and unfas- tened his shoes, and dropped the belled cape he had carried, on the floor. “Tell me,” he said thoughtfully, “what has Christophe done, that not one who eats his bread, is loyal ?” “Well, young master, I wear this twisted spine because of his abuse.” Gefondo’s voice was low and smooth- flowing, like the purr of a great cat. “My name was De Tourraine. His black men stole me as a small child, and I servéd Christophe like a dog without receiving the kind treatment which some dogs get.” EOPMICOOOL< (E@)