Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 116: what you’re looking at

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

“ ain %, . * ¢ a ae oe og =" <3 114 CHARLES C. 0’CONNELL The officer smiled. ‘“‘ Against your specific orders? ” if 9 Yes.”’ Why in the name of glory did they persist in this mockery? The two officers held a whispered consultation. One of the — guards behind the prisoner shuffled for an instant and was still again. ‘Then the second officer spoke. His was a soft face with none of the harsh lines of his superior, but his eyes were colder than a winter dawn. , “We should be interested to know why you allowed all three to go. Had you done your duty by one, there would have been no further trouble. Were they friends of yours? Did you know them? Or were you tempted by the amount of the bribe? ” The prisoner shook his head, and the perspiration temporarily held by his eyebrows trickled to his chin. “ They offered no bribe, sir. I did not know them.” “Then why did you let them through? ” “I thought it was—just.”’ ‘What do you know of justice? ”’ the officer sneered. The prisoner closed his eyes. Once again the picture of those three weary travellers came to his mind. They were fleeing from a terror which he represented. He had not harmed them be- cause they looked so desperately tired, or perhaps it had been that heart-searching appeal in the young woman’s eyes, or perhaps it was because of the child, so helpless in a world gone mad... Whatever the reason, his orders had suddenly appeared mon- strously evil. He opened his eyes. “I am a soldier,” he said firmly. “TI will not become an assassin.”’ 5 And then the guard behind him struck him at the base of the neck and he slumped to the ground. He was vaguely conscious of being kicked, but it did not hurt any more. A strange sense of unreality possessed him, as though he existed only in a dream. Some time later, he found himself on his feet again. The business of the court had finished. ‘There had been no death sentence. One of the officers merely nodded his head to the guard, and the prisoner was propelled towards the door. He staggered as he came into the sunlight, and his helmet fell off. Nobody picked it up—he would have no further use for it. The cool air stirring through his matted hair was as invigorating as wine. He was rushed forward and then, some paces from the tent, behind a high, screening boulder, his guards stopped. The prisoner was under no illusion. He knew that in a few - moments he would be dead. Yet he had no regrets. Perhaps it would be better to leave this world of injustice and suffering. comiclbooks.c@On) *