Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 135: what you’re looking at

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

CAPTAIN LIGHTFOOT~ 133 He was a man of uncertain origins, by the name of Grimshaw; what he was—English, Scottish, Welsh—nobody knew. He was well hated in the prison, and also feared. He watched Michael’s cell all day long from a chair halfway down the corridor, and at night he slept at the same spot on a mattress put out for him; he even had his meals in the corridor. There were no more notes. ... And now the big clock at the Castle ticked off the minutes inexorably, like a dispassionate second tolling the count for duellists. *“No turning back now,”’ the clock seemed to be saying. ‘“‘ The die is cast. There is no stopping the remorseless passage of time.” And Michael tried not to listen to the gloomy bing-bong of the clock as it struck the hours, one by one. ... Iwo days, two nights left, and Michael was restlessly pacing his cell like a big cat in the zoo. He heard the Castle clock strike eleven, then twelve. Suddenly there was a banging at his cell door, and Michael saw a face looking in at him through the small grille. “* How goes the night, rebel? ”’ the face asked, then there was a jeering laugh. Grimshaw! Michael made no reply. “I think I caught you weeping,” jeered Grimshaw. ‘“‘ The great Captain Lightfoot snivelling in his cell. Ah, what a jest! What a tale to tell later.” Now Michael lost his head completely and began to rage round his cell and kick his door like a demented man and scream insults that flashed and coruscated and were like the blows. from a whip. Turning, Grimshaw called down the corridor: ‘‘ Mullins, bring me the butt. The Captain’s gone mad, and needs taming.” Michael pressed his face to the grille, a terrible joy in his heart. *“ Only open this door,” he wanted to shout. ‘“‘ Just for one second —then to hell with the hanging! ” Dimly through the small grille he saw a warder hand Grimshaw a short, ugly black whip with a heavy, leaded butt. And now Grimshaw unlocked Michael’s cell door, then jumped back quickly as Michael came raging out into the corridor. Grimshaw, five or six inches taller than Michael and much broader, stood with his legs apart and the whip ready for a blow as Michael crouched before him, eyeing him, feinting, ready for the do-or-die rush. And then . . . Grimshaw’s left eyelid was lowered briefly, and Michael stared and there was a passing inner shock and he won- dered for a moment which of them was mad .. . and then it hap- pened again. There was a wild joy in Michael’s heart. ‘“‘ All’s well!’ Trim’s note had stated. “ All’s well.” Now Grimshaw grabbed him by the collar and hustled him down the corridor past the other cells. And finally they were at the head of the spiral stairway with the iron hand-rail which led down to the deep dungeons, and Michael heard a violent, metallic rattling that comicloooks.comn