The Argosy, April 1912 — page 124: what you’re looking at

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

110 “What are we to do?” he humbly asked the monk, throwing himself entirely upon the judgment and counsel of the other. “Go to Regensburg,” replied Fardulf promptly. “To Regensburg! Are you mad? You should know as well as I that to go there would be comparable to Lucifer returning to heaven. Besides, what good is it to risk my life when there is no chance of ever win- ning back success? I have ‘ fallen,’ to use a term of the court, and I must say that it wasn’t done very gracefully.” Fardulf put away what remained of the food, and with an inward sigh set about the regeneration of Philip, a difficult thing, since the other was big and hard-headed. But the priest wrestled valiantly -until, at the end of an hour, the blackness had cleared from the Breton’s face and he had once more got a grip on himself. Thereupon they rose from the foot of the tree and started on their long journey through the woods. “Where are we?” asked Philip. “And where is Charlemagne’s band of soldiers that he led to the attack?” “We are a half a mile from the old ‘monastery through the thickest part of the forest and in the opposite direction from which we approached it last night. By traveling rapidly we can reach the city be- fore the king and be in readiness for any- thing that may happen.” “Then you think the king will return immediately to Regensburg?” “Yes, for his main object in stopping there is to try Felix, Bishop of Urgel, for heresy, and this expedition against you has already delayed him in the examination of the evidence. Furious, and balked of his prey, though he is, his zeal in matters of the church will draw him back to his sacred duty.” For perhaps an hour they walked on in silence. Fardulf, with the manner of one absolutely at ease amid his surroundings, led the way, twisting and winding among the mighty tree-trunks, through clearings, across little streams, and into dark gullies. The sharp eye of Philip could detect no path, but a question to Fardulf revealed the fact that the monk had been a native of the locality and had roamed every acre of those woods when a boy. Suddenly, with one of those rare intul- tions that became so well known later in French history in connection with Cardinal THE ARGOSY. Richelieu, Fardulf stopped abruptly and motioned Philip to silence. ‘I feel that we are near some human be- ing. Walk without sound,” he commanded, and they began a stealthy advance. After a quarter of an hour they drew near to a large sunny patch in the forest that de- noted a clearing, and redoubled their cau- tion. Finally they achieved the edge of it and, well-concealed behind trees, looked out. In the midst of the glade stood a magnifi- cent black horse, his nose buried in the grass, and his bridle dragging upon the ground. To their right, at the margin of the clearing, lay prone a small, black figure, its head upon a pillow of moss and grass. Fardulf and the Breton exchanged a sig- nificant glance. The man was Pepin the Hunchback, and he was asleep and snoring. “Probably ridden from Regensburg on some dirty work?” suggested Philip. The monk nodded. ‘“Let’s look closer,” he answered. Together they softly approached the sleeping man, and as Philip gazed down upon the one who had caused all his mis- fortune and misery a great hatred surged up in his heart. “ How easy it would be,” he thought, feel- ing for his sword, “to end everything now with one swift stroke.” But as quickly he put the idea from him, for, much as he hated the crooked creature before him, he could not lower himself to kill a sleeping enemy. Suddenly Fardulf pointed, and _ the Breton, following the gesture, saw a folded parchment stuck within the belt of Pepin. This, he knew they must get if possible without waking the sleeper, and Philip mo- tioned the monk to perform the difficult task. Bending over from behind, the dexterous fingers of Fardulf closed on the parchment and slowly withdrew it. Pepin had loosen- ed his belt when he lay down, and the paper came easily. The snoring continued with undisturbed regularity. Carefully, cautiously, the monk unfolded the parchment, lest it should crackle. Then he held it up that they both might read what follows: The white bird will fly on November 15. The money is secured. That was all. There was no signature; merely the one statement that blazoned it- COM Ghook (CO