The Argosy, April 1912 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

AS THE DICE FELL. What’s here? A masquerade or a headless man? ‘Take the thing’s hat off that we may observe it.” A ripple of laughter followed his query. “Tf it please your worship,” said the watch-officer humbly, “this is a desperate traitor, who did conspire in the evil gun- powder plot, and whose body I have seized in pursuance of a royal warrant.” His men, as the officer spoke, were busy prying up the smashed rim and crown of the sugar-loaf hat from my head. Off it came at last with suddenness and then I saw I was in the office of the Tower gate, where presided the committing magistrate. He was a thin, flaxen-haired man in gaudy robes and lolled back in a chair behind a carved, black table. Lounging about the room were several courtiers and other well-dressed men. I remembered, when I was in England be- fore, it had been the custom for well-to-do idlers to spend an hour or so in the com- mitting magistrate’s office of an evening to amuse themselves by watching the hapless prisoners who were brought thither for ex- amination. And now—ZI was the prisoner! I bowed to the magistrate, who took no heed of my salute, then stood awaiting the next move in the wretched game. “What is your name, fellow?” de- manded the magistrate in his high voice. Before I could reply, the watch-officer spoke up. “Tf it please your worship, ‘tis Mark Errol, the—” “Mark Errol?” broke in the magis- trate. “I dined at Errol’s house a score of times in the days before he turned ma- lignant traitor to his king. Errol is full twenty years older than this man, and a head shorter.” “But, your worship,” babbled the of- ficer, “the name ‘ Mark Errol’ be set forth clear and fair in this warrant. I know, for I be a man of learning as well as of substance and I can read. See it for your- self, your worship.” The magistrate brushed aside the prof- fered document. “What care I about the name on the warrant?” he fumed. “This is no Mark Errol. You have blundered grievously, officer.” “TI, your worship?” protested the indig- nant officer. “I be as zealous an arm of the law as may be found in all England. Aye, and as shrewd.” 15 “You are an ass!” retorted the magis- trate. . The watch-officer’s fat face went purple with mortification. Then, observing that the magistrate’s clerk was scribbling away at his notes, the luckless man cried in wild entreaty: “Oh, master clerk, in your report I pray you write me not down an ass! That I should live to see the day that any clerk should write Jem Dogberry down an ass!” A laugh burst from the bystanders. I glanced across at them, taking closer heed of their aspect than at my first general look. And there seated amid a group of gallants, I saw a familiar figure. It was Will Shakespeare. His eyes were full of mirth, yet as he looked at me they filled with troubled pity. He could do nothing for me, yet his look of sympathy warmed my heart. I looked back at the magistrate. “?Tis not Mark Errol,” the latter was saying again, “but who is it? And how and where captured you him, Dogberry?”’ “At the house where the passengers for the Virginia voyage were gathered for de- parture, your worship,” answered Dog- berry. “’Twas there we had word he was hiding. And there, sure enough, he was. Behold him!” “Silence!” roared the magistrate in the last stages of exasperation. Then he turned on me. “Give an account of yourself, sirrah! ” “I was with some of the other passengers for the Virginia voyage this evening,” I said quietly, “waiting to go aboard our ships. This fellow watchman entered the house to make an arrest. I chanced to pass out through the hallway and Master Dogberry and his crew seized me. They dragged me here.” Dogberry had been staring at me with his dull, near-sighted eyes. “Tis not the same man,” he now broke out. ‘“T’other was shorter and older. Yet I cannot have made a mistake. And—the fellow hath grown a head taller since he came hither.” Another laugh, and once more the magis- trate cut in. ie “You have the bearing and voice of a gentleman, sir,” he said to me more civilly, “and I would not interfere with a volun- teer for these colonies by which our gracious king sets such store. Yet, I can scarce understand— ” GoOmiGcdoo S