Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1923 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

A484 perhaps—I wonder!” He paced the length of the room again. ‘‘ I wonder if the silly ass really is afraid and is brooding over giv- ing his job up!” Kesh paused, breathing heavily. Some one had opened the door to the front ve- randa, admitting a breath of hot suffocating air. The major gasped at his cheroot, feel- ing as if a blanket of ether were cast over him. The monsoon would break, he felt sure, for the air had become insufferable with a musty growing. heat. “Can such a horror be possible—right here under Government’s eyes?” he was saying to himself. ‘‘ We keep tab on the big states—the states that give us revenue, that are near the railroads, that offer us Sikhs for our armies! But these miserable little out-of-the-way holes! And to think that Britishers still vanish into the jungle—”’ Surgeon-Major Kesh stopped abruptly. He wiped his hand acrcss his eyes where sweat was streaming, and then stared speechless at what he saw. In the darkness of the doorway there stood a girl, dressed in whites with white silk stockings and tennis shoes. The dim beauty of her features was partially veiled by the silk pugaree draped about her hel- met. But the lips were visible and the major saw them part suddenly with the radiance of a smile. And in that one tired smile he saw all the excitement, joy, thank- fulness of a helpless girl meeting a comrade in a strange and horrible place. “ Thank God!’ were the words on her lips as she went to him. The major was bewildered, inking at first the girl might have made some mistake about his identity. ‘I hope I can be of service,’ he stammered. ‘ My name is Kesh—Surgeon-Major Kesh—I—”’ The publican who had followed the girl into the room, came to the major’s rescue: “This lady is in distress, sir. She was to have met a friend at the tonga-depot down in the city. Fate has so spun the circumstances that her friend—an English- man—failed to meet her. She found her- lone in: this desolate city, and has been sed to stop here over night under my ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “ Everything is all right now!” the girl said with a laugh. “I had a horrible fear that there would be no Englishman in this whole city! Now I am safe! and I am going to take it all as a lark! My fiancé will surely come before morning.”’ “Your fiancé—here?” the major asked in bewilderment. “Yes. If he follows my instructions.” « VYour—”’ Kesh curbed his curiosity for the mo- ment. The young woman was not in a po- sition to be brutally cross-questioned. He changed his tone: 2 ‘Yes, everything is surely all right. You are safe now.” He turned to his newly hired houseboy. ‘“ Chuprassi! Bring me my satchel. You'll have a glass of port? Yes, yes, everything is surely all right!” Scarcely had the words escaped from the major’s lips before the Being who had al- ready crawled unnoticed into the room, held a glass of red wine up to her. She drank, and a touch of color came to her pallid face. Before sitting in the grasshop- per chair which the major swung about for her, she removed the silk-covered topi from her head, revealing a sudden beautiful wealth of bronze-gold hair. The lamplight lent a soft radiance to her white forehead, the straight nose, half parted lips and the delicate pink chin. Her very pallor, the major observed, was radiant, like the beau- ty of ivory, except that it was touched with the dim, almost imperceptible, glow of life. The publican stared, showing the whites about his muddy eyes. ‘‘ There are two Englishmen here to protect you,” he said, rubbing his hands fawningly. “ The sur- geon-major and myself.” “To protect me?” <A _ quizzical smile flickered to the girl’s lips. ‘* Ridiculous!” the major put in. ‘“ Every- thing is all right. You will have a good night’s rest. I can see you are exhausted from the terrific heat. A little supper, and then—-”’ ‘* But, sir,” the publican objected. ‘‘ How can you say there is no danger. Beyond the jungle the devil-worshippers—” “Now, shut up!” the major snapped. “ Get out of here and pluck another fowl— not a cock-fighter, but a pigeon.” Gomichbooks (E©)