Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 25, 1924 — page 106: what you’re looking at

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

96 Back again to light a candle, throw some- thing over her shoulders, and Jacqueline re- turned to the door. Without stopping this time to listen further, she turned the squeaking lock. Her heart thumped as if to beat itself out of her breast. Above that merciless tumult of her own emotions she heard the voices. Now they were distinct: a husky brutal jargon hurling itself against the subdued but adamantine sentences of her grandam. She tiptoed to the stair. A bat fluttered past her. The beams from the shaking candlestick she held cast widely wagging shadows everywhere, so that the whole house, the walls, the grand staircase awoke to a shuddering life. She ventured half way down. And from there she could look through the tall arched doorway that led to the dining hall. Quintilian stood there, his mottled fore- head beaded with sweat, his eyes bulging, his hand holding a golden tray, while with the other he groped for support as if about to faint. Her grandmother stood with face turned the other way. Even though the girl could see nothing but the old woman’s back, she seemed regal, imperturbed. Be- fore her a hideous beast with bushy black brows, unshaven jaws and a fat paunch, sat shapelessly in the cathedral chair. Be-' hind him stcod another bestial thing, who because of the candles throwing his fea- tures into relief, seemed to be a negro—even though apparently he was white. Both these visitors were of a sodden, murderous appearance without the glamour of pirates; as desperate and dangerous as any picture ci buccaneers Jacqueline had ever seen— but without the splendid touch of crimson sash, of jackboots or glittering steel. With this one glimpse of the plight her loved grandam and the helpless Quintilian were in, Jacqueline fled back to her room. Terror for her own safety was replaced by the far more exhilarating fear—the fear for those whom she loved. Her hand steadi- ied, and in consequence there was a cessa- tion of that bewildering play of criss- crossing lights and shadows. She ran to her window, under the sill of which there was an oaken chest, carved with arches and saints. She lifted the top with a creak of ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. massive hinges. A dagger was hidden somewhere in the mass of shawls, com- passes, charts; and she must find it. Her grandam was standing in the presence of murderers. The girl—the last of that great race of fighters—must go down to help. Her slender white hands rummaged about the mass of brass and steel, of silver and iron. She placed the candle on the window sill, and combed through the contents again. She threw out the shawls, quad- rants, charts, flags. For some damnable reason—a trick of destiny—the dagger was not there! It gave her the feeling as she stood up dazed, staring helplessly into the moonlit mist, that the last remnant of power of the Raiglons was gone. It was symbolized by the loss of that dagger. She looked to the swamps: those hyacinths lying there in dark patches on the bayeu—those were the allies of the Raiglons in the latter days when the sword was laid away! The hya- cinths—as her grandam had always said— had kept the Raiglon house safe from the world! The hyacinths ultimately brought all enemies of the Raiglons to account! It was of course for only the space of a brief moment that Jacqueline cast her dis- tracted glance down into that bayou. But it was at that moment that she saw a sloop with a man and a boy on board luffed up to the end of the inlet, and nosed into the tules just below the chateau. CHAPTER XIX. TIM THROWS ORDERS OVERBOARD. AMERON and his mate Tim Hollo- way were on the threshold of a splendid adventure. Both were aware of it. They looked up at the old chateau like two knights gazing at a spell- bound castle; eager, afire, yearning for dreadful combat. They saw a turret against the waning moon. A curtain of mist hung across the grim facade—silvery above, black and lowering underneath. They saw a narrow window casement, and leaning from it a girl frantically waving a scarf. What knight had ever received summons more soul-stirring than this? What scene 6A COPMICLOOKS (F@)