Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 25, 1924 — page 129: what you’re looking at

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

- CLOVELLY. “You will never understand—you will never trust me, Michael!” ‘‘ Never!” he answered savagely. “ God be my help that I may never lose the wits of a man because a girl simpers at him! I tell you this frankly, Cecily, in order that you may know me. If you can go free of me once again, do so in the devil’s name, and never come within the reach of my hand. If you can leave me once more as you have left me to-night, ride, ride till your horse falls dead, and then run on foot to put miles between us. I tell you this, in order that the game may be even between us.” He added slowly: ‘“ And yet, why should I tell you this? For the thing to which I take you, you will consider a paradise!”’ He struck his hands together and broke into a loud laughter that had no cheerful ring of mirth in it, ‘“ Where will you take me, Michael?” she asked him. “A short road to heaven on earth—for you!” “ Heaven on earth for a bad woman— that is how I read your words!” ‘Good and bad are things to be juggled with—not to be understood. No more of this.” “Only this much—that I shall never, never try to escape from you. And if others were to take me away from you, I should try with all my might to come back.” He raised his, hand. “ Do you think that you have here before you,” he demanded, “‘ some callow boy who has never heard the wiles and the oiled tongue of a woman before?” “And yet, Michael, suppose that you should be wrong? Suppose that you should be wrong about me?” “Can the eyes of a man lie—can his ears lie?’”’ he cried at her, enraged by such brazen outfacing of the ‘horrible truth. “Only once in ten thousand times. Only once!”’ Deep masses of cloud washed across the moon again, and deeper darkness rolled across the mind of Clovelly. She had put into words the very doubt which ha~ leaped into his brain the evening before, If he were wrong— 119 He looked about him. Save for him and the girl, the clearing was empty. Dunbar had ridden out of sight. And that angered him. Did the tactless fool think that he, Clovelly, would waste time and thought on sentimental speeches to another man’s mistress? But still that thought rang in his mind like a bell: What if he were wrong? He rode close to her, and, leaning from the height of White Harry, he passed one arm about her and with the other hand he pressed back her face until he saw the glis- tening of her eyes just beneath his own. “Say it, girl,” he commanded fiercely, “as you hope for heaven, say it if you can after me: ‘I am free from spot and stain, body and soul!’ ” There was a little pause; the water dripped steadily from the trees; the frogs droned in a chorus from a near-by pond. _ Then she said: | “T am free from spot and stain, body and soul!” “You lie from the bottom of your heart!” he cried brutally. “ Tell me again in another way: Have you never loved a man?” | There was quiet again, and the beating of his heart shook both their bodies, and he breathed the sweetness of her rain-wet hair. At last she sighed: “Oh, Michael, Mi- chael Clovelly!” “Ts that an answer?” he cried in rage, She did not speak, and, releasing her, he reined back the stallion. ‘“‘ Ride on at my side!” he commanded her curtly. “ Dunbar!” Dunbar rode out before him, and so, all three, they turned again into the open road —but, alas, hew the heart of Michael Clovelly was aching! CHAPTER XXIX. A VENAL RAPIER. IS grace of Ipswich had thrown off his waistcoat. He had jerked frem his neck a collar of the mest precious lace and opened his shirt at the threat fer easier breathing. And now with his hands Gomicboolks (E@)