Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 25, 1924 — page 76: what you’re looking at

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

66 stared at her curiously were laughing shrilly from vermilion painted lips, Mar- got’s face was drawn with terror and tears were running down her cheeks. “Come on, Margot,” urged Guy Dalby. “Pedro isn’t going to hurt you. He’s a prince!” Then as his ward still tried to shrink back into the anteroom he spun her onto the floor with a vicious snap. *“Come on,” he growled. ‘ No one is going to eat you! It’s a nice party! All friends together! They want to see you dance.” At the sight of the trembling girl, Valdez advanced majestically across the ballroom, a string of women hanging to each arm, and his corpulent body swaying like old Silenus himself. “There you are,” he chuckled flatly. ** Ah, here is my lily of the north, my danc- ing doll!” Margot retreated before him, staring piteously at her guardian for protection from the drunkard. ‘““T knew you’d be here, you little beauty! I passed out the word to have you brought in—and here you are! Now dance for us!” George was groaning with fury as he saw Valdez’ fat hand reach out toward Margot ~ and his own hand tightened about his auto- matic. It was out of his pocket, the finger on the trigger ready to shoot from the hip. But at that moment a firm touch on his wrist checked him and he looked straight into a pair of black, eyes under a red satin mask, a costume of scarlet and black with a red flower in the hair. The eyes were full of bold deviltry and could not be mistaken. “ How did you get here?” he whispered in astonishment. ““ S—st!” cautioned Tina. “ Don’t talk and for God’s sake don’t start anything rough!” It had happened in a split second. Be- fore Valdez’ outstretched hand had touched Margot, the lithe figure in black and scar- let was spinning like a whirling firebrand across the polished floor. Right under Valdez’ astounded eyes she jerked to a stop and poised with a hip thrown out at a pro- voking angle, one arm akimbo, the other snapping above her head as if she were clicking castanets. Her eyes were a chal- ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. lenge. Every young line of her body was an invitation. To the rhythm of a native dance, she sinuously backed away, clicking the syncopated time with her little heels and the snapping of her fingers. ‘Brava! Brava!” cried the tipsy revel- ers. And Valdez, dragging his satellites, waddled after her as if hypnotized. “TI know you!” he gurgled rapturously. “T know who you are, you fascinating little devil! You’re the apache dancer!” He rolled his eyes langorously. Homesickness for Paris had seized him! “You're Montmartre! You’re the spirit of the brasseries of the Butte. You're the soul of Paris!” With bloodshot eyes, and _ babbling “‘ Paris! Ah Paris!” he lurched unsteadily in pursuit. As the crowd surged past him George found Margot unexpectedly at his side. He whispered sharply. ‘‘ Don’t hurry! Don’t make a noise! Keep your eye on me and follow!” CHAPTER XVII. A NEW PLAN. ARGOT _ stared doubtfully and shrank a little from this masked stranger, who looked like a holdup man with a handkerchief drawn across his face and the cap pulled low over his eyes. The crowd was pressing them closer to- gether as the spectators followed with laughing ribaldry in the wake of Pedro Valdez and the madcap dancer. Guy Dalby, with his hand still holding Margot’s wrist, was looking after the pair with mixed feelings. He was _ partly amused at Valdez’ new infatuation and partly irritated that his ward was over- looked for this latest whim. His hand relaxed on the girl’s wrist and George seized the opportunity to whisper to Margot. “Tt’s me! It’s George!” And then as Guy looked around he added in a loud voice: ‘“ May I have the pleasure of a dance with you, mademoiselle?” In a second she was swung clear of Guy Dalby’s grip and the couple were dancing Gomichbooks (C@