The Argosy, Vol. XXIV, No. 3 — page 161: what you’re looking at

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

A CONSPIRACY OF THE CATACOMBS, 545 Safford heard them coming towards him, and fairly shook with fear, for he had not the slightest doubt that they would murder him. Suddenly an idea occurred to him. It was only a chance, one in athousand, but he grasped at it eagerly. He would pretend not to understand Italian. The footsteps began to grow more distant. They were going the wrong way. Summoning all his strength, Safford cried in English : ““Help! Help! Iam lost. Don’t abandon me, good people, for the love of Heaven !’’ The men halted. ‘“What’s that gibberish ?’’ one asked. ‘It’s English,’’ said the leader. ‘‘ Apparently some fool of a foreigner has lost his way. Perhaps, after all, he did not hear us, and did not un- derstand.’’ ‘“We'll run no risks,’’ growled he to whom the assassin’s lot had fallen. ‘“That’s right,’’ chimed in another, ‘‘ best take no chances. You can’t trust these foreign demons. It may be a spy.’’ ‘‘ Then why should he call us, when we were going away from him ?’’ said the leader grufily. ‘‘ Stick to what you understand, and leave this to me.” The men grumbled, but obeyed. A moment later they came upon Saf- ford, and flashed their lanterns.on his eyes. "The haggard lines of the face, hollow eyes, sunken cheeks, and hue of- death convinced them that he was there against his will, not an intentional spy—but had he understood ? ‘“ What are you doing here, sir?’’ said the leader of the conspirators, addressing Safford in fairly correct English. Safford told his story in the fewest possible words, for he had little breath to spare. What he had he spent in begging for food and water. One of the men had a biscuit in his pocket and another had a flask of whisky. The wolfish way in which poor Safford fell on these refreshments moved the little band of assassins to expressions of wonder and pity. ‘“ Don’t you understand a single word of Italian?’’ said the jeaten sud- denly in that language. Safford checked the ‘‘No’’ that was almost out, and substituted ‘‘ Did you speak tome?’’ After that he was on his guard, and though several more attempts were made to trap him into showing some understanding of the language, he succeeded in not betraying himself. ‘“Well,’’ said the leader, turning to his comrades, ‘‘ what say you? I feel sure this man is harmless. Shall we rescue him? His life saved will atone for that other life we feel called on to sacrifice. Unnecessary bloodshed is no part of our purpose.’’ “It shall be as you decide, excellency. Nevertheless, it seems unwise to me to risk the success of our enterprise, ever so little, for the sake of this foreigner who is three quarters dead already.’’ It was hard indeed for Safford to keep his face perfectly expressionless while his fate was being discussed. Quite a hot dispute arose over him, but the leader gave the final word in his favor. | ‘Give me your attention one moment, I pray, sir,’’ his excellency said, turning again to Safford. ‘‘ We belong toa club of philosophers—a debating (K) Oo CONniCGloOOKSse@® 5}