The Argosy, Vol. XXV, No. 1 — page 146: what you’re looking at

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

146 THE GOLD DELUGE. On a Thursday, early in July, when the exchange of letters had been car- ried on about one month, Erik sent the following message to Szemsky : ‘Friday night, 1A. M. Send mea few grains of chloral hydrate, and, if possible, a vial of chloroform. Courage, friend! Provide yourself also with chloroform.’’ CHAPTER XVI.—THE ExpLosIon. FRIDAY evening! Erik ate his supper, closely observed by his keeper, who glanced with longing eyes at the beer mug. 3 Would he never go? Yes, at last he stepped outside a few moments. Quick as lightning, Erik drew forth from its hiding place behind the wall pacding a small paper package, and from it dropped several grains of a colorless crystal into his mug, where they immediately dissolved. ‘Good !’’ he thought. ‘‘Glad I got chloral ; he will never taste nor smell that. Morphine would have tickled his nostrils.” A moment later the keeper returned. His eyes brightened with joy when he noticed that the mug was still half full of beer. He immediately placed it to his lips and drained it off at one draught. He tottered out of the cell with the plate and the mug in his hand, locking the cell door behind him. Krik ran to the little wicket, and saw him stagger, fumble around in the air with the hand in which he held the mug and plate, then suddenly make tracks for a settee in a window niche on the opposite side of the corridor, where his head fell over on his arms, and he lay in helpless stupor. Krik remained there with eyes riveted to the opening, listening and watch- ing. Suppose some one came and discovered the sleeping keeper? At each sound he shrank together. No one appeared, however, and the chloral did its work undisturbed. ‘Less than the maximum dose he certainly did not get,’’ Erik mumbled to himself. ‘‘I only hope he will not snore too loud.’’ The clock in the tower struck twelve. ‘The half hour struck, then one in the morning. But not a sound in the corridor—what was that? Did the. clock strike again? Half past one! And no Szemsky ! Nothing—not a sus- picion of an approaching step—it was awful! Finally and ozemsky at last ! A subdued exclamation and a hearty handshake followed, and Szemsky, by a sign, commanded silence. Noiselessly, like Indians on the warpath, both now crept in their stock- ing feet along the corridor, up the steps near by, to the next floor, where was located the storeroom. Pst! A guard walks with heavy step—a strong, broad shouldered giant. Will their plan succeed ? ) Szemsky motioned silently to Erik to remain standing where he was; then took a sponge from his pocket, uncorked a small vial and a sweet pungent odor permeated the atmosphere. Szemsky saturated the sponge and watched the guard for a favorable moment for attack. He approached them and then turned around without having noticed them. He came and turned again—now !—his back was towards them. , : , Comicbooks (S(@)