Argosy, Vol. 1 (December 9, 1882) — page 202: what you’re looking at

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

THE QUEEN’S BODY GUARD. 195 Regarding the character of de Villiers, or Jean Daron, or whatever the man’s name might be, he expressed himself as follows: “The fellow is either an eccentrique as you suggest, Henry, or else he is a blackleg, up to some illegitimate game, and | strongly suspect the latter is the truth. I only wish,” he added regretfully, “ that I looked enough like you to palm myself off as the original of your photograph. I would leave you here to look after my weighty law business, while I went in search of what adven- tures might befall me as the secretary.” But of course such a substitution would be at once suspected, and so was out of the question. It was decided, however, that Cottrell should keep his friend fully acquainted with what took place in his: new abode, and Struthers apreed to “ run over” in his yacht before long. By way of a parting gift he presented Cottrell with a sword cane and a brace of pistols of the most modern type. Cottrell laughed heartily at this warlike equipment, but the young barrister remarked laconically: “ You never can tell.” The journey by rail to Dover and thence by the jaunty little channel steamer to Calais was accomplished without incident and in comfort, thanks to a calm sea and the funds sent by Cottrell’s mysterious employer. After a brief halt at Paris he was off again, whizzing southward. He was well supplied with current literature, but he could not fix his thoughts on anything save the strange, unknown future towards which he was hurrying. Presently, the train slowed up and came to a stop at a little coast village. It was a garrisoned town, as was plainly told by the fortress visible through the trees on a bluff overlooking the sea, its big black guns so placed as to guard the approach to the miniature harbor. On the platform was a knot of officers; bidding farewell to one of their number. They were gesticulating and grimacing, after the manner of all Frenchmen. Cottrell, as it happened, was the only occupant of his compartment, much to his satisfaction, for he was in a mood for solitude, and he was therefore rather chagrined when the guard flung the door open and a tall, swarthy man with piercing black eyes, and in the fatigue uniform of a lieutenant in the French army, clambered in. ° As the train had not yet started, the officers who had walked down to see him off, grouped themselves by the open door and kept up an animated con- versation in their own language. Cottrell could not help overhearing what they said. They were discussing the imminence of a Spanish-American war. The American Minister to Spain had just received his passports, so one remarked. This was news to Cottrell, and he pricked up his ears. “ T’ll tell you what it is,” one of the officers was saying, “ we shall see war declared within the week.” ‘““ Mon Dieu! I hope so,” exclaimed the.tall heutenant in a harsh voice. “The Spanish soldier would teach those loud mouthed American pigs a les- son they'd not soon forget.” GONG OOO UN ceo