Argosy, Vol. 1 (December 9, 1882) — page 217: what you’re looking at

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

210 THE ARGOSY, ried out during his enforced seclusion, but the American already knew the count well enough to know that he would carry out his own schemes and these only. But now undoubtedly a time for action had come. The poor, weak, in- fatuated Anne was a worse menace than even the villain Rignault or that treacherous, snake-like butler. A sudden idea came to Cottrell that sent the warm blood surging exult- ingly through his veins. Suppose the count were to do some deed that night of a compromising nature, which he, Cottrell, should witness? Then, indeed, would they be quits, and the incident of the railway carriage no more a men- ace to him; Cottrell could defy the count. To track the girl Anne was to Cottrell a most disagreeable duty, but he decided that for the sake of thé countess it would be a necessary precaution. Just before dinner was announced he wrote a long letter to Struthers, tell- ing him everything that had happened. } “ And now, friend Dick,” he concluded, “if you can take a run over in the Albatross I shall be awfully glad to see you. The countess is badly in need of reinforcements. I can fight in the open as long as I have a leg to stand on, but the treachery and plotting going on around here, you would be more able to cope with than I. Matters will undoubtedly shortly reach a climax, so if you can come, come as soon as possible. You will have no trouble to land, as the beach 1s good.”’ And then followed minute directions as to the exact spot at which to effect a landing. Cottrell looked for Daron, that he might give him the letter to mail, but he was nowhere to be found, so he had to trust his missive to an under gardener, who was bound for Turonne that very evening to get some supplies. Now this man was one of the count’s hirelings, and he had not the slightest intention of mailing the letter, for Rignault’s instructions were that every letter should be delivered over to Louis, who read them and then, if harmless, they were sealed up again and posted. Fortunately for Cottrell, the man became drunk as a lord at Turonne, and the letter found its way somehow into the gutter, where it was discovered by a benevolent passerby and promptly mailed. Anne Trevoir proved to be a pale faced girl with large, pathetic eyes, and Cottrell, watching her narrowly at dinner, noticed that she was nervous, and every time. her gaze met his, she looked quietly away, while her fingers were never still. Her manner was certainly enough to arouse suspicion, and dinner through, after a few minutes’ talk with the countess, Cottrell excused himself. He went out on the front terrace for a smoke, where he could command a sweeping view of all paths that led to the beach. Fearing the light of his cigar might be seen, he threw it away; then hiding himself in the shadow of a pillar, he waited and watched. Cottrell imagined it must have been close on eleven o’clock when he heard a slight stir on one side of the chateau, and then the faint shadow of a figure was dimly seen hurrying off towards the beach. Without a moment’s hesitation, the young American went quickly in pur- GONG OOO UN ceo