Argosy, Vol. 1 (December 9, 1882) — page 250: what you’re looking at

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

THE QUEEN’S BODY GUARD. 243 “Who goes?” The American put his hands to his mouth and shouted back, in the same tongue. “A messenger from Count Rignault to Don Cavara.” There was silence again for several minutes, and then was heard the rat- tling of chains and slowly the ponderous drawbridge descended to a horizontal position. At the same moment half a dozen evil looking rufhans came strag- gling down the stone steps from the castle and drew up in a line as Cottrell crossed the bridge. In silence they closed in around him as he continued on his way towards the castle. Half way up he heard the noise of the draw- bridge being hauled up again, and he felt as does a prisoner when the iron door of his cell swings to with a clank, and he knows that all retreat 1s cut off. There was one contingency that Cottrell had not counted on in leaving Louis behind him alive and at liberty, and that was that a straggling member of the brigand band might happen along in time to act as guide to the ex butler. Certainly his presence at the castle would be decidedly awkward for the American, now posing as the count’s messenger, and who had already formulated'a message of his own to take the place of the written one. His play of action was audacious enough, but he trusted to its very bold- ness to carry it through to a successful finish. CHAPTER X VIII. —IN rue Lion’s DEN. THE leader of the guard that had escorted Cottrell into the entrance of the castle motioned him to halt, and then he leisurely made his way along the vast hall and disappeared through a great doorway. Everything about the place was of vast proportions. Though from the outside the American had discerned no signs of life, he now saw that the castle fairly swarmed with men. They lounged about in pic- turesque groups talking and laughing in their rough way, but for all that there was a semblance of restraint in their movements that had not been appar- ent when on the march. Whatever license their despotic chief allowed them while out for booty, rioting and debauchery were not permitted within those walls. Some of the fellows were engaged in card playing, and the stakes were vari- ous odd trinkets and bits of plate that Cottrell recognized as having been stolen form the Chateau de Frenoir. Others were busy polishing and clean- ing their weapons, and the young American thought with a half desire to laugh that if they had expended a little of the energy which they put into the fur- bishing up of their firearms, into the proper attention to their own persons, the results would be worth attaining. Not all of the company were busy. A full score of bandaged ruffians lay about in various attitudes of ease, according to the nature of their wounds. These, thought Cottrell, with a thrill of grim satisfaction, were. received dur- ing their descent on the chateau; and every time one of them shifted his posi- tion with a heavy groan, the American felt a kind of wild pleasure at the sound. comicbod UN ceo