Argosy, Vol. 1 (December 9, 1882) — page 252: what you’re looking at

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

THE QUEEN’S BODY GUARD. 245 on the fourth day at sundown, just over the border of Bayonne, when all nego- tiations may be consummated.” “ How do I know but that this is a trap?’ demanded Cavara, fastening his suspicious eyes on Cottrell. The American. smiled deprecatingly. “ With your band of men at your back, prepared for any emergency, surely you would be exposed to no danger, sefior.’ ‘“ What proof have I that you are Count Rignault’s messenger? How do I know that you are not a police or military spy?” snapped out the Spaniard savagely. This change of the count’s plans had not pleased him. “ You can keep me here as hostage till you return from your interview with Lieutenant Rignault,” answered Cottrell quietly enough, but his heart was beating like a triphammer, for on the brigand’s decision hung the success or failure of his daring plan of rescue. Cavara paced thoughtfully up and down the long apartment, viciously gnawing his nails and bearing himself after the manner of one who is at war within himself. Presently, as the Spaniard in his pacings approached a window that over- looked a sort of inner court, he paused abruptly and gazed out with an intent- ness that attracted Cottrell’s notice. The American was just behind the other, and looking out over his shoul- der, he started with a smothered exclamation, for below him was the countess with the girl Anne. They were walking slowly up and down, evidently for the sake of the fresh air and exercise. Cottrell felt his heart thrill with love and admiration at the sight of the beautiful Marie, bearing herself with the same stately grace, the same easy poise of the head, those outward signs of her inherent nobleness of character. - As Cottrell looked he saw Marie shiver slightly and draw more closely about her her light wrap, for the mountain air was chilling, and circumstances had prevented her from preparing for her new surroundings. “A pretty picture,” panion. The Spaniard’s face had flushed deeply, and there was a new light in his eyes that gave Cottrell a thrill of vague alarm. “That charming picture,” continued Cavara, in his ringing, masterful tone, “ has brought me toa decision. Tell your master that I shall not stir one step from here except on my own pleasure, and that it does not suit my pleas- ure to do his bidding now. Tell him he need not keep his promise of the hundred thousand francs’ payment. For I intend to make the countess my wife, and then anything he does to interfere with her rights, he shall have to answer to me for. For then her rights shall be mine! ” If the brigand chief had not been so engrossed with his own thoughts and passions, Cottrell’s horror stricken face would have betrayed something of the truth to the Spaniard. The poor countess’ plight was indeed a desperate one; worse—far worse— than had been her unhappy lot at home. So long as Cottrell believed that Cavara was merely actuated by merce- GONG OOO said Cavara, turning suddenly around on his com- . UN ceo