The Argosy — page 84: what you’re looking at

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

Checkmate in Ten Moves. at Unconsciously I clutched the old woman’s wrist, and gasped out the question, “‘Who is there?” At my words a figure rose from its dark corner, and two cold hands met mine. “Best, kindest, gentlest of Englishwomen,” he murmured, “ with you I know I am safe, as I am with this faithful friend. You can guess why I am here—why I have braved every peril—staked my life, my honour, my freedom—for one more glance at my loved one’s face before I go into the battle that may divide us for ever.” It was indeed Ulrich Leinhardt : and a tremendous risk that he had run. In the temper of the French at that time, the suspicion of being a spy was tantamount to a penal sentence; and had I not fully believed in the sincerity of his motives, I should have felt hardly justified in conniving at his entrance. It crossed his mind, perhaps, that I doubted him; for he hastened to assure me that, as far as Trois Etoiles was concerned, he had neither eyes, ears, nor memory for anything that would do her hurt. He had won a short furlough from duty by private service to his colonel—he did not specify what—and his colonel had that trust in him, and that keen sense of honour, that he had not enquired where he meant to go, and would ask no questions when he got back. I found he had been all night in that shed, cramped for room, and with very little to eat—even his pipe denied him—for fear of discovery; and his eagerness to see his beloved Mariette could not hide the fact that he was both tired and hungry. Mere Dénise had given him a crust early in the morning, and could do no more. Poor fellow! when I handed him my basket, and begged he would make free with its contents, the tears sprang to his eyes. He kissed my hand gratefully, and set to work with the eagerness of famine; while I was considering what to do next. His remaining there was too dangerous; the old woman shook her head when I questioned her ; and observed that she had had some difficulty in keeping him hidden till then. Any moment might bring a discovery ; and then— She held up her hands in a silence more emphatic-than words. He had already taken the precaution of disguising himself in a peasant’s blouse and night-cap ; and, with a few additions, I thought we might contrive to pass him into the house unchallenged. The old gardener’s leggings, and a big basket of faggots to carry on his shoulders, were hunted out by Mére Dénise; and having grimed his face and hands, and hidden his chestnut hair under the cotton cap, It seemed to us that he might safely emerge—the more boldly the better—and walk into the house. The basket of faggots being deposited in the back premises, he was then to take up a heavy box of books, which I had brought with me, and at which the maids had all looked askance as at an enemy. If I could get him up the back-stairs with this to the small sitting-room, which was my castle, I could lock him in, and let his friends know. To make recognition as difficult as possible, an old horse-cloth was GONG OOO SS (S(O)