The Argosy, Vol. 90 No. 1 — page 98: what you’re looking at

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

92 “Wish he’d given me a forecast of his_ report,’ my news instinct prompted me to say. “ Better not ask him, seeing how he snapped you up.” And Batak smiled grimly. The rain began as we reached the veranda, falling in a dull-gray downpour. The pounding of the water on the veranda- roof made conversation difficult. The twi- light made it hard to believe it was high noon in May. The dining-hall, long and low of ceiling, would have been as gloomy as a cellar if not for the scattered yellow blobs of candles. Colonial atmosphere was everything at the Arms. Camper strode to the door of the hall and paused to survey the few diners grouped near the opposite wall. Then he turned to a string of empty tables near the door and waited for me to make a choice. Seeing he was averse to fellowship, and recalling I was the host, I bustled ahead and scared up a waiter from the shadows, and conducted my guests to a side table. The waiter punctuated the gloom with two candles and departed with our orders, my friends refusing a preliminary drink. We slumped back in the old-fashioned chairs, Camper’s melancholy mood exerting its influence on Batak and me. It was more like a funeral than a friendly luncheon. I heartily wished them both back in town. For nearly a minute the dismal silence remained unbroken, with Camper staring down at the table, the grayness of death on his face. Just as my nerves began jump- ing, he jerked up his head and in a hollow voice began: ‘TI can’t see as it has changed any.” ‘“A very old place,” murmured Batak, eager to encourage him. ‘“It was here, serving man and beast, during the Revolutionary War,” muttered Camper, again darting a peculiar glance at Batak and repeating it on me. This time I could have sworn the man was frightened at something. “Tt must have seen some history,” I prompted. ‘ Colonials and king’s troopers must have called here frequently. Bully for local color stuff.”’ ‘‘ Legend says something more important THE ARGOSY. than loc»’ color was witnessed by the Arms,” « mper ominously replied, the croak in his voice fitting in with the de- pressing. atmosphere. ; We waited for him to go on. His head fell forward, and his fingers plucked aim- lessly at the table-cover till I feared he was sinking into a stupor. Then he resumed: ‘ According to ancient gossip, repeated to me by my grandfather when I was a lad, the history of this country was decided here at the Arms. For it was here, so went the story in the old days, that the captors of Major André first learned of his trip to ne- gotiate with Benedict Arnold for the sur- render of West Point.” It is impossible to convey any impression of how these few words were twisted from his lips, as though some agency were drag- ging them from him against his will. I was positive his manner cast the same sinister spell over Batak. And it may be that the electrical disturbances added to the effect. ‘Quite momentous, only history fails to mention it,” said Batak, pushing forward his cigarette-case. Camper refused to smoke, but gazed steadily at Batak for some moments, as if trying to sense his words. Then he returned to pleating the table-cloth, and deep creases sank into his forehead. And he was labori- ously saying: ‘My grandfather used to -tell the tale. It made a deep impression on my young mind. That’s why I remember so vividly the day my father brought me here—I peo- pled the place with ghosts. “The story consisted of this: A servant served André with refreshments in this very room. He suspected his errand was hostile to the welfare of the colonies. After André departed, the three colonials came along and sat on the veranda and called for food. While serving them, the waiter voiced his suspicions about André, and as a result of that information André was captured—and hung. Worse than death was Arnold’s lot— the eternal condemnation of mankind.” His vehemence in declaring the last caused me to shiver. His fashion of paus- ing before pouncing on the word hung, and the hint of exultation or fear in speaking the word made me wince and draw back. oO comicbool< CO