Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 1 — page 116: what you’re looking at

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

106 The room was chilly, in spite of the em- bers of the fire Aravang had kindled in the grate. When the curtains that screened Edith’s quarters swayed, Donovan could see the dressing-shelf the girl had fashioned laboriously—the mirror fixed in a chink in the stone, the silk-covered board bearing comb and pins, sewing materials, and va- rious little jars of rosewater. He did not look up when Iskander strode in, swagger- ing and fully armed. When the Arab saw that Donovan would not speak, he glanced curiously at Edith’s empty chair. Others of the Sayaks came, among them the chief, and finally Mahmoud. Each one looked at him fleetingly, then knelt on cushions or against ‘the wall, adjusting striped silk robes, and thrusting their hands into the wide sleeves. Still, Donovan did not speak. Iskander, who alone had remained standing, his sharp, handsome face shadowed by the en- veloping brown cotton hood, went to the partition that concealed Edith’s bed and glanced within, hesitantly. The other Sayaks watched silently. The Arab apparently studied something that interested him; then he faced Dono- van. “You have summoned us and we are here. The council of Sayak chieftains waits until you speak.” ‘Donovan leaned back in his chair, and his glance went from face to face along the wall—dark faces, keen of eye, that did not turn from his scrutiny. His lips moved wordlessly as he murmured to himself: “Isn’t it just my bally luck? Every minute we lose, before going after Edith is worth— well, there’s no price high enough. But I can’t act, I can’t think of acting until I’ve made a clean breast to these chaps who trust me now as they always have, but their natures won’t let them keep from sus- pecting me if I tell them Edith’s gone. Iskander, of course, will back me to a cer- tain extent—no further. Won’t do, now to strain his friendship or to bank on my word alone again.” His lined face was grave, his clear eyes purposeful; but he was tired, and his pulse throbbed heavily. John Donovan had worn a uniform once, and he had been entrusted THE ARGOSY. with a mission to the Himalayas such as fall to the lot of few men. He had been successful. Now Edith’s departure jeop- ardized the fruits of years of work. He had made a pledge to the Sayaks, and the pledge had been broken, through no fault of his. Would they understand? If they did not— ‘‘ Edith’s gone,” he repeated to himself, ‘“to the Tower. After all, that’s what mat- ters. Isn’t she worth more than all the rest?” The certainty of his love returned four- fold, and unsettled his reasoning. He could only think of one thing—Edith was gone, and he must go after her, but was kept from doing that very thing. He straight- ened in his chair and spoke to Iskander: “This is what I have to say, O manaps. Send a rider to the ravine behind the mosque, to learn what is to be seen there, where the guard stood. Let the rider re- port here what he has seen.” Before assenting or refusing, the. Arab consulted the other Sayaks with a glance. One, a swaggering Afghan whose evil-smell- ing wool was belted with a priceless sword, rose and left the room. From the road outside came a clatter of hoofs. Donovan was gazing thoughtfully into the fire. ‘The white woman has left Kakka Arik,” he said. The faces of the Sayaks remained impas- sive, but all eyes turned at once to him. Iskander, leaning against the wall, played with a gold necklace at his throat. “You made a pledge,” he responded softly. | ‘“T have not broken it, Iskander—”’ “Speak not in English,” warned the Arab, “ or these others will suspect and grow angry.” ‘‘ Bear witness,” Donovan slipped easily into Turki, “as to the truth of what I say—”’ “ Tf it be truth,” broke in one harshly. ‘““A fool, out of an empty mind, ques- tions wisdom, and a jackal yelps from a pack.” Donovan fastened the surly speak- er with his blue eye. “ Have you not given me the rank of manaps? Have you known me to lie, or to speak merely that I might hear the sound of my voice?” The Sayak COMICLOo S C©