Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 16, 1921 — page 53: what you’re looking at

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

414 The coach of Malvern had now dipped into the same slope as that along which the fugitives ricocheted at such’ terrific speed, and with every leap of the horses the dan- ger drew nearer. A man on the seat beside Harchester was making ready a long fowl- ing piece for a chance shot. “She is lost unless I fire,” said Samson. He continued after a moment with great emotion, ‘“‘ Master Coachman, you are my witness; if our lives alone depended, I would not fire, but her happiness—” The coachman regarded his companion with a blank look of astonishment, but said not a word. The pistol raised in the hand of Samson Integrity was leveled, his face set sternly, and he fired.” The coach- man had fixed his glance on the form of Harchester, but that was not Samson’s tar- get. The near horse in the lead team of the pursuers reared up as if he were about ¢o jump an obstacle, then pitched headlong down, lifeless, Over him the other horses toppled in terrible confusion—the ° front wheels of the coach struck the living mass, _ and the tall vehicle heaved up and then top- pled flat upon its side, flinging the men on the driver’s seat many a yard into the field near by. One hoarse, shrill, tingling scream of horror-rose from the wreck, then the ob- servers whipped out of sight around the cor- ner of a dense grove of beeches. Samson was white indeed as he resumed his seat and took the reins. “The enemy is fallen,” he said in a shaken voice. “«The hand of the Lord has smitten the Philistine!” ‘“ Now the devil be my master!” mut- tered the coachman. a man crosses your path, Master Samson Northam.” And he sat for a long time in a most unaccustomed silence. CHAPTER XIII, TREASON. HAT silence lasted with hardly a break for hour after hour, the coachman looking thoughtfully into the distance and Samson Integrity sternly observant of his work. It was some time after noon be- “ It’s an ill day when ~ - gtant. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, fore they reached the environs of Londen, and the welcome sight loosed the tongue of the coachman. He seemed perfectly famil iar with every street and lane; and when they passed the outskirts and struck into the heart of the city he began to talk of the greater houses which they passed as if lhe knew the master of each. A thing to be remembered of servants, Samson thought to himself, is that they love to dwell famil- iarly on the names of the great. In the mean time he drank in the chat- ter of his companion. Indeed, it was as if he had stepped into a new world. Some urchins on the street shouted after him a laughing remark about his clothes; a flower-girl ran from the side of an alley and tossed a blossom into his lap; it was a new world, a new life of gaiety. The memory of what had happened on the road faded from Samson’s mind; and when he glimpsed the spires of a great church, his heart leaped up in a like aspiration. So they tame at length to the goal of their journey. It was a very tall house with a dark, forbidding front, the hotel of a celebrated nobleman in the days of the first Stuart, as the coachman told Samson Integrity, but since then much altered both in form and in fortune; for now it was owned by a tight-fisted old fellow named Godfrey Lawrence who kept it as a lodging- house. Men and ladies of high blood or fat purses, or both, occupied the more spa- cious chambers, and ‘the meaner sort were filled with every manner of low fellows and even the women of the streets. A communi- cation which made the blood of Samson In- tegrity turn cold when he thought of the girl whom he had brought with him. ‘Tf it is such a house as this,” frowned Samson, “‘ we will not stay here even an in- There must be other and cleaner lodging-places in London town.” © He had stopped the coach, but now he gathered up the reins again. ‘“‘ Fine scruples are an excellent garb in the country, lad,” said the coachman con- temptuously, ‘but here in London they wear through very soon at the elbows. Lay down your reins. All arrangements are already made to lodge the ladies here. Hi, fellow, hold the nags.”’ NOOK > A (C@ (©