Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 16, 1921 — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

bf, George Gilbert CHAPTER I. LIKE THE JACKAL. ITH steady nerve and practised \\ | hand Pierre La Forge drew back his right arm that quivered not and threw his last knife at the tense form that was outlined against the target board at the rear of the tiny stage of the Café Diable, center of the languid life of El Yaoub. The flashing blade, whirring, end-over- end, quivered, point. buried in the board where the perfectly molded arm of ’Leesah Freyall melted into the still more perfect curves of. her shoulder and bust. A moment she stood there, outlined in flashing, quivering blades, then, stepping down, shared the applause that was the tribute of the café’s patrons to the two performers. Flashing a smile and a word or two of praise to the girl and holding out for her and snugging about her the shim- mering pink-and-black light satin overgown that she donned to satisfy the proprieties and to’ protect her slight, blue odalesque costume from wine stains and dust, did she elect to sit and chat a while in oasis-nur- tured informality with some patron of the Café Diable, Pierre proceeded to gather up and put away his knives. He never permitted any one else to touch them, for they were the tools of his trade and he re- sented the slightest contact of the flesh of. others on their copper, carven handles, holding, with the superstition ingrained in him, that if others used his knives he would not be able to use them well there- after. ee The girl already had’ stepped off-stage when Pierre had completed his task and placed the gleaming blades in their teak- wood cases—thirty-six of them, dull, sinis- ter-chased handles in rows, sheeny blades dangling into their several Slotted rests. La Forge snapped the lid down, noted that "Leesah already was sifsping an iced sherbet in company with Captain Andre Troiville, with whom she was enjoying one of her periodical mild affaires, and strolled out, after leaving the box of knives with the droll, withered exempt who presided over the café’s desk. Pierre liked the old sol- dier, and often wrote letters home for him; on his part Fourchette, the veteran, had a deep admiration for the knife-thrower. _ Perfect accord existed between Pierre and ’Leesah. They had formed their alli- ance two years before in Cairo, where an injury to the then rising dancer’s ankle had forced her to seek means of livelihood less active. The strained tendons healed awry and she was left with a limp—and no pro- fession, save one that she read in the eyes of men. And thén Pierre came, having heard of her plight, and offered her half his act, then untried, and she had accepted, becoming the living statue about which he placed his flashing blades. But one thing was required of her—steady nerve—and after Pierre had shown her how he could split a tiny bangle with the tip-point of one of his whirring blades at twenty paces, fifty times running, she had no more fear. 53 GO NOOK =} (C@