Avon Fantasy Reader No. 12 — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

aero eravareree toe was drawn across her lips and came away stained darkly. Then she saw Dihucen in the porch chair. Rage leaped furiously to life in her tired flesh. “Tuan, how dare you sleep here? Long have we nursed you through fever. The night chill will bring it on again.” “f'm not afraid of night chill or ghost tigers!” he said gently. He heard a gasping sob as she vanished in the house, heard her cot creak as she dropped on it to sleep. That day Dineen scent for Inbam, who was plainly reluctant to speak of the fate of Rourke or the ruse to fetch Omar Sung Loo tiger-trapping, until Dinecn forced him to talk by mentioning that Inbam had deserted him in the jungle, a crime for which the punish- ment was severe if complaint was made. “LT shall not interfere with your affairs, Inbam, but I want some questions answered. Otherwise” his tone held a threat. “Now tell me what became of the helpers of that Chinese surgeon in the jungle kampoug.” “Tuan, they were killed by a tigress and the ants have picked their bones.” “And your kinswoman in this house, had she a hand in that ven- geance, InbamP” he asked. “Of a truth, Tuan, is she not the widow of a white Tuan the Chinese devils killed? More I cannot answer, except that what is written, is written.” “Where does Rourke’s widow go by night, lubam?” “Tuan, I dare not follow her to know.” “But you know where she goes, Inbam,” “Tan, I know only that what is written, is written!” “Where is Omar Sung Loo, Inbam?” “Word comes that he is on his way to trap tigers and should be here soon,” The widow slept all that day. Intrigued and curious about her, Dineen came to her couch and stood looking down through the mos- quito-netting. An impulse promptcd him to hum the love pantua softly. Hearing it in her sleep, she stirred and sighed and began to murmur words, Dineen listened shamelessly. “Beloved . . . five have I killed... . I leaped from the gloom. My fangs gripped and shook them. A golden death all too merciful for such dogs. They were his men, Beloved. ... And I have his sceat. Your murderer shall not escape long.” Dineen went quietly away and sat brooding on the mysterious and uncanny problem until tiffin, but the widow did’ not appear. He finally went to bed but lay awake, and as the moon sailed high he was aware of her soundless gliding to the door and into the lowes hedge. He followed and found the black sarong she had left there, 98 comichbooks.com