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Show SMo CLARK MCMEEKIN mb THE STORY thi b 'II IUL.IMH W N u.itK.vicl V , than a lad, a lad obviously of the English race, with skin as blond as Gait's. Matson smiled and his fingers on her pulse grew lighter. "I know that one," he said. '"He was stolen by an old gipsy beldame when he was a child on Exmoor heath. He's had chances enough to return to his own people, but this is the only life he knows or cares about. The password pass-word quickly, Lark, and we will allow al-low him to move on." Lark gave it and glanced swiftly at the figure next in line. It was a man much like David's build, who wore the red raskall pulled down low over his head, as if to shield the lighted side of his face. Her heart missed a beat and she felt the skip In her pulse. The Spanish Cat's fingers tightened on her helpless wrist. The man's rolling walk was like David's, too. Lark's breath shortened short-ened in her chest. She had not the strength of faith to pray. She began be-gan to count to herself, her lips forming the syllables slowly and uncertainly. un-certainly. Oce . . . two . . . three - four . . . five . . . six . . . seven. By the seventh count she knew it was not David. Her throbbing eyes had tricked her into magnifying the resemblance. She released her tortured tor-tured breath in a little choking gasp. Matson's tautened figure relaxed. "That gave you a turn, didn't it?" he asked pleasantly. "Now, at least, I have in mind the general outline of the traitor; broad-shouldered, well- THE STORY THUS FAR: JUta voyu. taf from England to America Lark Shan-non Shan-non , ship joes down. She I. cast upon an Island, and Gait Withe. . bound servant """" J""- L"k ' made prisoner at Uie inn by Cony and Mae, who are hold-ini hold-ini her for ransom. Lark tries to run away, but Cony catches her and she Is ocked In an attic. She escapes aealn and l found by David North, her lover dts-lulsed dts-lulsed a. , gipsy. Oalt arrives on the scene and agrees to get Lark to Norfolk but when they enter the boat they end Cony concealed in it. The two men tight, while the boat drifts back to the Inn Lark pleads with Dr. Matson to spare Gait's life. Mafson, Call and Lark make a trip to Ghost Island. CHAPTER XIII In this case, that was a mere theatrical the-atrical gesture, for every eye was already following the slightest movement move-ment of his cat-like body, every breath was clamped by the vise of tear and unknown ascending horror. With delicate quick precision he drew his rapier from its slim Castil-lan Castil-lan sheath and stood on tiptoe, reaching reach-ing up to the swinging figure. Lark couldn't have moved the tiniest tini-est muscle of her little finger if her very life had depended on it. The tip of the rapier caught the firelight and gleamed like a silver bead flung against the sun. It reached up through the dark, reached high till it found the hollow beneath the chin of that pitiful, swaying figure, and then slashed downward with the quick and delicate deli-cate exactness of a tiger's claw. The jacket fell back in a wider V. Lark still did not understand. She could not grasp what the point was In this particular savagery and desecration. des-ecration. And then the body swung a little into profile, and she saw the swell of a woman's breast, its rounded, round-ed, defenseless curve. Her eyes studied the face once more, the high cheek bones, the rounded chin. Wildly she looked at Matson; took hold of his arm and shook it, without knowing what she was doing. "Why," Lark cried out, "it's Dos-ta. Dos-ta. Dosta!" "Do you wonder that I laughed at you, you little fool? It Is amusing, is it not?" When Lark didn't answer Matson continued unabashed. "That thief was David North, the man I loved!" he mimicked her words In a high falsetto voice. "That is a Joke!" He turned to the gipsies. "Laugh, you dogs, laugh!" Matson raised a slim white hand and hushed it with a sharp gesture of command. One woman could not stop. She swayed back and forth In a very ecstasy of abandon, beyond all human hu-man control or dignity. Her white locks streamed to her shoulders and her head rolled from side to side in a spasmodic frenzy. "Dosta," she moaned, "Dosta, my dearie own." A man beside her slapped her open mouth hard with his big square hand, and she stopped suddenly in the midst of lanphter. hieh and shrill mote and passive, and yet there was in It such suffering as Lark had never nev-er seen. Behind her stood Ginko and a tall slim figure, red trousered and blue Jacketed. Galtl Why it was Gait. Truly it was I "I was dreadfully frightened about you. Gait. What happened?" Lark's voice was a whisper. "Those two slaves grabbed me on the path and gagged me so I couldn't call out. They dragged me off to the dungeon but I managed my way out, Lark. The lock was old and rusty and the guard didn't cause me much trouble." He spoke with the pride of his new manhood. "I found Ginko, and he brought me here to you, in Mother Egypt's tent." "But what happened?" Lark asked. "Where is Matson? Did he find David? . . . Why, you are the man who betrayed him, Ginko!" She said with horror, drawing back from him as the full realization of her last memory came back to her. The tiddler laughed softly. "Little foolish one, that was a clever trick on my part. I am so wise a man that I desired for the Spanish Cat to be distracted that I might be able to get you away from him and plan for your escape. Your David has no more snake on his heel than I have." "David has not been found?" Lark repeated her question anxiously, her eyes going from Ginko's face to Gait's. She was still not altogether certain of Ginko, but knew that Gait's word could be trusted implicitly. im-plicitly. "No," Gait said briefly. "They've been beating the bushes for the last half hour, but have come on no sign of him. The shout would have gone up, had they done so." "My daughter was a princess," the woman who watched her said in a proud and sorrowful tone. "Dosta is dead and God, Himself, can not bring her back to me. In her name I have befriended you. The horse It waiting. You must make haste." "The horse? Red Raskall?" Lark glanced at Gait. "It is arranged," Gait said, "I am to ride him. I know where he If stalled. There is only one guard on duty. The little black mare, Dos-ta's Dos-ta's namesake, is to be yours, Lark." "Wait," the woman whispered, raising a detaining hand. "Here are Dosta's clothes. Let this girl put them on. If she is seen then, she will pass in the darkness for one of our band." Ginko said, "I will make sure there is no one about," and with quiet care slit the back of the tent. He and Gait slipped through the opening. Outside Gait was waiting with Ginko, who flashed his shaded lantern lan-tern for a moment on her figure and nodded as if satisfied when he saw that Dosta's clothes fitted her well enough, and that she had twisted twist-ed a red raskall completely over her golden curls. In the moonlight i . . .u ; t nnA 1.1.,.. mm as the neighing of the little wild island ponies. The silence was thick as fog, pervasive per-vasive as the stench near the mountainous moun-tainous heaps of oyster shells which dotted the lower beaches. Matson let the silence lie there like a heavy blanket, smothering them for a long moment; then he spoke aside to Lark, but loud enough for the others to hear. "Little liar," he said, sitting down on the ground beside her. "Pretty little liar, I have one further test for you. You failed me signally at first. Let us see what you will do now." He motioned to a gray-beard. "Heme," he said, "come here!" and when the man bent down servilely, servile-ly, whispered a word in his ear. The gipsy nodded sulkily and. with obvious reluctance, went back to his group and began to weed the younger men out from the older ones, lining them up in a row. Perhaps Per-haps half a hundred stood there, some cringing, some defiant. Matson turned to Lark and smiled In as friendly a fashion as if this were a parlor game that was to be played for her entertainment. "Give me your hand, my dear," he said, and, when she didn't comply com-ply reached over and took it, plac- "The little fool walked right Into the trap." built. In the first strength of his manhood. . . . I'll let you rest for a moment, my dear, while I have a word with Ginko. Don't think you can escape. I have but to give the order. ..." The next man was Chal. His face was a mask of sullen and vindictive anger. Lark was sobbing now, her tears wetting her cheeks and falling unheeded in her lap. Matson laughed softly. "The likeness is remarkable, remark-able, isn't it? Dosta pleasured me for a time on the Runny, but then she got to be a nuisance, an inquisitive in-quisitive little pickpocket, rifling my portfolios and stealing the very jewels jew-els out of my ears as I slept." His free hand sought the lobe of his car and fingered the golden loop which dangled from it. "Naturally," he continued, "when I found the lock on my brass-bound box had been tampered with, I set a watch, and the little fool walked right into the trap. It was an easy thing to have her dressed in her brother's clothes and string her up to give me a little sport with you." When Lark made no answer, he motioned for the line to proceed. The next eight or nine passed swiftly ..l. mrvonf frnm either of the UCI ftilllC OfwiJ anu LMIJC CJU WLIU acarcely noticeable. She might have passed, at a casual glance, for any of the gipsy girls. Gait smiled at Lark admiringly and whispered, "It will be safer if we separate. I'll go to the stables and get Red Raskall, while you and Ginko get the mare. I'll meet you beyond the corral." Ginko nodded and hurried Lark around the corner of the castle. No one was in sight now, though off to the left they could hear the men pursuing the search, calling back and forth to one another, as they I came on broken branches or footprints foot-prints in the undergrowth. After another careful hundred yards or so, they reached the corral where the gipsies' horses could be seen In the moonlight. Mostly they were sorry enough looking beasts, with hanging heads and uncurried manes but. even in the moonlight, the beauty of the one little black mare could be seen. She was lying asleep by herself in a far corner of the paddock and they unlatched the gate and went softly to her. Instantly, In-stantly, at their approach, she was on her feet, with quivering nostrils and rolled-back, startled eyes. Ginko gentled her with a soothing hand and a soft-spoken word, as she tossed her head and flung back Ing it In his lap, letting his sum finger-tips rest delicately on the pulse in her wrist. "Now " he continued in the casual, jocular 'tone of a master of ceremonies, cere-monies, "all of our possible Davids will pass slowly in front of us. You will say, as each goes by. That is not David North,' and I will know by the throb of your pulse the one particular time you are lying to me. The first man in line paused in front of them. It was Ginko. the fiddler He showed his white teeth in a flashing smile. His eyes narrowed nar-rowed intimately, and there was a provocative swagger to the swmg of his red cape, as he bowed low to L"?ool," Matson said harshly, -preserve your play-acting for a filly lofPyoUr own bT J ' Us not Dad.' I demand password for this man. a. for each of the other, that go by That is not David. Lark saia ta a low voice, her eyes strauung nto the darkness so that she might ee tie next in (Jn. md M " discipiine her cktnf PJ Herds'1" ctme forward into the gj circle, wa, scarcely more Willi IIU tuwiwiv.... . watchers. Lark repeated the words, "That is not David" each time, and Matson's finger on her pulse was light, but steady. At last there was only one more man standing back there in the semi-darkness. semi-darkness. That would be David; was bound to be him. The man drew nearer. It was not David. The bulk of this man's outline out-line loomed huge and rotund against the golden background of the firelight. fire-light. The Spanish Cat drew nearer to Lark. She wrapped her cape tight about her arms and breast and drew back standing a little distance from him under the drooping branches of the great oak tree. Lark felt the world falling away from her. A blessed blackness rose to meet her mind and engulfed her. Matson's voice was the last thing she heard, Matson's silky voice, saying say-ing pleasantly, "Ginko. the pretty little bird has fainted. Take care of her." . . When Lark opened her eyes she was in a tent and the white-haired eipsy woman was bending over her The hanging light was dim and cast grotesque shadows on the crimson walls The woman's face was re- her mane. She was small-boned and daintily made. Her coat had the fineness of shining satin. Lark's hand stroked the arching neck. She whispered, "Dosta," In the pricked ear as the lovely creature, feeling a strange hand on her, shied and danced. Her bridle and fine embroidered blanket and saddle hung near her on the limb of a tree. Ginko reached for them and, with tender, caressing caress-ing words, had her ready in a moment, mo-ment, cupping Lark's foot in bis hand as she mounted. He slapped the mare softly on the flank as he led her through the gate toward Gait, who was waiting there on Red Raskall Gait was smiling. "Good news for you. Lark," he said gently. "I found an empty stall and the groorr lying there unconscious. Davld'a got away." "Oh, Gait, are you sure?" "Nobody else would have taken a horse tonight. He's had the start of an hour on us, perhaps." "Can we catch up with himT Oh, Gait, do you think we could? I'd feel so much better to know for sure." (TO BE CONTINUED) |