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Show fad (ttlS&lM W xCLARK MCMEEKIN THE STOUY TUT It ... ' WNU 5UVICI AWV THE STORY THUS FAR: While voyaf. fag from England to America Lark Shan ;- she ,. .. Island, and OaU withe. , bound .eVv ant, reicuei her. Together the, hobble Lance,, . fine horse that e.caped " e the inn ,by Cony and Mas. wh are hold tf her lor ransom. Lark tries to run .way but Cony catches her and she 1, locked In an attic. She escape, lf,,B and It happy to and that her pursuer this time Is David North, her lover, disguised rlpsy. Gait arrive, on the scene and rreei to get Lark to Norfolk, but when they enter the boat they and Cony con- SL h ?A The two m" fl"" " the boat drift, back to the inn. 'fl"e"nln,aL with plenty of good nrao blood." Gait cut the hobble and allowed stallion to circle on the long lead rope. Matson spoke to one of the slaves in Spanish, and the man trotted trot-ted off, coming back at once with the saddle and br.dle. putting them on Ktd Raskall with no little difficulty. ( "He needs handling," Gait said, 'and exercise, but he's beauty Isn't he, Dr. Matson?" "I've never seen a finer." Matson aid. "I find I am quite unable to resist riding him. You won't object if I ride your prize, will you, Withe or you, Lark?" The big Negro slaves, squatting on their powerful haunches, watched Gait and Lark dumbly. They watched as Old Dog might have, remotely, re-motely, incuriously, yet with an uncanny un-canny look of knowing. Far off up the island beach the horse and rider were coming back, a blur of rich red - brown, a dashing splash of green. . . . "I doubt you realize," Gait said quietly, "how needful it is to Mat-son Mat-son to get his hands on North, or to have a hold on North, through you, through anything. Ginko told me Matson questioned every gipsy man. last night, as soon as his suspicions were up that a Cargoe Riske man was among them. "You see, the Cargoe Riske is right up and coming. Cleaned out a shipwrecking lot In the Keys, last spring. I heard the talk, but it didn't the c.stle. Lark walked beside his light-stepping figure, uneasy and wary as to what this favor Matson had asked of her might portend. Gait followed silently, absorbed in thought. Trailing the procession came the two black slaves, leading the horse, Red Raskall, who was skittish and nervous after his week of captivity on the island. Behind the group at a little distance came the four sailors. Lark hung back, trying to walk beside Gait, but Matson put his hand beneath her elbow and forced her with gentle but inexorable firmness to keep step with his quickening strides. "Where's Gait?" Lark pulled her hand from his arm and glanced back. "I don't see him. What's become of him?" "Perhaps he's dropped back to converse with the sailors," Matson said easily. Lark called, "Gait! Gait!" as loudly as she could, but there wasn't any answer. One of the sailors laughed then, and Matson reproved him sharply. "He'll catch up with us presently, I daresay," Matson said, adding suggestively, sug-gestively, "Possibly he was embarrassed embar-rassed to answer your call. There's no need for worry. This path is plainly marked." He placed his hand under her elbow el-bow once more and started forward. Her pulling back did no least bit of good. To avoid the ignominy of being be-ing dragged, she straightened proud- i i CHAPTER XII Lark slept heavily on her hard little bunk bed in the loft cubby waking painfully to the consciousness conscious-ness of an irritating, soft, insistent knocking at her door. At first she ' thought it was Cony, scratching at her door as he often had In the past miserable week. Then she remem- bered and sat up, calling cautious-1 cautious-1 ly, "What is it?" "It's me Gait." She stumbled from the bunk, picked up the India silk dress, where she had laid It out In careful folds before she'd gone to sleep, slipped It on, its cool soft contours falling gracefully into place. It was a beautiful beau-tiful dress, perhaps the most beautiful beau-tiful dress she had ever had on. ... : She washed her face, combed her hair hurriedly, and unlocked the door. Gait came in quickly, stepped wmuuw, a square wnite glare of noonday sun. He looked down into the back court and then turned to Lark. "Horse or no horse, I'd feel a heap i better if" He stopped, shook his head. A thump of big bare feet iounded on the stairs. One of the laves appeared in the doorway, his great shoulders filling the space, his somber red-rimmed eyes accusing Gait. "We're coming down," Gait said, pointing down the steps. "I wakened wak-ened the lady. Is your master ready?" Whether or not the man understood under-stood wasn't clear. He didn't answer. an-swer. He stood there with his huge pink-palmed hands dangling grotesquely gro-tesquely almost to his knees, knees brown as winter walnuts. "WeU," Gait pointed down again, "let's go!" Silently, the slave turned and went ahead of them down the steps. His companion joined him at the bottom, bot-tom, grinning foolishly, rubbing his yes. The two trotted across the earthen floor of the inn big-room without shadow of sound, opened the big front door and waited for Lark and Gait. The inn was clean, now, dim and I cave-quiet. "A couple of gipsies Matson sent," Gait explained, and when Lark caught his arm anxiously, shook his head. "Neither of them was North. Had themselves a time in Mag's tore room. Picked the lock. The slaves chased them out." "You must be nearly dead, Gait? Did you rest at all?" "Sure. I'm all right. I'm fine." They went through the door into the warm September sunshine. Below, at the boat docks, the sailors were busy with the first sloop. Matson, in a cape, hat, and suit of brilliant green, was on the deck. He waved at Lark. "Been to the castle and prettied up all over again," Gait said scornfully. scorn-fully. "God. I wish I could get you out of this, Lark!" "It's going to be all right," Lark said. "I Just feel" The slaves fell in step close behind be-hind them, boarding the sloop after them. The four sailors had the sails in order and pulled the gang on board and loosed the hawsers at once. Matson asked Gait to take the helm and steer for Ghost Island. Is-land. It gave Lark a strange sensation to set foot on this island again, as if years had passed between times. The familiar line of the big sand ridge, the finger of fresh water trailing trail-ing down from the little spring, the clump of scrub pines that hid Gait's secret cache, the beaches cut by the tracks of the wandering pony herds gave her a feeling of surprise, as if she found herself walking in a place she had merely dreamed about, a place without actual substance. sub-stance. All of them. Lark. Matson, Gait and the sailors walked to the Island tip and then up through the ridge break to the stretch of green valley. The two slaves made the sloop secure se-cure by wrapping her hawser about the trunk of a tough wind-stooped Dine Then they followed the group the afternoon sun making their rich brown skins shine like oiled leather. Lark saw Red Haskall first far up the valley, in the "hade of the ridge and she ran ahead of the others? oth-ers? ran to him and threw her arms about his warm red-brown neck, ex-amming ex-amming the hobble ropes to see that he bad no scalds or galls, stroking flank, pressing his reproachful muzzle. She led him slowly back toward the group. St he beautiful! Isn't he wonderful! won-derful! Did you ever set your eyes Z a horse to compare Gait, cut this dreadful hobble. I can't loose it." r deaHe'r. don t you. my aear. nt ly and stepped along beside him. "You're angry," he said serenely. "That's very foolish. Nothing so soon spoils a woman's good looks as ill temper. I suspect the lad will find the short-cut up the hill and be there by the time we are." There was a sound of footsteps on the path ahead of them and Matson called out, "Who's there?" Ginko, the gipsy fiddler, came down the hill to meet them with a glum and surly look on his handsome hand-some face. "The thief has been caught," he said briefly. "The trap was sprung and the punishment punish-ment meted out as you ordered." Matson nodded and ordered him to fall in behind them. As they rounded the bend, they came upon the flat open space where the Rums had pitched their tents. Scattered fires were burning here, and, in their illumination, the clumsy wagons and caravans under the oak trees looked like huge crouching beasts. As Matson and his followers came up the hill, the gipsies grouped themselves them-selves together in a sullen, muttering mutter-ing throng. "What is it?" Lark asked. "What's wrong? A band of fear seemed to tighten about her heart. "You heard what the Rom said," Matson answered smoothly. "A thief has been caught and very properly punished by some of my sailors, according ac-cording to my orders. I wish you to identify the criminal; or should one say, victim. Is the figure hanging there David North'" While he was speaking these last words, he had swung Lark about suddenly so that she saw silhouetted against the firelight, a gibbet on which dangled a body. "Is it David North, Lark?" he whispered. "Was that thing hanging hang-ing there once your lover?" Watching Lark's face, Matson said in a voice that was beautiful and soft as the muted tone of a violin, "Lord have mercy on the soul of David North!" The gipsies in the background began be-gan to keen their minor wail, sending send-ing the shiver of sound out into the darkness and loneliness of the gathering gath-ering night. "Lark," he said, "you haven't answered an-swered my question. You must say the words and then I will grant you your freedom, as I promised that I would. Say, 'that thief was David North, the man I loved.' " Lark was silent for a moment. He prompted her, gently. "That thief. ..." She said the words after him now, said them slowly, and in a whisper so low that none but he could hear. "Good." He spoke cheerfully now, and unconcernedly, "We are agreed then that justice has been accomplished. accom-plished. This thief was caught in the very act of going through my possessions. Gipsies are born with their fingers in other men's pockets. Often enough they end on the gallows, gal-lows, with some pretty little wench dissolved in tears." With great show of tenderness, he produced a Madras silk handkerchief out of his cuff and wiped the tears that streamed down Lark's face. "Our pretty little farce Is over," he said. "You played your part with great feeling and conviction. Only, it was a very foolish part." He removed his arm from about Lark's waist, and she sat down quickly, her knees buckling under her. With two swift strides he stood under un-der the swinging figure. A low moan of fear wailed from the gipsy group. Matson stood like a dancer, poised for an instant under the figure which swayed slightly as the damp night breeze came up from the sea and caressed it, pushing it a little, this way and that. He stood like an actor on an empty stage, waiting for an electric instant till he has the complete com-plete absorption of his audience. (TO BE CONTINUED) "1 think he'U hold you, Lark, to be like a hostage." strike me they'd get anything on Matson. Somehow if you see a fellow fel-low all-powerful-like, you get a feeling feel-ing he always will be. Yet if North was to get Matson's log record, and tell his tale of seeing the slaves loaded off here, and the leavings shipped on to Santo Domingo, where Matson always makes his claims to the Cargoe Riske for slaves he says died in passage, he could Jail Mat-son Mat-son and strip him of well I wouldn't want to guess how many thousand pounds, to boot. I doubt North got those records. I doubt he's gone." "You think Dr. Matson will try to make me identify David?" Gait nodded. "And if North has got away, I think he'll hold you, Lark, to be like a hostage. I doubt your getting safe away." Lark said, "Gait, if David is in Norfolk he'll come and arrest Dr. Matson. right away. Matson won't hurt me. That would be crazy." "It ben't crazy. What looks crazy to me was North's letting you push off in the night, last night, without him. I'd think he'd try to see you safe, first, and come back for his damn log record." He stopped, looked at her. "Oh, I know how you feel! I know it makes you mad for me to say this." "I think David did his duty." Lark said. "He thought you and I were safe." . , "Oh sure, awful safe! I don t mean me. Lord, Lark, I got no call on North for help for me! I don't want his help. But you why you-you're you-you're promised to marry the buck-aroo. buck-aroo. . You be promised, Lark, ben't you?" And when she didn't answer, he said. "I guess I got no right to nag at you. I'm sorry." With a flourish, Matson brought Bed Raskall up near them. Lather rose lightly on the stallion's neck, and he chuffed and snuffed and pawed the sand. Matson said, "I have never sat an animal that compares com-pares My congratulations. Lark, and you. too. Withe, for your luck in catching him. Now shall we pic- nlxhe slaves led Red Raskall to the sloop, arranged the gang, and led him across it and down a steep ramp to the small fore hold of the vessel The sailors went to the sails, and the shore trip was begun. It was darkening when the sloop reached shore, and nightfall when Matson led the way up the path to |