The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1939-07-07
SERIAL FICTION---
She Painted Her Face
a stony o. loue a,d intrigue =. sy DoRNFoRD YATES

was sitting, smoking, with Herrick,
under the stars.
Raven was fast asleep: only our
sitting-room easements were franz
ing two squares of light: the Rolls
was within her coach-house: Winter
had gone to his rest.
II suppose it's all true" said Her
rick: "but must confess there are
moments when wonder If I've been
translated before my time. mean,
a month ago was not only down
but out. The immediate future was
hideous. Pawn-shop, doss-house ana
gutter were staring me in the face,
and didn't like the look in their
eyes-you see, I'd met them before
And now I'm ruling a castle,
with so servants hanging upon my
lips. Compared with me, Elizabeth
doesn't count. I'm sort of Lord
Protector, appointed by the Ouch
ess of Whelp. And when that's done,
I'm due at Tracery. I have been
desired by Old Harry to take her
estate in hand. Put my house in
ORDER she said. You're just the
man to do it, and it's time it was
done. If my agents right, that'H
just about carry you home. He
gives your uncle six months :.
So you see, my gay crusader, you've
made my fortune, TOTO say moth
ing at all of the fact that I've never
enjoyed myself as have in the last
three weeks.
sThree weeks and one day-no
more. Yet their burden has been
so brilliant that, though I've seen
quite lot, the rest of my life be-
side them seems strangely dull. And
that's not really strange, for never
before have I entered the Middle
Ages and tasted their mighty fare.
Talk about food for the gods
sour first view of Brief, gray
against green in the sunshine, as
we stood on the bridge that trem-
bled before the Walls OF Wrath:
Percy Virgil, afraid to writhe,
whilst drew his description from
life for the eager police: Elizabeth
here at Raven - Rosalind, Viola,
Beatrice, rolled into one, with the
secret of all the ages shared in her
glorious eyes: the dead king, sunk
in his stall, staring before him as
he had stared before him, day and
night, for almost 500 years: dinner
for four at Tracery-gold and silver
and scarlet and powdered hair, Eliz-
abeth worshipful and the Duchess of
Whelp's most excellent majesty:
Percy Virgil confronted with VIM
ter the Count Of Brief at
bay, and the awful uncertainty fam
ing in Bertram's eyes: and then,
one evening at five, the stammer Of
telephone-bell and Old Harry's
voice rock-steady and very clear
rs that you, Henderson? Yes?
=. "Stopped and returning tomor-
row." I'm much obliged
Sand you can add to that list
some very monstrous moments !. :.
Elsa's laugh in the staircase-turret
the darkness of Palfrey's court
the shock of that icy water
the straws you caught at to
save yum tOttCA AA46 LIZ ~~AA>~
then Lord Ferdinand Virgil, broken
and craven and cringing to be per-
mitted to bury himself alive--I shall
never get over that as long as I
live. You're blasted lion in sleeps
clothing, and that's the truth. You
sit there, as meek as mild and ap-
parently dumb with admiration for
Old Harry's efforts and mine to kick
at the gates, and the next day, be-
fore we're up, you walk bung into
the fortress and kill the giant. Then
you put on the sleeps skin again
=. When I think that you came
into breakfast straight from the field
and merely begged my pardon for
being late :.
As though overcome with emotion,
he threw himself back in his chair
and covered his eyes.
"rm sorry" I said. ut seemed
better"
fTO BE CONTINUED)