Adventure Magazine Cover — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

38 introduce Michael McClone to his brother Jem. Ha!” He laughed shortly. “The news traveled quickly,” said the captain. “Ha—it always does. That is one of the advantages of Haitian hfe: we know what the other fellow does before he does it. You pulled one for the book, One-Two Mac. How long has it been since you were last in Jacmel?” “It’s been over a year. I met Jem McClone only once, but I know Michael quite well. Somehow I never thought of them as brothers.” “T take it, then, that you don’t know the story about them that all the south coast has been laughing at for nearly a year? No. Well, it was a good joke; but the laughter is dying out now, and we are all wondering where the thing will end. It’s past the joke stage now. See here——”’ Breen lowered his head and parted his hair with his fingers so that a jagged scar could be seen above his left ear. “Big Jem did that, because I laughed out loud one night. I evened the score with a table leg, but it taught me a lesson: I laugh no more when either of those lunatics is about.” Here the boy entered with the “‘orange- blossom;” which proved to be a mixture of Barbancourt rum, orange-juice, water and sugar. ‘Two more, boy, in ten minutes,” said Breen. “Greatest invention of the age, captain. No doubt of it. Invented by a man whom I consider a public benefactor. Name is Healy, and he was chief steward of a Panama boat——”’ “But about the McClone brothers,” in- terrupted the captain. “Oh, yes. Well, it started over a dia- mond. I never saw the thing, but rumors have it every size from a pea to a head of cabbage. Wonderful stone, they say— worth two pounds.” “Two pounds!” “Yes; about nine dollars. Here’s about it: “The McClone brothers came to Haiti three years ago. They had a bit of money and went into the coffee game. Made good from the start. Soon they chartered a schooner—the Gannet—and began to carry their own cargoes, and whatever else they could pick up to fill out. ““Fhey are fine men, the McClones. Big- gest bodies and biggest hearts on the island. Adventure And square as a die, both of them. And not stupid, either, all in all. But they are slightly conceited, and proud—you’ll see. “About ten months ago a rich English- man spent a fortnight or so in Barbados. Had his wife with him. Wife had a won- derful diamond of fabulous value. One morning the Port au Prince paper came out with the news that the wonderful diamond had been stolen, by an employee—secretary or something. Rich man was furious; wife was prostrated. Great detective agency was to be put on the case. ‘A week later a fellow arrived here in a trading-schooner, from Barbados. An En- glishmen named Hamilton. He spent a day and a half in the American Café and made a lot of acquaintances. He was a good mixer and knew how to make'up to people. We know now that he was just sizing things up, picking his victim. Oh, he was a clever lad, this Hamilton! He met the McClones, and decided they were his meat. Here’s what he told them—in confidence, of course: “His name wasn’t Hamilton. That was only an alias. He was really Simmons, the rich man’s secretary. He had the diamond, but the authorities were on the watch for him and he didn’t know what to do with it. Did the McClones want to buy it, for a small fraction of its real value? “Now, the McClones were honest, as I said before. Ordinarily, they wouldn’t want to buy a stolen diamond. But this diamond had been stolen from an Englishman. An Englishman — d’you see? That made a difference. “*——— the English! said the McClones —they come from County Mayo. ‘How much?’ “ “Twenty-five hundred,’ said Simmons alias Hamilton. Dirt cheap. Broke his heart to let it go at that. Oh, yes! He wanted the McClones to promise to sell it back to him for five thousand dollars, when he should come back: to Jacmel, after the chase had died down; but they refused! “Now, here is the funny part of it: You'll laugh. A few days later— Wait a minute.” Breen was gazing out the door, and Cap- tain Mac turned in his seat to see what he was looking at. In the middle of the street, Jem McClone, the red-bearded one, was helping an aged negro woman to get her donkey started. The donkey had its feet firmly planted at Go DOOLK 1@)