Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine, Vol. 107 No. 3 — page 103: what you’re looking at

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

THE SHIP THAT CRUMBLED. The brilliance in his eyes subsided, leav- ing them empty of all.expression but his former slight uneasiness. “Youre a Scandinavian, aren’t you, chief?” __“ What makes you ask that?” the engi- neer asked sharply. “You have a European accent. you weren’t French.” ‘“My name is Anderson,” said the chief immediately. ‘I am Norwegian by birth, American by adoption, since you are cu- rious.” “Tt didn’t use to be Anderson,” said Donn Riley amiably. The chief engineer bit his lip and blinked. ‘“‘ What in hell are you driving at?” “Your name wasn’t Anderson when I knew you before,” persisted Riley. ‘“ What was it?” | ‘*I’m sure you’re mistaken. Look here! Who’s running this engine-room, you or me?”’ - “Tm not questioning your authority,” agreed Riley. ‘“‘ The only thing I’m ques- tioning is your nationality. You used to run into Chinese ports, didn’t you?” ‘‘ I—I_ believe I did.” ‘‘ Remember a little fracas out Nangpo Road in the fall of—let me see—the fall of 1911? You and some of your pals from one of the P. and O. liners? “ An Englishman was black-jacked. And if I’m not mistaken you were the first of your gang to make tracks for Customs Jetty. Faintly recollect that, Mr. Ander- son?” ‘“‘ Look here! - agent?” ‘Tf I were I wouldn't let this ship out of here to-night. She’s breaking a dozen laws. No; I’m only a plain American citi- zen, a plain bum, if we stop to split hairs. You just aroused my curiosity, that’s all.” ‘The old man knows who I am,” as- serted the chief doggedly. “So I suspected. It is Reynard, isn’t it?” “T left England ten years ago.” “Got citizenship papers?” “What if I haven’t?” “The only real grudge I have against I knew Are you a secret-service 445 -you—aside from your part in that affair with the English quartermaster in Shang- hai—is your connection with that Hartman gang. ” “Well, what do you intend doing? The old man knows about it.” ‘“‘ And that,” agreed Riley, in tones that could be taken to mean almost anything, “should satisfy the most particular.” An electric bell suddenly filled the stuffy little engine-room with startling clamor. Wearing an expression of the most pro- found relief, the engineer strode past Donn Riley and gripped the shining steel control- levers. The small, wood-sheathed engine shud- dered. Every object in the room seemed to be jumping or thumping. Reynard, with his hand on the engine- room telegraph, turned and looked slant- wise across his shoulder. There was a queer grin at his bloodless lips. “You keep out of this engine-room!”’ he shouted. ‘“ You can’t call me a traitor, damn it! I’m as good a patriot as any- body on board this boat! That’s more’n you can say!” “You're right,” back. “If I catch you down here again,” snarled the chief, “I'll brain you! By God, I will! You can tell the old man JI said so!” Donn Riley shouted CHAPTER XIII. THE CALL OF THE KEY. | W HEN Donn Riley reached the deck in a state of deep-reaching irritation grounded upon the maniacal leer of the chief, which still was the most sharply de- fined feature of that inconclusive inter- view, he found that the steamer was slip- ping out stealthily from her slip, preparing to defy the port laws in a fashion that, if successful, would add another glittering jewel to her crown of dishonor. - The long pier, like a gigantic clot of black shadows, was moving backward into the night. The breast line fell with a wel- tering splash alongside, creating a commo- tion to those on board that might be com- = Co NOO S Co mM