Argosy, Vol. 85, No. 3 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

400 “They are all armed, senor.” “Then I’m going to take them over and officially capture El Fuego as soon as Jones sets foot on this deck!” Mr. Girton said simply. “If I ever stand here and look at him and think about the girls—”’ Hemmett nodded quickly. ““T had thought of the same thing,” he said. “Take Alvarez with you and beat it, Steve! Ill have the search-light kept off the water, and when you’ve matters in your own hands start the wireless. Make dots and nothing else; you can manage that?” ‘““Inasmuch as I’ve been giving lessons in field wireless—yes.” “And if you need help, simply point the search-light at the sky and leave it there, because I shall be able to quit Jones and come to help you about three minutes after he has boarded us.” “Youre not going to slaughter the man?” | ‘Heaven forbid!” Mr. Hemmett said grimly. “I’m going to hang on to my- self, if I can, until-I see who’s with him and hear what he has to say—and I think I can.” The Pavoroso’s search-light switched around, to reveal the tender not fifty yards distant and making gracefully for the destroyer. Hemmett bit off the words —and Stephen Girton was gone! He heard Girton cross the dock, heard the soft pattering of many feet and the creak of pulleys and, presently, the faintest little splash. Mr. Hemmett stepped to the man at the search-light and snapped an order; his white beam rose and hung over the top of E] Fuego in purposeless fashion; and up from the starboard landing-stage, in the most matter-of-fact . fashion, William Jones was stepping to the deck of the destroyer! Calmer or more pleasantly smiling no man could have been! An assured, lazy little swagger was in his walk, and his shoulders swung to it. Behind him in the faint illumination of the destroyer’s THE ARGOSY. deck-lights stood a short, thickset Gua- naman; and for an instant, as he viewed the latter, Hemmett’s fury at Jones almost subsided, for that was José Canita, new president of the National Bank of Guanama, a millionaire who ranked almost with Fernandez, a mighty hidden power in the darker, more mys- terious depths of politics and sometimes mentioned as the most powerful one man in all Guanama. Low-browed, pig-eyed, oily, he smiled directly and significantly at Edward Hemmett; and in less than five seconds Hemmett felt queerly he had learned more about the plot, more about the recent elections, than he had ever known before! ‘Our dear Mr. Hemmett, eh?” Jones observed easily. “Oh, you know the excellent Canita, don’t you?’ I wish you wouldn't look at him just like that, Hemmett; it isn’t politic. He might insist on having you taken back and sentenced to death by one of his pet judges, or something like that. Where’s dear Stephen Girton?” “He didn’t come!”’ Hemmett snapped. ‘“ Didn’t he, really?” Jones smiled. “Is Stephen’s superb vitality ebbing, that he funked the spectacular chase? I could have sworn that he’d be with you, ready to eat the whole world raw, and— hello! What the devil kind of crew have we here?” he concluded, with genuine interest, as he gazed at the tattered group of overdeveloped dock workers that hovered near. | “That’s the substitute crew,” Hem- mett said. ‘‘ They'll let you alone unless—”’ “Oh, they’ll let me alone without any ‘unless,’”? Jones assured him. ‘“ Well, Mr. Hemmett? You’re calmer, I observe. That’s nice. You’ve been looking at FE] Fuego, I believe, these last minutes? Is it necessary to outline the situation in mere words?” “Tt is not,” Canita’s rasping accent put in. “ You are not a fool, Senor CO DOOK AMUC C©