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THE SCARLET
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NEW YORK
EDWARD J. CLODE

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'RANSFER FROM C.0.
CONTENTS
cmnn PLO!
I A Cumous INVITATION . . Y. I.-
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11 AN UNLISTED PASSENGER . . . -. . . 21
III A PISTOL Sno'r . . . . . . . . . 37
IV THE SIGN 0E THE Cmss . . . . . . 58
V A NIGHT AND A MORNING . . . . . . 69
'VI TRICKED AND TRAPPED . . . . . . . 87
VII THE ONE-WAY TRAIL . . . . ., . . 101
VIII THE TOLL OF THE ISLAND . . . . . . 120
IX CAEms HAs HIS WAY . . . . l. . . 139
X THE GLEN OF DEATH . . . . . . . 155
XI IN THE VILLAGE . . . . . . . . . 173
XII THE SECRET 0E THE MAIN BUILDING .- . . 188
XIII THE WINE HUNT . . . . . . . . 202
XIV THE PLAN . . . . . . . . . . 222
XV THE MAN IN THE Lom‘ . . . . . . . 234
XVI THE ENEMY’s PROMISE . . . . . . . 253
XVII BATTLE . . . . . . . . . . . 266
XVIII OLD AOQUAINTANCES . . . . . . . 279
XIX THE LAST PUZZLE . . . . . . . . 293





THE SCARLET X
CHAPTER I
A CURIOUS INVITATION
ERRIS McCLUE sat in the private
F ofiice of the McClue Detective Agency,
a surgeon’s bandage around his head,
his handsome, almost boyish features half
hidden by strips of adhesive tape.
It was an old-fashioned place, almost home-
like in its appointments, though beyond the
windows and only seven stories below rolled
the incessant traffic of down-town Broadway.
Had the windows been closed and the restless
procession of trucks and motor cars shut out
the office would almost have seemed to be in the
country. McGlue alone looked like a genuine
product of Manhattan Island, and even he was
thinking—not of Broadway, but of the revenge-
ful nature of the heathen Chinee.
“It’s preposterous!” he mused aloud.
7


THE SCARLET X
“Here I let Yen Hui go Scot free when I
might have had him held for attempted murder.
And for thanks, he tries to beat me up because
he thinks I poisoned his dog.”
“Tries? I rather think he succeeded,” said
a soft voice as a young woman entered the
room. “And you ought to have had him held.
It’s dangerous to leave a man like that at
large.”
“Clara!”
McMue encircled the young woman’s waist
with his available arm, and smiled as broadly
as the adhesive would permit. “You’re ac-
tually engaged to be married—to me, mind you
—-and still you’ve hardly the rudiments of a
sense of humor. Would you like to read in
the papers that the celebrated ‘Ferret,’ great-
est of detectives, had been compelled to call
on the police to protect him from a simple
Mongolian—a man who ties his trousers to his
ankles with baby-ribbon?”
Clara Hope responded with a tolerant
smile, ran an anxious eye over the bandages,
and sat down. Though she was becomineg
dressed, it was easy to see to whom the room
8


A CURIOUS INVITATION
owed its quaint atmosphere, so out of keeping
with the events which even then were making
ready to draw its occupants into strange scenes.
When she first entered it as The Ferret ’s assist-
ant and confidential secretary, several years
before, she wore one of the most sombre
and durable creations which ever emanated
from a ladies’ tailor. The dawning of a
nearer relationship had brought about a change
in style. But the habits of earlier days,
reaching back to a time when her only sleuthing
was done in the school-room, still showed them-
selves in her excessively distinct enunciation
and in her way of combing her hair.
Old friends now regarded her as a very gay
butterfly. Newer friends thought her a regular
Puritan. Crinoline would have suited her
immensely, and even in a silk blouse cut low
at the throat she suggested something copied
from an old print.
“I am afraid of Mongolians,” she said,
suddenly returning to the subject. “You know
what Bret Harte said about them.”
“He said they were ‘peculi'ar,’ and if you’d
seen Yen Hui at the hospital you’d have said the
9


THE SCARLET X
same thing. He certainly looked peculiar
after I got through with him. But what have
you there?”
“Telegrams. You’d better leave them to
me. A return of the fever—”
“Fever,” he interrupted, “comes from men-
tal unrest due to inaction.”
And possessing himself of one of the yel-
low envelopes, he broke the seal, his eyes danc-
ing as he read:
“Ferris McClue, 94 a., Broadway, N.Y.—
Would you accept employment from Govern-
ment on interesting counterfeiting case? Wire
at once.—J. L. Rorty, Ass’t Chief of Service.”
“Very complimentary,” admitted McClue
with a yawn. “But there is never any interest
in these‘Secret Service cases, they put such an
infernal lot of information right in your hands.
VVhat’s the other one?”
“This is longer.” Clara opened a second
envelope and read aloud:
“Wa/nt you to come on a pleasure trip-—
yachting—long voyage—islands of Pacific.
10


THE SCARLET X
“Ferris McClue, 94 a., Broadway, N. Y.—
Dear Mac.- Will have to call off that counter-
feiting business. Got another man. Besides
hear you are laid up. Why not take a long
vacation? Try the Pacific Islands. I’m sure
they’ll do you good—Barty.”
“Unoflicial, and quite a different tone,” re-
marked Clara.
“Yes. Damn funny, too. Rorty has got
something up his sleeve.”
“It’s odd that he should mention the Pacific
Islands.”
“More than odd, Clara. Rorty has heard
in some way about this yachting party, and
that I’m invited. “Don’t believe in such co-
incidences. They don’t happen. And this
new affair is so peculiar, too, that he can’t
openly ask me to go. 'So he merely drops the
other case and gives me a hint.”
“Mac, you’re thinking of accepting!”
“Nonsense!” McClue leaned forward and
took her hand in both his own. “It isn’t
likely that I’d leave you for a long voyage—
now, of all times.”
12


A CURIOUS INVITATION
"‘But you’d like to.”
“I wouldn’t, Clara. Give me a tele-
graph blank. We’ll settle this business right
now.”
She did as he requested, but as she watched
him a cold little shiver went through her. He
was so obviously struggling with an impulse
to drop everything—his own happiness and
hers—and start for the West at once. Had
she been just emerging from the chrysalis of
her schoolmarm days, she could never have re-
sisted the temptation to hold this lover of hers
with a chain made of her own clinging arms.
But she had lived for some years now in the
world of men; had felt for herself the call of
great, impersonal quests.
“I think you’d better change your mind,”
she said suddenly.
He looked up, his flint-gray eyes and hard-
set jaw too plainly showing the direction
in which his thoughts had been moving.
“I really believe you’re in earnest. But of
course I won’t stir. That is,”—and he jumped
to his feet as a new idea entered his mind,‘ ‘—
that is, unless you’ll marry me first and go
13


THE SCARLET X
along. I never could see the sense of this
waiting.”
For an instant ‘Clara wavered. But she
wasn’t ready for any such adventure—yet. So
she went into another room and ordered the
bag which The Ferret always kept packed for
emergencies brought from his lodgings. When
she returned a few minutes later, her face
showed no trace of the struggle which she had
just gone through.
“Take the first train, Mac. Sea air is what
you need, and I can run the oflice quite well
without you.”
He protested. But she won the point, and
five days later, his bandages already discarded,
he was registering at the Palace Hotel, San
Francisco, feeling in his heart that Clara was
a brick—but a frozen one when it came right
down to cases.
A note from Bernice which awaited him re-
vealed but two facts—her Aunt Evelyn was a
Mrs. Millspaugh, with whom she was living in a
very correct quarter of the town, and she
wanted him to call immediately, no matter at
what hour he arrived. As it was already after
14


A CURIOUS INVITATION
noon, he obeyed this injunction to the letter
and was soon descending from his taxi at the
address indicated. How did it happen that
this young lady was in such a hurry to start
on a voyage for far islands at the very mo-
ment when the Secret Service was anxious for
him to take just such a trip? That was the
problem. But it was not destined to be solved
in any such comfortable surroundings as those
to which he was now admitted.
He expected to find some changes in Bernice
—something to justify the shadowy series of
inferences which he had set up since first link-
ing those three telegrams in his mind. When
she appeared, looking almost exactly like the
jolly co-ed he remembered, he was conscious of
a shock. Life, to judge by appearances, had
played her none of those darker tricks with
which his profession had made him so famil-
iar. She was a little older, a little spoiled.
perhaps, by the self-indulgences of a pam-
pered existence, but still essentially whole-
some. I
“What’s in the wind?’ he asked, returning
the firm grip of her outstretched hand.
15


THE SCARLET X
“Opium smuggling, or just a plain murder or
two!”
“Of course you always think of yourself as
a detective,” she responded. “But I’m noth-
ing as interesting as the heroine of one of
your hair-raising adventures. I merely wanted
a friend, and it was ever so good of you to
come.”
She spoke with the easy poise of one well-
trained in social usages, and as he regarded
her frank, open face -he reproached himself
for his feeling of disappointment. Sleuthing
made a man unhuman. He ought to have
been glad to find her so completely what a
young lady should be. But his brain per-
sisted in having its own way, and the conver-
sation had not progressed beyond the common-
place stages before that refractory or-gan
scored its initial triumph. At her ease Bernice
undoubtedly was as she sat there, dressed al-
ready for the voyage in her white duck yacht-
ing costume. But she wasn’t happy. Minute
traces of powder revealed the fact that she
had recently been called upon to hide the ev—
idences of some acute and painful emotion;
16


A CURIOUS INVITATION
and the very brightness of her eyes, now that
one came to study them closely, was suggest-
ive less of good spirits than of worry and
sleepless nights.
“You’re engageo to Carlos Gonzales, aren’t
you?” asked The Ferret, probing cautiously
into the puzzle.
“Yes—and nobody but Carlos ‘knows why
I’m undertaking this trip. It’s to go and look
for my father.”
“Look for him? I thought he was stationed
at Manila with the Geodetic.”
“He was. But three months ago we re-
ceived word of his death. And Mac, I don’t
believe he is dead.”
“My dear young lady!”
“Wait! You knew my father—what a
brave, upright man he was. If anyone told
you that he had come to a shameful end, would
you believe it?”
“But who told you any such thing?”
My aunt heard the stories. She hears of
everything. At first there was only the ofiicial
notice. Father was at the head of a little ex-
pedition, map-making in the Southern Philip-
17


THE SCARLET X
pines. They encountered a band of uncivil-
ized Moros, there was a skirmish, and father
was lost. That is exactly the word that was
sent us, though his companions were described
as killed. Then came the rumors. It is said
that if he didn’t actually lead the party into
an ambush, he at least deserted to the enemy.”
“I don’t believe I quite understand,” put in
her listener. “You mean he is accused of
permitting himself to be taken prisoner when
he might have fought his way out!”
“Worse. It was on an island beyond the
farthest government outposts—we’ve been
given the latitude and the longitude—and
they say he deliberately went over to the
Moros and adopted their way of life.”
“The idea is ridiculous,” reflected the de-
tective aloud. “But, in view of these stories
—-yes, I shouldn’t wonder if he was alive.”
“Anyway, I’m going to that island and find
out.” Bernice suddenly lifted her head, re-
vealing a look—was it of reasoned determi-
nation or of mere willfulness and the defiance
of some authorityl~shining in her eyes.
“Carlos was preparing for a cruise—he’s al-
18


A CURIOUS INVITATION
ways taking cruises. So I coaxed Aunt
Evelyn to let him take us along. They tele-
phoned from the hotel that you had arrived.
We can start at once.”
But at that moment a servant entered with
_word that her aunt wished to speak with her;
and fifteen minutes later Bernice returned to
the room, her face pale with vexation.
“What do you think? My maid—the one
who was to have gone with us—has left with-
out warning. You might as well go on board.
I’ve got to stay here and find another maid.
Aunt simply will not stir without one.”
McClue received the necessary directions,
telephoned to his hotel in regard to his bag-
gage, and set out for the water-front on foot.
He wanted a long walk and a chance to think.
Of course there was nothing necessarily sig-
nificant in the eleventh-hour refusal of a ser-
vant to undertake a long sea voyage. Never-
theless, it couldn’t be denied that this deser-
tion had an air of being curiously well-timed—
for somebody.
Bernice evidently knew little, and it wasn’t
at all likely that she had told him all of that.
19


THE SCARLET X
Was it possible that she saw nothing odd in
the circumstance that Carlos Gonzales had
been on the point of taking a voyage to the
South Pacific, whether she accompanied him or
not! A frequent custom, eh! But what was
a rich man of leisure doing with a custom
which would have taken him away from his
sweetheart! That he, himself, was about to
leave his sweetheart, and on the eve of mar-
riage too, didn’t occur to the detective as a
parallel case.
And then, that ugly yarn about Stover—it
was altogether too fragmentary. It assigned
no adequate motive for the conduct alleged.
A man with an honorable record and an impor-
tant oflicial position doesn’t league himself
with savages for the fun of it. Even rumor
usually tries to be more convincing.
“I must find out what Stover is really ac-
cused of doing,” said The Ferret to himself as
he walked along. “Carlos ought to know.
If he’s alive, it is something worse—and at the
same time more easily creditable—than turn_
ing squaw-man. If he is dead, there has been
foul play, and he was only the pawn in some
game.”
20


CHAPTER II
AN UNLISTED PASSENGER
T the wharf, McClue found that a boy
A from the hotel had already preceded
him with his bag. There, too, lay
the yacht’s tender—a keelless affair propelled
by oars and apparently built for the special
purpose of passing through shallow channels. _
It was manned by curiously rough-looking fel-
lows, who won their way through the water by
brute strength rather than skill. Even the
coxwain was something of a Samson, who—
in spite of his natty uniform—would have
seemed less out of place in a. waterfront brawl.
The yacht, however, was as dainty and spot-
less as a bride. She rode at anchor about a
mile from shore, and was capricioust named
The Escapade. It took no sailor to see that,
notwithstanding the luxurious fore and after
cabins projecting above her deck, she was built
primarily for speed, though one looked twice
21


THE SCARLET X
before noticing the squat, slightly disfiguring
funnel just forward of the mainmast.
“Hermaphrodite rig,” observed The Ferret
as they approached. “With her sails spread
she would make a good racer. But she seems
rather small for an ocean voyage.”
“Sixty-six tons displacement, 130 feet over
all,” responded the coxwain gruflly. “Big
enough—with all her boilers.”
A man stood waiting at the head of the lad-
der—a man almost as slender as a girl and
having something of a woman’s grace in his
movements. His skin was of a deep olive, his
eyes, hair and mustache startlingly black.
McClue had some difficulty in recognizing in
this proud, white-clad being the impecunious,
hang-dog Carlos of university days.
Carlos strove to be cordial, there was no
doubt of that. But his manner appeared to
be a; little forced, and Bernice’s non-arrival
seemed to vex him beyond all reason.
“She should have come aboard this morn-
ing,” he complained, glancing uneasily about
the harbor.
“If it hadn’t been for me, she would.”
22


AN UNLISTED PASSENGER
“Nonsense, Mac. Only, with a maid to se-
lect from the huzzies the employment agencies
will send her, she may not be here till tomor-
row.”
“That reminds me,” broke forth McClue,
with the sudden emphasis of one who discovers
an alarming lapse in his faculties. “I’ve for-
gotten one of my bags—also my hotel bill. If
you’ll lend me the tender again—”
“The whole Outfit is yours,” interrupted the
Spaniard. “Take what you want.”
All at once his heartiness seemed spontan-
eous. He was pleased. Could it be with the
idea that his friend was going ashore?
McClue returned to the landing and started
citywards. But no sooner was he out of sight
from the tender than he sought another point
on the water-front, engaged a motor-boat, and
directed the man in charge of it to slip unob-
trusively back to the wharf and wait for him.
Then he found a wretched restaurant, which
had the single advantage of afiording a view
of the wharf in question, and ordered a hearty
meal. Yet instead of falling to like a hungry
man, he toyed with his food, his eyes fixed on
23


THE SCARLET X
the window. He did not look like one who was
worrying about a hotel bill, and made no move
to acquire any bag save the one he had al-
ready left on the yacht.
A long wait ensued. But just as the thin
veil of fog which floated over the bay and city
was beginning to thicken with approaching
darkness, a taxi dashed past. The detective
stepped out to where he could see its occu-
pants as they descended. There were three.
O'ne he recognized as Bernice. The second,
he thought, was her aunt. The third was
wrapped up as if the chill of a San Francisco
evening was something to which she was not
accustomed. She must be the new maid.
The women boarded the tender, which im-
mediately set off. McClue followed silently
in his motor-boat, ordering the boatman to use
only the oars. He wondered if the tender,
once having reached the yacht, would start
back for him. It did not. So he hung about,
a wry smile on his lips, relying upon the deep-
ening mist to hide him, and upon his own en-
gine to put him alongside if the situation
should suddenly call for haste. Finally, as he
24


AN UNLISTED PASSENGER
gradually crept up, he heard Gonzales remark
to someone in a tone of ill-controlled impa-
tience: .
“Of course I’m sure he’s aboard. Capt.
Lufl’y saw him go below.”
Then came silence, followed by the unmis-
takable clatter of an anchor-chain. McClue
chuckled, sprang for the ladder, and stole to
the deck with the soundless agility of a cat.
Few lights were as yet going, and as nearly
everybody was absorbed in watching San
Franciso become a cluster of jewels that grew
ever dimmer and dimmer in the distance, he
managed to reach the companion-way. Once
below, his name on- a door-plate showed him
his cabin, and it was not until some time after
the second gong had sounded for dinner that
he emerged.
His appearance in the dining-salon was the
signal for a chorus of greetings, but Gonzales
started in spite of himself.
“The scoundrel dial plan to leave me be-
hind,” was The Ferret’s mental comment.
“And he thought he had succeeded. What in
thunder can it mean?”
25


THE SCARLET X
There were eight at the table—Bernice, her
Aunt Evelyn, a Miss Dolly Breen, Carlos Gon-
zales, Capt. Lufiy, Prof. Elliot Baird, Gilbert
Oaksey, and McClue himself. Oaksey was a
reticent Englishman, and from things that
were said it was evident that he had some rep-
utation as a hunter of big game. Baird could
be set down at once as the “Birds” of the tel-
egram, for not only was he introduced as an
ornithologist, but he rather suggested one of
his own specimens—somewhat untidily dried.
Lufl’y, as commander of the ship, did the hon-
ors—entirely too stiffly for a man altogether
at his ease. The real head of the table was
at the foot, where sat Mrs. Millspaugh—a
woman who appeared to be so thoroughly
formal through and through that one almost
wondered at her niece’s temerity in calling her
ctauptyn
01' the others little could be said for little
appeared, and dinner was decidedly a failure——
as is often the case with first dinners at sea,
where the voyagers, accustomed to the super-
ficial intimacies of the land, hesitate upon the
brink of the all-revealing companionship about
26


AN UNLISTED PASSENGER
to be enforced by the ocean. Even McClue
felt little disposed to hurry the study of his
surroundings. Things would begin to develop
soon enough.
In fact, cofiee had hardly been served before
Gonzales, taking advantage of a general move-
ment towards the after cabin, touched him
significantly upon the arm.
“I want to apologize,” he began as they
reached the deserted deck. “Of course we
wouldn’t have gone far without you, but it
gave me a scare when you were late tonight.”
‘lLateI!71
“At dinner, I mean. The captain had re-
ported that you’d come aboard in a boat of
your own, but when you didn’t appear I got to
thinking that maybe there ’d been a mistake.”
McCl-ue accepted this explanation at its face
value. He knew that the captain could not
have seen his boat—that there had been an
attempt to leave him ashore, and that some-
one was merely guessing why it failed. But
there was nothing actually to prove that Car-
los was responsible.
“I was in rather a hurry to get off,” the
27


THE SCARLET X
Spaniard went on. “A little more, and the
newspapers would have heard of our trip.
Bernice has told you what we’re after, I sup-
pose!”
“Yes. But do you think there is any truth
in those stories about her father that have
been going the rounds?”
“Of course not. Stover pushed his expedi-
tion too far, and the natives wiped it out——
that’s my opinion. But Bernice naturally
wants the matter settled. Are you coming
in?”
The Ferret expressed a desire to finish his
cigar outside, and when his host had with-
drawn continued for several minutes thought-
fully pacing the deck. Finally, instead of
moving towards the card-table, he climbed to
the wheel—house, where he found Capt. Luffy
lounging in a comfortable chair and snapping
an occasional word in the direction of the man
at the wheel.
The captain was preparing to mix something
in a glass; the sight of a visitor apparently did
not please him. But on seeing McClue’s re-
28


THE SCARLET X
seeming to warn him of things not to be told.
At last, questioned point blank in regard to
previous routes, he closed the subject by growl-
ing:
“You’d better speak to the owner if you
want to see her log. I never did like curios-
ity in passengers.”
“Very well,” said the detective, determined
to try the efiect of different tactics. “Let’s
drop ancient history and come down to the
present. Perhaps you’ll tell me, then, what
you meant by trying to sail without me this
evening.”
Lufl'y got to his feet, upon which he swayed
surprisingly little, and glared at his visitor in
sudden fury.
“I weighed anchor when I got my owner’s
orders. What in thunder are you trying to
get at?”
“But you told Gonzales that I’d come a-
board, and I hadn’t. You’d already started
when I made the gang-plank—by the skin of
my teeth.”
“Seven thousand devils! I’ll teach you
to talk to me like that!”
30


AN UNLISTED PASSENGER
He seized a bottle, and leaned threaten-
ingly over the little table that stood before
him. '
“Who says I told Carlos you was aboard?”
“Maybe I was mistaken. But I thought I
heard somebody say you did—or anyway that
you’d seen someone going below and thought it
was me.”
“That’s a very different thing.” The cap-
tain subsided into his chair, then continued
with a new eagerness:
“Come to think, I did see a party crossing
the decks. It was pretty dark—a new hand
blew out a fuse when we were starting the dy-_
namos—land I caught sight of somebody all
muffled up. And I says to myself—yes, and to
Carlos afterwards. I remember it now. I
says, ‘There goes that friend of yours—Mc-
Clue.’ Got your name pat the first time.
Devilish sorry about the whole thing. Let’s
have another drink.”
Luify’s good humor was so completely re-
stored that it was possible to leave him pro-
testing against the termination of the inter-
view. But the detective had already learned
31


THE SCARLET X
what he wanted to know. Carlos had lied,
and his tool had tardily tried to back him up.
But there had been no opportunity for the two
worthies to get together and make their stories
agree. They were old acquaintances, too,
companions on many trips, into the nature of
which it was best, perhaps, not to inquire.
Returning to the deck, McClue tried to ac-
cuse himself of making mountains out of mole-
hills. But as the second dog-watch came to
an end he had a rather comprehensive view of
the crew. They were rough and uncouth, most
of them, quite worthy of such a captain—
but they didn’t look like sailors.
Certainly this was a queer ship. And the
little turmoil incident to changing the watch
had hardly subsided before a cloaked figure
stole up from the companion-way and ap-
roached the starboard rail. The watcher
darted into a shadow. Could it be that Luify
had not made his yarn up out of whole cloth
after all? That he had really seen that muffled
up personage he had described? It began to
look as if he might at least have caught a
32


AN UNLISTED PASSENGER
glimpse of something which suggested the
tale.
The figure was looking out to sea, taking no
apparent notice of its surroundings. McClue
made stealthily towards it and suddenly
gripped it by the arm. It wheeled to face
him.
“Clara!”
“Yes; but don’t talk so loud. I’m the new
lady’s maid, and it would be better for us not
to be seen together.”
“But how did you get here? What has hap-
pened?” '
“Nothing has happened—yet. But Mac,
when you left the office I looked out of the
window, and somebody was shadowing you.”
“Good heavens! I’ve been shadowed ever
since I went into business.”
“But this was a Chinaman,” said Clara
Hope.
“So I noticed no great novelty in that,
either.”
“Was that why you didn’t want me to come
to the station and see you off?”
33


THE SCARLET X
“Something of the sort.”
“And you’re angry because I followed you.”
“Naturally I’m not particularly pleased.
Heaven knows where this yacht is really
bound for. But since you’re here, come inside
and let me tell them who you are.”
“What would you tell them?”
“That you’re my wife, of course.”
“And that I followed you to sea rather than
let you out of my sight?”
“Well, then, what am I to do?” cried The
Ferret, losing the last shreds of his temper as
the force of the objection went home.
“Leave me where I am, of course, and lis-
ten to my report. The office is in charge
of Minnie Deyo, the girl who was so useful to
us in the Primrose Petal case. She’ll be per-
fectly capable—”
“I’m not worrying about the ofiice. But
how did you get across the continent ahead of
me?”
“I obtained permission to go with the Air
Mail to Washington. I wanted to talk with
Rorty.”
34


AN UNLISTED PASSENGER
“So, that was it. What did Rorty say?”
“I told him where you had gone, and he
was so pleased that he couldn’t hide the fact.
yet he insisted that he knew nothing whatever
about the trip, though he’d heard of Stover
as a good Geodetic man.”
“Of course he wouldn’t tell you anything—
if you let him know that I’d already gone be-
fore you questioned him. He saw that he’d ac-
complished his object, and had only to sit
mum.” '
“Yes, I realized, my mistake. There was
nothing left for me to do but to telegraph our
representative in San Francisco. He bought
ofl’ Miss Stover’s maid, and I arrived just in
time to take her place.”
“And have you discovered what everything
is all about?” inquired McClue, fighting back
an impulse to take this incredible young wo-
man forcibly in his arms.
“I’ve discovered something. The cook is a
Chinaman.”
The Ferret swore softly under his breath.
If he was expected to have the shivers every
35


THE SCARLET X
time he saw a Chinaman the future promised
to be interesting. Then he reached out to take
Clara’s hand.
But she stepped back.
“On this voyage, Mac, you’ll have to re-
member that I’m a lady’s maid.”
She was down the companion-way before he
could protest. But once in her cabin—a
wretched little cabin near the sailors’ quarters
-—her dignity suddenly fell from her shoulders,
and by the time she was ready to creep into
her berth she looked very much like a girl who
had been indulging in a fit of tears.
Meanwhile, McClue on the deck above was
also having an unpleasant colloquy with his
inner consciousness. Its conclusion ran thus:
“Here’s a pretty kettle of fish!”
That night in his sleep he thought he heard
the sputtering of the wireless, and it seemed
to be sending that very sentence through space.
36


THE SCARLET X
duties. As long as meals were on time and
Sam, the Chinese cook, maintained a high
standard nobody seemed to think it worth while
to grumble.
Bernice was almost always to be found
sitting beneath a bit of awning by the taifrail
with Carlos, whose love-making grew more
and more ardent as the parallels of latitude
slipped by. She made the detective think of
a child playing with fire. Clara kept per-
sistently aloof, a slave to the caprices of three
women. She was one of the few upon whom
the seductive airs produced a hardening efiect,
evidently by arousing an inner spirit of re-
bellion. Mrs. Millspaugh alone remained quite
herself. She had been something of a trial at
first, with her fussy toilets and New England
parlor manners. But decidedly she was a
person to be reckoned with. Her cup and
saucer had always to shine, and even Luffy felt
constrained to mutter an apology before he
permitted himself to doze in her presence.
Honolulu was reached and left behind. Then
came Manila, where one would have expected a
long stop, since here was the station from which
38


A PISTOL SHOT
had come the news of Stover’s disappearance.
Two days, however, and The Escapade was
once more en route, having barely escaped
losing her naturalist, who had insisted on
taking a little trip inland for the benefit of his
collections.
The island for which they were bound was
indicated by a dot of red ink on the chart which
hung in the after cabin—a very tiny dot, un-
named and unnumbered, and marking a spot
near the Saranganis, south of Mindanao.
Above it was written in Bernice’s own hand:
“Lat., 5-24 North. L0ng., 125-40 East.”
McClue would have liked to pick up some
unofficial information, say from the gossip of
the Manila water-front. Could it be that this
desire had been suspected and forestalled?
Or had Bernice been so far swayed from her
original purpose that she only wanted now to
sail on and on with her lover over the tranquil
waters, ever farther and farther into the region
of dolce far niente? But that was Italian. It
had nothing to do with this devil’s land of the
Moros which they were approaching. He felt
himself at fault. There was something funda-
39


THE SCARLET X
mental in the situation which he had not
grasped.
With impatient eyes he watched the growth
of the broken red line with which the captain
recorded the course on the chart. It became
longer every day as the yacht fell southward.
It reached Mindoro Straits, passed the little
Calamianes, Panay and Negros, and began
skirting the huge terra incognita of Mindanao,
slipping north of Basilan and then south-
easterly to the Sarangant Channel which cuts
ofi the Sarangani group from their huge
brother. Finally, avoiding the channel and
making around Balut, the vessel turned her
prow almost squarely towards the equator.
It was marvelous weather. A gentle head-
wind drove the heat astern, and one could look
through an atmosphere almost as transparent
as glass across a sea as blue as turquoise. Capt.
Lufty took an observation, steamed around for
a few hours, and took another.
“Here we are, sir,” he announced, ap-
proaching Gonzales and touching his cap.
“Here?” '
40


A PISTOL SHOT
The word broke simultaneously from half the
company at once.
“Yes,” afiirmed the captain, “this is five
degrees and 24 minutes north, 125 degrees and
40 minutes east.” .
“But there isn’t a speck of land in
sight!” cried Carlos, with every appearance of
amazement. “It ought to be an island.”
“Ought to be according to the chart you
gave me,” admitted Luffy. “But here we
are.” He made a comprehensive sweep with
his arm, indicating the four cardinal points,
with nothing but water showing in any di-
rection.
There was a consultation, and it was decided
to circle about for a while, test the instruments,
and take another observation the next day.
The company dispersed with some little stir of
excitement.
“Bernice,” said The Ferret, intercepting
that young lady on her way to her cabin; “did
you get that latitude and longitude from the
ofl‘icial notice sent you by the Geodetic?”
“Yes; here is the notice, itself. I got it out
41


THE SCARLET X
when I saw that we were approaching nothing.’ ’
McClue carefully perused the letter which
she took from the bosom of her dress. It was as
she had said. And the look of hidden fear in her
eyes was unquestionably genuine.
When she had gone, he managed to encounter
Clara calmly gathering together some bits of
fancy work which Mrs. Millspaugh had dropped
on her way out of the dining-salon.
“Bernice has the oflicial memorandum of the
location,” he began. “Either it’s been tam-
pered with, or else the authorities didn’t want
her to find the place. Or else again—but what
do you think?”
“I think ‘or else again’ is right.”
“The captain is simply lost?” .
“Possibly—unless he is still more simply
trying to lose us.”
With which cryptic remark she went below,
leaving The Ferret with a dawning con- .
sciousness that his assistant was imposing even
more restraint upon their relations than the
situation called for. He did not know that he
had spoken with an almost savage abruptness—
42


A PISTOL SHOT
that people on board were wondering what had
come over him of late.
The test of the instruments disclosed no
errors, andafter twenty-four hours of constant
navigation the earlier observations were con-
firmed.
“Here we are again,” said the captain, “and
with sixty fathoms under the keel.”
Gonzales suggested that they proceed for the
Macassar Straits and Java, go on to Australia,
and cable for new sailing-directions from there.
N o objections being offered, Lufiy gave the
order:
“South by west!”
4116; Thiee was something in the way he said it
/which made one fancy he had mentally added
the words, “At last!” A wink of under-
standing appeared to pass between him and his
owner—but that may have been an illusion
‘created by the sunlight dancing from the empty
waves.
Out of deference to an increasing humidity,
dinner was served on the tiny hurricane deck
which formed the roof of the after cabin. But
43


THE SCARLET X
in spite of this improvement in quarters, it was
a silent and bewildered company, and Carlos,
who alone seemed gay, had the air of being a
professional entertainer preforming before an
unappreciative audience. When dessert was
finally served, he took from his pocket several
manuscripts, yellow with age and seemingly of
parchment.
“I hope you’re not going to give us any-
thing scientific,” said Mrs. Millspaugh, smiling
apprehensiver across the table at her pro-
spective relative. “Prof. Baird has been
trying to explain how islands come and go al-
most of their own free will—by volcanic action,
or something—and we poor women have the
headache.”
“No,” laughed the Spaniard, “these are
only some documents which have been handed
down to me from one of my ancestors, a
Navares Gonzales y Badajos, who was governor
of the Philippines under the King of Spain just
before the occupation of Manila by the English
in the eighteenth century. I brought them out
because they show that we’re not the only ones
44


'A PISTOL SHOT
who ever failed to find what they were looking
for in this part of the world.”
The speaker paused until a chorus of pro-
tests assured him that he had everybody’s
attention, then went on:
“Old Navares was a sort of antiquarian, and
was always collecting native legends and
uperstitions. He even started to write a book
about them. Most of it was destroyed in a fire
before I was born. But I’ve a fragment here
which used to interest me a good deal when I
was a boy.”
He selected the yellowest of the parchments
and beg-an to read it aloud, translating the old
Spanish into English as he went along:
“ “Coming to the island whose summit is like
a tooth, we found the tribe of the treasure.
And the treasure, they told us, was guarded for-
ever by a scarlet X, and no man might come to
it except by the same, nor leave it at all. For
the trail thereto was a one-way trail, and he
who assayed it without the sign was lost.’ ”
“I don’t understand a word of it!” exclaimed
Mrs. Millspaugh. “'Clara, go and get my
45


THE SCARLET X
fancy-work. Who ever heard of an island that
was like a tooth? The idea isn’t at all
pleasant.”
“What I’ve read seems to be a quotation
from a yet older document,” explained the
Spaniard, “and Navares evidently didn’t
understand it either. But he made some in-
vestigations on his own account, and by piecing
a lot of stories together managed to concoct
quite a tale. It isn’t at all complete, but this
is what he says.”
“ ‘In these islands ’—name of the islands
torn ofi,——‘we found the X. of red or scarlet to
be an object indeed of veneration and dread.
So superstitious were the natives in its regard
that it was impossible for many days to win
admissions of knowledge. But by pouring
water through a section of bamboo inserted in-
to the rebellious month, we awoke the sense of
the necessity for truth, and learned that to the
south and east of us lay a land whose in-
habitants had the cunning of serpents and the
ferocity of devils—that they killed strangely,
ate from platters of gold, and decked themselves
46


A PISTOL SHOT
with gems the like of which have not been seen
in our time.’ ”
“Your ancestor seems to have been a delight-
ful old party,” remarked Oaksey with a draw].
“Looks as if he invented the ‘water cure.’ ”
“It’s like all Spanish legends,” complained
Birds, “a lot of nonsense about gold and jewels.
Travelers in those days were always looking for
Eldorado, and never left a single intelligent
note regarding the fauna and flora of the lands
they visited.”
“My ancestor had been taken prisoner by the
English,” explained Gonzales, “and was no
doubt half insane when he wrote. Of course
it’s all ancient history now. But I’ve always
thought that, where there was so much smoke,
there might once have been a little fire.”
At this point, a Tagal boy in dirty white
trousers and flapping matting slippers, ap-
peared and began to remove the remaining
dishes. The captain aroused himself, as from
the depths of a profound slumber, and went for-
ward. There was the usual languid dispersal
of the company toward its favorite nooks, ,
47


THE SCARLET X
Oaksey alone having remained faithful all
these weeks to the card-table, where he and
Mrs. Millspaugh now buried themselves in a
game of bizique.
Gonzales’ tale had been disappointing. It
dealt neither with disappearing islands nor
hair-breadth escapes. McClue was inclined to
regard the whole incident as an attempt to
draw a herring across the trail and distract
attention from the fact that The Escapade was
out of her reckoning. He had been impressed
by the authentic appearance of the documents,
and determined to give them a closer inspection
before finally dismissing them from his mind,
but for the moment he lost himself in renewed
indignation over the managment of the yacht.
He had but to look down to the main deck to see
the crew lolling about as if the place belonged
to them. Such slovenliness was intolerable at
sea, where one ’s very life often depended upon
everything, from mainmast to morals, being
snug and shipshape.
He had gone thus far in his thoughts when
he and everyone else was brought up standing
by a cry from the look-out.
48


A PISTOL SHOT
“Land, ho!”
From the deck, with its brilliant lights
throwing the sea into dark relief, nothing could
be seen at all. From the mast-head the swift,
tropical twilight had not quite vanished. But
it was difficult to take the look-out seriously,
and incredulity became general when it was
learned that he was not a regular sailor, but a
half-breed servant—a native of 110-110, named
Kulisan—who had been bribed by a chew of to-
bacco to stand the trick aloft. There was
indeed a tiny shadow on the southern horizon,
but the idea that it could be land was almost
unanimously voted a delusion, and it was
jestingly named “Kulisan,” after its pretended
discoverer.
Nevertheless, in the morning, there, off the
port quarter, lay an island. And as the vessel
made towards it, a mountain rising in its center
took slowly the form of a tooth—a huge molar,
half decayed and covered from base to summit
with vegetation, which, from the distance,
suggested a fungus rather than healthy trees.
By midday the yacht had steamed entirely
around it without having found a harbor.
49


THE SCARLET X
Capt. Lufiy pretended to be feeling his way,
and finally—complaining of engine trouble-—
came to a stop in three fathoms of warm brine.
But The Ferret was not convinced. The
engine trouble was too opportune, and during
the entire circuit the lead had not been heaved
overboard more than three or four times. But
one conclusion seemed tenable. The Escapade
had let fall her anchor at the very spot which
had been her goal from the start.
For what had she come? Who was in her
secret? Where, exactly, was she, if her
bearings could be read aright? And where
was that other island, the last known camping-
ground of Stover, which they had ostensibly
set out to seek?
The only answer was the breeze, falling. dead
as the propeller ceased to turn, and the heat—
now stifling—which rose like an invisible vapor
and threatened to envelope the very source of
thought in lethargy and indifference.
He slung a hammock to port, in the shade of
the wheel-house, and took up the lonely burden
of vigilance. Kulisan, visible just beyond the
after, cabin over the starboard rail, and bearing
50


A PISTOL SHOT
no name save the one given it in jest, was very
quiet. From the first not a sound had come
out of its fastnesses save the occasional scream
of a monkey and the vibrant “chuck-a-oo,
chuck-a-oo” of a poison lizard. It appeared
to be utterly—one might almost have said os—
tentatiously—uninhabited. Not a vestige of so
much as a nipa-thatched hut had at any time
been visible, even through a glass.
And yet that grove of cocoanut palms on
the slope beyond the green-shrouded beach—
for even the beach was covered with vegetation
—must have been planted by the hand of man.
Those pole-like trunks with their feathery
fronds, growing so seemingly at random, are
always to be taken as a sign of cultivation.
He knew enough about the tropics to know
that. The place had once possessed a popu-
lation. It had a history. In what unknown
language was it written? What unguessed
terror had brought it to an end?
Suddenly Clara appeared.
“There is something you ought to know,’ ’
she announced, pausing for a moment by his
side—and her voice, though pitched in an
51


THE SCARLET X
undertone, broke through the spell of its sur-
roundings with a wholesome and healthy re-
minder of New York. “From where I sleep I
can often hear the sailors talking, and they say
that we are undoubtedly at 125 east, and all the
rest of it.”
The Ferret came quickly to a sitting posi-
tion. “Clara, I believe you’re right. This
Kulisan is Stover’s island, whatever else it
may be. You don’t find chunks of land stick-
ing up out of the ocean and not down on the
map—not these days. Luify isn’t as much at
sea as he pretends.”
“I know he isn’t. And the crew have been
here before—at least so I gather from some of
their remarks.”
“Then someone is willing to have us come
here, but is anxious that we shan’t know where
we are. How do you explain that “l ”
“I don’t, Mac. But good-bye. Somebody
is watching us.”
Clara walked unhurriedly away, and McClue
cast a quick glance about him. By the taffrail
sat Bernice and Carlos, talking earnestly, their
faces towards the land. Along the starboard
52


A PISTOL SHOT
promenade, far out of earshot, Sam, the
Chinese cook, wa taking a constitutional.
But nowhere could he see anything which sav-
ored of espionage until he happened to look
upward. And there, stretched out on the can-
vas covering one of the life-boats, her head
just visible over the edge, lay Dolly Breen at-
tentively watching the unsuspecting couple by
the rail.
She was the one person on board whom the
detective ever since the voyage had commenced
had systematically avoided. Though undeni-
ably pretty, she had a habit of giggling and of
rolling her eyes which greatly annoyed him;
and ch'ancing one day to hear the captain re-
fer to her as the “Little Fool,” he had felt that
he and Lufl’y had at least one opinion in
common.
But now there was something sinister in her
attitude. Perhaps it was her shameless eaves-
dropping. Perhaps it was her eyes, which
for once seemed more green than blue. May-
be—was not her very hair tawny rather than
golden if one regarded it attentively? A trick
of the slant, afternoon sunlight, no doubt. But
53


A PISTOL SHOT
inent beak, and two tufts of gray hair standing
erect on his head, the old fellow seemed partly
hawk, partly owl, with perhaps a trace of wren
in his nervous, jerky activity. And—with the
possible exception of Oaksey—this eccentric
enthusiast was the most dependable male ally
to be looked for in case any one of the hidden
brewing dangers about them should suddenly
develop a crisis!
“It’s incredible,” Birds began in ahoarse
croak, nodding to his visitor but without look-
ing up from an iridescent thing of feathers
which he held in his hand; “simply incredible,
the way the idea has gained ground that none
of the Troehilidae are to be found in the Phil-
ippine Islands. I trapped this specimen on
Luzon, and could have had a dozen more if
everyone hadn’t been in such a hurry to con-
tinue the voyage. Of course it isn’t one of the
Troohilidae proper, but Salasphoras rufus is
own cousin to Trochilt'dus colubris, and when
I once get ashore here, if I don’t catch a few
Loddigesz'a mirailis—-”
“What are you talking about?” demanded
the detective, sinking into a chair and lighting
55


THE SCARLET X
a pipe. “Those things look like humming-
birds.”
“They are humming-birds.”
“Well, I wish you’d talk about people for
once”
“They’re worth a word or two at times,”
admitted the ornithologist, suddenly smiling.
“Every form of life is worth study, though as
a general thing I’m more interested in the
order aves than in mammalia. As to the
genius homo—”
“Good! Let’s get down to homo. What
do you think of homo as he is found on this
ship?”
“That is your province,” observed the
other. “You are a detective, they tell me, in
your proper habitat—which, permit me to say,
is the north temperate zone.”
“But you must have reached some conclu-
sions—especially as your own habitat, as you
call it, isn’t so far away. I’d like to know
your opinion of those manuscripts left by
Navares Gonzales y Badajos.”
“What chiefly interested me, Mac, was
56


A PISTOL SHOT
Carlos’ probable reason for reading them
aloud.”
“You don’t believe it was merely to enter-
tain us!”
“I could answer that better if I knew what
was really the object of this voyage.”
“Now you’re going too far. Bernice is
certainly anxious to find her father.”
“No doubt. But has it never occurred to
you that finding her father was the excuse
rather than the reason for this trip?”
McClue started to answer, but he was cut
short by a chorus of screams from the deck
above, the hoarse shouting of men, and a
pistol shot.
57


CHAPTER IV
THE SIGN OF THE CROSS
HEN McClue reached the deck he
found the passengers huddled in
a group forward. It was dusk,
and as yet few electrics were on, but there was
light enough to see that Bernice was clinging
to Gonzales in frank terror, and that the Span-
iard’s hand, hanging nerveless by his side,
grasped a revolver.
Further aft, withdrawn from the passengers
as if in feud, were the captain, the crew and
some of the native servants in a group of their
own. The deck between was empty save for
an outstretched object, very still and curiously
white.
“What has happened?” the detective de-
manded, noting with relief that Clara seemed
to be unscathed and that only Mrs. Millspaugh
was unaccounted for.
Gonzales pointed to the object on the deck.
58


THE SIGN OF THE CROSS
“That thing swam out from the island and
was over the rail before anybody saw it. I
shot just in time. Turn on more lights, some-
body, will you? Damn it, how long are we go-
ing to be kept in the dark?”
There was a stampede of the crew to the
switch-board below. But whoever got there
first pulled the wrong lever, and the yacht
went as dark as a floating derelict.
“You say—a man swam out from an unin-
habited island?” The Ferret heard his own
voice inquiring.
“Yes—it’s a juramentado,” Carlos an-
swered unsteadily. '
Now a juramentado is a raging Malay fa-
natic, who shaves off his eyebrows, binds up his
arteries, covers his otherwise almost naked
body with pigment, and starts out armed with
a bolo to win Mohammed’s paradise by killing
as many Christians as possible before being fi-
nally despatched. To be left with one in that
ghostly twilight—even though he was sup-
posedly dead—was enough to try the stoutest
nerves. Dolly Breen began to laugh in the
shrill, disconcerting voice which presages hys-
59


THE SCARLET X
teria. McClue was at once recalled from the
thought of dangers past to a realization of
what might be yet in store.
“Don’t move!” he ordered, as he sensed
rather than saw the panic-like stir among
those on deck. “Get ready what weapons you
have—pocket-knives if nothing better—and
strike at anything that shows itself. That
devil may be only shamming, or he may not
have come alone.”
He had hardly spoken before the proper
switch was found and every light on board was
set aglow. And there upon the planking, in-
stead of the painted savage he had expected to
see, lay the harmless, slippered Dranquilino,
whose slovenly appearance as he went about
setting the table had aroused his indignation
not half an hour before. The little Tagal was
quite alone, his dirty white sailcloth pa/nt-
alones and his camisa-like shirt streaked with
red. And he was dead—apparently not from
a bullet but from a slashed throat!
“Get together—back to back—the women in
the center,” commanded the detective, as the
passengers and the returning sailors stared
60


THE SIGN OF THE CROSS
into each other’s faces in helpless astonishment.
“I thought I saw something move. The jura-
mentado must be around here somewhere, and
still alive.”
“But I’m sure I potted him,” Gonzales
spoke up. “He wasn’t three feet away.”
“Potted Dranquilinoi”
“I potted the man who climbed over the
rai .”
“Then who cut Dranquilino’s throat?”
Instead of an answer, the voice of Mrs.
Millspaugh was heard from the companion-
way.
“Didn’t I hear a pistol go off i”
“We were trying a little target-practice,”
said McClue, hurrying to delay her approach
and speaking so that all might hear. “Your
niece happened to clip the ear of one of the
servants. I’m afraid you’ll find her a bit up-
set.”
Exactly what I was afraid of !” exclaimed
the aunt, planting a determined foot on the
stair.
“She would take up shooting, though for a
young lady even to touch firearms is some-
61


THE SCARLET X
thing that was never heard of when I was a
girl.”
There was no keeping the indignant chap-
erone from the deck, but by the time she ar-
rived the sailors had already found a tarpau-
lin, and stood in a concealing circle about the
thing it covered. Mrs. Millspaugh saw only
her niece’s terror-stricken face—at the sight
of which she hurried forward with arms ex-
tended in forgiveness. An almost immediate
adjournment was taken to the dinner table
where a plate of soup spilled by a terrified
Negrito soon absorbed the good lady’s atten-
tion. McClue was able to turn to Clara, who
of late had her meals served at a little table
just behind him, and to catch her barely audi~
ble whisper:
“You shouldn’t have spared her. Some-
thing worse will happen if we’re not careful.”
“Yes,” he admitted with the same caution.
“We’ll soon have to drop this farce. But I
was afraid of a panic if she saw—and maybe
began to scream.”
“You did quite right,” put in Gonzales, lean-
ing towards the detective. “And there’s no
62


THE SIGN OF THE CROSS
further danger. Luffy and the crew are
searching the whole yacht. If the fellow’s
aboard they’ll find him.”
McClue gave the Spaniard a quick, [apprais-
ing glance. Carlos had quite recovered from
his fright. The hand which held his soup
spoon was perfectly steady. And now he was
trying to minimize the danger. Why? What
could possibly lie behind this ghastly murder
of the inoffensive Tagal?
The shadows cast by the lights, and the dim,
almost invisible ocean beyond became more
threatening than ever. A juramentado was
at least a tangible enemy. But a juramentado
who produced this curious reaction in one
of the party—above all, a juramentado who
changed to a harmless servant even after he
was dead—was 'a thing to appal. And catch-
ing Clara’s eye, the detective read his own
thought. Gonzales had been momentarily
startled, but was nevertheless in possession of
some knowledge which they did not share.
“You are all upset by that target-shooting,”
he heard Mrs. Millspaugh say to Birds. “I’m
nervous myself. Tomorrow we must go
63


THE SCARLET X
ashore. A little real exercise will do us
good.”
McClue caught a mental flash-light of what
a trip to Kulisan might mean, and he was
about to break out with the truth when Birds
forestalled him by remarking in a cheerful
squawk:
“That’s a good idea—if you’re not afraid
'of bats. The place must be full of them.”
“Bats only fly around at night,” corrected
Mrs. Millspaugh. “I read up the subject in
the encyclopedia the other day, after you’d
been telling us about those dreadful vampires
in South America. We won’t be on the island
at night, so you needn’t try to frighten me."
“Bats or snakes,” went on the naturalist.
“You mean—there are snakes on Kulisan?”
“The terrain certainly seems well adapted
to reptilia—ophidia in particular. I should
be much disappointed if we didn’t meet with
some splendid specimens of the python and
boa. But there’s nothing to frighten one in
that.”
Mrs. Millspaugh fairly shrieked, declaring
that she would never rest now until the cap-
64


THE SIGN OF THE CROSS
tain had fixed the machinery and weighed
anchor. Certainly, when he did descend to
human affairs, the old naturalist was clever.
McClue, relieved to find even one level-
headed man on board, slipped away to make a
personal examination of the ship. He poked
into every nook and cranny, from chain-wells
to fore-peak, even looking beneath the covers,
of the life-boats, into the sleeping-cabins and
the sailors’ quarters. When he emerged from "
a final inspection of the hold, convinced that
no hiding-place had been overlooked, the yacht
had settled down for the night and only Oaksey
remained by the dining-table.
“Not enough excitement to keep the others
awake, I suppose,” he remarked, taking a
seat opposite the hunter.
“No, but their nerves got edgy as it grew
late. They wanted to feel themselves behind
locked doors.”
“Well, I hope they haven’t forgotten to lock
them. I can find nothing, but it’s hard to be-
lieve it was Dranquilino who ran amuck.”
“It wasn’t Dranquilino, Mac. The man who
climbed the rail was naked save for a strip of
65


THE SCARLET X
loin-cloth. I had a distinct glimpse of him be-
fore Carlos fired.”
“It’s funny that Carlos missed.”
“He didn’t miss. The fellow went down
with a bullet in him, I’m certain of that. It
was his body that lay on deck when you first
came up. It wasn’t as dark to me as it must
have been to you, fresh from a brightly lighted
cabin.”
“Just what do you mean, Oaksey?”
“Dranquilino was about to ring the gong for
dinner when it happened,” the Englishman
went on without replying directly. “He has
a neat way of doing it, you know—or had, I
should say—with a lot of flourishes and half
taps. We were gathered around to see him
perform. My idea is that this other man who
jumped over the rail and was shot, slashed
Dranquilino as he fell. It’s incredible that
Dranquilino could have slashed himself. He
must have clung to the gong for a minute,
slumped down while the lights were off, and
crawled to where we found him. The other,
being merely wounded, got away.”
66


THE SIGN OF THE CROSS
“Sounds possible. But if there really was
a More here, he must have got not only 03 the
deck but clean away from the boat.”
“I suppose he must, though nobody saw him
jump overboard. It’s jolly queer. Let me
show you something.”
Oaksey led the way to the spot where the
supposed juramentado had been seen to fall.
There he dropped to his knees and struck a
match. The detective, stooping beside him,
saw a dull red spot grow clear for a moment on
the planking.
“A blood-stain!” he commented, straight-
ening up. “Not a cheerful thing to leave
around, and shows a mighty careless job with
the deck-swab. But I don’t see that it gets us
anywhere.”
“Did you notice the shape of it?” asked the
hunter.
“Yes, I certainly noticed the shape of it—
and it’s mighty odd. But a stain has to be of
some shape, you know."
“It isn’t a stain at all,” Oaksey insisted.
I’ve tried it with my penknife. It’s some kind
67


THE SCARLET X
of gum, or pigment mixed with gum, and very
sticky. And I’m sure you see that it’s much
too symmetrical to be due to chance.” ,
“You know more than you are saying,”
suggested The Ferret, looking the other quickly
in the face.
“It isn ’t positive knowledge, Mac. But I had
an impression, when that fellow came climbing
overyon us, that there was a sort of scar, or
mark, in the middle of his forehead—just about
the shape and color of this.”
“In that case, there was really a Moro here,
and he left that mark when his forehead struck
the planking.”
“A Moro?” repeated Caksey. “But the
Moros are all Mohammedans. Can you as-
sociate a Mohammedan with the sign of a
cross?”
McClue said nothing. The mark on the deck
was very much like a cross. But a cross in red
-—what was that but a scarlet X?
68


CHAPTER V
A NIGHT AND A MORNING
AKSEY declared rather abruptly that
he was going to turn in. McClue be-
gan scraping the gum from the planks:
Ever since the sighting of land, the scarlet X
had lurked uncomfortably in the back of his
mind. It had been bad enough when Carlos
read aloud those memoirs of Navares Gonzales
y Badajos within the hearing of everyone who
might choose to listen. A tale of fabulous
treasure, however absurd, is not exactly the
thing to bring to the attention of a lot of igno-
rant sailors and native servants afloat among
the very islands where the tale is supposed to
be laid.
Then came that tooth-shaped mountain,
tallying so well with the fanciful descriptions
of the legend. And now here was the crimson
sign, tanginy connected with Kulisan—just
the sort of thing to give conviction a clinch. It
69


' THE SCARLET X
was worth some trouble to prevent its existence
from becoming known.
Six bells sounded—eleven o’clock. It was
not so late, after all. But a gloom which could
not have been deepened by midnight pervaded
the yacht. This was not as it should have
been. After what had happened, night ought
to have been turned into day. There should
have been a special guard. An anchor watch,
no doubt, was on duty, but it wasn’t visibly in
evidence. To all intents and purposes, the
detective had The Escapade to himself.
The cross obliterated, he remembered Dran-
quilino’s body, which lay near the forward
hatch still hidden by its sheet of tarpaulin. It
could at least be determined whether Gonzales’
bullet had or had not hit the Tagal. A grue-
some five minutes settled the question—in the
negative. The body showed no trace of a
bullet—and, needless to say, nothing which
could have left a pattern of gum on the deck
planks.
McClue began to wish that Oaksey had re-
mained to keep watch and watch with him
throughout the night. What had moved the
70


A NIGHT AND A MORNING
hunter so suddenly? He didn’t look like a man
who would want to go to sleep when a little
vigilance might mean the saving of every life on
board. Meanwhile, Kulisan—beginning to
stand out in clearer outline as an ancient and
ugly moon rose above the horizon—seemed to
be coming nearer. It was even difficult to
assure one ’s self that the yacht was not
drifting ashore. Danger, like an unseen pres-
ence, could be felt everywhere. It made
stealthy footsteps out of every creak of the
rigging, and peopled the dusk beyond each fu-
tile light with threatening shapes. Finally
the footsteps became real. The watch was
being changed. Men could be heard coming up -
from their quarters forward. But none could
be heard going down. And there seemed to be
too many altogether. Not only the watch, but
the entire crew was gathering in a scarcely
distinguishable huddle by the starboard stay-
chains. McClue became aware of lowered
voices. A meeting of some sort was being held.
Then the yacht became uncannily silent. The
last breath of the night breeze failed—flickered,
so to speak, and went out. Even the rigging
71


THE SCARLET X
ceased to creak, and it seemed almost as if the
very sea were holding its breath. There was
no more talk, not even a whisper. The meeting
was over. But it did not break up. The men
were moving slowly towards the bridge with
that stealthy, cat-like step which presages a
rush.
Luffy usually chose the bridge as his
sleeping-porch, spending half the night there
sprawled over a bottle. The situation began
to look ominous, and the detective was about to
shout a warning when he caught sight of the
captain himself slowly descending theladder.
“Listen here, men!” the captain began,
speaking softly and in a tone of good-natured,
slightly maudlin remonstrance—not at all the
voice which would be expected from one in
his office in the face of a threatened mutiny.
“Now see here! What’s the meaning of this?”
“We want some information,” said one of
the crew. _
“Information, eh? Well, shoot your piece.”
“We want to know—”
But with that the colloquy sank to a still
lower key, so that it was impossible for the
72


A NIGHT AND A MORNING
listener to catch a single word without running
the risk of discovery. Even the crew had to
press close to hear. The captain’s voice could
be clearly distinguished, but not the purport
of what he said. Was it a fairy tale that he
was repeating”! Instead of protests, or any-
thing in the nature of threats or abuse,
there rose on all sides pleased grunts and
chuckles.
“Hear that, now!”
“That’s us!”
“We piped it off about right, then.”
Capt. Lutfy would certainly have to do some
explaining in the morning. But for the time
being McClue, crouching behind a carelessly
coiled hawser, decided that it would be better
to keep out of sight and await developments.
Silence returned like a leaden weight. The
very air seemed dead and difficult to breath.
And then there was a slight splash to port, as
if something had gently ,fallen into the sea.
Noiselessly he ran to the rail and looked down
at the long, lazy waves of molten silver upon
which the yacht slowly rose and fell. Just
beneath the overhang was an object which kept
73 I


THE SCARLET X
itself afloat by the motion of its arms and legs.
A second glance showed it to be a man.
The Ferret covered the swimmer instantly
with his automatic. But he hated to fire from
such a point of vantage without knowing some-
thing more about his target; and as he hesi-
tated, the figure turned its head.
“Don’t shoot,” came in a sibilant whisper
from the water, while a hand rose up in a.
warning gesture. “Take another look.”
“Oaksey!”
“Right!” responded the hunter, waving a
farewell and striking vigorously out. “Going
to poke around a bit. I’ll be back by noon.”
He swam high, with a bundle containing no
doubt his gun and his clothing lashed securely
upon his head. The swim to Kulisan would be
nothing for Oaksey. Yet McClue watched anx-
iously until he was out of sight, then muttered
aloud:
“So this is what he calls turning in. I
wonder what he really has in mind?”
“Don’t suspect Mr. Oaksey, Mac. Things are
dreadful enough as they are.”
The detective wheeled at the sound of a voice
74


A NIGHT AND A MORNING
behind him, and found himself once more face
to face with Clara. As usual she had some in-
formation to give, and for once it seemed to be
reassuring. She had found an inconspicuous
blood-trail leading from amidships towards a
hatch, and then between decks to a hawse-holc
aft.
“At least that’s what I think you call it,”
said Clara, “though it’s unusually large—-
almost as if it was intended as a chute to drop
things quietly through. But it explains how a
man could have got into the sea without
climbing the rail.”
“What doesn’t it explain, Clara?” asked
McClue, noting that she seemed to be agitated
—quite unlike the stoical lady’s maid at last.
“It doesn’t explain itself—nor Carlos Gon-
zales,” was the answer. “He couldn’t have
known about that blood-trail, yet he realized
almost immediately that the danger was over.
He must have had some special information.
And that, it seems to me, is the most dangerous
thing of all—for the rest of us.”
The Ferret nodded, but it was not this
clever reasoning which had impressed him.
75


THE SCARLET X
He had suddenly realized the loneliness of the
position which Clara had imposed upon herself,
and, yielding to a natural impulse, he reached
out and took her in his arms. She offered no
resistance—even returned his caresses. For
a few moments it was as if the old days in New
York had come back. Then his very soul
seemed to change. Something passionate, de-
manding, almost ruthless, welled up from
unsuspected depths. The girl freed herself
with a vigorous thrust of her hands.
“Don’t, Mac. You hurt me. Oh, I shouldn’t
have come up! You are becoming like every-
body else.”
She left him standing dazed, half ashamed,
yet still with a suggestion of wildness in his
pose. Gradually he relaxed, and wiped his
forehead with his handkerchief.
“Like everybody else I” he repeated. “She’s
right. But what is it that ails everybody?
That’s what I’d like to know.”
Slowly the ghostly hours wore away. With
a great swishing of water and scraping, of
holystones, the crew began to remove the last
traces of tragedy from the deck. For a change,
76


A NIGHT AND A MORNING
the yacht was going to be clean. McClue
sought his hammock, and fell asleep almost as
soon as he could stretch himself out. The
terrors of the night had gone—and it is always
dilficult to believe that any untoward thing can
happen in the daytime.
When he woke, a pleasantly tranquil scene
met his eyes. Bernice was sitting alone by the
rail, reading a book. Near by, Mrs. Millspaugh
was taking a foren-oon nap in a deck chair, with
Dolly Breen, as tame looking as a house cat,
curled up on a rug at her feet. Birds, a little
more energetic, had climbed up into the rigging
and was gazing with longing eyes towards the
island.
The only sign of real activity was to port,
where provisions were being loaded into the
tender. He had been in hopes that The
Escapade by this time would have had her
machinery overhauled and be weighing anchor.
Instead, it looked as if somebody were pre-
paring to go ashore. Another curious circum-
stance was that the servants were doing
sailors’ work—and without even a white man
to oversee them. They were a hetrogeneous
77


THE SCARLET X
lot, of every strain known to the island (in-
cluding some wierd mixtures known only to
God), with no trait so prominent as their love
of ease. Something had galvanized them, how-
ever, into an activity fairly suggestive of
Yankee hustle.
“What’s all this?” the detective asked,
strolling over just in time to encounter Capt.
Luify.
“It’s Dranquilino’s funeral,” replied the
captain. “They asked me if they couldn’t take
the tender and conduct the ceremony all by
themselves—on Kulisan. It saves us the
trouble of putting out into deep water, having
a burial at sea, and giving the women the
dumps.”
“But,” said McClue, “I wonder at natives
being willing to risk a trip to Kulisan—now.”
Lutfy chuckled.
“You’re thinking of that scoundrel who
climbed on board with a bolo? He didn’t come
from the island—at least not from this one.”
“Not from the island? Where did he come
from, then?”
“In my opinion,” the captain explained, “he
78


A NIGHT AND A MORNING
started out from one of those little reef-s off
Mindanao, and was wrecked at sea. Those
native proas sail for the devil of a distance.
He meant no harm most likely. But Dran-
quilino had the gong-stick in his hand, and
scared him into using his knife. Then Gonzales
lost his head, and shot.”
“Is that what you told the crew last night?”
A gleam of defiance crept into the other’s
eyes.
‘ ‘You saw that little fracas, did you? But
of course it’s what I told them. They were
rattled and wanted the truth about the murder.
I gave it to them. Naturally I wasn’t sure
about the gong-stick, and all that. But I’m
dead right about the rest of it. What did you
suppose I told them?”
“I was wondering. Certainly it was a good
yarn—for sailors, and seemed to have a
marvelous effect. Might have done better yet.
—with marines.”
“N o yarn about it. It’s as true as gospel.”
McClue filled his eyes with the vastness of
the sea, which in all directions save that of
Kulisan surrounded The Escapade as with an
79


THE SCARLET X
impassable barrier. He. did not believe that
the attack could have come from a distance, or
that the sailors had been fired by any such tale,
whatever might be true of the natives.
“I wish you’d tell me what makes you hold
such a comforting theory,” he said at length.
“Come with me, and I’ll show you.”
The captain started towards his cabin with
the air of a man about to disclose a crushing
piece of evidence. Arrived at the door, he
pointed dramatically to a slender bit of timber
leaning against the woodwork.
“I found that last night attached by a line to
the starboard bow cable. You see it’s un-
doubtedly the stem of some small boat that has
gone to pieces. Such craft, as a matter of fact,
are only tied together with coir yarns.”
McClue picked up the stick.
“It does look as if it would help to keep a
man afloat for quite a while.”
“Keep him afloat forever. And I leave it
to you if a native of these parts—they’re half
fish, every mother’s son—would lug along a
piece of timber if he was only going to swim
80


A NIGHT AND A MORNING
the distance between us and Kulisan? It ain’t
a quarter of a nautical mile.”
The Ferret had to appear satisfied. Indeed,
he was satisfied—almost. The timber was still
wet. It was too wet. That was it. And the
captain said it had been fished out of the water
the night before.
Waiting until Luffy’s back was turned, he
took out his knife and began to Whittle. Less
than a sixteenth of an inch beneath the surface,
the wood was as dry as a bone. It had not
come from a distant island, nor was there any
likelihood of its having been found in the sea at-
tached to the anchor chain. It had come from
the store-room, and had been baptized with a
bucket of water that very morning in fur-
therance of some plan.
McClue returned to the deck, which—in its
new spotlessness~wore a gay and festive air.
The sunlight danced on the waves. A light
breeze gave to every canvas canopy a pleasant
agitation. But he was oppressed by the con-
sciousness that both Gonzales and the captain
were laboring to combat the idea that Kulisan
81


THE SCARLET X
was dangerous. What was still more un-
accountable was the fact that they were not
working in harmony. Luffy would have it that
the intruder came from a distance. The
Spaniard claimed that it was Dranquilino who
had run amuck. The two stories did not agree.
“Where is Oaksey?” asked Bernice, as The
Ferret came up.
“That’s what I’m beginning to ask myself.”
he responded, taking the vacant chair by her
'side. “He swam over to the island late last
night. It’s time he was bac .”
“Swam to the island?” she repeated, in
sudden agitation. “What for?”
“I’m asking that, too. It isn’t exactly the
sort of an excursion a man would undertake
for sport.”
“Someone ought to' go after him.”
“No, he said he wouldn’t be back till noon.
After all, it isn’t much later than that now.”
“But I think we ought to go.”
(twe?’7
“Why not?”
“No woman is going to Kulisan—not if I
can help it.”
82


A NIGHT AND A MORNING
“But I started out on purpose to look for,
my father.”
“Do you think Kulisan is the same as your
father’s island?”
“I’m not certain, Mac. But I mean to find
out. Capt. Lufly is all at sea.” ,
“On the contrary, I think he is merely pre-
tending to be.”
“Don’t say that. Why should he pretend?
And don’t try to keep me from landing. I can
guess all that you would like to say—but I
simply must land.”
The detective made a gesture of impatience.
He felt sorry for this inexperienced, headstrong
young woman, surrounded by he knew not
what strange schemes of gods and men. But
he had no intention of helping her commit a
folly.
“The skeleton at a feast is never a welcome
visitor,” he brought out slowly, “but I might
as well tell you that I don’t like the captain or
the crew, or the idea of our breaking down at
this particular spot. Searching for your father
was a fine idea. But after what has happened
it would be madness to land here. Better go
83


THE SCARLET X
back to San Francisco, and start all over
again.”
Bernice studied the man beside her for
several seconds, then nodded in seeming assent.
“Perhaps you are right. I’ll think it over.
And now let’s talk of something pleasant.
I’m beginning to hate the very sight of Kul-
isan.”
The detective sympathized with this senti-
ment, and readily agreed to move their chairs
over to the starboard, where the tooth-like
mountain would be out of sight. Bernice be-
came very talkative and agreeable, and he did
his best to help her forget the worries which
beset them all. The continued absence of the
Spaniard made him fervently hope that the two
had quarreled.
It was the ringing of the ship’s bell which
finally recalled him to the present. One
o’clock. It was already time for luncheon.
The funeral party must have gone, and Oaksey
surely must have returned.
With a hurried excuse, The Ferret com-
menced a tour of the ship. Oaksey had not
returned. The tender had indeed come back,
84


A NIGHT AND A MORNING
but only carrying the two sailors who :had rowed
it over—and it was being rapidly reloaded with
crate after crate of canned goods.
“Where is all this stuff going?” he asked of
one of the crew.
“The natives are planning to make quite a.
stay of it,” answered—not the sailor, but Capt.
Luffy, who appeared at that moment as if in
response to a cue.
“But they certainly can’t need all that
food?”
“You don’t know them. They want to hold.
a jambouree, and I thought I’d humor the
little devils. It’s one of their customs to leave
enough by the grave to feed an army—so the
corpse won’t starve on its trip to the other
world, I understand.”
McClue could only stare. Canned goods,
coffee, potatoes, provisions of all sorts, were
going into the boat. The crew, who had now
to do the work themselves, moved as if play-»
ing stevedore delighted them. And this was
the second load! It couldn’t be that even a
savage ’s funeral need make such demands
upon the commissariat.
85


THE SCARLET X
And now he was struck by another thought.
He had failed to note these remarkable prep-
arations earlier only because Bernice, who
had hitherto shbwn but a friendly interest in
his company, had insisted on his passing the
entire forenoon. téte-a téte—on the other side
of the yacht!
86


CHAPTER VI
TBICKED AND TRAPPED
cCLUE tried to dismiss the idea that
M Bernice had deliberately tricked
him; and he went back to where he
had left her, rather hopeful of discovering
that she had acted upon nothing more serious
than a woman’s whim. But she had gone, to
reappear only in time for luncheon—when she
looked so innocent that it was more difficult
than ever to suspect her of any plot. More-
over, she distinctly avoided Gonzales, failing to
give him either a word or a look during the
entire meal.
The Ferret was conscious of an unholy gust
of pleasure, and thought that there might be
an explanation of her earlier conduct right
here. Oppressed by the bitter thoughts insep-
arable from the quarrel, she had sought ref-
uge in the first companionship which offered.
The rest had been pure accident.
87


THE SCARLET X
He would have liked to hear Clara’s cl
woman’s opinion upon this almost too sa
factory view of things. But Clara had
been visible since the night before, and M
Millspaugh merely smiled when asked w‘
had become of the maid.
What was really alarming was the prolon;
absence of Oaksey. The detective had ‘
wanted to make inquiries of the sailors v
had rowed the tender back, for it was perh:
as well to keep the hunter’s trip a secret '
til one knew what had come of it. Besié
had Oaksey been seen or heard of, the f
would surely have been mentioned. For ‘
moment there was nothing to do but wait.
Luncheon over, McClue took another look
the loading operations. They seemed nea
completed—unless it was the intention to sf
the tender outright—but were temporal
suspended by the crew being at mess.
Bernice and Mrs. Millspaugh soon went
low, as did Birds, who was preparing to
company the tender islandwards in the cm
of science—even if all the juramentados 0
side of tophet stood ready to dispute his la]
88


TRICKED AND TRAPPED
ing. Carlos stretched himself out on a rug,
his ease further provided for by a pillow, an
abundant supply of cigarettes, and a tumbler
of a new mixture which he and the captain eu-
phoniously described as “lemonade.” The
Spaniard did not look exactly like a disgrun-
tled lover, but there was every prospect of a
quiet afternoon,
The first hint of disturbance came from
Capt. Lufiy, who tiptoed down from the bridge
about an hour later and raised a beckoning fin~
ger as McClue caught his eye.
“Come up and have a smoke,” he whis-
pered, with a glance towards Carlos, who had
fallen asleep. “There’s something I want to
tell you.”
“Tell it here,” snapped the detective, not
meaning to be inveigled into any long conver-
sation again.
“It’s sharks,” the captain explained, still in
a low voice. “You don’t know how hard it is
to keep sailors and servants from taking a dip
now and then in waters like these. And
it worries me. I’ve been watching what I’m
sure is a fin hanging around us all the mom-
89


THE SCARLET X
ing. It don’t come near, but it’s a migh
bad-luck sign, at that. Would you like to ta
a. look through my glass?”
At the mention of sharks, McClue’s slumb1
ing anxiety for Oaksey blazed into alarm, a'
he climbed the bridge two steps at a time.
“Off there a couple of points north of w
is where I seen the varmint last,” said Luf
offering a pair of binoculars.
The Ferret looked, but could make out nor
ing save the lazily tossing waves. And shori
there rose to his ears from the island side
the deck, the voice of Mrs. Millspaugh.
“This is something unheard of!” she crie
“Really I can’t consent to it.”
“Nonsense, Auntie!” Bernice could
heard to respond—and from a surprising d
tance. “It’s only a little trip. We’ll
back in no time.”
McClue swung round. Seated in the be
of the laden tender, comfortable under a hu
sunshade, their difierences—if they ever h
had any—entirely made up, were Bernice a:
Gonzales. Two sailors labored at the 0a:
and every stroke widened the space of op
90


TRICKED AND TRAPPED'
water that already separated the runaways
from The Escapade. And while the onlookers
watched in speechless helplessness, the boat
reached its goal—disappearing in the mouth
of an inlet or lagoon, as if the island had
swallowed it.
McClue did not go down at once. He made
a feint of being still interested in sharks. It
would be best to confide nothing whatever to
Capt. Lulfy—not even his belief that the shark
was imaginary. When he did finally descend
to the main deck, he found it in possession of
Clara Hope, who was partaking of a delayed
repast in a secluded spot aft.
“Sam put a table here just for me,” she ex-
plained, as The Ferret drew up a deck-stool.
“He said it would be less trouble if I sat near
the cuddy. No doubt he means to poison me.
But everything is delicious, and I’m so tired
that I don’t care.”
“Where have you been all the morning,
Clara?”
“In Mrs. Millspaugh’s cabin. Bernice
wanted a new dress—something in the Spanish
style. So I went to work, with her aunt’s help,
91


THE SCARLET X
making it out of a couple of old ones. S
wouldn’t let me bring it on deck because a
wanted to surprise Carlos with it at dinner.
thought I should smother.”
“But don’t you see? It was only a plan
keep you below. She played a similar trick
me. And just now Capt. Luffy was having 1
comb the ocean for sharks. They were afrz
we’d interfere with what was going on.”
“We’ll have to admit that they got the bet1
of us, Mac. This is what comes of thinking 1
much about ourselves.”
“You’re angry on account of last night
“No—but please don’t make love to me a
more. You see, they’re beginning already
suspect that we’re working together. Besid
I don’t like it.”
“Don’t like what?”
“Love—or the thing that goes by that ha
out here. I don’t want to like it. The troul
is with myself, probably. I shouldn’t be s1
prised if I was hopelessly an old maid at heart
“You’re feeling this way because thc
women have been making a slave of you.”
“That oughtn’t to prejudice me towar
92


TRICKED AND TRAPPED
the male of the species,” she laughed. “But
the fact is I’m beginning to admire Bernice.
She is doing exactly what I would do.”
“You don’t know what she’s really up to.”
“You have a theory on that subject?”
“I’m afraid I have. But it’s too soon to
say for certain. A theory, you know, is apt to
take the bit in its mouth and ride rough-shod
over everything—including the truth—once you
put it into words.” '
“Then let’s waste no more time in being
foolish,” Clara admonished. “You’ve found
a case at last that’s worthy of your metal.
Everything is in confusion as yet.~ Don’t make
it hard for me to help you.”
She seemed disinclined to say more, and
McClue fell to pacing the deck. He could see
a column of smoke, marking no doubt the site
of the funeral orgies. But beyond that the
island gave no sign that human beings had set
foot upon it. Several times during the course
of the afternoon he thought of launching one
of the life-boats. Capt. Lufi’y, however, in-
sisted that they were all unseaworthy and in
need of overhauling—clearly a way of saying
93


THE SCARLET X
that neither a boat nor any of the crew we
be put at his disposal. The Ferret was half
clined to try and emulate the still-miss
Oaksey, and make the trip swimming—0r
what a loaded magazine pistol would do towa
inducing Lufiy to be agreeable. But the me
seemed more drastic than the occasion as
warranted. The immaterial nature of
shark scare reassured him somewhat as to
hunter, and Bernice and Carlos migh-t after
have gone but for an innocent excursion.
day the danger ought to be negligible.
Just before sunset, the tender suddenly
peared out of the inlet and came bound
homewards. But it bore nothing more!
portant than a note from Bernice to 18¢
Millspaugh.
I “Dear Aunt Evelyn,” it read; “it is so 1
over here that we have decided to ca]
You must bring Dolly, the professor—v
seems to have missed us in going over-and I
McClue. Also lClara, of course, and as m:
tents as the captain can scare up. Come ri
away before dark. You don’t know how g
94


\ TRICKED AND TRAPPED
it is to feel real ground beneath your feet
again.”
“You’ll not go, of course,” said McClue,
when the note had been submitted for his,
opinion. I’ll take Birds over, and we’ll bring
those two lunatics back if we have to drag
them.”
But now the mistake of having kept Mrs.
Millspaugh in ignorance of the recent tragedy
began to bear fruit. She insisted on joining
her niece. In vain the naturalist appeared, and
harped upon the subject of boa constrictors and
pythons. “Dear Aunt Evelyn” refused to
listen.
“I’m not so much afraid of big snakes,” she-
declared. “You couldn’t possibly step on one
of those without seeing it. Little snakes such
as we find back home, are what I detest. I’ll
get my hat and parasol.”
It was useless to tell her about Dranquilino
now. She would never believe. And it was
doubtful if even the fear of a juramentado
would have moved her in face of the obvious
impropriety of leaving Bernice alone. The
95


THE SCARLET X
detective felt a thrill of reluctant admiration
he watched her climb into the tender. 01a
and Dolly Breen followed, in the wake of Bird
and as Capt. Lufi’y had already invited hi1
self, the party immediately set out.
They found Bernice 'and Carlos established
the midst of a cocoanut grove on top of a 1it1
knoll, with the servants—who had finish!
their ceremonies about the funeral fire—ju
starting a more cheerful blaze in preparatii
for dinner.
“Isn’t it cosy here!” cried Bernice, clappii
her hands. “I was so afraid you wouldr
come.”
“You hardly left me a choice,” replied h
aunt, seating herself with considerable digni
upon a camp-stool. “The idea of your runnii
ofl this way! I ought to compel you to retu:
at once to the yacht—only I do so hate
have any of us out in a row boat after nigl
fall.”
Bernice said nothing, being evidently Willi]
to leave well enough alone, and McClue fou1
an opportunity to observe to her in an un‘de
tone:
96


TRICKED AND TRAPPED
“Well, you’ve had your way. May I ask
what you propose to do next?”
“Don’t pull a long face over a picnic, Mac.”
“Was it for a picnic that about a ton of
provisions was sent over this morning, while
you kept me occupied with reminiscences?”
“Not a ton! And I had to resort to some
kind of a stratagem. You’d told me that you
would oppose any plan for landing at all. But
now that you see the island hasn’t actually teeth
and claws—you ’11 help me coax my aunt to stay,
won’t you? I want at least two days here.
It’s important.”
“Still hoping to find traces of your father?”
“I’m still—oh, I can’t tell you. You
wouldn’t understand.”
“I understand enough to know that this island
which hasn’t either teeth or claws has already
scratched off two men.”
“Two? You mean that Oaksey—”
“At least he hasn’t come back.”
“Then that’s another reason for our being
here. And if you won’t give me your help,
Mac, why—I shall try to get along without it.”
A feast—looking and smelling fit for a king
97


THE SCARLET X
—had by this time been spread out upon a s:
cloth under the trees, but The Ferret moved
wards it without appetite. He had an idea tl
he had just listened to a declaration of war, a
its possible consequences so absorbed him tl
he barely noticed that Capt. Lutfy and the t'
oarsmen were not sitting down.
“Come on, all of you!” cried Gonzal
rousing himself to do the honors. “We W0]
stand on ceremony tonight. Sit down, b0;
Sit down, Captain. What’s the matter?”
“The fact is,” responded Luffy, edging 3
farther away and motioning the sailors
follow him, “the fact is, I can’t stay. I
sorry, but—”
“You’re not going to stay?” exclaim
McClue in surprise, oppressed by a m
distrust.
“I don’t like to leave the yacht,” the capta
explained. “Duty before pleasure, you kno
But I’ll send for you all the first thing in t
morning—or make any other arrangemen
you like.”
With that he started so swiftly down t
beach that the sailors were hardly able to ke<
98


TRICKED AND TRAPPED
up with him. From the knoll one watched him
leap aboard the tender and pick up the oars.
The sailors, laying hold of the gunwale, pushed
out into deep water, gave the craft a smart
shove, and let go. Lutfy was returning to the
yacht alone.
“Now what the devil does that mean!” ex-
claimed GonZales.
Bernice tried to answer lightly:
“I suppose he thought we’d want the sailors
ourselves. ”
“It was surely Very thoughtful of him,”
said her aunt. “I’m glad he isn’t going to
leave the ship all night in the care of subordi-
nates.”
There was a murmur of assent—yet nobody
was entirely satisfied. The sailors thus sum-
marily left behind were the best men in the
crew, and of an entirely different stamp from
the others. It looked almost as if they had been
gotten rid of for that very reason. The
Ferret’s eyes scarcely left the yacht, and he
caught himself recalling with particular satis-
faction that The Escapade’s engines were
half dismounted.
99


THE SCARLET X
“Anyway, Lufl’y can’t steal her,” 1
muttered.
But there was certainly a strange commotic
on board, which seemed to increase rather the
diminish as darkness fell. Could it be that tl
crew were cleaning up—at that hour?
Suddenly the detective leaped to his fee
Something had appeared on deck. It gathers
itself about the mainmast, and gradual]
crawled up towards the cross-trees. Then ‘
fluttered out unmistakably in the breeze. Tt
crew were bending a sail!
At this, the picnic party, servants and a]
rushed down to -the beach. There they Gaugl
the sound of chains being drawn in. Unskil
fully, but with every appearance of eagernes
and haste, The Escapade was being converte
into a wind-jammer. Dism-antled her machii
ery might be, but she could still spread wing
Sail after sail appeared, flapped helplessly fc
a moment against its mast, then fluttered an
filled. The vessel came up to the wind, gaine
headway, and—heedless of the shouting on tl
beach—stole softly into the night.
100


CHAPTER VII
THE ONE-WAY TRAIL
cCLUE felt certain that Gonzales ’ sur-
M prise was genuine. He had watched
the Spaniard every minute since
Capt. Luffy had first announced his intention of
going back to the yacht, and had been unable to
detect the slightest hint of collusion. As to the
loss of the captain and crew, it was in itself a
relief. There were plenty of provisions. The
marooned company had but to wait where they
were, and eventually—even though they were
probably far ofi the regular trade routes—-
some vessel was almost certain to come and
pick them up.
Returning with the others to the camp, the
detective noted that the servants were already
building up the smouldering fire so that it
might serve not only as a beacon but as a pro-
tection against any night animals that might be
prowling about. A cool fog, prophetic of the
101


THE ONE-WAY TRAIL
of that we can signal to passing ships much
better than from here.”
It was a new idea, and precipitated a. general
discussion—which threatened to become as fu-
tile as that of a regular deliberative assembly.
Carlos admitted that the mountain might be the
best place for a look-out, but called attention
to the delay which would be entailed by such a
journey. It would be weeks before their
beacon was even going. And if rescue was
sighted, they would still have to make the
return trip—with the danger of being given
up for lost by the time they reached the
beach.
Dolly Breen announced with a simper that,
in her opinion, Carlos was always right. Mrs.
Millspaugh—from the tent where she had
established herself, as far from marauding
reptilia as possible—proclaimed authoratively,
that, since Gonzales was their host, it would be
bad manners to oppose him. Whereupon
Clara, forgetful of her r61e as lady’s maid, ex-
pressed—much to The Ferret’s surprise and
without waiting even to consult him—a fervent
desire to explore, apparently without reference
103


THE SCARLET X
towards the mountains would be “no good, ’
likely to result in a “poor death”—leavi
to be understood that a “poor death,” i1
estimation, was one which allowed no timl
securing a requisite number of enemy sou
hear one company into the hereafter. Pa
Camilo and Quiriga were also against
mountain—or rather against the jungle.
they turned to McClue instinctively as
master man. There was something sinist
their fear of Kulisan, coupled as it was
their age old, racial antipathy to the Span
Sam was more diplomatic.
“Evelybody alle samee too mu'chee hu
he said, rising with. great dignity and
pressmg himself with oriental delibera
“I likee Mist’ Go’zalles. I likee Mist’ Mc'
I likee climb him' mountain and look set
’lound. I likee stay on beach alle samee
W’ich do? Sam him wait see.”
When it came to a vote, Bernice went 0v
Carlos and Clara abandoned 'the mountaii
McClue. The Ferret found himself ele
But four of ‘his followers were Malay; two"
but sailors, The majority of the real yacl
106


THE ONE-WAY TRAIL
party were against him—and Sam had not
voted at all.
The celestial was more active the next
morning, when, at a very early hour, he crept
into the detective’s tent and shook him by the
shoulder.
“Las’ ni’ I take-him walk,” he began in ex-
planation as McClue sat up. “Find plenty
funny t’ing.” .
“What are you talking about? And why
aren’t you getting breakfast?”
“Hush him! Camilo plenty good cook fo’
bleakfast. You come see. Velly funny t’ing.”
The Ferret suffered himself to be led away
from camp without waking any of the others.
It was Clara, not he, who was afraid of China-
men. They came to the lagoon, which proved
to be the mouth of a considerable river, and
followed its course upstream for about a mile.
Then Sam, who had been walking several paces
ahead, came to a stop. In the soft earth along
the bank was the impression of a boot, the sole
of which had been studded with heavy nails.
It pointed up the river; and beyond it, the
ground continuing to be favorable, a continuous
107


THE SCARLET X
line of prints could be seen, showing that some
well-shod pedestrian had recently gone towards
the interior.
Stooping to examine the trail, the detective
discovered that the print of the nail-heads
formed a perfect circle in the middle of the
heel and he remembered that one day Oaksey
had showed him his hunting-kit, and had ex-
plained how, when he organized his own expe-
ditions, it was customary for every member of
the party to wear boots with their initials on
the heels—a device which enabled them to track
each other over almost any terrain without
being troubled by any question as to the identity
of the man ahead. Here was an initial 0.
Thank heaven it wasn’t another X! But an O.
meant Oaksey, and— .
McClue, without rising from his stooping
position, suddenly spun round, drawing 'his
automatic and aiming it from the hip—all, as
it were, in one instinctive motion. He found
Sam standing just behind him, his hands thrust
into the loose sleeves of his blouse, his eyes
fixed dreamily on the farther side of the river.
The weapon returned to its holster, apparently
108


THE ONE-WAY TRAIL
without having attracted attention, and the two
started back to camp, the detective reproaching
himself for having yielded to an attack of
nerves. And yet—the loose sleeve of a blouse
is an excellent place to hide a knife, in case,
say, one has been interrupted on the very point
of stabbing an enemy between the shoulder
blades.
Putting aside the idea as fanciful, or at least
unproved, he turned his attention to the prac-
tical questions raised by the finding of Oaksey’s
trail. Whatever Sam’s intentions might have
been, he had, in calling attention to the tracks
left by that eloquent pair of boots, hit upon the
one thing to insure the penetration of the
island’s fastnesses. Knowing in which di-
rection the hunter had gone, it was now a moral
obligation to follow him. And since dividing
the party was not to be thought of, everybody
must undertake the trip.
McClue put the matter bluntly before his
companions the moment he was back in camp,
and within an hour a sufficient quantity of the
provisions had been divided in packs among.
the servants, and the order given to start.
109


THE SCARLET X
There had been no opposition to the plan.
Incidently, it was obvious that following the
hunter’s trail meant going towards the moun-
tain.
The O-marked footsteps were easy to follow,
particularly at first. They became less dis-
tinguishable after a while, for though continu-
ing inland in the general direction of the hills,
they ceased to traverse the soft earth by the
river. On higher and harder ground, one had
to look closely in order to find—here a bruised
leaf, there a broken stem, marking the hunter’s
course. But if it required Woodcraft to dis-
tinguish the footprints, it remained curiously
simple to follow the trail.
For a trail there was, aside from the indi-
cations of that single pair of boots—not a trail
left by other footprint-s, but a distinct open-
ing, almost an abandoned road, leading deeper
and deeper into the virgin forest and possess-
ing all the fascination of the proverbial path
of least resistance. If ever man or beast had
been in the habit of passing that way, it must
have been years before. Nature ruled su-
preme, carpeting the very ground with green.
110


THE ONE-WAY TRAIL
But there was a surprising absence of all large
obstacles.
The ground, after passing over a gentle
ridge, reached into a vast, subtile depression,
and became somewhat spongy. Bushes gave
place to trees, and the trees crowded close to-
gether—the cormnencement of a true jungle.
On either side, the tangle of undergrowth was
often impenetrable and the tree trunks of enor-
mous girth. But a vista kept forever open-
ing just ahead, and was never closed by any-
thing which a few blows of a machette could
not clear away.
“Looks like the bed of an old watercourse,”
said Birds to the detective when, after several
hours of marching, the two found themselves
somewhat in advance of their companions.
“Must have led down from the mountain—
which is clearly volcanic—and have filled up
with lava during some eruption.”
“Rut could lava—or water, either—run up
hill? We’re going towards the mountain, yet
it’s down grade. Away from the mountain
here would be up hill.”
“It would be now,” admitted the naturalist.
111


THE SCARLET X
“Volcanic action has changed the levels. And
the soil which has collected on top of the flow
isn’t yet thick enough to support any large
growths. So it looks like a path.”
McClue nodded. But such reasoning satis-
fied only the brain. The tree-trunks, becoming
ever more and more magnificent as the sea
with its winds and salt spray was left farther
behind, seemed always to be stepping aside in
mocking courtesy before the traveler—and
just as surely crowding back into a close pha-
lanx behind. It was indeed a path—a path in
a bewitehed and mysterious fairyland. The
trees looked not only alive, in the ordinary
sense of the word, but sentient, in the manner
of breathing creatures.
And then, some time after noon, the whole
aspect of things abruptly altered. The luxur-
iant growths had by their very excess reached
that point where they defeated their own ends.
They had become too dense for the survival of
any but the fittest.
As a result of this, the maze of greenery
took on the semblance of a vast and majestic
building. The sunlight receded to beyond a
112


THE ONE-WAY TRAIL
leafy roof of overlapping leaves that were sup-
ported by groined limb-arches, through which
the rays fell with difliculty into a cool, mid-day
twilight possessing all the dank breathlessness
of a long-disused interior. The giant boles
had become veritable pillars, from whose cap-
itals hung fantastic creepers and mosses, like
votive offerings to strange and unholy gods.
Orchids which would have been priceless in any
center of civilization, clung to far, overhanging
branches. Ratans no more than an inch in di-
ameter but three and four hundred feet long,
shot up beside great naked stems, caught hold
of a convenient crotch, and again shot up, per-
forming their wonderful climb in relays till
their tops were out of sight. Some of the
trees were not trees at all, but tangles of
creepers that had in the course of years rapa-
ciously devoured the living trellises which once
supported them, and stood alone—green and
monstrous parasites, murderers masquerading
in the forms of their ancient victims.
But even yet, the narrow bed of the old lava
stream, though less conspicuous, was not alto-
gether untraceable. And when, after a short
113


THE SCARLET X
halt for refreshment, the march was resumed,
that natural aisle by which they had come
could still at least be felt, beckoning on and on
with an unobtrusive invitation which was al-
most magnetic.
Gazing into the inscrutable lights and shad-
ows of the jungle ’s living ceiling—a ceiling so
high that the gorgeously colored birds that
fiitted among the upper branches Were sus-
pected rather than seen, and in small danger
of a bullet even if one had sought to bring
them down—a mere human being felt
dwarfed and insignificant. And those sud-
denly found patches of flowers that burst like
flames of red and blue, sometimes underfoot,
sometimes hanging in mid air from invisible
supports—those pools of shining silver which
lay in unexpected hollows, as if the straight,
slant ray that shot through the dusk from
some breach in the canopy above were a
stream of liquid light pouring softly down into
its appointed basin—there was something in
the loveliness of these things which made one
shiver. They were like illusions, like glimpses
into a strange and forbidden world.
114


THE ONE-WAY TRAIL
Nightfall brought a feeling of relief. There
was a homely element, humdrum and reassur-
ing, in the spectacle of tents being pitched by
sweating servants, unquestionably mundane
and substantial. It was good to see wood
being cut, a fire being lighted; good to
smell smoke and the steam of bacon and
coffee.
Next day, the jungle still held. But the
ground was beginning perceptiny to rise, as if
the roots of the hills were swelling and heaving
beneath the crust of the earth. Moreover, so
much marching was beginning to tell, espe-
cially upon Mrs. Millspaugh, and by twelve
o’clock it was decided that a long halt would
make in the end for progress. Everybody set
eagerly to work, lured by the promise of an
afternoon’s rest. But just as the last tent-pin
was being driven home, the damp and drowsy
quiet of the place was rent by a sudden howl
of consternation.
The author of the disturbance proved to be
Pariso, who behaved as if he had been stung
by some noxious insect. But he had merely
discovered the loss of the chief pride of his ex-
115


THE SCARLET X
istence—a battered nickel watch, noteworthy
from its total inability to keep tima
As is the custom of primitive man every-
where, and more particularly near the equator,
Pariso—being on a journey—was wearing his
entire personal wardrobe, and it took him sev-
eral minutes to search the innumerable pockets
of his several layers of rag thatch to‘ make cer-
tain that the loss was real. Having well-nigh
stripped himself, however, there was no longer
any room for doubt, and he bounded ofi without
a word, leaving his vacated coverings in a heap
to wait his return. It was evident, from the
determination visible in the swing of his shoul-
ders, that he intended if necessary to retrace
his steps clear to the beach. And from the way
he ran, with his nose almost touching the
ground, it seemed unlikely that any watch
could escape his attention without burrowing.
Everybody smiled. And yet, as the sound
of naked feet diminished in the distance, the
incident gradually lost its humorous quality.
The little Visayan had defied something which
lay more or less unconsciously in the back of
every mind—the vague threat of a foolish old
116 .


THE ONE-WAY TRAIL
manuscript filled with nonsense about a- one-
way trail.
“It’s ridiculous, of course,” muttered Mc-
Clue, shaking his head impatiently as the
words of Navares Gonzales y Badajos re-
curred to him.
But how irresistible was the impulse to sit
quite still and listen. Fifteen minutes went
past on a great one-way trail of their own.
The forest seemed to have absorbed the last
sound on earth. And then from far off down
the slope came a sharp crack, like that of a
rifle—something scarcely audible, yet which
went crashing through the consciousness like
a clap of thunder.
“God forgive me!” gasped Bernice. “It
was I who wanted to come to this place.”
“Never mind,” put in Mrs. Millspaugh.
—“I don’t believe that that boy has lost any-
thing at all. He only wanted an excuse to get
away where he could shoot at a target. I
never could understand the fascination which
firearms have for some people, and how any-
one can shoot them off for amusement—”
“Pariso didn’t carry any firearms, ma ’am,”
117


THE SCARLET X
ventured one of the sailors. “He didn’t have
nothing much—you could see that plain
enough.”
“Could it have been Oaksey signalling—back
there!” asked someone.
McClue, seizing on the possibility, fired three
shots quickly into the air. But there came no
answer save the dull, reverberating echo.
“It must have been a stalk of bamboo break-
ing at? of its own weight,” declared Birds.
“If we should happen to pass near a thicket
of any of the giant species, you’ll hear it much
louder than that. It’s like a cannon, some-
times.”
A sigh of relief went up from the company
at an explanation at once so comforting and so
scientific. But The Ferret was not satisfied.
“Did you' mean what you: said just now, or
were you only trying to smooth things over?”
he demanded, as soon as he could speak to the
naturalist alone.
“It was perfectly true,” was the answer.
“You know, yourself, that all species of
bambusa—”
“I know that they break off at the joints
118


THE ONE WAY TRAIL
with a loud report—yes. But we haven’t
passed any bamboo that I remember.”
“\Ve weren’t looking for it,” insisted the
other. “Pariso couldn’t have had a revolver
about him. He was as good as naked. And
Oaksey seems to be still ahead of us. I’ve
picked up his trail here since we stopped.
If he’d been near enough for us to hear his
shot, he’d have heard yours, and answered.
Oaksey isn’t such a fool as to be down to his last
cartridge as soon as this.”
“That’s all right, Birds. But do you think
it was bamboo?”
“What else could it have been?”
- The detective shrugged his shoulders. That
was just the question. And he couldn’t get
rid of the impression that—in that short,
sharp sound coming from between them and
the sea—he had heard the closing of a trap.
119


CHAPTER VIII
THE TOLL OF THE ISLAND
S the afternoon were away, McClue be-
A came aware of a monotonous moan-
ing or humming sound. Come to
think, he wasn’t certain that it had not been
audible for hours and gradually growing louder
with every mile of the morning’s march. Birds
was for the moment nowhere to be seen, so he
called the two sailors, instructed them to keep
a sharp lookout and bring him news if anything
happened, and quietly left camp.
The humming sound seemed to come from a
point to the right of the trail, and as the trail
almost immediately made a turn to the right
also, it was soon dead ahead—a distinct note,
like that of the wind trying to fill a great
organ-pipe and only half succeeding.
A twenty minutes’ walk brought him to the
edge of a gorge, at the bottom of which flowed
a sluggish river, no doubt the very stream
120


THE TOLL OF THE ISLAND
which emptied into the lagoon at the beach.
The mystery of the sound was explained. It
was not the wind, but water; and the organ-
pipe was the deep, almost perpendicular banks
of the gorge. What, however, could account
for the river, itself“! It moved sluggishly,
with a disagreeable, syrupy laziness. Coming
from the mountain, it should have been a tor-
rent.
At a place where the rocks had fallen into a
sloping mass of debris, he descended without
much difliculty to a strip of sand at the river’s
margin. Across this strip was a line of foot-
prints made by Oaksey’s unmistakable boots.
The hunter appeared to have forded the
stream. This was no great feat, but why, with
all the wilderness to choose from, should a man
have taken the trouble to put himself upon the
farther side at this particular spot?
The Ferret walked for some time with no con-
scious object, but in an up-stream direction.
The sand-strip, at first only a few feet wide,
broadened finally into a crescent-shaped beach;
and here he came upon a small, black rectan-
gular object, one of its edges half buried as if
121


THE SCARLET X
it had been flung from the river with consid-
erable force. It was a note-book—one which
he had often seen in, Oaksey’s hands.
He began turning the leaves. Some memo-
randa of no consequence came first; then a lot
of blank pages, and at last a few lines, clearly
in Oaksey’s hand, but scrawled in lead pencil,
evidently in great haste and almost illegible.
“If any of you should happen to come thus
far,” he read, “don’t for God’s sake turn back
now. You will find no trail, either by land or
water, which is not—it is most horribly true
——a ‘one-way trail.’ I shall try to escape from
it myself and warn you. But I haven’t much
I,
The writing broke off. Also the detective
could see out of the tail of his eye that somebody
was approaching.
“Gonzales, eh!” he muttered, slipping the
book into his pocket and seating himself lei-
surely in the sand.
“Everybody is out looking for you,” said
the Spaniard, coming up. “I just sent one of
the sailors down stream—”
122


THE TOLL OF THE ISLAND
“Down stream?”
“Yes. I was afraid you might have gone
that way—though I might have known you’d
have better judgment.”
“Under the circumstances, it wasn’t exactly
kind to the sailor, was it?”
“Better him than one of us,” suggested
Carlos, taking a seat beside his companion.
“Also I wanted to see you alone. Birds has
come back to camp—and there is something the
matter with his hand.”
‘lWhat277
“He claims he hurt it by running into some
kind of a thorn bush with a Latin name, while
trying to catch a butterfly. But I think he
went back to look for Pariso.”
“Has Pariso returned?” _
“No. But what I wanted to tell you about
is Bernice. She and Dolly Breen have been
wandering all over everywhere. I wish you
would help me convince her that it’s dangerous
—especially to go back along the trail. ”
“Why especially?”
“I don’t know. But look what has happened
123


THE SCARLET X
to Birds. Then there is that crazy yarn I read
you. Maybe I’m getting superstitious, but
somehow I can’t get it out of my head.”
“I have the same difliculty,” admitted the
detective dryly.
And Bernice and Dolly appearing at that
moment from around a bend, he took out
Oaksey’s note-(book and handed it to the
Spaniard without another word. Carlos started
perceptibly as he recognized the handwriting.
But when he had perused the note he remarked
in a tone which sounded very like relief:
“It looks to me as if Oaksey had gone crazy.
But this will be a good thing to show the
women. It ought to keep them in hand.”
“Gone crazy perhaps—and in a boat. The
book couldn’t have been thrown clear across
the stream.”
“Couldn’t it have been dropped?”
“No. One corner was half buried in the
sand. But, as you say, it will be an excellent
thing to show the women.”
When Bernice was given Oaksey’s note, a
look of utter consternation swept across her
face. But she quickly controlled herself, merely
124


THE SCARLET X
“So you, too, are anxious to avoid any retro-
grade movements?” he said, as soon as they
were far enough ahead to be out of earshot;
“ Retrograde movements 1 ’ ’
“Yes; before I could start back for camp
you bring the camp up to me. Did you find
Parisoi”
Bird's looked away, an expression of half
comical embarrassment on his face.
“I found his body,” he answered finally.
“Shot?”
“I couldn’t make sure. If so, the head had -
been afterwards—it looked to me as if some-
thing had fallen upon it.”
“ ‘Killed strangely,’ eh?”
“I thought of that, Mac. But a rotten limb
might have done it.”
“Or a club?”
((Yes.17
“And was it a rotten limb that smashed your
hand?”
“No, that is a out,” said the other, regarding
his bandaged member ruefully. “I was kneel-
ing down, examining the body, when—I brushed
against an acacia bush, I told Carlos. As a
126


THE TOLL OF THE ISLAND‘
matter of fact it seemed as if the acacia brushed‘
against me. The cut might have come from a,
thorn, or it might have been ‘the razor-edged
leaf of some plant that I hadn’t noticed.”
“That is, it might have been a razor-edgedv
piece of steel.”
“You’re right, Mac. There was a sort of'
thicket beside me. It would have been fool--
hardy to investigate too closely. So I came!
away—mighty quick, as a matter of fact.”
“But why did you keep all this to yourself?”
“It’s only a hypothesis,” explained the
scientist. “I didn’t want to say what I thought
till I had the proof.”
“Well, here is this.”
The detective produced the note-book, and.
when the other had digested its contents, went,
on:
“I showed it to Carlos, and if you want my
opinion he was more startled when he saw that
we’d heard from Oaksey than he was after he
knew what Oaksey had said.”
“You mean he looked as if he was afraid of
something else—which Oaksey might have
said?”
127


THE SCARLET X
“I mean just that. But perhaps I’d better
wait. There’s a good deal to be said in favor of
your method of getting the proof of a hypoth-
esis before acting on it.”
A good camp-site failing to show itself, the
party passed an uneasy night by the river and
resumed the march next morning. It was easy-
going on that strip of alluvium, and as the sun
climbed overhead between the tree-crowned
banks, the human spirit gradually recovered its
normal cheerfulness. Later, however, McClue
found himself forgetting the sky and giving
more and more attention to the river, which was
becoming a dark puzzle in itself. The banks
towered higher and higher with every mile, but
the water continued to flow as if in a canal.
“It will be good for the rafts,” he remarked
to Birds, who was again helping him lead the
van. “But doesn’t it strike you as singular?”
The scientist nodded.
“The banks are climbing the mountain; the
river is cutting into 'it. But look here!”
They had come to where a large tree had
fallen from the opposite bank, causing a de-
flection of the current, trifling in itself but sufli-
128


THE TOLL OF THE ISLAND
cient to eat away a portion of the sand-strip at
their feet. This had exposed a small heap of
bones.
“Simian remains!” exclaimed the naturalist
in a loud voice, noting suddenly that the two
sailors were within speaking distance. “Simia
satyrus, most probably.”
“What’s that?” asked one of the sailors.
“What have you got in your hand? A
skull?”
“A monkey’s skull, my friend. Please stop
and bury it so it won’t startle the ladies. It
looks so human, you know.”
“Was it really a monkey’s skull?” asked
McClue a few minutes later. “It struck me as
rather large.”
“Yes—the kind of a monkey which walks on
two legs and talks. Here’s another.”
Poking with a stick into the sand, the
naturalist unearthed a complete skeleton, and
before he could cover it up The Ferret had
found indications of half a dozen more. It
was like a burying-ground, or an ancient battle-
field.
“They all look horribly 01d, Birds. I
129


THE SCARLET X
suppose there ought to be some comfort in that.
But it makes me feel as if this whole place were
dead.”
“If it isn’t dead, Mac, it’s at least deadly—
in spots. The age of these bones isn’t all the
same. We’ve come to another barrier, I
think.”
“What do you mean by barrier?”
“I don’t know exactly. But it seems to me
as if the deadliness wasn’t equally distributed.
There was the sailor, for instance. He suc-
ceeded in going back some distance without
meeting any harm. And Pariso didn’t. Let’s
get on. There were bones near where I found
Pariso’s body.’ ’
“That is to say, there are spots which are
always guarded?”
“It looks so. And now we have vultures—
genus Raptores.”
Birds pointed to the strip of sky. A small
black speck was trailing across the blue, and
following it a second and then a third.
Without another word, the two men resumed
their walk; and neither showed surprise when
they came upon a body lying face downwards
130


THE TOLL OF THE ISLAND
upon the sand. It was clothed in familiar
garments. Near it lay a yachting cap. The
face, when they turned it over, was beaten in
beyond recognition. But there was no mis-
taking the clothes or the cap. They were
Oaksey’s.
McClue examined the body carefully, mut-
tered a startled oath, and was about to say
something—but seemed to think better of it.
They buried the body just as it was, the ground
being soft and Birds having a large trowel
which he had brought for digging up specimen
plants. By the time the grave was filled and
smoothed over, with a pile of stones heaped so
as to mark the place without making it con-
spicuous, the voices of the rest of the company
could already be heard.
“We’re taking a fearful responsibility,”
gasped the scientist, when 'a quick dash for-
ward had put a concealing clump of bushes in
the rear.
“But we don’t dare share it,” said the de-
tective, falling into a normal pace. “Every-
body has had quite enough to frighten them as
it is.”
131


THE SCARLET X
“Did you notice that line of footprints, Mac,
coming up out of the river?”
“Yes—made by Oaksey’s boots.”
“Exactly—as if he died while tryin .to get
back to us—as if something had been eeping
him on the river and he’d almost got away from
it.”
“Your habit of observation is exceedingly
accurate, Birds. But it’s a pity we had to bury
him like a dog.” _\
“I was thinking of that. Oaksey was a
church of England man. As a scientist I find
it difficult to credit some of their doctrines.
But Mrs. Millspaugh has a prayer-book, and—”
“And we,” put in The Ferret, “have got the
safety of a lot of men and women on our
hands.”
The pace was quickened, and late that after_
noon an ideal camping-ground presented itself
—-a place where the ncanyon wall, shrinking
back from the river-side, left a considerable
area of level silt, above which it fell away in a
comfortable slope. Climbing this, they found,
three or four hundred yards from the bank, a
132


THE TOLL OF THE ISLAND
grove of mahogany with firm and unen-
cumbered ground underfoot.
“A good location,” said McClue. “We can
build the rafts down by the water, and live up
here—unless you feel that this is another of
your dangerous spots.”
Birds had no objections to offer, and prep-
arations for a permanent camp were soon under
way. It was after dark before the detective,
wishing to have a quiet smoke, returned to the
edge of the canyon. In the distance loomed a
vague shape which was the mountain. At his
feet flowed the river—a mere murmuring
sound at the bottom of a black chasm. No
scene could have seemed more fit for the haunt
of evil spirits. But he was not thinking of
ghosts—not even of the ghost of Oaksey, which,
if any, might have been expected to occupy his
thoughts. For he had examined that body very
carefully back there along the way, and had
come to the conclusion that it was not the
hunter’s at all, but another body dressed in the
hunter’s clothes. Yet he couldn’t be actually
certain, and as he smoked he came to the con-
133


THE SCARLET X
clusion that he must bear the burden of this
new mystery alone.
There was a sound in the brush behind him.
The branches parted, and Dolly Breen ap-
peared, her white dress giving her an almost
wraith-like aspect in the gloom.
“Did you get tired of waiting for someone to
come and talk to me where you could over-
hear?” he inquired banteringly as she sat
down.
“Precisely,” was the unabashed rejoinder.
“I was in hopes you were waiting for Clara.
You and she have such interesting conversa-
tions—to judge by the way they look from a
distance. Clara is very superior—for a
maid.”
McClue decided on the instant that Capt.
Luffy, in naming Dolly the Little Fool had not
gone half far enough, and might have added a
sulphurous adjective. '
“I know you don’t like me,” she went on,
“but that’s no reason for not trusting me. I
guessed from the first that Clara was your
own operator. The others think you’re in love
with her.”
134


THE TOLL OF THE ISLAND
The detective swore under his breath.
Dolly laughed, but without making a
sound.
“You’re really a very clever man. If I
hadn’t known who you were before you ar-
rived I’d never have suspected that you were
traveling for anything but your health. Even
now I hope you’re not altogether profes-
sional.”
“I haven’t the least idea what you’re talk-
ing about.”
“And I haven’t the least idea why detectives
should have been included in the party. But
since you’re here I suppose you’ve discovered
one thing, at least.”
“What is that?”
“I was thinking about Bernice. Oaksey
seems to have gone for good. That leaves her
.alone with Carlos, unless you step in and save
her. He would only make her miserable.
Why don’t you do something?”
“You are speaking in riddles, Miss Breen.”
“Nonsense! You follow me well enough.
I’m in love with Carlos, and with Bernice mar-
ried to you I’d have a chance.”
135


THE SCARLET X
The Ferret chuckled. The situation was be.
ginning to appeal to him.
“It’s your theory, I gather,” he remarked,
“that Carlos would make you less happy than
he would Miss Stover.”
“Oh, I’ve no illusions on that score,” the
young woman responded lightly. “He is a
devil, of course. But I am romantic. At any
rate it makes no difference. I want him and
mean to have him.”
“Since you’ve said so much,” McClue sug-
gested, angry with himself for listening at all,
“it would be better if you said a little more.
What do you mean by his being a devil?”
“Nothing good, I assure you. Look at the
kind of people he brings on a voyage like this
—-as company for his fiancée. Look at the
captain, and the crew, and the servants. You
and Oaksey were the only right kind of people
on board, unless we count Birds. And there
is Mrs. Millspaugh, who simply hasn’t sense
enough to conceive of anything which couldn’t
happen in a respectable drawing-room.
“Carlos is so raw that there are times when
Bernice, with all her inexperience, can’t help
136


THE TOLL OF THE ISLAND
seeing the sort of feeling he has for her. She
thinks she is safe just because she can trust her-
self—and there’s where she’s wrong. Maybe
he did mean all right when he started out.
But—there is something in the jungle that
makes a man impatient, and when he finds out
that he is losing her, something will happen.
Any cur is a wolf when he gets his prey under
his paws. I wish you’d make him see that
he’d have you to reckon with.”
“And still you say you love him?”
“Yes, I love him. Don’t make any mistake
about that. I’m a wolf’s natural mate. I’d
adore to be eaten up. But it would kill Ber-
nice. She likes you already. Why don’t you
try to save her—or do you really care for the
maid?” I
Dolly returned in the way she had come
without waiting for an answer—indeed, had
flung her last words over her shoulder.
Shortly afterwards, the brush rustling again,
McClue sighed in relief to see that it
was Birds, and not the Little Fool coming
back.
“The island has been taking toll again,” the
.137


THE SCARLET X
naturalist announced abruptly. Quiriga is
missing.”
“What?”
4 “He’s gone. Nobody seems to have seen
him go, and it may mean nothing at all. I’ve
given it out that I sent him off to look for one
of my specimen-cases.”
Quiriga missing! McClue looked thought-
fully off into the darkness. It was no time
to worry about Dolly Breen. Kulisan was be-
coming frightful.
138


CHAPTER IX
CARLOS HAS HIS WAY
HAT night the naturalist began to moan
in his sleep:
“Oaksey! Go back! We buried you
as deep as we could.”
“Wake up, old man!” admonished McClue,
who shared the same tent, going over and
shaking his friend by the shoulder. “You’ve
troubles enough without adding nightmare.”
But the other shrank from his touch.
“Hyenas! I knew there ’d be hyenas.
Ugh!”
His hand,-lifted to protect his face from the
muzzle of the imagined animal, showed red and
swollen above its bandage. He was in a rag-
ing fever, and delirious.
The detective rummaged in the medicine-
chest, found an opiate, and soon had the satis-
faction of seeing his patient breathing quietly.
He wanted time to think of a way of meeting
this new calamity, and in the meanwhile this
139


CARLOS HAS HIS WAY
“Dead? What put that into your head?
But he’s very ill. He woke up in a fever of
some sort. I gave him a few drops of lau-
d'anum.”
“It must be his hand. See? He has tied it
up too tight.”
“Untie it, will you?” The Ferret was
again busy with the medicine-chest, prepar-
ing the materials for a new dressing.
“Are you a doctor, Mac?”
“Something of one.”
“Then for God’s sake come here! What
are all these spots on his face?”
“Spots?” McClue rushed to the cot with
every appearance of surprise and alarm.
“Looks—looks like smallpox,” stammered
Carlos.
“Looks like it.”
“Damn you, it is smallpox!” cried the other.
“I haven’t been vaccinated in years, and
you’ve let me expose myself.”
“That’s bad, Carlos. But none of those
spots were there when I first examined him.
I thought it was blood-poisoning, or jungle
fever at the worst.”
141


THE SCARLET X
“No matter what you thought. They’re
there now. What’s to be done?”
The two men stood very close together, their
shoulders raised in that indescribable gesture
which threatens an appeal to primitive meas-
ures. But Gonzales checked himself in the act
of clenching a fist, and with a curse flung him-
self on the ground outside.
“One of us will have to stay here and take
care of him,” said McClue, as he followed.
“I’ll do it if you prefer.”
“You bet I prefer! That is—naturally you
ought to be the one if you are something of a
doctor. I don’t know one kind of medicine
from another.”
“Then that’s settled. And you’d better
keep away from the ladies for—say ten or
twelve days, Why don’t you collect the ser-
vants and the sailors right now, pitch some
tents down by the river, and begin building
the rafts?”
“But what’s to become of Bernice and her
aunt—and of Dolly Breen and the maid?”
demanded the Spaniard. “You’ve been ex-
142


CARLOS HAS HIS WAY
posed even worse than I. Don ’t forget that.”
“They can keep away from this tent. It’s
a little isolated, anyway. Sam can cook for
them, and Clara will help me take care of
Birds. She’s only a servant, herself, and
I promise you that nobody else will be
exposed.”
Gonzales assented to the proposed arrange-
ment grudgingly and after much argument.
The moment it had been carried into effect,
McClue began treating his patient in earnest.
He did not think the fever was serious, though
it had some curious symptoms, and he had en-
joyed the trick which he had played. For
during the night he had come to the conclu-
sion that Dolly Breen was right. Carlos, so
far as Bernice was concerned, threatened to-
prove more dangerous than all the mysterious
forces of Kulisan put together.
Luckily, Mrs. Millspaugh turned out to be
an anti-vaccinationist, with all the horror of
contagion common to the cult. A dozen
policemen would have been less useful in keep-
ing the Spaniard isolated. She could hardly
143


CARLOS HAS HIS WAY
builders; more often, especially after sunset, to
seek a certain overhanging ledge, upstream
from camp but not so far as to make the return
journey a serious violation of the mysterious
law of the one-way trail. Here one evening
Bernice found him, and refused to halt at his
cry of warning.
“There’s no use of your talking smallpox to
me, Mac. I looked into your hospital tent
yesterday when you were out.”
“You ran the risk—?”
“Tush! Your patient’s face is as smooth as
mine. But then, I knew it would be.”
“You knew?”
“I felt certain—after you called in Clara.
But don’t be alarmed. I rather like your little
stratagem. ”
She did not explain herself, and soon left.
But she came again, and the two fell into the
habit of spending their evenings together. If
she was willing to be spared the trouble of
keeping Carlos at a distance, it was not for
McClue to complain. And he could not help
feeling the charm of these necessarily clan-
destine meetings.
145


THE SCARLET X
“F
“I only hope that no one finds them out,”
said Bernice one night.
“Who would be likely to?”
“Dolly Breen, for one. I have a feeling
that she is listening at the hospital tent this
minute—that is, unless she’s hidden somewhere
listening to us.”
“I hope she doesn’t overhear Birds. He
talks rather strangely when his fever is on.”
“What does he say?”
“Nothing important. But she might dis-
cover that his eruption was never anything
more than a few drops of corrosive sublimate.”
“You can be sure she has known it was
something like that as long as I have,”
Bernice afiirmed, but with no great show of
interest.
“In that case—has it ever occurred to you
that she was quite likely to pass the information
to Carlos!”
“She has probably told him already, or else
is waiting for what looks to her like a better
time. We can’t prevent it, so what is the use
worrying about it?” I
McClue nodded. Indeed, what was the use
146


CARLOS HAS HIS WAY
of worrying about anything? A haze lay over
the depths and upon the hills beyond, covering
all with a billowing sea of burnished silver,
which, under the moon, had a loveliness almost
shameless. Intoxication poured from every
leaf, every moonbeam. No one could breathe
the heavily scented air which drifted lan-
gorously over the jungle and remain altogether
responsible. The Woman beside him seemed no
longer a mere woman, but something at once
vague and dazzling.
For several minutes neither stirred. Then
their eyes met, and turned quickly aside.
“I hate it here!” cried Bernice suddenly.
“Let’s get back to camp.”
'She jumped up and reached him her hand.
At its touch a spell was broken; the moonlight
ceased to be intolerable. He laughed inwardly
as he thought of Dolly. How disappointed she-
would have been could she have known that a
situation shaped as if she had made it herself
was ending in this way. He even fancied that
he caught the sound of her cautiously receding
footsteps. What he never dreamed was that
the footsteps might be Clara’s.
147


THE SCARLET X
He had started towards camp, when Bernice,
who had gone on ahead, paused and motioned
him towards her.
“Why is it,” she said, “that Clara always
tastes every dish that Sam sets out for you!”
“I didn’t know she did.”
“She does—I’ve watched her—before she
calls you.”
The detective, whom the news touched on sev-
eral sore places at once, hurried to the hos-
pital tent, and nearly stumbled over a body
which was dimly to be discerned upon the
ground. Striking a match, he stooped down,
a startled cry escaping from his lips as the
match-flame grew clear. For the body was
Clara’s.
His mind filled with what he had just heard,
his first thought was that the Chinaman had
proven deadly after all. But a sigh reas-
sured him. The girl was breathing the
long, deep breaths of one who had been
drugged.
“I thought I heard you call,” said a low
voice, as Bernice appeared at the entrance.
The Ferret struck another match, lifted the
148


THE SCARLET X
Without further delay, the detective made
his way to the cliff and down to the water-side,
turning resolutely in the forbidden direction
and moving like a man who has little doubt as
to his goal. But he kept a sharp lookout, his
automatic ready for instant action. It was
dark down there in the canyon, and even when
morning began to approach, the mists retarded
its breaking. He had reached the grave where
the body in Oaksey’s clothes lay buried before
it was finally day. And there, sprawled upon
his back in the sand, lay Birds. He was sleep-
ing peacefully, and dried beads of sweat upon
his forehead showed that his mad exertions
had brought the fever to a favorable crisis.
“How did you ever manage to find me
here?” was his first question on waking.
“Some remarks of yours about hyenas,”
was the rejoinder.
“I remember, now. I was dreaming about
Oaksey and the way we had to bury him. And
then I woke up—or thought I woke—and
found the nurse asleep.”
“You didn’t see or hear anybody else
about?”
150


CARLOS HAS HIS WAY
“N0; is anything wrong?”
“Nothing much. Though if anybody wanted
to get me away from camp it looks as if you
played pretty straight into their hands.”
“I’m awfully sorry, Mac. But I don’t see
how—”
“It’s simple enough. Clara wasn’t asleep.
A member of our party—I don’t know which
one—deduced that you were in just the condi-
tion to skip out if you had the chance—and
gave her about two grains of opium.”
Birds uttered an exclamation. But his
strength failed him at the first attempt to
stand, and McClue, refusing to start back
alone, set about getting breakfast. There was
plenty of small game along the river, but they
dared not announce their presence to all the
jungle by firing a shot. So, with no other im-
plement than his pocketknife—but with plenty
of scientific advice from the fuming natural-
ist—he laboriously constructed a trap. Within
an hour it had caught a specimen of Wildfowl
of 'a species so rare that determining its proba-
ble family and genus did Birds almost as
much good as the subsequent meal.
151


THE SCARLET X
McClue recounted the chief incidents of the
smallpox scare. He repeated the reports
on the raft-building which he liad received
from Gonzales, telling how logs had been cut
and bound together with ropes made from
twisted bark, until three substantial floats
were now all but ready—one of them with a
deck of bamboo, and all safe and comfortable.
This beguiled the time until his companion
was finally ready to undertake the return
journey with some prospect of completing it.
But the way was long and tedious, with many
forced stops for rest, and the day was spent
when they came at last within sight of their
destination.
“Who is that?” asked Birds, as some-
one stepped out on the river bank just
ahead.
“It looks like a woman,” gasped McClue.
“Yes; it’s Mrs. Millspaugh if I’m not mis-
taken. I guess you’ll have to declare me
cured, Mac, and take a look at this ship-yard
of yours. Don’t you remember—just after we
landed on the island—how odd we both thought
it that Carlos was so anxious to stay on the
152


CARLOS HAS HIS IVAY
beach? Maybe you’ll see now what he really
wanted.”
At this point, Mrs. Millspaugh—for it was
indeed she—caught sight of them and hurried
in their direction.
“I had no idea that Prof. Baird was well
enough to take a long walk,” she began. “I I
thought that smallpox—”
“He has quite recovered, and there’s no
more danger of anybody catching it,” put in
The Ferret, loud enough for any possible lis-
teners to hear.
“I am glad of that. It is distressing even
to have to mention such a disease. But when
I found that you both had gone without saying
anything, and the others, too—”
“What others?”
“Why, Bernice and Carlos. Clara is with
them, of course, but—”
“You don’t mean to say that Clara and Ber-
nice have left camp—with Carlos?”
McClue’s voice was almost a cry of rage, and
without waiting for an answer he dashed for-'"
ward to where he saw the two sailors emerging
from behind the thicket.
153


THE SCAR-LET X
maid, racing down towards them. She gets
aboard at the risk of being drowned, as I told
you before, and they pushes up stream.
That’s all, except that the Breen woman got
wind of what was going on in time to see them
start, and carries on something awful because
they wouldn’t come back for her.”
“Up stream—with provisions—and Carlos
and Bernice meant to go alone,” McClue
slowly summed up the situation. “It’s time
to be getting the other rafts ready. Are they
finished—and loaded?”
“They was finished all right—this morning.
But they’s a long ways from finished now.
Give a look, sir.”
McClue looked.
“What’s the matter with them? They seem
ready to fall apart.”
“If they’d been laying longer in fresh water,
I’d say that the matter was that the rope we
bound ’em together with, working under a
couple of natives and our opinion not asked—
I’d say it was rotted, sir. Fresh water plays
the devil with these here coirs. But as the
ropes was new, I’d say they was cut.”
156


THE GLEN OF DEATH
“Then, that infernal 'Spaniard—”
“Yes, sir, or that infernal Breen woman.
That’s my opinion.”
It was agreed that the rafts should be fit
once repaired, and that Birds, with the women
and the servants, should set out as soon as
possible. The sailors were to follow. This
arranged, McClue stufied a few hard biscuits
into his pockets and started alone up the strip
of sand along the river. Perhaps the fugi~
tives had not gone far. Anyway, he could not
bear the idea of waiting.
The river, as the moon rose, gradually took
on a forbidding glitter. The moon, itself, had
a futile and frightened look. Without being
actually clouded, the sky was gray, the stars
like so many tarnished brass nail-heads. They
seemed to be battening down something. The
whole world became a thing of vague shapes,
that had the air of but waiting for a signal to
spring out upon their prey.
What malign power had induced Bernice
once more to plunge into the unknown? Would
Clara be able to cope with the situation? He
could not help acknowledging that thus far the
157


THE SCARLET X ‘
island had defeated him at every turn. He
had come in a yacht, with a full equipment of
r 'ew and attendants and a gay party of
Ff ends. These had all been taken away.
'frue, he still knew where some of them were.
But that remnant which he had left back at
the camp—was it at all certain that he would
ever see them again?
It was unheard of—this battling with a geo-
graphical unit which swallowed men and
women up like a quicksand. Some vast web of
crime might be back of it all—probably was.
But the island itself held a threat apart from
the intentions of men—as if it had a person-
ality, and was plotting. Men would become its
mere instruments, he felt. He might become
its instrument himself. And instead of solv-
ing the mystery he had come to solve, he was
getting closer and closer to the point where all
his energies would be required simply to main-
tain his life. Even now, he reflected bitterly,
a life dearer than his own might have been
sacrificed. And to what?
About midnight he forced himself to stop
and eat a couple of biscuits. Then he cram-
l
158


THE GLEN OF DEATH
med some tobacco into his pipe, and prepared
to wait. It was usless to exhaust himself
further, for it had been a long time since he
could see across the stream, and Gonzales
might have passed him a dozen times. The
search would have to be left to Birds,
who, from mid-channel, would have a better
view.
As this consolation presented itself, a light
came floating will~o’-the-wisp fashion up the
stream. A raft! McClue sprang up and was
about to shout. But he hesitated. The raft
was already bearing in close to the shore.
How could he be certain that it was Birds at
all?
Yes it was. There sat the naturalist at the
tiller, with Joli and Camilo walking up and
down along either side of the float, skillfully
using their poles. Squatting over a tiny
camp-stove was Sam, preparing a meal. Mrs.
Millspaugh sat stiflin erect, her back against
the stubby mast which held the lantern. Be-
hind her stood Dolly 'Breen, staring sullenly at
the darkness ahead.
McClue waded out and climbed aboard, glad
159


THE GLEN OF DEATH
“We are at the head of navigation,” Birds
came and whispered.
“How can we be? Gonzales must have
gone farther than this or we would have come
up to him.”
“I know, Mac. But we haven’t.”
“Sure you didn’t take forty winks?”
“I never closed my eyes.”
“But this is nonsense. They had a raft, and
a raft doesn’t disappear. It wasn’t very dark'
last night, either.”
“No, a man could see both banks from the
middle of the stream.”
“Come to think, you weren’t in the middle.
When I first saw you—I remember I was
going to shout, but you were already
hugging the bank. Birds—it was that infernal
lynx.”
“Maybe it was.”
“Of course it was.”
“But there was my light. They couldn’t
have passed me unintentionally, and I see no
reason why they should have tried to sneak
by if they were coming back.”
.
\.
161


THE SCARLET X
“They needn’t have been coming back. We
may have overtaken them.”
“But, Mac, Clara is with them. She
wouldn’t—”
f‘She must have been asleep. Anyway, the
ohly thing to do now is to turn about—and
hope that we won’t be crossing one of
your ‘dangerous spots.’ ”
The Ferret’s face had grown as hard as
steel, but he forbore to upbraid the scientist,
whose remorse made him look absurdly like a
small boy caught in mischief. The raft was
soon off, and—moving now with the current—
made excellent speed. They reached again
the placid section of the stream. Sam an-
nounced breakfast.
The detective, too anxious to have an ap-
petite, sat in front of the plate of rice curry
and let it grow cold. A large fly with green
wings, of the sort which pesters sick animals in
the jungle, lighted to taste the mixture. A
few seconds later it slipped ofi“ the edge of the
plate, quite dead.
“Have you all eaten your breakfasts?”
162


THE GLEN OF DEATH
He put the question quietly, and everyone
answered in the aflirmative.
“I think I’ll feed mine to the fishes—I’m
sick of curry.”
And having tossed the poisoned food, dish
and all, into the water, he looked around for
the cook. But Sam was nowhere to be seen.
“Him fall overboard,” announced Joli, when
Sam’s absence was called to the general atten-
tion.
The old Moro did not seem to think the in-
cident of ’the slightest importance, and McClue
was too much absorbed in watching the faces
about him to consider anything else. They
were naturally excited about what had hap-
pened. But that was all. Why not adopt
Joli’s viewpoint, then? That the Chinaman
had really fallen overboard and been drowned
was far from likely. But, after all, what did
it matter! Whatever had been his motive, his
murderous scheme had failed.
_ They passed the spot where the wildcat had
been seen, and the farther bank of the river
withdrew until it was out of sight altogether.
“I know what’s the trouble,” exclaimed
163


THE SCARLET X
Birds, reviving from his fit of humility. “The
river forks here. We took the tributary;
Gonzales took the main stream. We haven’t
lost him after all.”
This discovery was the signal for mutual
congratulations. And, as if to improve the
situation still further, the sailors appeared in
the third raft, with the news that they had
nothing to report. Confident that those they
sought were now safely bottled up, the reunited
searchers continued their way.
Hour by hour the gorge grew more magnifi-
cent, yet strange to say the current showed no
signs of turning turbulent, as had that of the
tributary. The water reached on either side
to the base of precipitous cliffs, with no longer
even a pathway along the margin. It was im-
possible that those ahead could have returned
on foot or made a landing.
A sharp bend brought the mountain into
view, apparently straight ahead and looking
more like a decayed tooth than ever. Decayed?
It was cracked—split from top to bottom. No
wonder the river was tranquil. It flowed
through a water-gap. But where, then, was its
164


THE GLEN OF DEATH
source? In approaching the island from the
sea, they had all learned that there were no
mountains beyond the peak.
The sides of the gap soon became the walls
of the universe so far as those on the river were
concerned, for the cut zigzagged this way and
that—less like a out than a rent made by unim-
aginable forces in the mountain’s heart.
Nothing could be seen in any direction but tier
after tier of rising cliffs. The heaven itself
was laced across by trees leaning from the dis-
tant, overhanging summits. Their trunks
looked like threads used in some titanic and fu-
tile effort to close that unhealing wound of
stone. The voices of the voyagers echoed
strangely through the eternal twilight.
And then the gloom grew lighter. The way
ahead opened—a narrow slit at first, growing
wider as the floats advanced, until a passage the
full width of the river was visible.
“It looks as if we was going to sail clear
through!” exclaimed one of the sailors.
But the aspect of the scene again altered.
The walls fell back. They were no longer over-
hanging battlements, but steep slopes; no
165


THE GLEN OF DEATH
the river’s source, they should be near the
runaways. ’
And it was the river’s source. The mountain
was indeed cut in two by a pass, but it soon
ceased to carry a stream. Directly ahead rose
a considerable barrier of rock, which, had it not
been dwarfed by the acclivities to right and to
left, would itself have passed for quite a clifi.
The river was no longer a river, but a great
pool.
They circled it carefully, but found no outlet
save the one by which they had come. Finally
they landed upon a grassy slope—the only
landing-place that offered—and found them-
selves at the beginning of a narrow glen,
leading up in a gentle incline towards the
barrier. A tiny trickle made its way through
the glen to the pool, but it could not have
floated a cracker-box, let alone a raft. Clara,
Bernice, Gonzales and their craft had been swal-
lowed up. That which had eliminated Oaksey,
Pariso and Duriga once more had asserted it-
self. And this time it had left not a sound, not
a trace, not a footprint.
167


THE SCAR-LET X
“They must have gone on farther, all the
same, ” allirmed McClue, when the air of finality
which prevaded the scene had impressed itself
on every mind. “Perhaps they tied stones to
their raft and sunk it.”
‘ ‘ That ’s possible—theoretically, ” admitted
Birds.
“Yes, I know. And practically it’s all non-
sense. We may as well go it blind.”
The barrier lay farther ahead than had
seemed from a distance. So they divided the
supplies into packs, each man bearing his load
and even Mrs. Millspaugh insisting on lugging a
small sack of coffee, though she refused to allow
it to be strapped upon her back and carried it
daintily in one hand, as if it had been a vanity-
bag. She made an absurd picture, but nobody
so much as smiled. It was in the thoughts of all
that in turning from the pool they were leaving
their one last chance of retreat perhaps forever
behind.
The vegetation was still tropical, its luxu-
riousness limited merely by the thinness of the
soil and not at all by the elevation, which was
now considerable. Tree ferns, palms and
168


THE GLEN OF DEATH
2
grasses, more eager for moisture than for
earth, gave the place its prevailing note. Now
and then a huge white moth flitted before them
—a winged flower, filling the air with a heavy
sweetish smell, unpleasantly suggestive of
tuberoses. Several times a tree fairly exploded
with red and green parrots as they approached,
and once there broke forth a series of howls and
barks of such tremendous volume that it
seemed as if nothing less than a lion could have
been responsible. It proved, however, to be a
“shouter,” a small species of monkey that
looked, save for its long, prehensile tail, for all
the world like an ordinary tomcat. Nowhere
was there any sign that their lost companions
had preceded them.
“If they are really ahead of us,” began the
detective, “they—”
“Where else can they be, sir?” interrupted
one of the sailors.
“That’s just it. But if they are ahead they
must have walked in this trickle. Here we are
in a narrow glen, with walls on both sides, and
there’s no sign of their trail. It can’t be that
Clara didn’t try to leave some clew. Where is
169


THE SCARLET X
it“! Or were they being chased by a dangerous
animal and anxious to throw it off the scent?
Even that doesn’t account for the disappearance
of the raft. They really must have taken the
trouble of sinking it, for they couldn’t very
well have picked it up and carried it with
them.”
“No—and yet that is just what they did do,”
observed the naturalist.
He stooped down and possessed himself of a
small piece of rope made from the inside bark
of a tree—precisely the sort of fibre with
which the raft had been bound together.
“Mac,” he went on, “they couldn’t have
been alone. A man and two women couldn’t
even carry one of the logs.”
McClue said nothing. He was watching
Camilo and Joli, who had been walking in ad-
vance and were now to be seen scurrying to
one side in a wide semi-circle back towards the
pool. A shout only caused them to drop their
packs and break into a run. They began to
climb the bank—in a slanting direction which
continued their retreat. ‘-
170


THE GLEN OF DEATH
The whole party followed them with its eyes,
then moved so as to keep them abreast. Panic
crept into every bone—the sailors succumbing
first, then the women, finally even Birds and
McClue, himself. Before they quite realized
what they were doing, all were again at the
pool.
By this time, the Moro and the Filipino were
climbing through the falling water, apparently
in a fair way to reach the top of the slope, for
both were as agile as monkeys and there
seemed to be no difficulty in finding a foot-
hold. Then, without warning, and just as they
reached a. tiny ledge which promised a safe
resting-place, they toppled over backwards,
one after the other, and went rolling down
into the pool, beneath the surface of which
they disappeared like a couple of stones.
“It looked as if they saw the angel of death,”
said Dolly Breen, in an hysterical voice.
“It looked to me as if they were shot—
though I didn’t hear a sound,” contradicted
the scientist.
McClue stepped up to Mrs. Millspaugh,
171


THE SCARLET X
whose courage seemed for once about to desert
her.
“The only possible move,” he said quietly
as he took her arm, “is to get back to where we
dropped our packs—and get there as quickly as
possible.”
172


CHAPTER XI
IN THE VILLAGE
EYOND the barrier the tilt of the
B ground altered, so that in advancing
one descended a gentle slope, much en—
cumbered with débris from the peak and cov-
ered with the gnarled trees struggling for ex-
istence in the scanty soil. But what most im-
pressed the detective, after he had led the way
for about a mile over this new terrain the next
day, was that the stones beneath his feet—at
first as dry as a desert—began all at once to
look as if they had recently been under water.
The path had turned into what resembled the
bed of a mill-race temporarily drained off.
Leaving the others to proceed alone, he
turned back, following the slime-covered stones
till he came to a wall, beyond which was a
pond. Granting that the pond and the wall
were natural—which was granting a great deal
—what could be said of that regular arrange-
173


THE SCARLET x
ment of planks, so obviously a water-gate set
in the face of a dam?
But his companions were calling, and he
hurried to join them. They had come to a
spot where the ground seemed almost to have
been snatched from beneath their feet—to the
edge of a precipice so sheer that in spite of
reason one felt the whole ledge to be in the act
of following. Below lay a bowl-shaped valley,
into which plunged the path—a rough, giddin
steep but not impracticable stairway of bowl-
ders.
“It’s the crater of an extinct volcano,” ex-
plained Birds, pointing to the depths.
“I’m going down,” announced McClue.
“This looks almost like an invitation.”
“Too much like an invitation, Mac. I have
a notion that yesterday it was a cascade—and
that it may be one again before we’ve seen the
last of it.”
McClue felt obliged to mention the dam and
the water-gate, but he could not get the com-
pany to agree to his descending alone. Mrs.
Millspaugh, in fact, was the only one who lifted
no voice against the proposal, and she, poor
174


IN THE VILLAGE
lady, had succumbed to giddiness and lay in a
dead faint. So the sailors made a chair of
their hands, and proceeded to carry her. A
little thing like a drop of a thousand feet or
so had no terrors for them.
Within half an hour all were at the bottom.
McClue lifted his eyes. The way down which
they had come had taken on a new appearance.
A glittering thread, like a serpent of quick-
silver, was unwinding itself in their wake.
“Get to one side!” he shouted.
The order had hardly been carried out when
the thread became a ribbon; then a solid
stream, which covered itself with spray as it
fell, until the stairway disappeared completely
beneath the crashing onrush of a waterfall.
Its impact shook the very ground. Yet when
they paused to regard it from a distance,
it seemed to hang there, a filmy veil, like a dec-
oration added to the scene.
“Somebody was watching us, " said Birds.
“It looks that way,” admitted The Ferret.
“But apparently they didn’t wish us any
harm.”
“Where am I?” exclaimed Mrs. Millspaugh,
175


THE SCARLET X
recovering her senses and finding herself ex-
tended at full length on a green bank, where
the sailors had abandoned her to the ministra-
tions of Dolly Breen.
“You’ve been asleep,” explained McClue.
“We’re in a little oasis by the looks of things.
Let’s get on. It appears to be considerably
dryer ahead.”
He spoke the truth. About the foot of the
cascade the verdure was luxurious with mois-
ture, but a little farther on rolled an appar-
ently limitless ocean of cognon grass, brown
with the end of a long rainless season.
“Don’t smoke,” admonished the naturalist,
looking back at the sailors as all plunged into
the rustling cover; “a spark might be as much
as our lives are worth.”
He had hit upon the one obvious danger.
But it was easily avoided, and the parched,
blade-like leaves, with stems as stout as corn-
stalks and rising to the height of ten or fifteen
feet, gave a sense of security as well as a
grateful shade. There was also a path—a
real path, made by constant travel.
McClue swung into it as if he were on a
176


IN THE VILLAGE
country road. Craft would have been child-
ish. They were in the lion’s mouth, and
there was positive relief in the thought that
the issue lay outside their own efforts. For
the moment the one irksome thing was the lack
of air. It was stifling in that dusty gloom,
where not a breath stirred.
But after a time the ground began to rise;
the gloom lightened. They came to an open
space where the growth had been burned down
to a fine deposit of charcoal, beyond
which loomed a high stockade built of heavy
slabs.
“It looks like -a deserted village,” said the
detective in a cautious voice. “But unless I’m
very much mistaken its looks are deceptive.
Get your guns ready, men, but don’t shoot un-
less you have to. We’d never have been per-
mitted to come this far if there was any chance
of our winning in an open fight.”
As he spoke, a gate in the stockade opened
—and there, surrounded 'by three or four very
ordinary looking white men in laborers’
blouses stood Carlos Gonzales.
. “Everything is all right,” he said, stepping
177


THE SCARLET X
up to Mrs. Millspaugh. “But I’m afraid you
found the journey pretty trying.
“Why, no, not especially. But what have
you done with my niece?”
“She is here waiting for you.”
“Where is here?”
“As it turns out, here is the luckiest spot we
could have found. It’s a colony—one of these
new~fangled socialistic experiments, you know
—run by a C01. Sealby. Just happened to
come across him, and he's waiting to make
friends With us all.”
“This is a relief!” exclaimed the aunt.
“But you oughtn't to have started out with
Bernice—practically alone. I didn’t know
what to think of you.”
“But what were we to do?” the Spaniard in-
quired, with a look aside at The Ferret.
“Two of the party were missing. Naturally
we felt that we ought to look for them—es-
pecially as one was supposed to be suffering
from a dangerous fever.”
“We’ll have to talk about this later,” said
Mrs. Millspaugh, permitting herself a glance
of disapproval which comprehended every-
178


THE SCARLET X
The detective assented. But when he once
stood inside the stockade, with the gate closed
behind him, the scene which presented itself
made the idea of villainy seem for a mo-
ment absurd. Ahead lay a fairly wide if irreg-
ular and dusty street, bordered by comfortable
shanties and ending in a square. Beyond
that rose ,the gabled end of a considerable
building topped by a squat factory chimney,
ugly with the reassuring air of civilization.
Down the middle of the street a naked child
was toddling, but a woman who was running
after it wore a decent calico dress; and among
the torrent of words which she poured out as she
caught the little one to her breast, were a few
at least recognizable as English. Her com-
plexion, however, was Malay, and the faces of
two or three other women to be seen in the
doorways were also noticeably dark with a rich
brown tint not to be ascribed to sunburn.
The scarred native had disappeared, and no
men were visible save those acting as escort.
“Houses built of boards—sawn, now hewn,”
Birds was heard to ruminate. “Children the
result of miscegenation—the sort of thing
180


IN THE VILLAGE
which ought to be discouraged. But what is
this?”
They had come to the square, and the building
with a chimney was now seen to be made of
corrugated iron, with a veranda across its
front. It might almost have been a church.
But for that matter it might have been a shoe-
factory. To the right and left, and also fac-
ing the square, were two other buildings
similarly constructed, though smaller. From
their roofs were strung a number of
wires.
-“Looks like a Marconi installation to me,”
the scientist went on, but this time in a tone
which only McClue could hear. “Do you sup-
pose this can be the headquarters of a jwnta,
an international soviet committee, or something
of the sort?”
“No, Birds, I don’t. A revolutionary com-
mittee might very well hide itself here, and it
might use red for its emblem—but hardly in the
form of a cross. Let’s wait till we see this Col.
Sealby.”
He hadn’t long to wait, for a huge black
came out of the central building and indicated
181


THE SCARLET X
by signs that the detective was wanted at once.
The others separated, the men going to the
right and the women to the left. McClue per-
mitted himself to be led to a seat on the shady
veranda. At his elbow was a small table, on
the other side of which was a vacant chair.
A door opened, and there appeared a man
of enormous girth but hardly more than five
feet in height—a man whose complexion was
not only white but fair. He looked like an
overgrown baby, with great rolls of jelly-like
flesh enveloping his figure till one wondered if
there could really be a skeleton of genuine bones
beneath. His wrists were deep creases; his
general appearance repulsive with the re-
pulsiveness of abnormal things. Barely did he
escape being an albino. Yet he was clean,
smooth-shaven, dressed like an English tourist
in spotless white duck with a pith helmet, and
his face was vapid rather than ugly.
His eyes, however, were the features which
drew the attention. They were small, deeply
set beneath shaggy, colorless brows, and of
steely gray which seemed fairly to radiate a
cold, passionless intelligence. It was impossible
182


THE SCARLET X
explosions. “I’ll tell you everything—few
days. But first you’ve got to learn that you’re
caught. Valley ab-so-lute-ly impregnable. You
can’t get out. Let ’s—I’ll order you something
to drink.”
He motioned to the black, who had been
standing all this time just out of earshot but
where he could catch his master’s eye. The
fellow bounded forward as if he had been jerked _
with a string.
‘(Rum!7’
There was silence while the order was being
filled. McClue glanced over the village. He
counted twenty houses besides the three upon
the square. Allowing five to a house, that
would bring the population up to an even hun-
dred. But for the moment not a soul was in
sight. Whoever this fleshy being might be, he
showed positive genius in picking out a place
for a conference. The veranda afforded a clear
view of everything, yet guarded against the
possibility of surprise or eavesdroppers.
There were no windows in the ugly, unrelieved
facade at its back, and the table was conspic-
uously not in front of the door. Also the
184


THE SCARLET X
civilized—even civil, sometimes. University
education and all that.”
“But what will happen to them—if you
succeed in having your own way, that is?”
“Nothing, for the present. Only for the fact
that I need you, I’d let you take them all and go
this minute. Must have a long talk. We’re
only wasting time now. The clifis can’t be
scaled except in two places—one where you
came in, by the waterfall, the other by what we
call the crevice. Both are well taken care of.
But you’ll have to be shown. Mind’s full of
escape. Don’t blame you, of course.”
“Meanwhile, I’m to consider myself a
prisoner?” McClue inquired.
“Call it guest—sounds nicer. I was ex-
pecting you.
“Then Carlos must have worked the wireless
sometime while I was asleep.”
“Dare say he did. But you’d better get to
your quarters and stay inside till this evening.
Natives are going to give you an entertainment.
Dangerous around here in the sun. No breeze.
Worst thing about the place. I blister but don’t
\ tan—devilish nuisance.”
186


i IN THE VILLAGE
He gave way to a fit of coughing. But the
detective, as he took his leave, caught a glance
filled with appraisal—and cunning beyond
words. 001. Sealby undoubtedly had a prop-
osition which he intended to make in due season.
The probable nature of it, and what a refusal
under present circumstances might entail, were
not pleasant subjects for thought.
187


CHAPTER XII
THE SECRET OF THE MAIN BUILDING
E Birds was being conducted to
the men’s quarters he experienced
all the sensations of a man being
led to jail. The building, too, had a jail-like ap-
pearance, for the single window which looked
out from its second story—a mere loft, as
nearly as one could judge—was protected by
iron bars, and the windows on the ground floor
were entirely hidden by bamboo screens.
The screens, however, proved to be screens
merely, not the coverings of yet other bars, and
he listened in vain for the sound of a bolt shot
home when the door finally closed upon himself
and the sailors.
It was a large and airy room which had been
put at their disposal, and seemed to account for
the entire lower story. In its center stood a
table, on which was a huge water-jug sweating
itself cool. There were two chairs—conven-
188


SECRET OF THE MAIN BUILDING
tional affairs of wood and canvas—and in the
corners were piles of fragrant dried grass to .
serve as beds. Newly-cut rushes covered the
rest of the smooth, dirt floor, and the whole
place smelled damp and clean, as if it had been
long unused and only recently sprinkled.
But two circumstances impressed him un-
favorably. Carlos Gonzales had not remained
behind, and there seemed to be no way—no
stair, either inside or outside the walls—t0
reach the loft above.
The sailors threw themselves upon one of the
grass heaps and prepared for a nap. The
naturalist, however, felt restless, and spent
some time in looking for the non-existent stair.
The only thing he gained was the knowledge
that he could go in and out as he pleased.
Then he began to wonder if Gonzales wasn’t
worth following. He had seen him go
in the direction of the women’s building.
If one man was allowed there, why not
another?
Yet Birds did not like to pass in front of the
veranda, where The Ferret and Sealby could
still be seen in earnest and apparently friendly
189


THE SCARLET X
conversation. So he started in the opposite
direction, skirting the village just inside the
stockade. It seemed to be the hour of siesta,
for nobody was visible even by the gate. A
couple of dogs that he came upon lying in the
shade of one of the shanties, let him pass with
a sleepy growl or two. The very dust, ankle
deep everywhere, had a somnolent look.
The women’s building, which he approached
from the rear, proved to be somewhat larger
than the one he had left, and decidedly more
homelike. There were actually curtains at the
unglazed window-openings—curtains of tat-
tered calico, but still curtains. He hid him-
self in a growth of weeds, and waited for
several minutes, not knowing what it were
better to do. From within he could hear voices
—one of them a man’s, the Spaniard’s, he
thought—but could catch no word of what was
being said. Suddenly a curtain was thrust
aside, revealing Clara. Birds whistled softly.
Clara started, saw him, and climbed lightly
over the sill.
“Where is Mac?” she whispered, as she
crouched down in the weeds.
190


SECRET OF THE MAIN BUILDING
“He is having a confab with Sealby on the“
veranda. You can almost see them from1
here.”
“Talking—with that man?”
“Yes, and to judge by appearances they are"
getting along like old cronies. Is Mrs.-
Millspaugh all right?”
“All right? She’s positively weird—event
says you had a pleasant trip.”
“A marvelous woman!” ejaculated the“
naturalist. “The way she let herself be carried
down that precipice—in a faint—was magnifi-
cent.”
Clara stared in surprise at her companion.
He was travel-stained. A gray stubble of
beard bristled from his face, giving him an air'
at once old and unutterably comic. And here
he was, sighing like a Romeo—with Aunt
Evelyn, of all persons in the world, cast for the
part of his Juliet! Yet, after all, why not!
Come to think of it, he had been rather magnifi-
cent himself.
Carlos came out of the house, and walked off
—happily without noticing their presence.
“That’s the unbelievable feature of the
191


THE SCARLET X
situation,” Clara exclaimed indicating the
Spaniard and evidently glad of a chance to
change the subject. “He’s no stranger here,
but one of the powers that be.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. And he has announced that he and
Bernice are to be married—tonight—with
some sort of a native ceremony.”
‘ ‘Impossible 1’ ’ ‘
“Not merely a native ceremony. There’s a
renegade minister in the colony, or a man who
pretends to be. He is to ofliciate. But Col.
Sealby likes to give the population all the dis-
tractions he can, so has suggested some sort of
a savage feast and dance to be held in con-
nection with the wedding.
“And Bernice!”
“She will die before she becomes .Carlos’
wife now. But, if you will believe me, her con-
sent hasn’t really been asked.” '
“Do you mean, Clara, that women—white
women—”
“I mean that women ai‘e scarce here—and
this is no civilized community.”
“Then you and Dolly Breen, and—”
192


SECRET OF THE MAIN BUILDING
“All of us, Birds, if we don’t find a way out
of here pretty soon. We are well taken care
of—have a couple of rooms and a garret, and a
servant to wait on us. We are even allowed
to go out—or have been up till now. But-—
you must tell Mac about Bernice.”
“I think I shall tell him about you.”
“No, it’s Bernice who is in immediate
danger. Besides, she has a plan which she
wants to consult him about. Have him come
here—after dark—the first chance he gets. I
understand the ceremony won’t begin till late.
“The trouble with you,” observed the
naturalist, as if the crisis in their affairs was,
after all, no bar to philosophical reflections;
“the trouble with you is that you’ve lost your
natural plumage—while Bernice hasn’t. It
was a mistake, my dear girl. A woman for-
feits something vital when she steps down
from her station, even if one knows she is
acting.”
“Oh! Aren’t you well yet?”
“Quite. But a naturalist has to study the
amative instinct along with the others—even in
himself, sometimes—and I was merely re.
‘ - 193
n


THE SCARLET X
marking that if Mac has become interested in
Bernice, as you seem to think, it was largely
your own fault. You shouldn’t have turned
yourself into a lady’s maid—even if that was
the only way you could accompany him on this
expedition. ’ ’
Clara sprang to her feet.
“Since you’ve been spying on me—”
“Nonsense! I couldn’t help seeing that you
and he were both detectives. My powers of
observation happen to be trained. Also I
wasn’t out of my head all the time I was laid up,
and Mac has a bad habit of talking to himself
when he thinks he ’s alone.”
“He followed her every night—to the clifi—
also when he thought he was alone !”
Clara’s outburst came like the snapping of a
cord, long too tightly stretched. But it was
followed by something much more surprising——
a sharp scream of terror, mingled with groans
and exclamations, coming from the direction of
the gate. There ensued several moments of
tense silence, followed in turn by low murmurs,
which increased to an uproar as the entire
village began to bestir itself.
194


SECRET OF THE MAIN BUILDING
Birds hurried to the square, and found it
fast filling with shouting and gesticulating hu-
manity. The main building, heretofore so
silent and deserted looking, was pouring forth
workmen, or men who looked like workmen,
naked to the waist and stained with dirt and
sweat, all buzzing like a startled swarm of bees.
They were about equally divided between Malay
and European strains, but singularly united in
one common excitement. A single sentence
could be heard, repeated over and over in vari-
ous dialects but always with the same ter-
rified inflection. Finally it came in English:
“Again! It’s happened again!”
From the gate a group was approaching,
carrying a heavy object, which they deposited
in the center of the square. Birds and McClue
encountered one another in the crowd just as
Col. Sealby came panting out from his retreat
to enquire into what had occurred.
“It’s a dead body,” began the scientist.
“What do you make out of it 1’ ’
“Nothing much, yet—only that something
has happened which is as puzzling to the regu-
lar inhabitants as it is to us.”
195


THE SCARLET X
“It isn’t the first time, Mac, as nearly as I can
understand from what they say.”
“All the better, then. They may be less in-
clined to think we’re responsible. I’m going
to take advantage of the moment and try to
find out something on my own account. ”
Birds cleared his throat. He wanted to re-
peat Clara’s message and what she had said
about the predicament of the women. But it '
was dilficult, and before he could find words
sufliciently commonplace, McClue had gone.
To the detective, the whole trip, from the
start from SanFrancisco to its termination here
in the wilderness, shut off from the world in
the crater of an old volcano, was at last
beginning to fit together into a pattern. Even
the interest shown by the Secret Service in the
movements of The Escapade, as revealed by
Ro-rty’s cautious telegram, seemed now to have
its part—if a not clearly determined one—in
the general scheme of things. Sealby, Gonzales,
the juramentado with his scarlet X—they were
not independent factors, but somehow working
together. Kulisan was the center of a web
which had already caught Stover—whether
196


SECRET OF THE MAIN BUILDING
against his will or not—and now perhaps him-
self and everybody else concerned. But he
couldn’t be certain, and the secret of the whole
matter lay, he felt convinced, hidden within the
building which the colonel had just left.
He had felt it, too, with the big black following
at his heels like a bodyguard. The workmen,
whose very existence had remained unguessed
until a few moments ago, were also accounted
for. Everybody was preoccupied. The coast
seemed providentially clear.
The detective began a long detour, with the
central building for his object. Seen from an
angle, it showed a depth which would never
have been suspected from the gabled front. It
reached, in fact, nearly back to the stockade.
Another peculiarity was the complete absence
of windows, all the ventilation coming evidently
from an air space beneath the eaves. Thus,
though he walked entirely around it, he was
unable to obtain a single glimpse of the inside.
But it was now or never. Both the colonel
and the black were hidden by the mob which
centered about the dead man. A quick dash,
and The Ferret had crossed the veranda and
197


THE SCARLET X
slipped through the half open front door, with_
out having attracted the slightest attention.
He was within a small room which looked
like a sleeping-chamber and office combined.
There was also a wireless apparatus. Sealby’s
sanctum beyond a doubt. But it yielded
nothing not already known.
The rest of the building was one large space,
bare and empty from floor to rafters. Its
emptiness, in fact, was startling. How could
a hundred or more men have here been em-
ploying themselves? The only objects which
caught the eye were a ladder leading to a,
' wooden box or pen, about six feet square, built
close up under a corner of the roof; an ordinary
galvanized-iron ash-can, standing in the middle
of the floor and half filled with rubbish; and a
series of empty tubs—or perhaps better, vats-—
along one of the walls.
Yes, there was one other detail worthy of
attention. Set in the ground at irregular in-
tervals were a number of timbers, upon which
were indentations showing that they had once
supported certain heavy objects of a sort im-
possible to determine.
198


SECRET OF THE MAIN BUILDING
After a hurried examination of these things,
the detective mounted the ladder. As he did
so, a low grunting sound came to his ears—a
sound so absurdly familiar that he refused at
first to give it its natural interpretation. Could
it be that the colonel kept a pig—and in this
unheard of situation? It seemed impossible.
And yet a glance over the top of the pen showed
a fat, well-fed porker. Hidden there up under '
the roof, it was more astonishing than a lion,
and McClue descended with the sense of having
been made the victim of some monstrOus joke.
The 'more he thought about it the more a
feeling of distrust crept over him. His mind
seemed to be groping back to some other jest—
.a more gruesome and deadly one—and without
knowing why, he felt for the automatic which
he still carried in its holster on his belt. It
had surprised him on reaching the village to
find that he was not to be searched—that his
weapon was to be left him. No matter how
desperate the case, a man with an automatic
pistol is apt to be a man with still a chance, and
certainly it was carrying courtesy a long way
to leave him with a chance.
199


THE SCARLET X
Forgetting the pig—which, after all, might
be simply Sealby’s totem, and a singularly
appropriate one—he tried to remember when
he had last fired a shot. It wasn’t when he
was down by the grave along the river, for
though he had been on the point of doing a little
hunting, he had thought in time of the danger
of giving an alarm, and had caught Bird’s
breakfast in a trap. Before that, he had taken
the pistol out to clean it—it was on the evening
before the naturalist came down with fever.
But he had not actually fired it since the day
that Pariso disappeared, when he had fired
three shots into the air in hopes that Oaksey
might be in the neighborhood.
Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he
reviewed these circumstances. Kulisan must
certainly have deadened his ordinary sense of
caution. But he remembered clearly now.
The automatic had been on the table beside the
naturalist’s cot when Carlos Gonzales was
called in to examine the supposed case of
smallpox—and it had not been examined since!
With unsteady fingers he drew it from its
leather pocket and slipped out the clip. It was
200


SECRET OF THE MAIN BUILDING
empty. The supply of extra cartridges was
also gone. No wonder Sealby’s men had not
searched him. Gonzales had seen his oppor-
tunity and rendered him defenseless that
morning in the tent—as long ago as that! And
now footsteps were slowly approaching—
heavy, waddling footsteps, as of a fat man.
They crossed the veranda and entered the small
room in front. The inner door began to swing
open.
McClue, his wits once more about him, leaped
behind the ash-can. As he did so, the earth
caved beneath his feet and he felt himself pre-
cipitated into total darkness.
201


CHAPTER XIII
THE WITCH. HUNT
INDING himself alone, Birds decided
F to go indoors and wait for The Ferret
there. Col. Sealby, wheezing out un~
intelligible commands, was rapidly restoring
law and order, but there was no sense in a
stranger making himself conspicuous.
In turning, however, the naturalist chanced
to catch not only a sight of his destination but
the full glare of the declining sun. There
seemed to be a face at the window of the left—
a face nearly covered with a neglected growth
of beard, yet giving somehow the impression
of pale and haggard emaciation.
It was gone before even he could be certain
that it was there. The sailors, when he reached
them, were just rousing themselves, and de-
clared that they had not seen nor heard a thing.
They had even missed the disturbance in the
square, so their evidence was of little account.
202


THE WITCH HUNT
But no sound came from the loft; the stout
planking which separated it from the room be-
low remained unresponsive though one heat
upon them with a chair, and discreet calls failed
to elicit any response.
“I was sure I saw somebody up there,” said
Birds at last. “But I must have imagined it.
A man can’t be expected to tell a face
from a blank hole when the sun is full in his
eyes.”
He sat down, wishing that McClue were back
and feeling suddenly very hungry. A draft
from the water-jug was only half satisfying.
Could it be a part of Sealby’s plan to starve
them all to death?
This question was soon happily answered,
for the door opened, admitting the black with
two boys carrying a substantial meal. The
meal was for four, so The Ferret was at least
expected—there was some satisfaction in that.
But the naturalist failed to fall to with the
whole hearted abandon of his companions. He
caught himself waiting for McClue, and
wondering if he would ever see that cheerful,
yet inscrutable face again.
203


THE SCARLET X
Here, too, his fears proved to be groundless.
The detective arrived within a quarter of an
hour, humming softly to himself and slipping
into his place as if this were home and he had
only been detained on some ordinary affair of
business. The sailors, who had taken their
share of the food to their own corner, unable to
shake off that sense of social distinction bred
by life in the fo’o’s ’le, saluted respectfully, and
went on with their eating. Birds could only
stare. For McClue was covered with dirt from
head to foot, and blood was oozing from a cut
in his forehead.
“You must wash that out at once, Mac,” he
finally found voice to say. “I’ve still my little
chest with me, and I’ll get you an antiseptioz”
“I’m more anxious to know you’ve got
your gun first,” responded The Ferret.
“My gun?” The other fumbled in the volu-
minous pockets of his coat, designed prima-
rily for objects of scientific interest, and shook
his head.
“If you mean my revolver—why, no. I did
have one, but it seems to be gone. Someone
has stolen it, I believe. But that cut—”
204


THE SCARLET X
He ceased speaking. Though the sun had
just set, a ruddy light was to be seen flicker-
ing on the wall, and a glance through the win-
dow showed the bonfires were being lighted in
the square. From somewhere at the other
side of the village a drum began to beat. It
was no white man’s drum, either, but a species
of tom-tom, dull-sounding and dispiriting.
Others soon joined it, till the very air seemed
to rock with an unvarying pulsation, not loud,
but deadening, senseless, cruel.
Word came from the colonel summoning
them all to the square, and there a fantastic
spectacle presented itself. The villagers had
largely discarded their ordinary clothes, and
were coming out with their persons decorated
with grasses, shells and feathers. Even some
of the whites had joined in this mummery.
And as if this were not enough, many of the
natives had chalked their bodies and overlaid
the scars on their foreheads—an almost uni-
versal decoration it now appeared—with a
bright red pigment which rendered them com-
pletely hideous.
A strict separation was maintained between
208


THE WITCH HUNT
the sexes, the men being drawn up on one side
of the square, the women on the other. On the
women’s side McClue caught sight of Clara,
Bernice, Mrs. Millspaugh and Dolly Breen, and
waved them an encouraging hand. But there
was no chance for a single word. A small, with-
ered old man had begun to dance around the
central fire, uttering from time to time a wierd
and incoherent cry. The watching crowd,
squatting on its haunches, accompanied him
with the beating of hands. They were so many
living drums, adding a sharper note to the
drums of bamboo and snake skin. Two young
natives raked the burning sticks from a corner
of the fire and began to pile large stones upon
the glowing coals.
“I’ve seen this ceremony before,” muttered
Birds. “That little dancing fellow is the Ac-
cuser. When he has worked himself up suffi-
ciently, he will denounce someone.”
“What will happen then?” asked Gonzales,
who had joined the group.
“Watch carefully now,” the naturalist went
on without noticing the interruption. “They
will soon begin to spread those hot stones
209


THE WITCH HUNT
there was an area of several square yards
studded with stones about a foot and a half
apart. To pass through the ordeal, any ac-
cused person would have to step from stone
to stone until he had walked from one side of
this area to the other.
Abruptly the drumming and the hand-clap-_
ping ceased, and nothing could be heard but
the crackling of new wood which was being
thrown upon the fire—that, and the low whin-
ing of the Accuser as he danced about in an
ever-increasing frenzy, moving along in front
of the quaking spectators. He came to where
the men of The Escapade were standing, and
suddenly uttered a loud cry, at the same time
thrusting a stiffened arm straight at Carlos
Gonzales.
A yell of fear and rage broke out from the
natives, not a few of the whites joining in it.
Indeed, Col. Sealby joined in it, himself—and
with rather a hearty gusto—as if he believed
in this mockery quite as much as did the most
ignorant being present.
“Quick, Carlos—before you forget,” whis-
pered Birds. “It’s your only chance.”
211


THE WITCH HUNT
All these savage superstitions are the same at.
bottom. God! He’s making a mistake.”
Carlos had extended his naked foot towards
a hot stone, but corrected himself in time and
went forward—one step: two, three. He was
near the middle of the dreaded area. Some of
the on-lookers recommenced their rhythmic
hand-clapping, whether as a sign of encourage-
ment or as an invocation to heaven to send
down vengeance upon the guilty it was impos~
sible to tell. ,
Another stone was achieved, and another.
Gonzales moved so slowly, however, that the
Accuser began to complain. Evidently he sus-
pected that the white man was too wise—was-
testing the stones by bringing his foot near
them before committing himself to a step.
But suddenly Carlos increased his pace. Ob:
viously he had determined in his mind what
way to take, for he walked boldly, and without
further hesitation marched to his goal.
As he stepped to the ground, the whole as-
sembly jumped up, dancing, shouting, the na-
tives prostrating themselves in front of him,
213


THE WITCH HUNT
front of Clara. But it was a false alarm, and
the dancing continued.
“Will it never end?” thought McClue, know-
ing that if any one of the white women was
chosen he would have to fling himself into the
mélée and die fighting. There would be
nothing else to do.
Col. Sealby had risen from his seat and was
approaching the Accuser, as if for the pur-
pose of enjoying the performance at closer
range. It was evident that a climax was at
hand. The Accuser reduced the frenzy of his
motions and stood nearly still, making it
doubly diflicult to guess his intentions. Then
he pointed to Bernice. She drew back and
covered her face with her hands.
Birds had not been able to communicate the
secret of the stones to that side of the square.
Everything seemed lost. But before McClue
could even reach the trembling girl, Sealby
had taken matters in charge. Motioning every-
one aside, his face purple with fury, he strode
up to the Accuser and emptied a magazine
pistol. The man fell without a cry.
That Sealby was accustomed to rule with a
215


THE SCARLET X
high hand was evident, and as he stood there
the entire population, white as well as native,
shrank from him in fear. But he had tam-
pered with that which is more dreaded than
firearms—the supernatural. The Accuser had
been no mere man, but a sacred institution.
His atrocious employment had for the moment
surrounded him with an awful taboo, and it
had been violated.
There was a movement of separation among
the crowd. The natives drew yet farther
away, but the whites advanced, surrounding
Sealby with a protecting ring. The Ferret
and his party found themselves drawn into
this latter group. If there was to be a revolt
of the slaves—and slaves the natives practi-
cally were—Caucasian would have to stand
shoulder to shoulder with Caucasian. Sav-
agery, once victorious, would engulf them all.
The one white who did not obey the law of
race was Carlos Gonzales. He stood with the
natives, in their very midst, their leader.
“You’ll have to give an account of yourself,
I think,” he cried, looking exultingly at the
colonel after raising a hand for silence.
216


THE WITCH HUNT
The promptness with which his gesture had
been obeyed was uncanny. Evidently those
half-naked demons were ready to lay down
their lives at his least word. Every one of
them, too, had a knife at his girdle, while
Sealby was probably the only white man who
was armed. He had reloaded his automatic.
He might kill a few. But he would certainly
go down in the end if it came to an issue.
“What is it you want?” he inquired, with a
smile which did not seem so much to deny the
seriousness of the situation as to express his
own complete indifierence to consequences.
“I want a square deal,” said Carlos. “I
came here with _my friends, including the
woman I’m engaged to marry—”
“I’ve saved her life.”
“Yes—from your own witch doctor, after
having him try to take mine. Circumstances
suggest that you give up double-cross-
ing me, and that the marriage take place at
once.”
“Is the lady so eager?” Sealby glanced to-
wards Bernice, then back to Gonzales with a
smile more mocking then ever.
217


THE SCARLET X
“I’m not here to discuss that,” snapped the
Spaniard. “One of your men is a minister.
The ceremony was to have been tonight.
Let’s get on with it.”
“I had scarcely seen the lady when I agreed
to that.”
“And after you saw her-you thought you’d
get rid of me—I understand. But it didn’t
work. Bring on your clergyman.”
“And if I don’t?”
“In that case, I know of two or three hun-
dred pounds of adipose tissue that won’t live to
see the morning.
“But, you fool, if you start anything the
first one I shoot will be you.”
For answer, Carlos crouched down and
laughed. He was out of sight, completely
hidden by his followers.
“Well, then—the lady, herself.”
(‘L00k!fl
Carlos rose up long enough to point. And
whirling half around, Col. Sealby saw that Mc-
Clue, Birds and the sailors had slipped in
front of the women. It was evident enough
that his threat could not be carried out. Gon-
218


THE WITCH HUNT
zales had but to say the word, and the life and
death struggle between the two elements of the
crowd would be on—an unequal one, at that,
in spite of Sealby’s automatic. For the
colonel had governed by the prestige of brains
and ruthlessness, and rebellion had pricked the
bubble. Would even his own whites fight for
him? They didn’t look as if they relished the
prospect.
Gonzales began a good imitation of the
fatal gesture of the Accuser, but he did not fin-
ish it. The battle was not to be—not then and
there under those circumstances. A man came
running out of the big house, uttering short
phrases at the top of his voice. Every eye
turned toward him.
“What is be saying?” implored The Ferret
of Birds.
“It’s a difficult dialect,” was the answer.
“But as near as I can make out there has been
another mysterious happening. This time it’s
a disappearance.”
Further details were learned slowly, amidst
a rapidly increasing confusion. The big black
who usually served Sealby as a body-guard,
219


THE SCARLET X
had, it appeared, on this occasion been permit-
ted to remain indoors, safe from the Accuser’s
malice. And two other favored ones, who had
been keeping him company, had seen a hole
open beneath the black’s very feet and swal-
low him up. That the devil had taken this
means of dragging him down into hell was suffi-
ciently obvious. The natives began to run for
cover, taking Carlos forcibly with them, as if he
were something too precious to be exposed to
this new and awful danger.
Mrs. Millspaugh, frightened by the prelim-
inaries and offended by the lack of costume
observable among the heathen ritualists,
had been keeping her eyes shut. Now she
emerged as from a trance. She had no idea,
evidently, of what had been taking place. But
it was clearly over. So, with Bernice, Clara
and Dolly Breen under her wings, she started
away, as if it were the end of a piano recital.
Sealby, too, made a dignified retreat, glad,
no doubt, for the chance to save his face—to
say nothing of his skin. The sailors slunk off,
leaving McClue and Birds standing alone by
the neglected fire.
220


CHAPTER XIV
THE PLAN
cCLUE might not have allowed the
M subject of the apparition to be so
readily dismissed, had not a remark
let fall by Sealby, indicating that Bernice was
now an object of personal interest to the
colonel, almost completely occupied his mind.
The hour seemed propitious, too, for accom- '
plishing his long delayed visit to the women’s
quarters. So, having walked with the scientist
beyond the circle of firelight, he turned aside
and proceeded alone to the patch of weeds which
Birds had described.
Bernice was already there and waiting for
him.
“Clara would have come, too,” she began, as
he crouched in the hiding place beside her, “but
she thought she ought to see Carlos first.
She’s talking with him now.”
222


THE PLAN
The girl showed no trace of her recent
troubles, unless it was an excess of calm which
might indicate that her faculties were still half
stunned, and spoke in the most matter of fact
tone imaginable. But her statement made The
Ferret doubt his ears.
“Clara talking with Carlos? She can’t be.
He’s with the natives.”
“Yes, it’s to the natives she’s gone.”
“Then—I don’t know what she can be
thinking of, but I must go after her at once.”
“Wait, Mac. It is time that you two had a
long talk, but she left orders—they were
nothing less—that you were not to follow her.”
“But think of the danger—”
“She is safer than you would be. And
really, Carlos had to be seen.”
“I suppose that’s so.” The detective, who
had half risen, sank back to his place. “And
yet—I don’t know whether Birds did right or
not in showing him how to cross those stones.”
“It was a trick?”
“Exactly—like Columbus’ egg. Has Carlos
anything to do with that plan I hear you have?”
“He didn’t—originally.”
223


THE PLAN
There are discontented women here, as well as
men.”
“I see. And Clara has gone to make
common cause with Carlos, and try to put the
two rebellions together?”
“‘Somethng of the sort.”
“It’s not a bad notion,” admitted the de-
tective. “I was thinking of making some use
of tonight’s demonstration, myself. But with
Carlos Gonzales at the head of it I couldn’t feel
sure it wouldn’t be worse to succeed than to fail.
Naturally, though, you have more faith in him
than I have.”
“I haven’t, Mac.”
“You started from San Franciso with him.”
“It was before I knew him. I was only
beginning to doubt when I let him bring me to
the island. My desire to go inland was—to
test him, I suppose.”
“That was why Clara voted for the moun-
tain!” exclaimed the detective. “She under-
stood. I could only guess there was something
besides the search for your father in the wind.
But what about your starting up the river with
him—alone on a raft?”
225


THE PLAN
(‘1 do.”
“Yet you let Clara go to him on a mission.”
“Yes, but Carlos is, after all, nothing. Did
you hear what Col. Sealby said—about having
scarcely seen me when he promised to let-”
“I heard.”
“Then you must see that Sealby is the man
to be feared. And if worst comes to the
worst—”
“What then?”
“It may be necessary for me to do as Carlos
wishes.”
“N 0—1 ’11 be damned if I let you marry him.”
“But think. It isn’t just you, nor I—it’s
Clara and Dolly and my aunt as well. Sealby
would turn them all over to his men. Carlos
only wants me. He’d like to get away as much
as any of us. Whatever brought him here—in
the first place, I mean, for he has certainly been
here before—he’s had enough of it now.”
McClue reached out, and wound steel fingers
about Bernice ’s hand.
“You’re right,” he said. Then, after some
further discussion of what they were to try
and accomplish:
227


THE SCARLET X
“Yes, we’ll have to play with fire. And if
everything ends well, and we once get that
Spaniard into our power—’ ’
“If we ever do, before it’s too late—”
“It isn’t going to be too late.”
Bernice shook her head.
“You’ve been a wonderful big brother to me,
Mac. But this may be the last time you ever
see me—before the real part of me dies, I mean.
I want to thank you, and tell you good bye.”
McClue, who could find no words in reply,
helped Bernice to her feet. And just then a
figure stole across the square. Following it to
the men’s building, he found himself entering
the door in company with Carlos Gonzales.
Birds had made a very tolerable candle by
lighting a sliver of wood and sticking it into a
crack of the table. The Spaniard seemed to
dislike the illumination, for he seated himself
in a corner and covered his face with his hands.
This was not the mood in which one would have
expected to find him after his late triumph, and
The Ferret, though suspecting that fear and
not humility was at the bottom of it, managed to
ask him with something like civility:
228


THE PLAN
“How did you manage to get away? When I
saw you last you seemed pretty much in
demand.”
“I simply walked off,” Gonzales responded.
“Dias! Maybe you think I liked it—risking
my life with those beggars.”
“But surely you haven’t deserted them-—
after the way they made you cook of the walk? ”
“Oh, I told them I was coming back. It was
Clara’s idea. She wanted me to get you all on
the beggars’ side.”
“Not a bad idea.”
“No? Well, I’ve had enough—and here is
where I stay.”
“Don’t see how we can let you, Carlos. Your
influence can’t be dispensed with.”
“This is funny talk from you, Mac. I didn’t
know you were such a friend of mine.”
“Perhaps I haven’t been. But since we’re
both fighting Col. Sealby—”
“Cielo!” The other interrupted with a ges-
ture of alarm—and for a second time that
evening permitted a Spanish word to slip from
his lips, though usually he prided himself upon
the purity of his English. “Be careful how you
229


THE SCARLET X
mention names. You talk of fighting him be-
cause you know nothing about him.”
“But you, yourself—”
“It was this way.” Gonzales got up, took
a long drink from the jug, and slouched back to
his place. “He was in a tight place tonight,
and I thought for a moment—well, I was in a
tight place, myself. But he’s sure to come
out on top in the long run, and I’m going to
chuck those natives and tell him that I’ve
come to my senses.”
“Don’t you know, then, what he intends for
Bernice?”
“Yes, he’s got his eye on her, evidently. And
we’ll do what we can, of course. But wait till
our position is safer. We’ve got to look out
for—for everybody.”
Clearly the failure of the colonel to perish in
the crisis had been too much for Carlos. But
that he would be actually willing to go to such
lengths to square himself was a contingency
which had not been forseen. With difliculty
McClue responded in an ordinary tone:
“You’re not serious, man—or don’t realize
what you’ve just suggested. None of us,
230


THE PLAN
surely, can think of trying to save his skin by
leaving a woman in the hands of a vile m0un-
tain of flesh like the one you don’t want to hear
named.”
“I can’t make you understand,” was the de-
spairing retort. “But then, of course, you’re
not altogether indifferent to the girl, yourself.”
“Gentlemen,” interrupted Birds, putting
himself in front of The Ferret as the latter
started threateningly forward, “I’ve been
noticingrthat thing which Carlos has about his
neck. It looks to me—but let me examine it,
will you?”
He indicated a huge shell necklace, which
McClue had not paid the compliment of a second
glance. The Spaniard took it off with a
gesture of disgust.
“It’s only another bit of their hocus pocus.
They made me put it on before I came away.”
The necklace, when the scientist had carried
it to the light, proved to be a series of balls
formed of the shells of some bivalve, stuck to-
gether by a species of gum which had hardened
until it was like baked clay. 'And as the gum
was highly colored and showed in a band be-
‘\~
231


THE SCARLET X
tween the shells, every ball bore a rather
comical resemblance to a fancy pincushion.
“They’re almost black with age!” Birds
exclaimed enthusiastically. “It doesn’t look
like Malay workmanship, either. I wish you
would give this to me.”
“Take it,—if you think this is a time to
collect curiosities.”
“And now,” put in The Ferret, once more in
command of his temper, “get back to your
following. Don’t do anything to make them
think you’re not willing to continue their
leader. I’ll see the colonel and tell him
you’re only holding them off.
“The thing to do,” he went on in a lower
voice, “is to keep them together—ready for
anything at a moment’s notice. The only way
for us to come out of this affair alive is to use a
little strategy.”
The very idea of a good word being said in
his behalf to Col. Sealby seemed to put new
blood into the Spaniard’s veins. He drew him-
self together and lighted a cigarette.
“Since you put it that way,” he said, “I’ll
do all I can to help you, of course.”
232


THE PLAN
“I thought you would. And if we win out
you may be rewarded—a lot better than you
deserve.”
“The girl, eh?” Carlos, his efl’rontery com-
pletely restored, made his way to the door.
“I see you’re willing to concede a point or two,
yourself. But don’t make any mistake. We ’ve
got to win out. If we don’t—madre del dios!”
“Just exactly what is your plan?” asked
Birds, when the other had gone.
“To make a bolt of it the first time we’re let
out of the stockade. And I fancy it includes
on my part the murder of a certain gentleman
of Castillian extraction—if he doesn’t sell us
out before I get the chance.”
“The fool has at least made his murder
possible,” remarked the scientist, taking out
the string of shells and running it thoughtfully
through his fingers. “This thing is nothing
more er less than a fetish. In public, at least,
it was as good as a body-guard.”
“I only hope Bernice ’s wiles will furnish us
with another,” said McClue.
“Another fetish!”
“No, a body-guard. But I hate this kind of
a figh .”
233


THE SCARLET X
above what men call morality, and makes the
winners kings—and more than kings?”
McClue, realizing that thus far he hadn’t
played the part of conciliation quite up to the
mark, forced his eyes to glisten. But he an-
swered lightly, as if trying to hide the fact
that he was moved:
“I’d say that it sounded rather pleasant—
if it didn’t remind me so much of the former
ruler of a great country north of the Rhine.”
Sealby slapped the table in delight.
“It does, put that way, does’nt it? And
the Kaiser was a fool. I’m part German, my-
self, and part Spanish and part Yankee. It’
the Yankee part that makes me know he was a
fool.
“Carlos is another.~ When he wirelessed me
you were coming he wanted to wreck the boat,
or some such nonsense, and keep you away. I,
on the contrary, thought it was great luck to
get you here. Was becoming a little afraid, in
fact, of having you on the outside. You see, it’s
part of my business—keeping track of men
like you.”
McClue was conscious of an inner stir.
238


THE MAN IN THE LOFT
Once in a while, too, we have to do a little
killing among the islanders from Mindanao
and around.
“We don’t object to immigrants altogether.
They keep our forces up. But when I take a
native I brand him. He won’t find a welcome
anywhere in the archipelago with that mark on
him. Those old pirates must have. been dev-
ils judging from the way the memory of them
lives. Of course I’ve done a bit to revive it,
but with me the brand—has a meaning all its
own, eh?”
McClue said nothing, and after a minute or
two the colonel continued:
“You’ve guessed, of course, why I thinned
out your party on the way here. Too many of
you. I told Gonzales to let you and one or two
others come ashore, and then to stand off. He
brought a whole lot of you ashore, and tried to
lose you in the jungle. Must have been think-
ing of being alone with a girl. Nothing but a
girl could have given him the courage to dis-
obey orders, and he’ll live to regret it—just
about.”
Sealby’s face contorted with anger, and be-
241


THE SCARLET X
came frightful. Then he laughed smoothly.
“That’s all for the present, Mac. I haven’t
a doubt but what we’ll come to an understand-
ing. Only one thing is troubling me.”
“The deaths you didn’t inflict?”
McClue had risen to go, but paused for
a random shot as he saw a gleam of fear
creep into the other’s eyes. The shot told, for
the gleam deepened and a flush came to the
baby cheeks.
“Sit down!” wheezed the colonel. “Since
.we’ve mentioned this business we might as
well go into it. Have you the least idea of
the cause of what you refer to?”
“On my honor, no.”
“Neither have I. And naturally I don’t
believe in heathen superstitions any more than
you do. But queer things happen here in the
wilds—lots of queer things. Maybe I’m losing
my wits—too much sun, you know. But I
would like to find out what killed those men.
Three gone now, without a sound. I’ve an
air-rifle among my weapons—got your last
servants with it, if you remember—”
242


THE MAN IN THE LOFT
“Yes—I thought it was something like that
when I saw them tumble into the pool.”
“Of course. But it can’t be that anybody
took that rifle and did for my men. The first
two hadn’t a mark on them but where they hit
the ground. And the last one—simply gone.
Hole in the floor in the room right back of us.
How did it come there?”
“You examined the hole?”
“Certainly. But I didn’t find the body in
it—haven’t found the body yet. It was my
own servant, too. Mighty inconvenient to do _
without him.” .
“But, Colonel, he couldn’t have fallen into
the hole and his body not be there—unless
somebody took it out afterwards.”
“Two good men saw him, and there’s no
place they could have taken it to. It’s easier
to believe that he disappeared. Think of it!
In a hole as simple as a post-hole, and not over
six feet deep! I’ve been down to the bottom
of it myself.”
Sealby sat staring into vacancy like a con-
jurer, who, having evoked a spirit of terror,
243


THE MAN IN THE LOFT
Once, after such an encounter, he met
Sealby, who paused just long enough to re-
mark:
“It’s only a little object lesson, Mac. You’ll
find quite a number if you look around.
I’m giving you time to let them sink in.”
Save for the guards, the colonel’s adherents
kept strictly to the central building, where
their women and children had joined them.
Gonzales seemed to be playing the game on
the level and had the village practically to him-
self. His partizans were well in hand. They
did nothing but hold interminable, all night
dances—and sleep.
Gradually it began to dawn on the detective
that this truce was being made use of in a way
he had not foreseen. For, incredible as
it may appear, Sealby was trying to win by
favor what he had threatened to take by force.
Several times every day he visited the
women’s building, going unattended, like a con-
fiding lover calling on his sweetheart in a
friendly neighborhbod. He was actually pay-
ing court to Bernice.
'What either she or Clara was doing, McClue
245


THE MAN IN THE LOFT
pretended to be? It was doubtful. For one
thing, no man could be really indifferent to the
dangers of a concerted attack. For another,
it was practically certain that none of the na—
tives, individually, would ever have dared to
lift a hand against their discarded but still re-
doubtable master.
That evening he found Birds and the sail-
ors standing in the middle of their quarters,
their heads craned towards the ceiling.
“There’s something nip there after all,”
whispered the naturalist as The Ferret
entered. “And it looks to me as if it were
trying to come down.”
Even as he spoke one of the planks could
be distinctly seen to lift and then fall back,
sending down a fine rain of dust. McClue
leaped upon the table, and, exerting all his
strength, heaved the plank on edge. Through
the opening thus made a face looked down
-—a pale and haggard face nearly covered
with a heavy heard.
The sailors gave a simultaneous yell of ter-
ror, and bolted for the door. But The Ferret
was too quick for them.
2.47


THE SCARLET X
“Can’t you see it’s only Oaksey?” he de-
manded, leaping down just in time to put him-
self in their way. “He hasn’t shaved lately,
that’s all.”
“Oaksey—yes, but Oaksey’s dead.”
“Must have been dead for weeks.”
“Dead your grandmother! Does he look
like a ghost?”
“It’s my fault,” whimpered the natural-
ist, who—himself for a moment overcome—
had retreated to a corner. “I saw him at the
window, and tried to believe it was nothing.
For after I had helped to bury the man—”
“Damn you all—some water!” snarled a
hardly human voice from above.
McClue passed up the jug, which was eagerly
snatched from his hands.
“They only give me just enough to keep me
alive,” Oaksey went on more naturally after
a long draught. “That’s the worst—that and
the heat.”
“Are you strong enough to get down?”
asked The Ferret.
“I don’t know. Is there any way to lock
your door?”
248


CHAPTER XVI
THE ENEMY’s PROMISE
everyone running to the square. It
was the same old tom-tom type of drum
which had ushered in the witch hunt. But
this time a white man was beating it, and his
clumsy performance had an indisputably cheer-
ful note.
McClue had waited in vain for Oaksey to
resume their conversation during the night.
The hunter, however, appeared to think the
time unpropitious, and refused to answer even
when called to. The greater the surprise now
to see him being helped down the ladder to
take his place in the assembling multitude.
Every inhabitant of the village, in fact, was
turning out; and when the detective, after
a preliminary survey of affairs from his win-
dow, decided to lead his own little party into
the thick of things, Clara, Bernice, Mrs. Mill-
IN the morning, the roll of a drum brought
253


THE ENEMY ’S PROMISE
the time you’ve reached civilization, I’ll be
away from here myself.
“It’s no good, Mac,” he went on, addressing
The Ferret. You’re not the man I thought.
you were—too much eaten up with sentiments,
and scruples. Even now, I believe, you’re
planning to play me some trick. But I’m go--
ing to be generous. Perhaps I’ve been touched".
by some of your foolish notions—who knows?’
Anyway, instead of trying to break you, I’m.
giving you a free road to liberty—and as many
of my population as choose to serve you as
traveling companions.”
Sealby turned his back and stalked off. The
Ferret stood motionless. Such a complete and
unexpected surrender was staggering.
“Take him at his word,” whispered Clara,
forcing her way through the crowd.
“I’m afraid there’s something phoney about
it,” responded McClue, “unless—you don’t-
suppose it’s possible that he has really fallen
in love with Bernice?”
“It looks that way.”
“But we mustn’t depend on a miracle, Clara.
255


THE SCARLET X
Even if it’s a real one, it won’t last. And no
one stirred from his side to join us when he
gave the invitation.”
“No matter. We’ve won over several,
who’ve managed to get themselves stationed
at the head of the crevice. And the native
women have smuggled out some arms.”
“Where to?”
“We ’11 reach the place tonight or tomorrow
morning. They’re cached near the cliffs.”
“How in the world did you—”
“They were hidden in our building. Sealby
didn’t realize that women could plan any-
thing.”
McClue didn’t like the idea of the new
recruits being singled out for special duty. It
looked as if Sealby knew who they were, and
was slyly giving them rope. But he said an en-
couraging word to Clara, and nodded to Carlos.
The procession began to move—somewhat
doubtfully at first, then with nervous haste,
everybody apparently expecting that the next
step would be the signal for a rain of bullets
in his back.
But the gate opened and shut without inci-
I
256


THE ENEMY ’S PROMISE
no matter what prudence may say to the con-
trary.
She wanted to stop and have a word with
him. But his glance forbade, and she contented
herself with the hope that he would soon seek
her out. She even tried to get some amusement
from the thought that there was an essentially
juvenile streak in all brave men. Many of The
Ferret’s greatest exploits had begun simply as
pranks, and one could only trust that this one,
whatever it was, would result in no increase of
the trouble already on hand.
Clara had noted Oaksey when he first ap-
peared, but had found no chance for a word;
and now Bernice was walking beside him,
holding such an earnest colloquy that it seemed
most tactful not to interfere. Gradually the
two fell farther and farther behind, as if for
greater privacy. Then Bernice signalled. The
Hunter was unable to maintain the pace, and by
the time Clara reached him to take his other
arm he was hardly able to talk. But she was
glad for even this excuse for asking the proces-
sion to move more slowly. McClue had been
259


THE SCARLET X
absent for a long time. What could he be
about?
The sailors soon came to the hunter’s assist-
ance, and Clara and Bernice found themselves
alone. They talked little, however, for Bernice
were such a wrapt look that one hesitated to
question her even for the sake of asking what
she could have learned.
The miles fell behind; the grass rustled un-
ceasingly. Clara was beginning to hate it—
that grass. The forest of stems shut out all
sight of the world, even of the cliffs, and gave
one a helpless, smothered sensation. More-
over, there was that about the grass itself which
seemed to threaten some special calamity. She
grew afraid, without being able to tell why.
The day waned. Darkness sprang as if from
the roots of the grass, and rose till it filled the
entire valley. Night might have been a liquid,
and the valley a cup. But the way had been
slightly up hill for the last half mile, and before
the filling was quite accomplished, the cliffs
were plainly in sight. In their face could be
seen a narrow, perpendicular cut—the crevice
of which Sealby had spoken.
260


THE SCARLET X
sailors. “We’re going to have rain. But
this—”
“It’s 'in the wrong direction,” interrupted
Birds. “Unless I’ve lost my bearings, it
ought to be over therehbehind those clouds.”
There was, indeed, something decidedly
wrong about that blazing sky, growing brighter
every instant. And as its brightness spread,
there came from the earth a brightness to
match it—a flame-colored light, breaking out
at various points here and there in the dis-
tance from beneath a black covering which
soon disclosed itself as smoke.
Suddenly, McClue emerged into view,
breathless with running.
“Move on to the crevice!” he [shouted
“The grass is on fire. It’s been started in
a dozen places, and we’re almost hemmed in.”
He pointed to a spot near the neighboring
cliffs where a line of flame could be seen mov-
ing forwards as if with the conscious intention
of executing a flank movement. There was no
time even to think of starting a back-fire. It
would have to be a, race.
The company was already on the march,
262


THE ENEMY ’S PROMISE
grass will burn faster than ever if the shower
lets up.”
Very shortly the shower did let up, and in
a twinkling the stars were out, though a light
which only tropic constellations could have con-
tended with still came from the valley—now a
vast caldron, smoking and boiling as if the old
volcanic forces that had given it being were
again in action. This light made visible a con-
siderable cul-de-sac cut out of the living rock—-
the work of a stream even now rushing for-
ward, to be absorbed by the spongy substrata
outside.
McClue looked at the stream, and then to the
far end of the crevice. Something white and
glittering poured from the heights. The colo-
nel had plagiarized himself. It was a water-
fall, hiding, no doubt, as had the first, a practi-
cable stair of bowlders.
This was the road to freedom which the en-
emy had promiised. And he had kept his pro-
mise just as might have been expected—with
a lie.
265


CHAPTER XVII
BATTLE
HE rising moon filled the crevice with a
I fictitious radiance; the cataract made
it vibrate with a melancholy roar.
And now from the plain came another sound
-—the tapping of the eternal Malay drum,
which, echoed and magnified by the towering
rocks, was like the advancing feet of an army.
Sealby and his men were coming to finish their
work.
“And only a few hours ago we thought he
might have fallen in love, and turned human,”
muttered McClue.
“I believe we thought right,” Clara an-
swered—from unexpectedly near at hand.
“Only he couldn’t stay human, I suppose, even
after he’d begun.”
“How about our friends who were to have
been stationed at the top of the falls?”
“They seem to have failed us, too.”
266


BATTLE
“And the cache of arms?”
For answer, 'an automatic was thrust into
The Ferret’s hand—a modern weapon as good
as his own, with a clip full of cartridges.
There was also a bag of extra ammunition,
enough for a hundred rounds.
“Put the women in the rear,” he shouted,
new life pulsing in his veins as he realized
that here, at least, there had been no failure.
“Gonzales, take command of the natives, and
keep them a little behind me on my right. We
have the advantage of numbers and position.
It’s going to be a cinch.”
The Spaniard obeyed with alacrity. Hadn’t
he been lucky enough to pick the winning side?
It looked as if it were going to be a cinch, in-
deed.
The Sealby contingent arrived in due
course, and took up a position just outside the
crevice. The colonel, himself, advanced a
few steps farther, waving a flag of
truce.
“McClue,” he called out, “my offer is still
open. I knew you’d never be satisfied till
you’d had a try. Well, now you’ve had it.
267


BATTLE
“Every man who falls,” Sealby went on in
a loud voice, “will be buried with a slice of
this animal to keep him company in his grave.
New, Mac, I’ll give you one more chance. Do
you think your natives will risk a fight with
that in front of them?”
McClue recognized the porker. He had
last seen it hidden in that pen beneath the raft-
ers. So this was the contingency for which
it had been kept! Instead of joining in the
laugh set up by the sailors, he shuddered.
Sealby’s statement was being repeated in var-
ious dialects, and the effect was appalling.
The natives were throwing themselves on their
faces with cries and groans.
“What does it mean?” gasped Bernice.
Birds answered her:
“They’re Mohammedans. To be buried
with a pig means to them that they’ll wake up
in the lowest pit of hell. It’s one of their old-
est superstitions. I can’t explain the details
now—but there it is.”
The Ferret said nothing, but took deliberate
aim at the colonel’s head. It was a long shot
—and a deadly certain one. Every fibre of
269


THE SCARLET X
his being told him that. Yet at the critical
moment, just as he pulled the trigger, his in-
born reluctance to kill a man under a flag of
truce took control of his muscles, and he shot
only the pig.
Could he have secured the body, something
might have been gained even from that. But
it was quickly dragged to the rear, and one
couldn’t order a sortie and try to capture it.
Only Birds and the sailors could have been de-
pended on to obey.
The natives were digging themselves in
where they lay, taldng advantage of the boul-
ders with which the floor of the crevice was
strewn. The wonder was that they failed to
surrender. But evidently they did not trust
Sealby. He had retired out of range, and
might put them to death, with all the awful con-
sequences at his command, even if they gave
themselves up. Something besides doubt and
fear, however, was needed to turn them into
effective soldiers.
In this crisis, Birds suddenly produced the
shell necklace, which his knowledge of the na-
tive character had prompted him to keep, and
270


BATTLE
flung it over McClue’s shoulders. At the same
moment he began a loud harangue. It was in
an unknown tongue, but the detective could
guess its import. Those sacred shells would
protect all. The man who wore them had noth-
ing to fear. He could turn a pig into an
innocuous animal, or a traitor into a pig.
Surely the way to fight superstition is with
superstition. A thrill of new confidence could
be felt going through the ranks. Sealby
added to it by making the mistake of opening
fire. In actual battle, the Moro loses his fear
even of hell. The shots began to be answered.
But even as hope returned it went away
again. A _volley had been fired from the
heights above.
McClue expected to see his forces decima-
ted. But they appeared to have suffered no
harm. And when a second volley followed the
first he noticed that no bullets whizzed past
his head.
It became weird, ghostly, that invisible fu-
sillade which gave birth neither to bullets nor to
v dead men. Even to one trained in the sensi-
ble materialism of New York, it brought a


271


BATTLE
Gonzales crept up beside him.
“It looks like a victory, Mac. Our boys are
chasing Sealby clear out into the valley.”
“I hope so,” The Ferret nodded. “But get
back to your place and lie low till we’re cer-
tain.”
By this time the battle had passed entirely
out of sight beyond one of the towering shoul-
ders of rock which supported the outer cliffs.
Could the Spaniard be right? Had the na-
tives really won in this short order? He in-
deed hoped so. But so intent were his senses
on catching the earliest sight of victors return-
ing in triumph that he failed to note that
changes were taking place nearer at hand.
It had, in fact, grown strangely quiet. Not
only had there ceased to 'be repercussions
from above, but the dull roar which had until
now formed a sort of background to all
other sounds, had ceased as well. Moreover,
the moon as it rose higher no longer shone di-
rectly into the crevice, which was consequently
filling with shadows that grew the denser as the
last glow of the fire faded from the sky.
Finally he distinguished objects moving in
273


BATTLE
fire? It could not be because of mis-fit am-
munition in their case. Obviously, they were
trying to take him alive. Already they had
edged in on both sides of him. In another
moment he would be surrounded.
Anxious to prevent such a happening at any
cost, he leaped to his feet and began to run
towards the falls—0r rather, towards the spot
where the falls had been. He took a zig-zag
course, so as to present a more difficult mark.
One man managed to get squarely in front
of him, but before he could come to grips a shot
rang out—apparently from nowhere—and the
man tumbled headlong.
In passing over the body, the detective was
aware of a fumbling clutch at his trouser
leg—too feeble, however, to impede him.
Bullets from Sealby’s men were beginning to
sing past his head like bees. The attempt to
take him alive had been given up. He advanced
now by flinging himself on his face, crawl-
ing forward a few feet, then chancing a short
dash. Once he looked back, and to his sur-
prise saw several of his pursuers writhing upon
the ground, as if in their death agonies. Was it
275


BATTLE
(
began to pass through his brain. He laughed
aloud. What a fool Sealby was. How he
lacked invention. His one idea of scaling up a
valley was to turn a waterfall into every pass.
And they were always going conveniently dry
just when one wanted to use their beds for
stepping-stones. Certainly he would beat the
fat scoundrel after all.
It was almost by miracle that he reached the
top. Here the going was level, and he turned
to the right, led by the sound of what he took
to be distant firing.
“The ghosts are at it again,” he muttered.
Well, it would be interesting to see what
ghosts were like. Trees had sprung up, all
around, everywhere—fmaking it almost totally
dark. Just the place for spirit manifestations.
He felt no pain. He felt nothing at all, except
an inexplicable weight which was trying to
bear him down. Curious—that a scalp-wound
could make a man so weak. He could not even
feel his legs, though he continued to move them
and to put one feet before the other. At least
he thought he was doing so. By and by he be-
came less certain. He didn’t seem to be pro-
277


CHAPTER XVIII
OLD ACQUAINTANCES
HE Ferret recovered his senses grad—
l nally, and found that a tourniquet had
been fixed about his leg. The feel of
it was unmistakable. That wounded fellow he
had stepped over must have stabbed him.
Strange, how in action one never knew about
one ’s wounds. Also he had the sensation of
having recently swallowed brandy. Clearly he
had fallen in with someone who knew what to
do. It was lighter, too, than it had been there
in the woods where he lost himself. These
woods were less dense. If he only had sufficient
ambition to lift his head he would be able, no
doubt, to see who had come to his aid. But a.
painless lassitude still held him.
When he finally gathered strength enough to
look about, he decided that he must be
dreaming. For there, not ten paces distant,
was Bernice—desperately defending herself
279


THE SCARLET X
from Carlos Gonzales. The unnamed danger
which he had felt breathing so many times from
Kulisan—had even caught stealing once or
twice into his own veins—had at last declared
itself. It was the spirit of the jungle, rising to
overwhelm all civilized barriers. The Spaniard
appeared to have gone mad. But it could
not be a dream, since it had been in a way fore-
seen.
McClue rolled over on his face and began to
creep like a child. He heard an oath, and
received a violent kick on the side of his head
which drove him back into the darkness. He
mustn’t stay in the darkness—there was a
suflicient glimmer left in his brain to enable him
to realize that. Consciousness was something
to fight for now. He fought hard. But when
' he had at last won a partial victory, the sit-
uation had changed. It was Dolly Breen who
stood before him—that is, if the wild-eyed,
mocking and disheveled apparition which had
taken Bernice ’s place could be she.
Dolly was moving towards Gonzales, a tiny
revolver glittering in her hand. It was like a
plaything, but the Spaniard showed it the
280


THE SCARLET X
brought up—well, they know what a blackjack
is for.”
The Ferret nodded. How absurdly simple
those mysterious deaths in the village were,
after all—as are most things when the expla-
nation is at hand.
“But one of the men simply disappeared,”
objected Birds.
“Yes,” assented Lufi'y, “that must have
been the way it looked. We had tunneled
under the fence into the big building, think-
ing the swag would be there. It was a hard
job, hiding in the grass in the day time and
working like beavers at night. And just as we
was finishing, a man came tumbling into the
excavation—a man as black as the ace of
spades. All we could do was to drag him
after us, and give him his when we got outside
again.
“This morning we seen you all making
tracks away from the village, so we went back.
But the inner end of the tunnel had caved, and
we lost considerable time clearing it out.”
“That cave-in,” remarked McClue, “was
what kept the colonel from seeing what had
288


OLD ACQUAINTANCES
become of his man. It threw me off the track
for a while. But I’m glad you cleared it out.
For I, too, went back this morning. I must
have been pretty close to your heels—though
I didn’t see you. And I never guessed either
who had made the tunnel, or repaired it.
Thought it was some of the disgruntled work-
men.”
“We didn’t hanker after being seen, so
didn’t stay long,” explained the captain.
“Sealby was by the gate with his men, and
there was a lot of squalling women and kids
swarming around. But we was making a
pretty good search, when it suddenly occurred
to me that you’d gone off with what we was
after. So we joined the procession—at a dis-
tance. It was the fire that drove us up the
cliffs.”
“They told us the cliffs couldn’t be climbed,”
observed the detective; “but I suppose—”
“They can be climbed by sailors, all right,”
affirmed the captain. “And here we are. If
you’ve found anything valuable, split it, and
We’ll be friends. If you haven’t, let’s go back,
as I said before, and finish the job.”
289


THE SCARLET X
McClue appeared suddenly to be overcome
with laughter.
“Treasure!” he cried. “Treasure! You
thought Sealby was a pearl-fisher. And we
thought he was a pirate.”
“A what?”
“A pirate—or at least the descendant of
pirates. We believed that the colony still had
some of the pirate takings of other days—
buried, and its value lost sight of. We’d
heard that they’d become so degenerate they
didn’t understand the use of gold. It was fool_
ish, but parts of the old manuscript of Gonza-
les were explicit—and we fell for the yarn.”
“And what did you find?’ ’
“We found,” said The Ferret, giving to his
amazing narration such an appearance of ex-
treme earnestness that even those who knew
the truth began to wonder: “we found that
Sealby was a fanatic, not a pirate. The scarlet
X isn’t an X at all. It’s a cross—a religious
symbol. The colony came out here to wor-
ship God according to some crazy creed, which
I didn’t take the trouble to inquire into.
Their only treasure is the kind one lays up in
290


THE SCARLET X
lisan, so that such ugly words as “sedition”
and “mutiny” might never attach to his name.
McClue hated to let him off so easily, but it
wasn’t a time when one could choose. Be-
sides, the detective’s head was beginning to
reel again. And long before the march to the
coast was finally under way, he had ceased to
take any apparent interest in what was happen-
ing around him.
292


THE LAST PUZZLE
N 0 good ever came from flouting the con-
ventions in this way.
Captain Luffy paced the bridge with a humble
but watchful mien. He wondered if he had
been given a straight story about Col. Sealby?
It would be a good idea to keep his eyes and
ears open, both now and after reaching San
Francisco. Then if he had been deceived about
the loot, or if McClue, or Birds, or any of the
others should start to organize a new expe-
‘ dition to go back to the island, he would
probably learn about it and be in a position to
take his own, measures.
McClue for the moment seemed harmless
enough. For while Birds had recovered—even
from his jungle-born fancy for Mrs. Millspaugh
—-The Ferret had been brought to the yacht on
a litter, and now lay in a cot on the after deck,
giving no sign of consciousness. Beside him
sat Clara Hope, long since established as his
official nurse.
Clara was thinking of Dolly Breen—a subject
which had occupied her mind frequently on the
long tramp from the valley. Indeed, the Little
Fool—so much more foolish than anyone had
295


THE SCARLET X
imagined, but in such a different way—had
been an important part of that great experience
which had forever destroyed the school-teacher
at the bottom of Clara’s soul. She even felt
that she understood the unfortunate girl, down
to her final act as the Nemesis of Carlos
Gonzales. After the happenings of the
last few weeks, what couldn’t one under-
stand?
Love, itself, was something tangible at last.
Back in New York she had regarded it as the
very proper inclination to get married and set
up house-keeping. On the island, at first, when
she thought she saw love slipping from her,
she had been inclined to stand still and let
events take their course. But Dolly’s terrible
end had somehow opened her eyes.
Or perhaps it was the shock of coming upon
Bernice tightly clasped in The Ferret’s arms
that night above the crevice. It was like
finding the worst of fears confirmed, and
Bernice ’s subsequent and open attachment for
Oaksey hardly promised to improve matters.
Would not the danger of losing her inevitably
enhance her charm in The Ferret’s eyes?
296


THE LAST PUZZLE
Clara believed so, but she no longer felt the im-
pulse to step aside. Never again, she knew,
would she be willing to efface herself, or to
give way to another woman without a struggle.
Meanwhile, the preparations for dinner went
on. The Escapade—her machinery once
more in perfect working-order—plowed lightly
through the waves. Off towards the horizon
in the vessel’s wake lay Kulisan, looking more
like a grinning face now than like a tooth. The
intruders who had sought to lay bare its secret
had either gene or left their bones behind them.
And what had they taken away? A string of
old shells. The air, fresh with new rain,
brought out bright tints from the receding
land. Kulisan might almost have been said
to smile.
Suddenly McClue opened his eyes.
“We’re at sea!” he announced in a low but
firm voice, like one who has made an important
discovery.
“Yes, Mac,” responded Clara. “We’re on
The Escapade again. You’ve been sick, but
everything is all right now. Try to go back to
sleep.”
297


THE LAST PUZZLE
“Our instrument picked up Rorty, himself,
in a revenue cutter headed this way. Here’s
the answer.”
She read aloud from a slip of paper in her
hand:
“Dear Ferret bully for you we’ll nab him
what is the full charge always knew he and
Gonzales were in opium ring Escapade always
left sweet scent behind in every port didn’t
dare make accusations openly Stover and other
oflicials implicated no evidence till now thanks
-—R0rty.” ‘
“Opium! Stover implicated!” snorted Mc-
Clue. “Rorty’s in his dotage. Why didn’t he
read my message? Stover, indeed! Opium
fiddlesticks !”
In his excitement he raised himself up in bed,
snatched Clara’s pencil and pad—they had been
intended to record the giving of medicine——
and began to write. This message also was
soon despatched; and again Clara returned
after little delay.
“The answer is just one word,” she said.
“What word?”
299


THE LAST PUZZLE
hadn’t received also a wire from Washington
indicating that the authorities were anxious to
have me go. It was plain that there was some-
thing about Mr. Stover’s disappearance which
Washington thought important, but didn’t wish
to investigate ofi’icially. That gave a certain
slant to my ideas at the very start, so there is
nothing remarkable in the fact that I at last dis-
covered the truth.
“Bernice, your father died on Kulisan. I
am sure of it. Oaksey had a talk with one of
your father’s men—Elting his name was—and
can no doubt give you more details than he has
yet had time to give me. But I’ll stake my
reputation it was a braVe death, and that it
happened in a fight against Sealby. I can
imagine how frightened the colonel must have
been when the Geodetic expedition arrived;
how he saw the exact location of his precious
retreat becoming known to the world unless he
could kill or capture these intruding surveyors
to a man.
“As it did become known, it is evident that
some one or two got half Way back to civili-
zation—probably without Sealby’s knowledge.
301


THE SCARLET X
Manila received a garbled and scandalous re-
port, clearly at second hand. But the location
mentioned in the death notice that was sent you
was approximately correct. That ’s why Gon-
zales and the captain pretended to be lost at
sea. They were afraid we’d find out somehow
that Kulisan was where Stover met his end—-
that if any of us ever escaped without having
joined in Sealby’s enterprise we’d put the
Secret Service on the colonel’s trail.”
“You are quite right about my father,” said
Bernice quietly. “I caught sight of Elting,
whom I chanced to have met, the day before
you arrived at the village. It was then that I
first felt certain that Carlos had guilty knowl-
edge, for if he had really been lost he couldn’t
very well have stumbled upon the one spot in
the world which we’d started out to explore.
Since then Mr. Oakesy has told me everything
which he learned from Elting. My father died
like a hero.”
“I was certain of it!” exclaimed McClue.
“But let us now go back to the moment when we
were attacked by the supposed juramentado.
Carlos was as much surprised as any of us. He
302


THE SCARLET X
board without a splash—never dreaming that
a man who got too wise was in some danger of
going down it, himself. But we’re not inter-
ested in these details now, since we’ve prom-
ised to let bygones be bygones.”
The dinner gong sounded. McClue settled
back on his pillows and closed his eyes.
“But—I say! That isn’t all?” protested
Oaksey.
“No; but go and get your dinner, everybody.
I find I’m rather tired. Let me have my bite
and a nap. We’ll finish later.
“You, too, Clara,” The Ferret continued,
smiling. “You must have worn yourself out
nursing me. Besides, I want to have a talk
with Birds. He’s a doctor, and will tell me
if I can’t have something better to eat than
gruel.”
Clara acceeded to this programme with some
reluctance, and the detective and the naturalist
were left alone. They talked together in low
tones, not very harmoniously at first, it seemed,
for Birds frowned and shook his head. But
finally the invalid appeared to carry his point.
Birds nodded and withdrew. A sailor brought
804


THE LAST PUZZLE
an appetizing looking tray, left it on the foot of
the cot, and likewise disappeared. Soon after-
wards, Sam, the Chinese cook, stole softly
around the corner of the after cabin, and hid
behind a ventilator. '
McClue appeared to be hungry. He sat up,
drew the tray towards him, and began to make
a considerable to do with a knife and fork.
Then he lifted a cup, sniffed it luxuriously,
held it a moment to his lips—and nearly drop-
ped it as he put it down. Almost immediately
he fell back to the pillow. There was a brief
tremor, like a spasm, and he lay inert, his arms
crooked unnaturally—one of them quite dou-
bled up under him.
Sam moved noiselessly forward. He re-
garded the motionless figure on the cot with a
look of satisfaction, finally reaching out a hand
to remove a certain cup from the tray. The
figure on the cot suddenly stirred, and
was covering him with a steadily-aimed re-
volver.
“Sam,” said the figure, smiling, “you’ve
reached the end of your rope. I saw you look-
ing out of a porthole when they carried me up
305


THE LAST PUZZLE
“Yes,” nodded The Ferret. “I wanted to
give him his chance, and get it over with. You
see, he was Yen Hui’s brother. Yen Hui,
ladies and gentlemen, is the name of a Celestial
whom I was so unfortunate as to ofiend on an-
other case. Are there any more questions
that anybody wants to ask?”
“Rather!” drawled Oaksey, upon whom un-
pleasant incidents had apparently lost the
power of making an impression. “You
haven’t told us the real meaning of the scarlet
X, or what Sealby was actually about.”
“So I haven’t. Will somebody please find
the coat I was wearing when I was on the is-
land? There’s a flat package 'in the inside
pocket. Bring it here.”
When the package had been brought, the de-
tective resumed:
“You all know something about foreign ex- -
change? Anyway, you know that the money of
most foreign nations has been selling in Amer-
ica at ridiculously low figures ever since the
war. Bankers have tried to account for it by
saying that it was the natural consequence of
the destruction of so much property abroad,
307


THE SCARLET X
the creation of great national debts by the
European nations, and the issuance of so much
paper currency with no gold behind it.
“No doubt they were right at first. But
after a while the drop in the exchange went too
far to be thus accounted for, and even bankers
confessed that there was mystery somewhere.
We had a big war debt in the United States,
and a good dose of hard times—but the dollar
didn’t go down. It went up. You can get
more than double the pre-war price for it in
France right now, and almost as much even in
England. What really ruined the value of
foreign paper money was the biggest counter-
feiting scheme the world ever saw. And the
man behind it was Sealby.”
“That was what your last wireless meant!”
exclaimed Clara. “ ‘Study foreign exchange.’
I thought it was a code.”
“No, it meant just what it said. Sealby was
convicted of counterfeiting five dollar bills in
the United States some years ago. The judge
wasn’t quite as sure of his guilt as the jury
was, and gave him a short term. But it won
the colonel the name of ‘V. V. Joe.’ There was
308


THE LAST PUZZLE
“I think not, Captain. Gonzales undoubt-
edly invested it for him in perfectly legitimate
securities as fast as it was acquired. The
Government will look into that. But here is
what I wanted to show you—the thing which
will put our colonel in jail before his wireless
can possibly bring him rescue. Foreign money
got too cheap. He thought he would try once
more to fool Uncle Sam, and among his other
little works of art I found these.”
The last of the wrappings came away, reveal-
ing two beautifully engraved plates, each
capable of printing one side of a ten dollar
bill.
“The X!” exclaimed Bernice, examining
the markings.
“Yes,” assented The Ferret, “I think that
the scarlet X legend undoubtedly suggested
the making of a ten this time, in preference to
a five.”
“And these plates are what you went back
after?” asked Clara.
“Exactly. I had deduced there was a tun-
nel—sometime after having fallen into one end
of it—and I couldn’t bear to leave without
311


THE SCARLET X
pair of the shells. There was revealed a ball
of red gum. Then, as the gum was scraped
away—an enormous diamond.
“You see, Birds was right,” she cried.
“The scarlet X began with a lot of pirates.
Their colony may have died, but they left the
necklace behind them for Sealby’s natives
to find and make a fetish of. There’s a di-
amond in every pair of shells, and they’re all
ours. Birds, Oaksey, Bernice and Mrs. Mills-
paugh have absolutely refused to take a
share.”
“Very good,” said The Ferret, giving the
necklace barely a glance. “But you haven’t
answered my question. Are We—?”
“Of course we are! Don’t you understand?
All the way home I was afraid that Lufiy or
some of the crew would begin to suspect the
existence of the diamonds, and murder us all.
They were forever snooping around. And I
didn’t dare be much with you for fear I’d ‘
yield to the temptation to tell. Then, prob-
ably, you’d have made me throw the neck-
lace overboard. You’re always so sensitive to
danger—where others are concerned.”
314


THE LAST PUZZLE
“Here, not that way!” McClue shouted out
of the window to the taxi driver. “Go to the
City Hall—and hurry.”
“What do we want at the City Hall, dear?”
asked Clara.
“A marriage license,” responded The Fer-
ret. “It’s time you and I stopped playing
lone hands and got into the habit of telling
each other everything we know.”
THE END
315


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