El Diablo

by Brayton Norton

  CHAPTER XV

  BUSINESS AND PLEASURE

  Alone in his little room in the fish cannery Kenneth Gregory foundhimself confronted by a new and unexpected problem. A hurried glance athis watch only served to aggravate the tense lines which creased hisforehead. It was seven-thirty already. He was due at the Lang residenceat eight. And what was he going to wear?

  The seriousness of the situation became painfully apparent as he pawedover his wardrobe. His pre-war clothes had served nicely to wear aboutthe cannery. But they were hopelessly out of style. Why hadn't he takenthe time to have had something decent made in Port Angeles instead oftaking the first thing in 'hand-me-downs' which the salesman hadoffered? He surveyed the suit ruefully. Then he reflected that hiserrand was purely one of business and hastily donned the garments.

  A nasty fit, he admitted to himself, as he looked into the mirror. He'dlike to get his hands on the man who talked him into it. He looked athis shoes. They too caused him a commensurate amount of worry. Built onlines of comfort they displayed a total disregard of fashion. Thelonger he examined his attire the more conscious he became of itsdefects. Turning from the glass he walked with disgust from the room.

  The moon was shining bright when Gregory reached the Lang cottage.Pausing on the graveled walk to reef in his vest, he walked up the stepsand fumbled about for the bell.

  Dickie welcomed him at the door.

  "I hardly knew you in those clothes," she began. "They do make adifference, don't they?"

  Gregory pulled his coat closer about him and agreed that they did. Thenhe noticed that the girl had discarded her man's attire and was clothedin a plain white dress. In the light of the little hallway her hairgleamed like dull gold.

  She led the way into a small living-room upon the floor of which anumber of vari-colored rag rugs were scattered about. By a big sewingtable sat a little woman in black. A light shawl draped her shouldersand a white cap covered her gray-threaded hair. At their entrance shelaid aside her knitting and smiled.

  "This is Mr. Gregory, Aunt Mary," Dickie announced in a loud voice. ToGregory she added: "Miss Lang, my father's sister. She is very hard ofhearing."

  Gregory bowed as he took the hand Miss Lang extended.

  "I'm glad to know you," she said. "Real glad. Your father was one of myfew friends. We enjoyed many pleasant games of checkers together."

  Her keen gray eyes appraised him while she spoke and under the franknessof her stare, Gregory felt his coat collar slowly pulling away from hisneck. Passing a hand nervously to the lapel he jerked the garment intoplace while he responded to her greeting.

  "Richard all over again," announced Miss Lang when she had finished herinspection. "The same eyes, the square chin. Even the same nervousmanner of hitching at your clothes."

  "Aunt Mary!" Dickie expostulated. "You're too personal. You----"

  But Miss Lang went on with a smile which put her guest wholly at hisease: "You won't mind what an old lady like me says, I'm sure. I alwaystold your father just what I thought. And I'm going to do the same withyou."

  Gregory listened attentively while she told him of her first meetingwith his father. While she spoke his eyes traveled curiously to thehigh-backed organ and the what-not beyond. Richard Gregory had describedthe Lang home as a model of neatness and old-fashioned charm. His sonwent further. The room possessed a personality. It was not only livablebut lovable as well. The very atmosphere breathed a benediction.

  "Do you play checkers?"

  Miss Lang's voice recalled Gregory to himself. He shook his head.

  "I'm sorry," he began.

  "No you're not," put in Dickie quietly. "You're lucky. Don't everlearn. Aunt Mary never gave your father a chance to say a word. She hadher board out when she heard him in the hall."

  A knock on the front door interrupted Miss Lang's request for herchecker-board and Dickie hurried out.

  "I can teach you in no time," Aunt Mary was saying. But Gregory waslistening to the sound of a man's voice in the hallway. Then came thegirl's laugh.

  "I wasn't angry at all, Jack. Just cranky. But I'm glad you came up justthe same and thanks for the candy."

  She reentered the room followed by McCoy. McCoy stopped with surprise ashe caught sight of Gregory. Nodding casually, he went over to greet MissLang.

  Aunt Mary welcomed McCoy warmly. Then she addressed her niece.

  "Bring us the board, Josephine. Kenneth can watch and I'll explain thegame as we go along."

  McCoy sank into a chair and passed a hand wearily over his eyes.

  "I have a headache," he shouted. "Don't think I'd better play to-night."

  "You've been working too hard," Aunt Mary retorted. "Nothing like a goodgame of checkers for relaxation."

  Dickie was already on her way for the board. As she passed Gregory hesaw that her eyes were sparkling.

  "That's right, Jack," she called back. "Leave it to Aunt Mary toprescribe for your headache. She knows."

  As McCoy drew up to the board Gregory noticed that he was attired inclose-fitting clothes of ultra-fashionable cut. As he saw McCoy look himover he became ill at ease and moved his chair farther from the light.Dickie sensed his embarrassment and noting that neither man appeared toenjoy himself, strove to make her guests feel more at home. Both men sheknew were vitally interested in the operation of the cannery. AndGregory, at her request, had brought up the balance-sheet. A discussionof business affairs would relieve the situation and at the same timerescue McCoy from Aunt Mary's checker-board. The rapid termination ofthe first game gave her a chance to interrupt.

  "I asked Mr. Gregory to bring up a business statement to-night, AuntMary; you'd like to see it, wouldn't you? I know Jack would."

  Miss Lang nodded and promptly laid aside the board.

  "Very much," she answered. "I've always been interested in that businessand I understand this young man is making it pay."

  McCoy heaved a sigh of relief to learn it was merely business which hadbrought Gregory to see Dickie Lang.

  At the girl's reference to the object of his errand, Gregory unbuttonedhis coat and delved into his pocket for the paper. He must have put itin his vest. Again his fingers failed to find the missing document. Hebecame conscious of a prickly sensation creeping slowly over his flesh.Where had he left that darned paper anyway? Suddenly he remembered. Inhis mortification over his attire he had left the statement lying on hisdresser. He looked up to meet all eyes fixed expectantly upon him. Thenhe leaned back in his chair and tried to smile.

  "I guess the joke's on me," he said. "I came away in such a hurry Iforgot it."

  Dickie laughed at his discomfiture until the tears shone in her eyes,while McCoy regarded his employer with suspicion. Aunt Mary finishedpolishing her spectacles and settled back to listen.

  "I'm all ready to hear it," she announced. "Perhaps you had better comenearer so you will not have to speak so loud."

  Dickie came to Gregory's rescue and explained the situation to her aunt.Then she added in a low voice:

  "You must have been stung by another of those ideas of yours."

  During the remainder of his visit Kenneth Gregory was content to remainin the background. McCoy made a few efforts at conversation as he notedAunt Mary's eyes roving longingly in the direction of the checker-board.Then Miss Lang, much to every one's relief, began to monopolize theconversation. Beckoning Gregory closer, she said:

  "I want to give you just one bit of advice though I don't suppose you'llheed it coming from an old lady like me."

  As Gregory encouraged her to go on, she exclaimed:

  "Stay away from Diablo Island." Seeing that she had aroused hisinterest, she went on: "You're going to ask me why, and I'll have toanswer that I don't know except that it is a dangerous place and hasbeen the cause of a number of strange accidents during the past fewyears. I used to warn my brother to stay away from there. He onlylaughed at my fears--at first. When he lost the _Kingfisher_ at ElDiablo he called it bad luck. Any boat was liable to be run dow
n, hesaid. Then came the wreck of the _Crane_ off the south coast of theisland and not a body ever recovered."

  "Aunt Mary thinks there's ghosts and everything else at Diablo," Dickiewhispered. "If you give her any encouragement, she's as bad as myfishermen."

  Gregory noticed that although the girl's words were intended to ridiculethe idea, the expression of her face showed that her aunt's words werenot regarded by her in the light of idle gossip.

  "For a time after that," Miss Lang continued, "my brother stayed awayfrom Diablo. When fish were scarce he went back. He hadn't had his netsout a week before he lost them all. No one ever knew what became ofthem. Will was getting worried though he tried not to show it. He wasabout ready to give it up when your father bought the cannery and cameto Legonia. For a while after that fishing was good everywhere. As longas they stayed away from that accursed island things went well. But theywere not satisfied. So they sent the _Eagle_ over there. The last theyheard of her she was anchored in Northwest Harbor."

  The room grew very still as the old lady continued:

  "That worried them. Because they could not find out what became of her.The fishermen began to refuse to go there and I thanked God it was allover. Then one night Will and your father went out to Diablo in the_Gull_. Why they went, heaven only will ever know."

  She rose slowly and walked to the door.

  "She won't sleep a wink to-night," exclaimed Dickie as the door closedon her aunt. "I must look after her."

  When the girl returned a few minutes later she found Gregory and McCoydiscussing business. Gregory remained on his feet at her entrance.

  "I must be going," he said. "I have a lot of work to do."

  Bidding McCoy good night, he followed Dickie to the hall.

  "I'm glad you came up even if you did forget the balance-sheet. Come upagain any time you're not too busy."

  With the girl's words in his ears, Gregory walked into the moonlight.The evening had not been a complete failure after all. As he turned hissteps in the direction of the town his mind was wholly engrossed withthe events of the past two hours. How Aunt Mary did hate Diablo. Had thegirl noticed how badly his clothes fit him in comparison with McCoy's?Why had Jack appeared so grouchy?

  He stopped short in his descent of the hill road as he saw a man walkingunsteadily toward him. Moving to one side he watched the drunkenfisherman stumble on, heard the low mumbling of his voice. Then themoonlight fell full upon the man's face.

  It was Boris, the crazy Russian.