The Treasure-Train

by Arthur B. Reeve

  XI

  THE GUN-RUNNER

  "With the treaty ratified, if the deal goes through we'll all be rich."

  Something about the remark which rose over the babel of voices arrestedKennedy's attention. For one thing, it was a woman's voice, and it wasnot the sort of remark to be expected from a woman, at least not insuch a place.

  Craig had been working pretty hard and began to show the strain. We hadtaken an evening off and now had dropped in after the theater at theBurridge, one of the most frequented midnight resorts on Broadway.

  At the table next to us--and the tables at the Burridge were so closethat one almost rubbed elbows with those at the next--sat a party offour, two ladies in evening gowns and two men in immaculate black andwhite.

  "I hope you are right, Leontine," returned one of the men, with anEnglish accent. "The natural place for the islands is under theAmerican flag, anyway."

  "Yes," put in the other; "the people have voted for it before. Theywant it."

  It was at the time that the American and Danish governments werenegotiating about the transfer of the Danish West Indies, and quiteevidently they were discussing the islands. The last speaker seemed tobe a Dane, but the woman with him, evidently his wife, was not. It wasa curious group, worth more than a passing glance. For a moment Craigwatched them closely.

  "That woman in blue," he whispered, "is a typical promoter."

  I recognized the type which is becoming increasingly frequent in WallStreet as the competition in financial affairs grows keener and womenenter business and professional life.

  There were plenty of other types in the brilliantly lighteddining-room, and we did not dwell long on the study of our neighbors. Afew moments later Kennedy left me and was visiting another table. Itwas a habit of his, for he had hundreds of friends and acquaintances,and the Burridge was the place to which every one came.

  This time I saw that he had stopped before some one whom I recognized.It was Captain Marlowe of the American Shipping Trust, to whom Kennedyhad been of great assistance at the time of the launching of his greatship, the Usona. Marlowe's daughter Marjorie was not with him, havingnot yet returned from her honeymoon trip, and he was accompanied by aman whose face was unfamiliar to me.

  As I recognized who it was to whom Kennedy was speaking, I also roseand made my way over to the table. As I approached, the captain turnedfrom Kennedy and greeted me cordially.

  "Mr. Whitson," he introduced the man with him. "Mr. Whitson is sailingto-morrow for St. Thomas on the Arroyo. We're preparing to extend oursteamship lines to the islands as soon as the formalities of thepurchase are completed."

  Marlowe turned again to Kennedy and went on with the remark he hadevidently been making.

  "Of course," I heard him say, "you know we have Mexico practicallyblockaded as far as arms and munitions go. Yet, Kennedy, through asecret channel I know that thousands of stands of arms and millions ofrounds of ammunition are filtering in there. It's shameful. I can'timagine anything more traitorous. Whoever is at the bottom of it oughtto swing. It isn't over the border that they are going. We know that.The troops are there. How is it, then?"

  Marlowe looked at us as if he expected Kennedy to catch some one bypure reason. Kennedy said nothing, but it was not because he was notinterested.

  "Think it over," pursued Marlowe, who was a patriot above everythingelse. "Perhaps it will occur to you how you can be of the greatestservice to the country. The thing is damnable--damnable."

  Neither Kennedy nor I having anything definite to contribute to thesubject, the conversation drifted to the islands and Whitson's mission.Whitson proved to be very enthusiastic about it. He knew the islandswell and had already made a trip there for Marlowe.

  A few moments later we shook hands and returned to our own table. Itwas getting late and the only type that was left to study was thecommon Broadway midnight-life genus. We paid our check and were aboutto leave. For an instant we stopped at the coat-room to watch the latearrivals and the departing throng.

  "Hello!" greeted a familiar voice beside us. "I've been looking allover town for you. They told me you had gone to the theater and Ithought I might possibly find you here."

  We turned. It was our old friend Burke, of the Secret Service,accompanied by a stranger.

  "I'd like you to meet Mr. Sydney, the new special consular agent whomthe government is sending to the Danish West Indies to investigate andreport on trade conditions," he introduced. "We're off for St. Thomason the Arroyo, which sails to-morrow noon."

  "Great Scott!" ejaculated Kennedy. "Is everybody daffy over thoselittle islands? What takes you down there, Burke?" Burke looked abouthastily, then drew us aside into a recess in the lobby.

  "I don't suppose you know," he explained, lowering his voice, "butsince these negotiations began, the consular service has been keenlyinterested in the present state and the possibilities of the islands.The government sent one special agent there, named Dwight. Well, hedied a few days ago. It was very suspicious, so much so that theauthorities in the island investigated. Yet the doctors in the islandhave found no evidence of anything wrong, no poison. Still, it is verymysterious--and, you know," he hinted, "there are those who don't wantus down there."

  The Secret Service man paused as though he had put the case as brieflyand pointedly as he could, then went on: "I've been assigned toaccompany the new consul down there and investigate. I've no particularorders and the chief will honor any reasonable expense account--but--"He hesitated and stopped, looking keenly at Kennedy's face. I saw whathe was driving at.

  "Well--to come to the point--what I wanted to see you about, Kennedy,is to find out whether you would go with me. I think," he added,persuasively, "it would be quite worth your while. Besides, you looktired. You're working too hard. The change will do you good. And yourconscience needn't trouble you. You'll be working, all right."

  Burke had been quick to note the haggard expression on Kennedy's faceand turn it into an argument to carry his point. Kennedy smiled as heread the other's enthusiasm. I would have added my own urging, only Iknew that nothing but a sense of duty would weigh with Craig.

  "I'd like to think the proposal over," he conceded, much to mysurprise. "I'll let you know in the morning."

  "Mind," wheedled Burke, "I won't take no for an answer. We need you."

  The Secret Service man was evidently delighted by the reception Kennedyhad given his scheme.

  Just then I caught sight of the party of four getting their hats andwraps preparatory to leaving, and Kennedy eyed them sharply.

  Marlowe and Whitson passed. As they did so I could not help seeingWhitson pause and shoot a quick glance at the four. It was a glance ofsuspicion and it was not lost on Craig. Did they know more of thisMexican gun-running business than Marlowe had hinted at? I watchedKennedy's face. Evidently his mind was at work on the same idea as mine.

  Burke accompanied us almost all the way home, with Sydney adding hisurging. I could tell that the whole combination of circumstances at theBurridge had had an effect on Kennedy.

  I went to bed, tired, but through the night I knew Craig was engaged onsome work about which he seemed to be somewhat secretive. When I sawhim again in the laboratory, in the morning, he had before him a largepacking-case of stout wood bound with steel bands.

  "What's that?" I asked, mystified. He opened the lid, a sort of door,on which was a strong lock, and I looked inside.

  "My traveling laboratory," he remarked, with pride.

  I peered in more closely. It was a well-stocked armamentarium, as thedoctors would have called it. I shall not make any attempt to describeits contents. They were too varied and too numerous, a little bit ofeverything, it seemed. In fact, Craig seemed to have epitomized thesciences and arts. It was not that he had anything so wonderful, oreven comparable to the collection of his laboratory. But as I ran myeye over the box I would have wagered that from the contents he mighthave made shift to duplicate in some makeshift form almost anythingthat he might need. It
was truly amazing, representing in miniature hisstudy of crime for years.

  "Then you are going with Burke to St. Thomas?" I queried, realizing thesignificance of it.

  Kennedy nodded. "I've been thinking of what I would do if an importantcase ever called me away. Burke's proposal hurried me, that's all. Andyou are going, also," he added. "You have until noon to break the newsto the Star."

  I did not say anything more, fearful lest he might change his mind. Iknew he needed the rest, and that no matter what the case was in theislands he could not work as hard as he was doing in New York.

  Accordingly my own arrangements with the Star were easily made. I had asort of roving commission, anyhow, since my close association withKennedy. Moreover, the possibility of turning up something good in theislands, which were much in the news at the time, rather appealed tothe managing editor. If Kennedy could arrange his affairs, I felt thatthe least I could do was to arrange my own.

  Thus it came about that Craig and I found ourselves in the forenoon ina taxicab, on the front of which was loaded the precious box as well asour other hastily packed luggage, and we were on our way over toBrooklyn to the dock from which the Arroyo sailed.

  Already the clearance papers had been obtained, and there was the usuallast-moment confusion among the passengers as the hour for sailingapproached. It seemed as if we had scarcely boarded the ship whenKennedy was as gay as a school-boy on an unexpected holiday. I realizedat once what was the cause. The change of scene, the mere fact ofcutting loose, were having their effect.

  As we steamed slowly down the bay, I ran my eye over the otherpassengers at the rail, straining their eyes to catch the last glimpseof the towers of New York. There were Burke and Sydney, but they werenot together, and, to all appearances, did not know each other. Sydney,of course, could not conceal his identity, nor did he wish to, nomatter how beset with unseen perils might be his mission. But Burke wasdown on the passenger-list as, and had assumed the role of, a travelingsalesman for a mythical novelty-house in Chicago. That evidently waspart of the plan they had agreed on between themselves. Kennedy tookthe cue.

  As I studied the various groups, I paused suddenly, surprised. Therewas the party which had sat at the table next to us at the Burridge thenight before. Kennedy had already seen them and had been watching themfurtively.

  Just then Craig jogged my elbow. He had caught sight of Whitson edginghis way in our direction. I saw what it was that Craig meant. He wantedpurposely to avoid him. I wondered why, but soon I saw what he was upto. He wanted introductions to come about naturally, as they do onshipboard if one only waits.

  On deck and in the lounging and smoking rooms it did not take long forhim to contrive ways of meeting and getting acquainted with those hewished to know, without exciting suspicion. Thus, by the time we satdown to dinner in the saloon we were all getting fairly chummy.

  We had met Burke quite as naturally as if we were total strangers. Itwas easy to make it appear that Whitson and Sydney were shipboardacquaintances. Nor was it difficult to secure an introduction to theother party of four. The girl whom we had heard addressed as Leontineseemed to be the leader of the group. Leontine Cowell was a strikingpersonality. Her clear blue eyes directed a gaze at one which testedone's mettle to meet. I was never quite sure whether she rememberedseeing us at the Burridge, whether she penetrated the parts we wereplaying. She was none the less feminine because she had aspirations ina commercial way. As Kennedy had first observed, she was well worthstudy.

  Her companion, Barrett Burleigh, was a polished, deferentialEnglishman, one of those who seem to be citizens of the world ratherthan subjects of any particular country. I wondered what were the realrelations of the two.

  Jorgen Erickson was, as I had surmised, a Dane. He proved to be one ofthe largest planters in the island, already wealthy and destined to bewealthier if real estate advanced. The other woman, Nanette, was hiswife. She was also a peculiarly interesting type, a Frenchwoman fromGuadeloupe. Younger and more vivacious than her husband, her snappyblack eyes betokened an attractive personality.

  Leontine Cowell, it seemed, had been in the islands not long before,had secured options on some score of plantations at a low figure, andmade no secret of her business. When the American flag at last flewover the islands she stood to win out of the increase of land values aconsiderable fortune.

  Erickson also, in addition to his own holdings, had been an agent forsome other planters and thus had met Leontine, who had been the meansof interesting some American capital.

  As for Burleigh, it seemed that he had made the acquaintance ofLeontine in Wall Street. He had been in the Caribbean and the impendingchanges in the Danish West Indies had attracted his notice. Whether hehad some money to invest in the speculation or hoped to profit bycommissions derived from sales did not appear. But at any rate somecommon bond had thrown the quartet together.

  I need not dwell on the little incidents of life on ship. It must havebeen the second day out that I observed Leontine and Sydney together onthe promenade-deck. They seemed to be quite interested in each other,though I felt sure that Leontine was making a play for him. At anyrate, Burleigh was jealous. Whatever might be the scheme, it wasapparent that the young Englishman was head over heels in love with her.

  What did it mean? Was she playing with Sydney, seeking to secure hisinfluence to further her schemes? Or did it mask some deeper, moresinister motive? From what I had seen of Sydney, I could not think thathe was the man to take such an affair seriously. I felt that he must bemerely amusing himself.

  Busy with my speculations, I was astonished soon after to realize thatthe triangle had become a hexagon, so to speak. Whitson and NanetteErickson seemed to be much in each other's company. But, unlikeBurleigh, Erickson seemed to be either oblivious or complacent.

  Whatever it might all portend, I found that it did not worry Kennedy,although he observed closely. Burke, however, was considerably excitedand even went so far as to speak to Sydney, over whom he felt a sort ofguardianship. Sydney turned the matter off lightly. As for me, Idetermined to watch both of these women closely.

  Kennedy spent much time not only in watching the passengers, but ingoing about the ship, talking to the captain and crew and every one whoknew anything about the islands. In fact, he collected enoughinformation in a few days to have satisfied any ordinary tourist forweeks.

  Even the cargo did not escape his attention, and I found that he wasespecially interested in the rather heavy shipments of agriculturalimplements that were consigned to various planters in the islands. Sogreat was his interest that I began to suspect that it had some bearingon the gun-running plot that had been hinted at by Marlowe.

  It was the evening after one of Kennedy's busy days scouting about thathe quietly summoned both Burke and Sydney to our cabin.

  "There's something queer going on," announced Craig, when he was surethat we were all together without having been observed. "Frankly, Imust confess that I don't understand it--yet."

  "You needn't worry about me," interrupted Sydney, hastily. "I can takecare of myself."

  Kennedy smiled quietly. We knew what Sydney meant. He seemed to resentBurke's solicitude over his acquaintance with Leontine and wasevidently warning us off. Kennedy, however, avoided the subject.

  "I may as well tell you," he resumed, "that I was quite as muchinfluenced by a rumor that arms were somehow getting into Mexican portsas I was by your appeal, Burke, in coming down here. So far I've foundnothing that proves my case. But, as I said, there is something underthe surface which I don't understand. We have all got to sticktogether, trust no one but ourselves, and, above all, keep our eyesopen."

  It was all that was said, but I was relieved to note that Sydney seemedgreatly impressed. Still, half an hour later, I saw him sitting in asteamer-chair beside Leontine again, watching the beautiful play of themoonlight on the now almost tropical ocean after we had emerged fromthe Gulf Stream. I felt that it was rather dangerous, but at least hehad had his warning.
<
br />   Seeking Kennedy, I found him at last in the smoking-room, to mysurprise talking with Erickson. I joined them, wondering how I was toconvey to Craig what I had just seen without exciting suspicion. Theywere discussing the commercial and agricultural future of the islandsunder the American flag, especially the sugar industry, which hadfallen into a low estate.

  "I suppose," remarked Kennedy, casually, "that you are alreadymodernizing your plant and that others are doing the same, gettingready for a revival."

  Erickson received the remark stolidly. "No," he replied, slowly. "Someof us may be doing so, but as for me, I shall be quite content to sellif I can get my price."

  "The planters are not putting in modern machinery, then?" queriedKennedy, innocently, while there flashed over me what he had discoveredabout shipments of agricultural implements.

  Erickson shook his head. "Some of them may be. But for one that is, Iknow twenty whose only thought is to sell out and take a profit."

  The conversation trailed off on other subjects and I knew that Kennedyhad acquired the information which he sought. As neatly as I could Idrew him apart from Erickson.

  "Strange he should tell me that," ruminated Kennedy as we gained aquiet corner of the deck. "I know that there is a lot of stuffconsigned to planters in the island, some even to himself."

  "He must be lying, then," I hastened. "Perhaps these promoters arereally plotters. By the way, what I wanted to tell you was that I sawSydney and Leontine together again."

  He was about to reply when the sound of some one approaching caused usto draw back farther into the shadow. It proved to be Whitson andNanette.

  "Then you do not like St. Thomas?" we heard Whitson remark, as if hewere repeating something she had just said.

  "There is nothing there," she replied. "Why, there aren't a hundredmiles of good roads and not a dozen automobiles."

  Evidently the swiftness of life in New York of which she had tasted washaving its effect.

  "St. Croix, where we have the plantation, is just as bad. Part of thetime we live there, part of the time at Charlotte Amalie in St. Thomas.But there is little difference. I hope Jorgen is able to sell. At leastI should like to live a part of the year in the States."

  "Would he like that, too?"

  "Many of us would," she replied, quickly. "For many years things havebeen getting worse with us. Just now it seems a bit better because ofthe high price of sugar. But who knows how long that will last? Oh, Iwish something would happen soon so that we might make enough money tolive as I want to live. Think; here the best years of life are slippingaway. Unless we do something soon, it will be too late! We must makeour money soon."

  There was an air of impatience in her tone, of restlessdissatisfaction. I felt also that there was an element of danger, too,in a woman just passing from youth making a confidant of another man.

  It was a mixed situation with the quartet whom we were watching. Onething was sufficiently evident. They were all desperately engaged inthe pursuit of wealth. That was a common bond. Nor had I seen anythingto indicate that they were over-scrupulous in that pursuit. Within halfan hour I had seen Leontine with Sydney and Nanette with Whitson. BothSydney as consular agent and Whitson through his influence with theshipping trust possessed great influence. Had the party thought it outand were they now playing the game with the main chance in view?

  I looked inquiringly at Kennedy as the voices died away while thecouple walked slowly down the deck. He said nothing, but he wasevidently pondering deeply on some problem, perhaps that which thetrend of affairs had raised in my own mind.

  Our delay had not been long, but it had been sufficient to cause us tomiss finding Leontine and Sydney. We did, however, run across Burke,bent evidently on watching, also.

  "I don't like this business," he confessed, as we paused to compareexperiences. "I've been thinking of that Mexican business you hintedat, Kennedy. You know the islands would be an ideal out-of-the-way spotfrom which to start gun-running expeditions to Mexico. I don't likethis Leontine and Burleigh. They want to make money too bad."

  Kennedy smiled. "Burleigh doesn't seem to approve of everything,though," he remarked.

  "Perhaps not. That's one reason why I think it may be more dangerousfor Sydney than he realizes. I know she's a fascinating girl. All themore reason to watch out for her. But I can't talk to Sydney," hesighed.

  It was an enigma and I had not solved it, though I felt much as Burkedid. Kennedy seemed to have determined to allow events to take theircourse, perhaps in the hope that developments would be quicker that waythan by interfering with something which we did not understand.

  In the smoking-room, after we left Burke, Kennedy and I came uponErickson and Burleigh. They had just finished a game of poker with someof the other passengers, in which Burleigh's usual run of luck andskill had been with him.

  "Lucky at cards, unlucky in love," remarked Burleigh as we approached.

  He said it with an air of banter, yet I could not help feeling thatthere was a note of seriousness at the bottom of it. Had he known thatLeontine had been with Sydney on the deck? His very success at pokerhad its effect on me. I found myself eying him as if he had been one ofthe transatlantic card sharps, perhaps an international crook. Yet whenI considered I was forced to admit that I had nothing on which to basesuch a judgment.

  Erickson presented a different problem, to my mind, There was indeedsomething queer about him. Either he had not been perfectly frank withus in regard to the improvement of his properties or he was concealingsomething much more sinister. Again and again my mind reverted to thehints that had been dropped by Marlowe, and I recalled the closescrutiny Whitson had given the four that night. So far, I had felt thatin any such attempt we might count on Whitson playing a lone hand andperhaps finding out something to our advantage.

  It was the morning of the last day of the voyage that most of thepassengers gathered on the deck for the first glimpse of the land towhich we had been journeying.

  Before us lay the beautiful and picturesque harbor and town ofCharlotte Amalie, one of the finest harbors in the West Indies, deepenough to float the largest vessels, with shipyards, dry-docks, andrepair shops. From the deck it was a strikingly beautiful picture,formed by three spurs of mountains covered with the greenest oftropical foliage. From the edge of the dancing blue waves the townitself rose on the hills, presenting an entrancing panorama.

  All was bustle and excitement as the anchor plunged into the water, fornot only was this the end of our journey, but the arrival of the boatfrom New York was an event for the town.

  There was much to watch, but I let nothing interfere with myobservation of how the affair between Sydney and Leontine wasprogressing. To my surprise, I saw that this morning she was bestowingthe favor of her smile rather on Burleigh. It was Sydney's turn now tofeel the pangs of jealousy, and I must admit that he bore them withbetter grace than Burleigh, whatever that might indicate.

  As I watched the two and recalled their intimacy at the Burridge thefirst night we had seen them, I almost began to wonder whether I mightnot have been wrong about Leontine. Had it been that I had distrustedthe woman merely because I was suspicious of the type, both male andfemale? Had I been finding food for suspicion because I was myselfsuspicious?

  Erickson was standing beside Sydney, while we were not far away.Evidently he had been saving up a speech for the occasion and now wasprepared to deliver it.

  "Mr. Sydney," he began, with a wave of his arm that seemed to includeus all, "it is a pleasure to welcome you here to our island. Last nightit occurred to me that we ought to do something to show that weappreciate it. You must come to dinner to-night at my villa here in thetown. You are all invited, all of us who have become so enjoyablyacquainted on this voyage which I shall never forget. Believe me when Isay that it will be even more a tribute to you personally than becauseof the official position you are to hold among us."

  It was a graceful invitation, more so than I had believed Ericksoncapable of framing. Syd
ney could do nothing less than thank himcordially and accept, as we all did. Indeed, I could see that Kennedywas delighted at the suggestion. It would give him an opportunity toobserve them all under circumstances different enough to show something.

  While we were thanking Erickson, I saw that Whitson had taken theoccasion also to thank Mrs. Erickson, with whom he had been talking,just a bit apart from the group. He made no secret of his attentions,though I thought she was a bit embarrassed by them at such a time.Indeed, she started rather abruptly toward the group which was nowintent on surveying the town, and as she did so, I noted that she hadforgotten her hand-bag, which lay on a deck-chair near where they hadbeen sitting.

  I picked it up to restore it. Some uncontrollable curiosity prompted meand I hesitated. All were still looking at the town. I opened the bag.Inside was a little bottle of grayish liquid. What should I do? Anymoment she or Whitson might turn around. Hastily I pulled off the capof my fountain-pen and poured into it some of the liquid, replacing thecork in the bottle and dropping it back into the bag, while I disposedof the cap as best I could without spilling its contents.

  Whether either she or any one else had observed me, I was not going torun any chances of being seen. I called a passing steward. "Mrs.Erickson forgot her bag," I said, pointing hastily to it. "You'll findher over there with Mr. Whitson." Then I mingled in the crowd to watchher. She did not seem to show any anxiety when she received it.

  I lost no time in getting back to Kennedy and telling him what I hadfound, and a few moments later he made an excuse to go to ourstate-room, as eager as I was to know what had been in the littlebottle.

  First he poured out a drop of the liquid from the cap of myfountain-pen in some water. It did not dissolve. Successively he triedalcohol, ether, then pepsin. None of them had any effect on it.Finally, however, he managed to dissolve it in ammonia.

  "Relatively high amount of sulphur," he muttered, after a few momentsmore of study. "Keratin, I believe."

  "A poison?" I asked.

  Kennedy shook his head. "No; harmless."

  "Then what is it for?"

  He shrugged his shoulders. He may have had some half-formed idea, butif he did it was still indefinite and he refused to commit himself.Instead, he placed the sample in his traveling laboratory, closed andlocked it, and, with our luggage, the box was ready to be taken ashore.

  Nearly every one had gone ashore by the time we returned to the deck.Whitson was there yet, talking to the captain, for the shipping at theport interested him. I wondered whether he, too, might be suspicious ofthose cases consigned to Erickson and others. If so, he said nothing ofit.

  By this time several vessels that looked as if they might be lighters,though fairly large, had pulled up. It seemed that they had beenengaged to carry shipments of goods to the other islands of St. Johnand St. Croix.

  Kennedy seemed eager now to get ashore, and we went, accompanied byWhitson, and after some difficulty established ourselves in a smallhotel.

  Most of the tourists were sightseeing, and, while we had no time forthat, still we could not help doing so, in going about the town.

  Charlotte Amalie, I may say, proved to be one of the most picturesquetowns in the Windward Islands. The walls of the houses were mostly of adazzling whiteness, though some were yellow, others gray, orange, blue.But the roofs were all of a generous bright red which showed up veryeffectively among the clumps of green trees. Indeed, the town seemed tobe one of gaily tinted villas and palaces. There were no factories, noslums. Nature had provided against that and man had not violated theprovision.

  The people whom we met on the streets were mostly negroes, though therewas a fair sprinkling of whites. What pleased us most was that nearlyeverywhere we went English was spoken. I had half expected Danish. Butthere was even very little Spanish spoken.

  Burke was waiting for us, and in spite of his playing the role oftraveling salesman managed to direct us about so that we might asquickly as possible pick up the thread of the mysterious death ofDwight. It did not take long to gather such meager information as therewas about the autopsy that had followed the strange death of Sydney'spredecessor.

  We were able to find out little from either the authorities or thedoctor who had investigated the case. Under the stress of suspicion,both the stomach and the contents of the stomach of the unfortunate manhad been examined. No trace of anything out of the way had been found,and there the matter had rested, except for suspicion.

  One of our first visits was to the American consulate. There Sydney, byvirtue of his special commission, had, with characteristic energy,established himself with the consul. Naturally, he, too, had beenmaking inquiries. But they had led nowhere. There seemed to be no clueto the mysterious death of Dwight, not even a hint as to the cause.

  All that we were able to discover, after some hours of patient inquiry,was that Dwight had suffered from great prostration, marked cyanosis,convulsions, and coma. Whether it was the result of some strangedisease or of a poison no one, not even the doctor, was prepared tosay. All that was known was that the blow, if blow it had been, wasswift, sudden, sure.

  We ran across Whitson once or twice during the day, busily engagedrenewing acquaintance with merchants and planters whom he had knownbefore, but I do not recall having seen either Burleigh or Leontine,which, at the time, I thought rather strange, for the town was smalland strangers were few. The more I thought of it the more firmlyconvinced I was that Dwight had discovered some secret which it wasextremely inconvenient for somebody to have known. What was it? Was itconnected with the rumors we had heard of gun-running to Mexico?

  Erickson had invited us to come late in the afternoon to the dinner andwe did not delay in getting there. His house proved to be a veritablepalace on the side of one of the hills rising abruptly back of theshore. Flights of massive stone steps, quaint walls covered withcreepers, balustrades overlooking charming gardens, arcades from whichone looked out on splendid vistas and shady terraces combined to makeit a veritable paradise such as can be found only in tropical andsubtropical lands. Most wonderful of all was the picture of the otherhills unfolded, especially of the two ruined pirates' castles belongingto semi-mythical personages, Bluebeard and Blackbeard.

  The Ericksons were proud of their home, as well they might be, in spiteof the complaints we had heard Nanette utter and the efforts ofErickson to sell his holdings. Mrs. Erickson proved to be a charminghostess and the host extended a hospitality such as one rarely meets.It quite made me uncomfortable to accept it at the same time that Iknew we must view it all with suspicion. Nor did it make matters anybetter, but rather worse, to feel that there was some color of excusefor the suspicion.

  Burleigh arrived proudly with Leontine, followed closely by Sydney. Atonce the game was on again, Leontine pitting one against the other.Whitson came, his attentions to Mrs. Erickson a trifle restrained, butstill obvious. Burke and ourselves completed the party.

  To the repeated urging of Erickson we made ourselves quite as much athome as we politely could. Kennedy and Burke, acting under hisinstructions, seemed to be ubiquitous. Yet, beyond a continuation ofthe drama that had been unfolded on the ship it did not seem to me atfirst that we were getting anywhere.

  Kennedy and I were passing alone along a colonnade that opened off fromthe large dining-hall, when Craig paused and looked in through an opendoor at the massive table set for the dinner.

  A servant had just completed setting out cocktails at the variousplaces, pouring them from a huge tankard, for the purpose, which hadbeen standing on a sideboard. Guests had been walking past through thecolonnade ever since we arrived, but at the moment there was no oneabout, and even the servant had disappeared.

  Kennedy stepped lightly into the dining-hall and looked about sharply.Instinctively I stepped to a window where I could hear any oneapproaching. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him narrowlyscrutinizing the table. Finally he pulled from his pocket a clean linenhandkerchief. Into an empty glass he poured the contents of one of
thecocktail-glasses, straining the liquid through the handkerchief. Thenhe poured the filtrate, if I may call it such, back into the originalglass. A second he treated in the same way, and a third. He had nearlycompleted the round of the table when I heard a light step.

  My warning came only just in time. It was Burleigh. He saw us standingnow in the colonnade, made some hasty remark, then walked on, as if insearch for some one. Had it been interest in Leontine or in thedining-room that had drawn him thither?

  Kennedy was now looking closely at the handkerchief, and I looked also.In the glasses had been innumerable little seeds as if from the fruitjuice used in concocting the appetizer. The fine meshes of the linenhad extracted them. What were they?

  I took one in my fingers and crushed it between my nails. There was anunmistakable odor of bitter almonds. What did it mean?

  We had no time now for speculation. Our prolonged absence might benoticed and we hastened to join the other guests after finishing theround of glasses in which he had been interrupted.

  How, in my suppressed excitement, I managed to get through that dinnerI do not know. It was a brilliant affair, yet I found that I hadcompletely lost my appetite, as well one might after having observedKennedy's sleuthing.

  However, the dinner progressed, though each course that brought itnearer a conclusion afforded me an air of relief. I was quite readywhen, over the coffee, Kennedy contrived to make some excuse for us,promising to call again and perhaps to visit the Erickson plantation.

  In the secrecy of our room in the little hotel, Craig was soon deeplyburied in making use of his traveling laboratory. As he worked I couldno longer restrain my impatience. "What about that little bottle ofkeratin?" I asked, eagerly.

  "Oh yes," he replied, not looking up from the tests he was making."Well, keratin, you know, is also called epidermose. It is ascleroprotein present largely in cuticular structures such as hair,nails, horn. I believe it is usually prepared from pieces of hornsteeped in pepsin, hydrochloric acid, and water for a long time. Thenthe residue is dissolved in ammonia and acetic acid."

  "But what's its use?" I demanded. "You said it was harmless."

  "Why, the pepsin of the stomach won't digest it," he returned. "Forthat reason its chief use is for coating what are known as 'entericcapsules.' Anything coated with keratin is carried on through thestomach into the intestines. It is used much in hot countries in orderto introduce drugs into the intestines in the treatment of the tropicaldiseases that affect the intestines." He paused and devoted his entireattention to his work, but he had told me enough to assure me that atleast the bottle of keratin I had found had proved to be a clue.

  I waited as long as I could, then interrupted again. "What are theseeds?" I queried. "Have you found out yet?"

  He paused as though he had not quite finished his hasty investigation,yet had found out enough to convince him. "There seem to be two kinds.I wish I had had time to keep each lot separate. Some of them arecertainly quite harmless. But there are others, I find, that have beensoaked in nitro-benzol, artificial oil of bitter almonds. Even a fewdrops, such as might be soaked up in this way, might be fatal. The newand interesting phase, to me, is that they were all carefully coatedwith keratin. Really, they are keratin-coated enteric capsules ofnitro-benzol, a deadly poison."

  I looked at him, aghast at what some of us had been rescued from by hisprompt action.

  "You see," he went on, excitedly, "that is why the autopsies probablyshowed nothing. These doctors down here sought for a poison in thestomach. But if the poison had been in the stomach the odor alone wouldhave betrayed it. You smelt it when you crushed a seed. But thepoisoning had been devised to avoid just that chance of discovery.There was no poison in the stomach. Death was delayed long enough,also, to divert suspicion from the real poisoner. Some one has beendiabolically clever in covering up the crimes."

  I could only gasp my amazement. "Then," I blurted out, "you think theEricksons--"

  Our door burst open. It was Burke, in wild excitement.

  "Has anybody--died?" I managed to demand.

  He seemed not to hear, but dashed to the window and threw it open."Look!" he exclaimed.

  We did. In the late twilight, through the open sash we could see thelandlocked basin of the harbor. But it was not that at which Burkepointed. On the horizon an ugly dark cloud rose menacingly. In thestrange, unearthly murkiness, I could see people of the town pouringout into the narrow streets, wildly, fearfully, with frantic cries andgesticulations.

  For a moment I gazed at the sight blankly. Then I realized thatsweeping on us was one of those sudden, deadly West-Indian hurricanes.Our harbor was sheltered from the north and east winds. But this windwas southern born, rare, oncoming in a fury against which we had noprotection.

  Hastily closing his armamentarium, Kennedy also hurried out on thestreet. The gale had become terrific already in the few minutes thathad elapsed. From our terrace we could see the water, gray and olive,with huge white breakers, like gnashing teeth, coming on to rend andtear everything in their path. It was as though we stood in anamphitheater provided by nature for a great spectacle, the boldheadlands standing out like the curves of a stadium.

  I looked about. The Ericksons had just driven up with Burleigh andLeontine, as well as Whitson, all of whom were stopping at our hotel,and were about to take Sydney on to the consulate when the approach ofthe storm warned them to stay.

  Leontine had hurried into the hotel, evidently fearful of the loss ofsomething she treasured, and the rest were standing apart from thetrees and buildings, where the formation of the land offered someprotection. As we joined them I peered at the pale faces in theghastly, unnatural light. Was it, in a sense, retribution?

  Suddenly, without further warning, the storm broke. Trees were turnedup by roots, like weeds, the buildings rocked as if they had beenhouses of cards. It was a wild, catastrophic spectacle.

  "Leontine," I heard a voice mutter by my side, as a form catapulteditself past through the murkiness into the crazily swaying hotel. Itwas Burleigh. I turned to speak to Kennedy. He was gone. Where to findhim I had no idea. The force of the wind was such that search wasimpossible. All we could do was to huddle back of such protection asthe earth afforded against the million needles of rain that cut intoour faces.

  The wind almost blew me flat to the earth as, no longer able to standthe suspense, I stumbled toward the hotel, thinking perhaps he had goneto save his armamentarium, although if I had stopped to think I shouldhave realized that that strong box was about the safest piece ofproperty on the island.

  I was literally picked up and hurled against an object in thedarkness--a man. "In the room--more keratin--more seeds."

  It was Kennedy. He had taken advantage of the confusion to make asearch which otherwise might have been more difficult. Together westruggled back to our shelter.

  Just then came a crash, as the hotel crumpled under the fierce stressof the storm. Out of the doorway struggled a figure just in time toclear the falling walls. It was Burleigh, a huge gash from a beamstreaming blood down his forehead which the rain washed away almost asit oozed. In his arms, clinging about his neck, was Leontine, no longerthe sophisticated, but in the face of this primeval danger just awoman. Burleigh staggered with his burden a little apart from us, andin spite of everything I could fancy him blessing the storm that hadgiven him his opportunity.

  Far from abating, the storm seemed increasing in fury, as though allthe devils of the underworld were vexed at anything remainingundestroyed. It seemed as if even the hills on which the old pirateshad once had their castles must be rocking.

  "My God!" exclaimed a thick voice, as an arm shot out, pointing towardthe harbor.

  There was the Arroyo tugging at every extra mooring that could beimpressed into service. The lighters had broken or been cut away andwere scudding, destruction-bent, squarely at the shore almost below us.A moment and they had crashed on the beach, a mass of timbers andspars, while the pounding waves tore open and flung about h
eavy casesas though they were mere toys.

  Then, almost as suddenly as it had come, the storm began to abate, theair cleared, and nothing remained but the fury of the waves.

  "Look!" exclaimed Kennedy, pointing down at the strange wreckage thatstrewed the beach. "Does that look like agricultural machinery?" Westrained our eyes. Kennedy did not pause. "The moment I heard that armswere getting into Mexico I suspected that somewhere here in theCaribbean munitions were being transhipped. Perhaps they have been sentto Atlantic ports ostensibly for the Allies. They have got down heredisguised. Even before the storm exposed them I had reasoned it out.From this port, the key to the vast sweep of mainland, I reasoned thatthey were being taken over to secret points on the coast where bigships could not safely go. It was here that blockade-runners wererefitted in our Civil War. It is here that this new gun-running plothas been laid."

  He turned quickly to Sydney. "The only obstacle between the transfer ofthe arms and success was the activity of an American consulate. Thoselighters were not to carry goods to other islands. They were reallydestined for Mexico. It was profitable. And the scheme for removingopposition was evidently safe."

  Kennedy was holding up another bottle of keratin and some fruit seeds."I found these in a room in the hotel," he added.

  I did not comprehend. "But," I cut in, "the hand-bag--the dinner--whatof them?"

  "A plant--a despicable trespass on hospitality--all part of a scheme tothrow the guilt on some one else, worthy of a renegade and traitor."

  Craig wheeled suddenly, then added, with an incisive gesture, "Isuppose you know that there is reputed to have been on one of thesehills the headquarters of the old pirate, Teach--'the mildest manner'dman that ever scuttled ship or cut a throat!'"

  Kennedy paused, then added, quickly, "In respect to covering up yourgun-running, Whitson, you are superior even to Teach!"

  XII

  THE SUNKEN TREASURE

  "Get story Everson and bride yacht Belle Aventure seeking treasure sunk Gulf liner Antilles."

  Kennedy and I had proceeded after a few leisurely days in St. Thomas toPorto Rico. We had no particular destination, and San Juan ratherappealed to us as an objective point because it was American.

  It was there that I found waiting for me the above message by wirelessfrom the Star in New York.

  San Juan was, as we had anticipated, a thoroughly Americanized town andI lost no time in getting around at once to the office of the leadingnewspaper, the Colonial News. The editor, Kenmore, proved to be aformer New York reporter who had come out in answer to an advertisementby the proprietors of the paper.

  "What's the big story here now?" I asked by way of preface, expectingto find that colonial newspapermen were provincial.

  "What's the big story?" repeated Kenmore, impatiently pushing aside along leader on native politics and regarding me thoughtfully. "Well,I'm not superstitious, but a honeymoon spent trying to break into DavyJones's locker for sunken treasure--I guess that's a good story, isn'tit?"

  I showed him my message and he smiled. "You see, I was right," heexclaimed. "They're searching now at the Cay d'Or, the Golden Key, oneof the southernmost of the Bahamas, I suppose you would call it. I wishI was like you. I'd like to get away from this political stuff longenough to get the story."

  He puffed absently on a fragrant native cigar. "I met them all whenthey were here, before they started," he resumed, reminiscently. "Itwas certainly a picturesque outfit--three college chums--one of them onhis honeymoon, and the couple chaperoning the bride's sister. There wasone of the college boys--a fellow named Gage--who fairly made news."

  "How was that?" inquired Kennedy, who had accompanied me, full of zestat the prospect of mixing in a story so romantic.

  "Oh, I don't know that it was his fault--altogether," replied Kenmore."There's a young lady here in the city, the daughter of a pilot,Dolores Guiteras. She had been a friend of some one in the expedition,I believe. I suppose that's how Gage met her. I don't think either ofthem really cared for each other. Perhaps she was a bit jealous of theladies of the party. I don't know anything much about it, only Iremember one night in the cafe of the Palace Hotel, I thought Gage andanother fellow would fight a duel--almost--until Everson dropped in andpatched the affair up and the next day his yacht left for Golden Key."

  "I wish I'd been here to go with them," I considered. "How do yousuppose I'll be able to get out there, now?"

  "You might be able to hire a tug," shrugged Kenmore. "The only one Iknow is that of Captain Guiteras. He's the father of this Dolores Itold you about."

  The suggestion seemed good, and after a few moments more ofconversation, absorbing what little Kenmore knew, we threaded our wayacross the city to the home of the redoubtable Guiteras and his prettydaughter.

  Guiteras proved to be a man of about fifty, a sturdy, muscular fellow,his face bronzed by the tropical sun.

  I had scarcely broached the purpose of my visit when his restless browneyes seemed literally to flash. "No, sir," he exclaimed, emphatically."You cannot get me to go on any such expedition. Mr. Everson came herefirst and tried to hire my tug. I wouldn't do it. No, sir--he had toget one from Havana. Why, the whole thing is unlucky--hoodooed, youcall it. I will not touch it."

  "But," I remonstrated, surprised at his unexpected vehemence, "I am notasking you to join the expedition. We are only going to--"

  "No, no," he interrupted. "I will not consider it. I--"

  He cut short his remarks as a young woman, radiant in herLatin-American beauty, opened the door, hesitated at sight of us, thenentered at a nod from him. We did not need to be told that this was theDolores whom Kenmore's rumor had credited with almost wreckingEverson's expedition at the start. She was a striking type, her face,full of animation and fire, betraying more of passion than of intellect.

  A keen glance of inquiry from her wonderful eyes at her father wasfollowed by a momentary faraway look, and she remained silent, whileGuiteras paused, as if considering something.

  "They say," he continued, slowly, his features drawn sharply, "thatthere was loot of Mexican churches on that ship--the jewels of Our Ladyof the Rosary at Puebla.... That ship was cursed, I tell you!" headded, scowling darkly.

  "No one was lost on it, though," I ventured at random.

  "I suppose you never heard the story of the Antilles?" he inquired,turning swiftly toward me. Then, without stopping: "She had just sailedfrom San Juan before she was wrecked--on her way to New York from VeraCruz with several hundred Mexican refugees. Treasure? Yes; perhapsmillions, money that belonged to wealthy families in Mexico--and somethat had the curse on it.

  "You asked a moment ago if everybody wasn't rescued. Well, everybodywas rescued from the wreck except Captain Driggs. I don't know whathappened. No one knows. The fire had got into the engine-room and theship was sinking fast. Passengers saw him, pale, like a ghost, somesaid. Others say there was blood streaming from his head. When the lastboat-load left they couldn't find him. They had to put off without him.It was a miracle that no one else was lost."

  "How did the fire start?" inquired Kennedy, much interested.

  "No one knows that, either," answered Guiteras, shaking his headslowly. "I think it must have been smoldering in the hold for hoursbefore it was discovered. Then the pumps either didn't work properly orit had gained too great headway for them. I've heard many people talkof it and of the treasure. No, sir, you wouldn't get me to touch it.Maybe you'll call it superstition. But I won't have anything to do withit. I wouldn't go with Mr. Everson and I won't go with you. Perhaps youdon't understand, but I can't help it."

  Dolores had stood beside her father while he was speaking, but had saidnothing, though all the time she had been regarding us from beneath herlong black eyelashes. Arguments with the old pilot had no effect, but Icould not help feeling that somehow she was on our side, that whethershe shared his fears and prejudices, her heart was really somewherenear the Key of Gold.

  There seemed to be nothing for us to do but
wait until some other wayturned up to get out to the expedition, or perhaps Dolores succeeded inchanging the captain's mind. We bowed ourselves out, not a littlepuzzled by the enigma of the obdurate old man and his pretty daughter.Try as I might among the busy shipping of the port, I could find no oneelse willing at any reasonable price to change his plans to accommodateus.

  It was early the next morning that a young lady, very much perturbed,called on us at our hotel, scarcely waiting even the introduction ofher plainly engraved card bearing the name, Miss Norma Sanford.

  "Perhaps you know of my sister, Asta Sanford, Mrs. Orrin Everson," shebegan, speaking very rapidly as if under stress. "We're down here onAsta's honeymoon in Orrin's yacht, the Belle Aventure." Craig and Iexchanged glances, but she did not give us a chance to interrupt.

  "It all seems so sudden, so terrible," she cried, in a burst of wild,incoherent feeling. "Yesterday Bertram Traynor died, and we've put backto San Juan with his body. I'm so worried for Orrin and my sister. Iheard you were here, Professor Kennedy, and I couldn't rest until I sawyou."

  She was looking anxiously at Craig. I wondered whether she had heard ofour visit to the Guiterases and what she knew about that other woman.

  "I don't quite understand," interposed Kennedy, with an effort to calmher. "Why do you fear for your sister and Mr. Everson? Was theresomething--suspicious--about the death of Mr. Traynor?"

  "Indeed I think there was," she replied, quickly. "None of us has anyidea how it happened. Let me tell you about our party. You see, thereare three college chums, Orrin and two friends, Bertram Traynor andDonald Gage. They were all on a cruise down here last winter, the yearafter they graduated. It was in San Juan that Orrin first met Mr.Dominick, who was the purser on the Antilles--you know, that bigsteamer of the Gulf Line that was burned last year and went down withseven million dollars aboard?"

  Kennedy nodded to the implied query, and she went on: "Mr. Dominick wasamong those saved, but Captain Driggs was lost with his ship. Mr.Dominick had been trying to interest some one here in seeking thetreasure. They knew about where the Antilles went down, and the firstthing he wanted to do was to locate the wreck exactly. After that wasdone of course Mr. Dominick knew about the location of the ship'sstrong room and all that."

  "That, of course, was common knowledge to any one interested enough tofind out, though," suggested Kennedy.

  "Of course," she agreed. "Well, a few months later Orrin met Mr.Dominick again, in New York. In the mean time he had been talking thething over with various people and had become acquainted with a man whohad once been a diver for the Interocean Marine Insurance Company--OwenKinsale. Anyhow, so the scheme grew. They incorporated a company, theDeep Sea Engineering Company, to search for the treasure. That is howOrrin started. They are using his yacht and Mr. Dominick is really incommand, though Mr. Kinsale has the actual technical knowledge."

  She paused, but again her feelings seemed to get the better of her."Oh," she cried, "I've been afraid all along, lately. It's dangerouswork. And then, the stories that have been told of the ship and thetreasure. It seems ill-fated. Professor Kennedy," she appealed, "I wishyou would come and see us. We're not on the yacht just now. We cameashore as soon as we arrived back, and Asta and Orrin are at the PalaceHotel now. Perhaps Orrin can tell you more. If you can do nothing morethan quiet my fears--"

  Her eyes finished the sentence. Norma Sanford was one of those girlswho impress you as quite capable of taking care of themselves. But inthe presence of the tragedy and a danger which she felt but could notseem to define, she felt the need of outside assistance and did nothesitate to ask it. Nor was Kennedy slow in responding. He seemed towelcome a chance to help some one in distress.

  We found Everson and his young wife at the hotel, quite different nowfrom the care-free adventurers who had set out only a few days beforeto wrest a fortune from chance.

  I had often seen portraits of the two Sanford sisters in the societypages of the papers in the States and knew that the courtship of OrrinEverson and Asta Sanford had been a true bit of modern romance.

  Asta Everson was a unique type of girl. She had begun by running fastmotor cars and boats. That had not satisfied her, and she had taken upaviation. Once, even, she had tried deep-sea diving herself. It seemedas if she had been born with the spirit of adventure.

  To win her, Everson had done about everything from Arctic explorationone summer when he was in college to big-game hunting in Africa, andmountain-climbing in the Andes. Odd though the romance might seem tobe, one could not help feeling that the young couple were splendidlymatched in their tastes. Each had that spirit of restlessness which, atleast, sent them out playing at pioneering.

  Everson had organized the expedition quite as much in the spirit ofrevolt against a prosaic life of society at home as for gain. It hadappealed strongly to Asta. She had insisted that nothing so much as atreasure hunt would be appropriate for their wedding-trip and they hadagreed on the unconventional. Accordingly, she and her sister hadjoined Everson and his party, Norma, though a year younger, being quitelike her sister in her taste for excitement.

  "Of course, you understand," explained Everson, as he hurriedly triedto give us some idea of what had happened, "we knew that the Antilleshad sunk somewhere off the Cay d'Or. It was first a question oflocating her. That was all that we had been doing when Bertram died. Itis terrible, terrible. I can't believe it. I can't understand it."

  In spite of his iron nerve, the tragedy seemed to have shaken Eversonprofoundly.

  "You had done nothing that might have been dangerous?" asked Kennedy,pointedly.

  "Nothing," emphasized Everson. "You see, we located the wreck in a waysomewhat similar to the manner in which they sweep the seas for minesand submarines. It was really very simple, though it took us some time.All we did was to drag a wire at a fixed depth between the yacht andthe tug, or rather, I suppose you'd almost call it a trawler, which Ichartered from Havana. What we were looking for was to have the wirecatch on some obstruction. It did, too, not once, but many times, dueto the unevenness of the ocean bed. Once we located a wreck, but it wasin shallow water, a small boat, not the one we were looking for."

  "But you succeeded finally?"

  "Yes, only day before yesterday we located her. We marked the spot witha buoy and were getting ready for real work. It was just after thatthat Bertram was taken ill and died so suddenly. We've left Dominick,Kinsale, Gage, and the rest on the trawler there, while I came herewith Traynor's body. God! but it was awful to have to send the newsback to New York. I don't know what to think or what to do."

  "How did he die?" asked Kennedy, endeavoring to gain the confidence ofyoung Everson. "Do you recall any of his symptoms?"

  "It came on him so suddenly," he replied, "that we hadn't much time tothink. As nearly as we could make out, it began with a faintness anddifficulty in breathing. We asked him how he felt--but it seemed as ifhe was deaf. I thought it might be the 'bends'--you know, caissondisease--and we started to put him in the medical lock which we had forthe divers, but before we could get it ready he was unconscious. It wasall so sudden that it stunned us. I can't make it out at all."

  Neither Asta nor Norma seemed able to tell anything. In fact, the blowhad been so swift and unexpected, so incomprehensible, that it had leftthem thoroughly alarmed.

  The body of Traynor had already been brought ashore and placed in alocal undertaking shop. With Everson, Kennedy and I hastened to visitit.

  Traynor had been an athlete and powerfully built, which made his suddendeath seem all the more strange. Without a word, Craig set to workimmediately examining his body, while we stood aside, watching him inanxious silence. Kennedy consumed the greater part of the morning inhis careful investigation, and after some time Everson began to getrestless, wondering how his wife and sister-in-law were getting on inhis absence. To keep him company I returned to the hotel with him,leaving Kennedy to pursue his work alone.

  There was nothing much that either of us could say or do, but I th
oughtI observed, on closer acquaintance with Norma, that she had somethingweighing on her mind. Was it a suspicion of which she had not told us?Evidently she was not prepared to say anything yet, but I determined,rather than try to quiz her, to tell Kennedy, in the hope that shemight confide in him what she would not breathe to any one else.

  It was perhaps an hour or more later that we returned to Craig. He wasstill at work, though from his manner it was evident that hisinvestigations had begun to show something, however slight.

  "Have you found anything?" asked Everson, eagerly.

  "I think I have," returned Craig, measuring his words carefully. "Ofcourse you know the dangers of diving and the view now acceptedregarding the rapid effervescence of the gases which are absorbed inthe body fluids during exposure to pressure. I think you know thatexperiment has proved that when the pressure is suddenly relieved thegas is liberated in bubbles within the body. That is what seems to dothe harm. His symptoms, as you described them, seemed to indicate that.It is like charged water in a bottle. Take out the cork and the gasinside which has been under pressure bubbles up. In the human body, airand particularly the nitrogen in the air, literally form death bubbles."

  Everson said nothing as he regarded Kennedy's face searchingly, andCraig went on: "Set free in the spinal cord, for instance, such bubblesmay cause partial paralysis, or in the heart may lead to stoppage ofthe circulation. In this case I am quite sure that what I have foundindicates air in the arteries, the heart, and the blood vessels of thebrain. It must have been a case of air embolism, insufflation."

  Though Everson seemed all along to have suspected something of thesort, Kennedy's judgment left him quite as much at a loss for anexplanation. Kennedy seemed to understand, as he went on:

  "I have tried to consider all the ways such a thing could havehappened," he considered. "It is possible that air might have beenintroduced into the veins by a hypodermic needle or other instrument.But I find no puncture of the skin or other evidence that would supportthat theory. I have looked for a lesion of the lungs, but find none.Then how could it have occurred? Had he done any real deep diving?"

  Everson shook his head slowly. "No," he replied. "As I said, itwouldn't have been so incomprehensible if he had. Besides, if we hadbeen diving, we should have been on the lookout. No, Bertram had onlytested the apparatus once, after we located the wreck. He didn't muchmore than go under the surface--nothing like the practice dives we allmade up in Long Island Sound before we came down here. He was onlytesting the pumps and other things to see whether they had stood thevoyage. Why, it was nothing at all! I don't see how it could have givenany one the 'bends'--much less a fellow like Traynor. Why, I think hecould have stood more than Kinsale with a little practice. Kennedy, Ican't get it out of my mind that there's something about this thatisn't RIGHT."

  Craig regarded Everson gravely. "Frankly," he confessed, "I must saythat I don't understand it myself--at this distance."

  "Would you come out to the Key with me?" hastened Everson, as thoughgrasping at a possible solution.

  "I should be delighted to help you in any manner that I can," returnedCraig, heartily.

  Everson could not find words to express his gratitude as we hurriedback to the hotel. In the excitement, I had completely forgotten thedespatch from the Star, but now I suddenly realized that here, ready tohand, was the only way of getting out to the Key of Gold and securingthe story.

  Asta Everson and Norma, especially, were overjoyed at the news thatKennedy had consented to accompany them back to the wreck. Evidentlythey had great faith in him, from what they had heard at home.

  Accordingly, Everson lost no time in preparing to return to the yacht.Nothing more now could be done for poor Traynor, and delay might meanmuch in clearing up the mystery, if mystery it should prove. We werewell on our way toward the landing place before I realized that we weregoing over much the same route that Kennedy and I had taken the daybefore to reach the home of Guiteras.

  I was just about to say something about it to Kennedy, and of theimpression that Norma had made on me, when suddenly a figure dartedfrom around a corner and confronted us. We stopped in surprise. It wasno other than Dolores herself--not the quiet, subdued Dolores we hadseen the day before, but an almost wild, passionate creature. What itwas that had transformed her I could not imagine. It was not ourselvesthat she seemed to seek, nor yet the Eversons. She did not pause untilshe had come close to Norma herself.

  For a moment the two women, so different in type, faced each other,Dolores fiery with the ardent beauty of her race, Norma pulsating withlife and vigor, yet always mistress of herself.

  "I warn you!" cried Dolores, unable to restrain herself. "You thoughtthe other was yours--and he was not. Do not seek revenge. He ismine--MINE, I tell you. Win your own back again. I was only makingsport of him. But mine--beware!"

  For a moment Norma gazed at her, then, without a word, turned aside andwalked on. Another instant and Dolores was gone as suddenly as she hadappeared. Asta looked inquiringly, but Norma made no attempt atexplanation. What did it mean? Had it anything to do with the disputein the hotel which Kenmore had witnessed?

  At the landing we parted for a time with Everson, to return to ourhotel and get what little we needed, including Kennedy's travelinglaboratory, while Everson prepared quarters for our reception on theyacht.

  "What do you make of that Dolores incident?" I hastened to ask themoment we were alone.

  "I don't know," he replied, "except that I feel it has an importantbearing on the case. There is something that Norma hasn't told us, Ifear."

  While we waited for a wagon to transfer our goods to the dock, Kennedytook a moment to call up Kenmore on the News. As he turned to me fromthe telephone, I saw that what he had learned had not helped him muchin his idea of the case.

  "It was the Interocean Company which had insured the Antilles," was allhe said.

  Instantly I thought of Kinsale and his former connection. Was hesecretly working with them still? Was there a plot to frustrateEverson's plans? At least the best thing to do was to get out to thewreck and answer our many questions at first hand.

  The Belle Aventure was a trim yacht of perhaps seventy feet, low, slim,and graceful, driven by a powerful gas-engine and capable of goingalmost anywhere. An hour later we were aboard and settled in ahandsomely appointed room, where Craig lost no time in establishing histemporary traveling crime clinic.

  It was quite late before we were able to start, for Everson had anumber of commissions to attend to on this his first visit to portsince he had set out so blithely. Finally, however, we had taken aboardall that he needed and we slipped out quietly past the castle on thepoint guarding the entrance to the harbor. All night we plowed aheadover the brilliant, starry, tropical sea, making splendid time, for theyacht was one of the fastest that had ever been turned out by thebuilders.

  Now and then I could see that Kennedy was furtively watching Norma, inthe hope that she might betray whatever secret it was she was guardingso jealously. Though she betrayed nothing, I felt sure that it had todo with some member of the expedition and that it was a more thanordinarily complicated affair of the heart. The ladies had retired,leaving us with Everson in the easy wicker chairs on the after-deck.

  "I can't seem to get out of my mind, Everson, that meeting with theSpanish girl on the street," suddenly remarked Kennedy, in the hope ofgetting something by surprise. "You see, I had already heard of alittle unpleasantness in a hotel cafe, before the expedition started.Somehow I feel that there must be some connection."

  For a moment Everson regarded Kennedy under the soft rays of theelectric light under the awning as it swayed in the gentle air, thenlooked out over the easy swell of the summer sea.

  "I don't understand it myself," he remarked, at length, lowering hisvoice. "When we came down here Dominick knew that girl, Dolores, and ofcourse Kinsale met her right away, too. I thought Gage was head overears in love with Norma--and I guess he is. Only that night in the cafeI just didn't l
ike the way he proposed a toast to Dolores. He must havemet her that day. Maybe he was a bit excited. What she said to-daymight mean that it was her fault. I don't know. But since we've beenout to the Key I fancy Norma has been pretty interested in Dominick.And Kinsale doesn't hesitate to show that he likes her. It all setsDonald crazy. It's so mixed up. I can't make anything of it. AndNorma--well, even Asta can't get anything out of her. I wish to Heavenyou could straighten the thing out."

  We talked for some time, without getting much more light than Eversonhad been able at first to shed on the affair, and finally we retired,having concluded that only time and events would enable us to get atthe truth.

  It was early in the morning that I was wakened by a change in themotion of the boat. There was very little vibration from the engine,but this motion was different. I looked out of the port-hole which hadbeen very cleverly made to resemble a window and found that we haddropped anchor.

  The Key of Gold was a beautiful green island, set, like a sparklinggem, in a sea of deepest turquoise. Slender pines with a tuft of greenat the top rose gracefully from the wealth of foliage below andcontrasted with the immaculate white of the sandy beach that glistenedin the morning sun. Romance seemed to breathe from the very atmosphereof the place.

  We found that the others on the yacht were astir, too, and, dressinghastily, we went out on deck. Across the dancing waves, which seemed tothrow a mocking challenge to the treasure-seekers to find what theycovered, we could see the trawler. Already a small power-boat had putout from her and was plowing along toward us.

  It was as the boat came alongside us that we met Gage for the firsttime. He was a tall, clean-cut fellow, but even at a glance Irecognized that his was an unusual type. I fancied that both proctorsand professors had worried over him when he was in college.

  Particularly I tried to discover how he acted when he met Norma. It waseasy to see that he was very eager to greet her, but I fancied thatthere was some restraint on her part. Perhaps she felt that we werewatching and was on her guard.

  Dominick greeted Everson warmly. He was a man of about thirty-five andimpressed one as having seen a great deal of the world. His position aspurser had brought him into intimate contact with many people, and heseemed to have absorbed much from them. I could imagine that, like manypeople who had knocked about a great deal, he might prove a veryfascinating person to know.

  Kinsale, on the other hand, was a rather silent fellow and thereforebaffling. In his own profession of deep-sea diving he was an expert,but beyond that I do not think he had much except an ambition to getahead, which might be praiseworthy or not, according as he pursued it.

  I fancied that next to Everson himself, Norma placed more confidence inDominick than in any of the others, which seemed to be quite natural,though it noticeably piqued Gage. On the part of all three, Gage,Dominick, and Kinsale, it was apparent that they were overjoyed at thereturn of Norma, which also was quite natural, for even a treasure-hunthas hours of tedium and there could be nothing tedious when she wasabout. Asta was undoubtedly the more fascinating, but she was wrappedup in Everson. It was not long before Kennedy and I also fell under thespell of Norma's presence and personality.

  We hurried through breakfast and lost no time in accepting Everson'sinvitation to join him, with the rest, in the little power-boat on avisit to the trawler.

  It was Dominick who took upon himself the task of explaining to us themysteries of treasure-hunting as we saw them. "You see," he remarked,pointing out to us what looked almost like a strangely developed suitof armor, "we have the most recent deep-sea diving-outfit which willenable us to go from two hundred to three hundred feet down--farther,and establish a record if we had to do it. It won't be necessary,though. The Antilles lies in about two hundred and fifty feet of water,we have found. This armor has to be strong, for, with the air pressureinside, it must resist a pressure of nearly half a pound per squareinch for each foot we go--to be exact, something like a hundred andfive pounds per square inch at the depth of the wreck. Perhaps ifTraynor had been diving we might have thought that that was thetrouble."

  It was the first reference since we arrived to the tragedy. "He hadonly had the suit on once," went on Dominick, confirming Everson, "andthat was merely to test the pumps and valves and joints. Even Kinsale,here, hasn't been down. Still, we haven't been idle. I have somethingto report. With our instruments we have discovered that the ship hasheeled over and that it will be a bit harder job to get into my officeand get out the safe than we hoped--but feasible."

  Kennedy showed more interest in the diving apparatus than he had shownin anything else so far. The trawler was outfitted most completely as atender, having been anchored over the exact spot at which the descentswere to be made, held by four strong cables, with everything inreadiness for action.

  I saw him cast a quick glance at the others. For the moment Dominick,Gage, and Kinsale seemed to have forgotten us in their interestexplaining to Norma what had been accomplished in her absence. Heseized the occasion to make an even closer examination of thecomplicated apparatus. So carefully had accident been guarded againstthat even a device for the purification of the air had been installedin the machine which forced the fresh air down to the diver, compressed.

  It was this apparatus which I saw Kennedy studying most, especially onepart where the air was passed through a small chamber containing achemical for the removal of carbon dioxide. As he looked up, I saw apeculiar expression on his face. Quickly he removed the chemical,leaving the tube through which the air passed empty.

  "I think the air will be pure enough without any such treatment," heremarked, glancing about to be sure no one had observed.

  "How is that?" I inquired, eagerly.

  "Well, you know air is a mechanical mixture of gases, mainly oxygen andnitrogen. Here's something that gives it an excess of nitrogen and asmaller percentage of oxygen. Nitrogen is the more dangerous gas forone under compressed air. It is the more inert nitrogen that refuses toget out of the blood after one has been under pressure, that forms thebubbles of gas which cause all the trouble, the 'bends,' compressed-airsickness, you know."

  "Then that is how Traynor died?" I whispered, coming hastily to theconclusion. "Some one placed the wrong salt in there--took out oxygen,added nitrogen, instead of removing carbon dioxide?"

  Norma had turned toward us. It was too early for Kennedy to accuseanybody, whatever might be his suspicions. He could not yet come fromunder cover. "I think so," was all he replied.

  A moment later the group joined us. "No one has been down on the wreckyet?" inquired Craig, at which Everson turned quickly to the threecompanions he had left in charge, himself anxious to know.

  "No," replied Kinsale before any one else could answer. "Mr. Dominickthought we'd better wait until you came back."

  "Then I should like to be the first," cut in Craig, to my uttersurprise. Remonstrance had no effect with him. Neither Norma nor Astacould dissuade him. As for the rest of us, our objections seemed ratherto confirm him in his purpose.

  Accordingly, in spite of the danger, which now no one no more than heknew, all the preparations were made for the first dive. With the aidof Kinsale, whom I watched closely, though no more so than Craig, hedonned the heavy suit of rubberized reinforced canvas, had the leadsplaced on his feet and finally was fitted with the metal head and the"bib"--the whole weighing hardly short of three hundred pounds. It waswith serious misgiving that I saw him go over the side of the trawlerand shoot down into the water with its dark mystery and tragedy.

  The moments that he was down seemed interminable. Suspiciously Iwatched every move that the men made, fearful that they might dosomething. I longed for the technical knowledge that would have enabledme to handle the apparatus. I tried to quiet my fears by reasoning thatCraig must have had perfect confidence in the value of his discovery ifhe were willing to risk his life on it, yet I felt that at least a showof vigilance on my part might bluff any one off from an attempt totamper again with the air-supply. I st
uck about closely.

  Yet, when there came a hasty signal on the indicator from below,although I felt that he had been down for ages, I knew that it had beenonly a very short time. Could it be a signal of trouble? Had some oneagain tampered with the apparatus?

  Would they never bring him up? It seemed as if they were workingfearfully slow. I remembered how quickly he had shot down. What hadseemed then only a matter of seconds and minutes now seemed hours. Itwas only by sheer will power that I restrained myself as I realizedthat going under the air pressure might be done safely quite fast, thathe must come out slowly, by stages, that over the telephone thatconnected with his helmet he was directing the decompression inaccordance with the latest knowledge that medical science had derivedof how to avoid the dread caisson disease.

  I don't know when I have felt more relief than I did at seeing hisweird headgear appear at the surface. The danger from the "bends" mightnot be entirely over yet, but at least it was Craig himself, safe, atlast.

  As he came over the side of the trawler I ran to him. It was liketrying to greet a giant in that outlandish suit which was so clumsy outof the water. Craig's back was turned to the others, and when Irealized the reason I stood aghast. He had brought up a skull and hadhanded the gruesome thing to me with a motion of secrecy. Meanwhile hehastened to get out of the cumbersome suit, and, to my delight, showedno evidence yet of any bad effects.

  That he should have made the descent and returned so successfully Ifelt must be a surprise to some one. Who was it? I could not helpthinking of Kinsale again. Was he working for two masters? Was he stillemployed by the insurance company? Was this a scheme to capture all therich salvage of the ship instead of that percentage to which Eversonhad secured an agreement with the underwriters?

  Kennedy lost no time in getting back to the Belle Aventure with theskull which I had concealed for him. It was a strange burden and I wasnot loath to resign it to him. None of the others, apparently, knewthat he had brought up anything with him, and to all questions hereplied as though he had merely been testing out the apparatus and,except in a most cursory way, had not made an examination of the ship,although what he had observed confirmed the investigations they hadalready made from the surface.

  In our cabin, Kennedy set to work immediately after opening histraveling laboratory and taking from it a small kit of tools and somematerials that looked almost like those for an actor's make-up.

  I saw that he wished to be left alone and retired as gracefully as Icould, determined to employ the time in watching the others. I foundNorma seated in one of the wicker chairs on the after-deck, talkingearnestly with Dominick, and, hesitating whether I should interruptthem, I paused between the library and the sumptuously fitted mainsaloon. I was glad that I did, for just that moment of hesitation wasenough for me to surprise a man peering out at them through thecurtains of a window, with every evidence of intense dislike of thesituation. Looking closer, I saw that it was Gage. Had I expectedanything of the sort I should have gone even more cautiously. As itwas, though I surprised him, he heard me in time to conceal his realintentions by some trivial action.

  It seemed as if our arrival had been succeeded by a growth of suspicionamong the members of the little party. Each, as far as I could makeout, was now on guard, and, remembering that Kennedy had often saidthat that was a most fruitful time, since it was just under suchcircumstances that even the cleverest could not help incriminatinghimself, I hastened back to let Craig know how matters were. He was atwork now on a most grotesque labor, and, as he placed on it thefinishing touches, he talked abstractedly.

  "What I am using, Walter," he explained, "might be called a new art.Lately science has perfected the difficult process of reconstructingthe faces of human beings of whom only the skull or a few bones,perhaps, are obtainable.

  "To the unskilled observer a fleshless skull presents little humanlikeness and certainly conveys no notion of the exact appearance inlife of the person to whom it belonged. But by an ingenious system ofbuilding up muscles and skin upon the bones of the skull thisappearance can be reproduced with scientific accuracy.

  "The method, I might say, has been worked out independently byProfessor von Froriep, in Germany, and by Dr. Henri Martin, in France.Its essential principle consists in ascertaining from the examinationof many corpses the normal thickness of flesh that overlies a certainbone in a certain type of face. From these calculations the scientistsby elaborate processes build up a face on the skull."

  I watched him, with an uncontrollable fascination. "For instance," hewent on, "a certain type of bone always has nearly the same thicknessof muscle over it. A very fine needle with graduations of hundredths ofan inch is used in these measurements. As I have done here, a greatnumber of tiny plaster pyramids varying in height according to themeasurements obtained by these researches are built up over the skull,representing the thickness of the muscles. The next step will be toconnect them together by a layer of clay the surface of which is flushwith the tips of the pyramids. Then wax and grease paint and a littlehair will complete it. You see, it is really scientific restoration ofthe face. I must finish it. Meanwhile, I wish you would watch Norma.I'll join you in a short time."

  Norma was not on deck when I returned, nor did I see any one else forsome time. I walked forward, and paused at the door to the littlewireless-room on the yacht, intending to ask the operator if he hadseen her.

  "Where's Mr. Kennedy?" he inquired, before I had a chance to put my ownquestion. "Some one has been in this wireless-room this morning andmust have been sending messages. Things aren't as I left them. I thinkhe ought to know."

  Just then Everson himself came up from below, his face almost as whiteas the paint on the sides of his yacht. Without a word, he drew measide, looking about fearfully as though he were afraid of beingoverheard. "I've just discovered half a dozen sticks of dynamite in thehold," he whispered, hoarsely, staring wide-eyed at me. "There was atiming device, set for to-night. I've severed it. Where's Kennedy?"

  "Your wireless has been tampered with, too," I blurted out, tellingwhat I had just learned.

  We looked at each other blankly. Clearly some one had plotted to blowup the yacht and all of us on board. Without another word, I took hisarm and we walked toward our state-room, where Kennedy was at work. Aswe entered the narrow passage to it I heard low voices. Some one wasthere before us. Kennedy had shut the door and was talking in the hall.As we turned the corner I saw that it was Norma, whom I had forgottenin the surprise of the two discoveries that had been so suddenly made.

  As we approached she glanced significantly at Kennedy as if appealingto him to tell something. Before he could speak, Everson himselfinterrupted, telling of his discovery of the dynamite and of what thewireless operator had found.

  There was a low exclamation from Norma. "It's a plot to kidnap me!" shecried, in a smothered voice. "Professor Kennedy--I told you I thoughtso!"

  Everson and I could only look our inquiries at the startling new turnof events.

  "Miss Sanford has just been to her state-room," hastily explainedCraig. "There she found that some one had carefully packed up a numberof her things and hidden them, as if waiting a chance to get them offsafely. I think her intuition is correct. There would be no motive forrobbery--here."

  Vainly I tried to reason it out. As I thought, I recalled that Gage hadseemed insanely jealous of both Dominick and Kinsale, whenever he saweither with Norma. Did Gage know more about these mysterious happeningsthan appeared? Why had he so persistently sought her? Had Normainstinctively fled from his attentions?

  "Where are the others?" asked Craig, quickly. I turned to Everson. Ihad not yet had time to find out.

  "Gone back to the trawler," he replied.

  "Signal them to come aboard here directly," ordered Craig.

  It seemed an interminable time as the message was broken out in flagsto the trawler, which was not equipped with the wireless. Even thehasty explanation which Kennedy had to give to Asta Everson, as shecame out of h
er cabin, wondering where Orrin had gone, served only toincrease the suspense. It was as though we were living over apowder-magazine that threatened to explode at any moment. What did thetreachery of one member of the expedition mean? Above all, who was it?

  We had been so intent watching from the deck the all too slow approachof the little power-boat from the trawler that we had paid no attentionto what was on our other quarter.

  "A tug approaching, sir," reported the man on watch to Everson. "Seemsto be heading for us, sir."

  We turned to look. Who was she, friend or foe? We knew not what toexpect. Everson, pale but with a firm grip on his nerves, did not movefrom the deck as the power-boat came alongside, and Dominick, Gage, andKinsale swung themselves up the ladder to us.

  "It's the tug of that pilot, Guiteras, sir," interposed the man who hadspoken before. Not a word was spoken, though I fancied that a quietsmile flitted over Kennedy's face as we waited.

  The tug ranged up alongside us. To my utter astonishment, I sawDolores, her black eyes eagerly scanning our faces. Was she looking forGage, I wondered? It was only a moment when the party that had put outfrom the tug also came tumbling aboard.

  "I got your message, Kennedy, and brought Guiteras. He wouldn't jointhe expedition, but he thought more of his daughter than of anythingelse."

  It was Kenmore, who had at last achieved his wish to get on thetreasure-hunt story. Everson looked inquiringly at Craig.

  "Message?" repeated Kennedy. "I sent no message."

  It was Kenmore's turn to stare. Had some one hoaxed him into awild-goose chase, after all?

  "Nothing? About Dolores being deserted, and--"

  "He shall marry my daughter!" boomed a gruff voice as Guiterasshouldered his way through the little group, his hand shooting back toa pocket where bulged a huge Colt.

  Like a flash Kennedy, who had been watching, caught his wrist. "Just asecond, Captain," he shouted, then turned to us, speaking rapidly andexcitedly. "This thing has all been carefully, diabolically laid out.All who stood in the way of the whole of the treasure were to beeliminated. One person has sought to get it all--at any cost."

  In Craig's own hand now gleamed a deadly automatic while with the otherhe held Guiteras's wrist.

  "But," he added, tensely, "an insane passion has wrecked the desperatescheme. A woman has been playing a part--leading the man on to his owndestruction in order to save the man she really loves."

  I looked over at Norma. She was pale and agitated, then burning andnervous by turns. It was only by a most heroic effort that she seemedable to restrain herself, her eyes riveted on Kennedy's face, weighingevery word to see whether it balanced with a feeling in her own heart.

  "The Antilles," shot out Kennedy, suddenly, "was burned and sunk, notby accident, but with a purpose. That purpose has run through all theevents I have seen--the use of Mr. Everson, his yacht, his money, hisinfluence. Come!" He strode down the passage to our state-room, and wefollowed in awed silence.

  "It is a vast, dastardly crime--to get the Mexican millions," he wenton, pausing, his hand on the knob of the door while we crowded thenarrow passage. "I have brought up from the wreck a skull which I foundnear a safe, unlocked so that entrance would be easy. The skull showsplainly that the man had been hit on the head by some blunt instrument,crushing him. Had he discovered something that it was inconvenient toknow? You have heard the stories of the ill-fated ship--"

  Craig flung open the door suddenly. We saw a weird face--the headapparently streaming blood from a ghastly wound. There was a shrill crybeside me.

  "It's his ghost--Captain Driggs! God save me--it's his ghost come tohaunt me and claim the treasure!"

  I turned quickly. Dominick had broken down.

  "You were--just leading him on--tell me--Norma." I turned againquickly. It was Gage, who had taken Norma's hand, quivering withexcitement.

  "You never cared for her?" she asked, with the anxiety that showed howin her heart she loved him.

  "Never. It was part of the plot. I sent the message to get her here toshow you. I didn't know you were playing a game--"

  Suddenly the sharp crack of a pistol almost deafened us in the closepassageway. As the smoke cleared, I saw Dolores, her eyes blazing withhatred, jealousy, revenge. In her hand was the pistol she had wrenchedfrom her father.

  On the floor across the door-sill sprawled a figure. Dominick had paidthe price of his faithlessness to her also.

  THE END