Wild Norene. Johnston McCulley

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СКАЧАТЬ But Captain Adams had lived a life full of experience and could control himself even at such a time as this. He ran his hand in a pocket and handed Connor the match for which he had asked.

      "Thanks," Connor said. He lit his pipe and puffed slowly. "Lots of the boys around to-night," he added.

      "Seems to be," replied Adams, resuming his seat. Guerrero's fear was unnecessary; the captain was studying the man before him, was not ready to take vengeance yet.

      "Sailorman?" asked Connor.

      "Yes. Came down from Seattle to meet a friend of mine who's skipper of a German bark. Going to sign on with him," the captain replied.

      "Astoria isn't the port she used to be, but she's still some port," said Connor. "Lots of queer fish float in here. There's a funny old tub in the river now. Notice her?"

      "Which one?" Adams asked. Guerrero felt the fear again.

      "The letters on her stern spell 'Hester,’" replied Connor. "But that's a joke. I know her. Once away from the river she'll be the Benito, and there'll be guns on her, and her sailormen will put on uniforms; then she'll be a Mexican gunboat. Her skipper is Garza, cap'n in the Mexican navy—or what they call their navy—and he's a secret service agent, too."

      "Why the disguise?" asked the captain.

      "That's another joke. Ever hear of Cap'n Bill Adams? Of course you have, since you're a sailorman. Cap'n Bill's old scow is in the river now, and the gunboat is watching her. Old Bill must be losing his cleverness."

      "Why is the gunboat on his trail?" the captain asked.

      "Nobody knows exactly, but there are suspicions. It wouldn't be the first time Bill Adams had carried arms and ammunition marked sewing machines. But nobody dares tackle Adams without getting the goods on him first. Believe me, they'd better not! Have a drink? No? Much obliged for the match."

      Connor hurried away toward the bar. and the captain's eyes met Guerrero's across the table.

      The señor was vastly troubled.

      "We must get away to-night," he whispered. "Great Heaven, every one seems to know!"

      "Remember what the fellow said—nobody tackles Adams without getting the goods on him first. And they haven't got the goods on me—yet!"

      "But the man for whom we wait—"

      "That man thinks we sail to-morrow evening. If he does what you think he'll do, we can attend to him and get away before daylight. I can get outside the three-mile limit before that old scow of a gunboat catches me."

      "Sit as you are," said Guerrero. "I am watching for your man. When he comes in—Ah! He has arrived."

      The captain did not turn.

      "And the other?" he asked.

      "I do not see Garza yet. We have been watching him closely, and one of my men will trail him here. Your mate is to meet Garza here to-night and tell him the cargo is aboard and when you are to sail."

      Captain Adams's hands gripped the sides of the table again.

      "I hate a traitor and know how to deal with one," he said. "What is Riney doing?"

      "Is that his name? He's looking through the crowd. Now he has seated himself at a table. There's no doubt of the man's guilt."

      "Riney had been my mate for two years, and there is doubt of his guilt until I hear from his own lips words that prove him to be dishonest," said the captain. "You don't suppose he can recognize me if he looks over here?"

      "Sit as you are. You are in the shadow. I am watching."

      Riney, Captain Adams's mate, appeared nervous. He arose and went to the bar again, then resumed his seat at the table.

      In the corner of the room men were wildly applauding Sally Wood's music. She ceased playing when she saw Jack Connor standing near the plaform, and walked over to him.

      "You've been drinking too much again," she accused. "Why do you?"

      "Now, Sally, I'm not in a mood for a lecture to-night. You've been playing too much; you look tired."

      "I get sick of it at times."

      There was agony in the woman's voice. Connor looked down at her with sympathy in his face. It was not sympathy she wanted to see there.

      "It is pretty hard on you," he said. "Why don't you give it up? Let the scoundrel go!"

      "Not until I find him and punish him. He took my father's savings, remember. My father didn't—didn't have quite enough to eat for a year before he died."

      She looked away, biting her lip to keep back the tears. Soon she turned toward him again, trying to smile.

      But Jack Connor was looking away toward the opposite side of the room. An expression of unbelief was on his face.

      In that opposite wall was an open doorway, twice as wide as an ordinary door, that led to a cheap café and restaurant where sailormen ate and painted women sometimes took their meals. Framed in it for an instant, beckoning him, he had seen the girl he had met in the street while with Morgan, the girl whose handkerchief he had picked up, mention of whom he had prohibited in this sorry resort.

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