Adventure, December 1914 — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

The Stolen War Secret KENNEDY paused a minute con- templatively. “TI am prepared to say positively that it is annonoki—aconite,” he said at length. “I can even say something, as I have already done, of the method by which it was probably administered. But as to the place and the person or persons—”’ he paused and looked meaningly at Sefiora Ruiz, whom for the moment the rest of us had forgotten—‘‘as to those questions we must wait until these lips open to solve the problem. ‘But as for annonoki itself, it is well- known to many persons. Any one who has traveled has heard of arrow-poisons. In- deed that was one of the first things Mr. Sinclair thought about a few moments ago. Annonoki is an Aino arrow-poison.”’ Of a sudden there flashed over me the recollection of the peculiar, outlandish serv- ant of Nichi Moto, Otaka, the Aino. True, there did not seem to be anything especially offensive about him, but I was about to pro- nounce his name, at least to test Kennedy by the expression of his face, when Sinclair interrupted. ‘‘Alvarez was always a great friend of the Japanese who rule the Ainos, a great stu- dent in their customs,” he cried. ‘‘I have heard much about his friendship for the race.” Kennedy said nothing, but I knew that he was thinking of the letter which we had taken from the little office out in the hall one night and read by the X-rays. In it Alvarez had been pictured as the friend of the Japanese, perhaps seeking a more cor- dial relationship between the Mexican and the Jap on the basis of their common origin. “Yes,” put in Mrs. Hawley, ‘Alvarez was always intimately concerned with anything Japanese. I have heard him talk of them and with them. It was only when he came to Westport that the Sefiora and Sanchez brought out the two Japanese—you remem- ber.” Kennedy was listening carefully to what they said, to see whether it added anything to the testimony of the letter which we had already read about the activities of Alvarez. “I may as well finish up what I have to say of the arrow-poison,”’ he remarked at length. “Like so many barbarians, the Ainos from time immemorial have prepared virulent poisons with which they charged their weapons of the chase and warfare.”’ ge. 57 He tossed down on the table the short ar- row which we had picked up in the curio- shop the day of our visit. ‘“‘There is one of their arrows,” he added, ‘fa crude, almost useless, clumsy affair. Merely to confirm what I had heard of their poison, I studied its tip, along that deep blood groove. The current informa- tion about such arrows is correct. Former- ly the formula for the preparation of the poison, as in the case of most of the arrow- poisons of other tribes, such as curare, were known only to certain members and the se- cret was passed down from generation to generation as an heirloom, as it were. But those who have studied the thing now tell us that it has been proved that the active principle of this annonokz is the well-known aconite.”’ “It was a lucky chance, Kennedy,” ex- claimed a familiar voice in the doorway. “My men had already taken him into cus- tody as he stepped off the train in the Grand Central early tonight. Here he is.”’ Pt Burke leading along our friend , whom we had seen in the back-room of the greasy South Street saloon on the night when he had sought the gun-runners. It was Morelos, his crisp, curly hair rum- pled as if he had not slept for days, but with the same piercing, defiant look about the eyes and cruel mouth. ‘“He’s the toughest customer I’ve had in a long time,” growled Burke. ‘I can’t get a word out of him.” Morelos gazed about in silence. I verily believe that if Kennedy had ordered him shot the next moment he would have gone to his doom in the same defiant manner. His eye fell for the moment on the form of Sefora Ruiz. He did not, of course, under- stand what it all meant. Yet for the mo- ment there was just the flicker of a smile that played over his features at the sight of one of the hated Federals brought low, for whatever reason. “Morelos,” shot out Kennedy, without waiting a moment for the first surprise to wear off, “I have discovered what it was that caused the death of Madame Valcour.”’ Kennedy had thrust him at the only vul- nerable spot. Lustinctively the man’s mus- cles tightened, he clenched his fists, two bright spots of passion blazed in his sallow cheeks, and he had to bite his lips to re- WE TURNED in surprise, to see MICLOOOK (C©