Adventure Magazine Cover — page 103: what you’re looking at

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

The Salute although he changed his flag as often as he changed his name, it was dead sure he was doing spy’s work for some Power or other. Dead sure, but not proved, and it was up to us to prove it so he could be deported. Well, Muller began to court Rounce, with us shadowing the pair like jealous lov- ers, hoping we’d be in earshot when either of them began to talk turkey. Rounce’s finances suffered an immediate temporary improvement—yes, suffered is the word— because of some monetary embarassments entered into with Muller when Rounce was more than half-drunk. . On account of all that, my work led me into pleasant pastures for a while—Timp- ke’s and the Dutchman’s and the Silver Dollar and many another place where the tall glasses matched my tall expense ac- count. But Martin lost out on that fun, he not wanting to be seen by Rounce be- cause of that personal foolish feeling I’ve already alluded to. “You wouldn’t either, Jack,’ he said, ‘if you’d seen him where I have. It would shame him too much if he recognized me— I don’t want to do it. He was a first-class man among first-class men then, I’m telling you, and—oh, the ——, ain’t there some way of saving him from doing this thing that Muller wants him to do, even now?”’ “Well,” says I, “‘you’ve taken an oath and so have I, and I guess that lets us out from any personal salvation work. If Rounce is the kind that can be bought, he knows too much to be running around loose, and the sooner he’s caged the better. You can’t go with him all his life and de- liver him from temptation. Besides, by saving Rounce, we throw away our chance to get Muller, and that’d be dereliction of duty, and several other things.” “TI suppose you’re right,” says he, “‘but I’d rather resign than have to run Rounce in. I would resign, if there was time. It’s tough, when you’ve believed in a man— And when— _ Say, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to help him, if things were dif- ferent. And I could doa heap.”’ He could, at that, for Martin had a bit of money and more than a bit of pull, and was in this Secret Service work more for the ex- citement of the thing than anything else; but, as I told him, you can’t help rotten eggs, and for that matter, every egg was a good egg once, and likely Rounce had been. we set him cursing and declaring that 97 Muller and I would both find ourselves mis- taken in Rounce yet, but of course, he didn’t hardly believe that himself. ‘nen was to finish the story, for Muller | had made an appointment to call on Rounce in his shack, and that meant pri- vate business was about to be transacted. But with Martin and me creeping like Tagalog thieves across the bamboo veranda, it looked like the business wouldn’t be quite as private as was expected; and sure enough, we got to the conch shell shutters on the seaward side of the shack without making any noise at all, and found we had an almost perfect view of Rounce and Muller talking across the table. Or rather, Muller was chuckling across it. He was a big man—big and fat and pros- perous-looking as the Chinese God of Abun- dance, and when he laughed, he looked some like the Laughing Joss of Huk-Kuk, moon-face and all. Some different from Rounce, who was too fine-chiseled alto- gether, features and body and bones, just as his eyes were too big and brown and— romantic! Yes, that was what ailed ” em, I ff WELL, as I was saying, tonight - guess. You may bet Rounce wasn’t aitcling: fact is, his drawn face looked as if it’d never chuckle again; and as for his clothing and general appearance, he pretty well matched the room, with its tumbled bed in one cor- ner, dirty kitchen gear in another and jug of vino under the washstand. But the next minute he was speaking sharp enough to Muller, with a kind of rasp in his nervous voice. ‘‘Never mind that. You asked to see me alone, so I am alone, and the rest is no- body’s business. Perhaps I may ask why you didn’t come alone yourself.” By that time, I’d noticed a third party in the room, a Japanese house-servant of Muller’s, sitting cross-legged i in the farther corner. “Oh, don’t worry about him,” said Mul- ler. thing that I don’t tell him to, but he some- times comes in handy. Now, let’s get down to business. What’ve you decided?”’ “‘The same as I told you before. But you insisted - ‘‘Sure, I insisted,’”’ interrupted Muller in a way that told me he didn’t believe Rounce any more thanI did. ‘“That’s my business, COmiclboolks “He won’t see or hear or think any- | (©