Adventure Magazine Cover — page 105: what you’re looking at

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

The Salute he really didn’t get the meaning of that last threat, yet. . “Yes, my boy. You signed a few I. O. U’s for me, you know, and a few other papers, too. Maybe you don’t remember— a check that’s just come back, and another check that I haven’t put through yet be- cause I noticed that you made a mistake and endorsed it with Colonel Sampson’s name. Well, we'll call ’em mistakes. You were drunk, you know. But with your rec- ord, the courts a “Muller, if that’s true, you know well I was tricked. I did take some of the mess money, intending to pay it back. And since then I’ve been a fool and a drunkard and a bum, but, by , l’m no thief. I gave you my I. O. U’s and I wish I’d starved first; but if I signed anything else, it’s be- cause I took your word for it that they were I. O. U’s. And if Colonel Sampson’s name is on any of my paper, it wasn’t I that forged it. You can’t—you daren’t ae “Unfortunately—or maybe fortunately— I’ve already done it,’”? Muller came back. “The evidence is in suitable hands, and if I can’t report within an hour that you'll do what I ask, you’ll be in a cell before morn- ing. But, pshaw, that’s not going to hap- pen, of course. Let’s talk about something pleasanter. “For instance—’’ and Muller’s voice again took on a note of oily friendliness— “‘let’s talk about what the money’s going to mean to you—what you'll tell your parents. You’ll have made a lucky speculation—say in rice futures—and you’ve resigned to go into business in the Islands. You’ve kept it secret for a happy surprize. And you can actually do it and make a go of it—you’ve brains enough. Why, you should be thank- ing me and fate for bringing you such a chance, instead of sitting there looking as though you were going to be hanged.”’ It’s a fact that Rounce did look just about like that. I was beginning to think per- haps I’d misjudged him a bit, and that there was maybe some excuse for Martin’s pity and friendship for him—it must have been pretty hard, all this time we listened, for Martin to keep from busting up the game— but I still hadn’t any doubts about what he’d do. What could he do, being the weak- ling he’d proved himself, and with them _ screws upon him? Really, I thought Muller needn’t have gone to quite so much trouble to cinch a man like Rounce, but I guess ‘didn’t think about it—not much! 99 the infernal spy knew his business after all. © By this time, Rounce had got out of his chair and was moving around aimlessly, with head and shoulders and chest all slumped down as it were, but with eyes burning like a fever. Muller watched him, pretty con- fident, just waiting for Rounce’s weak will to cave in again, like it had done before. Just before Muller got his wish, a curious thing happened. Rounce’s eyes seemed to be caught by something on the wall a little outside my line of sight; and he stopped and stared at it for about ten seconds, drawing himself up like a soldier at attention. Maybe it was the different angle of the lamplight that made his face seem to change and harden and sort of glow—anyway, he took another slump right away, and stood and thought for a bit, and then turned to Muller. “Well, I suppose—” he hesitated. AFTER that, it was naturally soon over. Ten minutes later Muller was leaving, and to judge from his face he was already adding up his profits from the resale of the two sets of plans. And five minutes more saw Martin and me squatting down behind a heap of split bamboo across the street, where the gugus were building a house. “Did you hear what I did?” whispered Martin. ‘“‘That he’s to draw the plans and deliver them in the morning?” “To the Jap, yes. And the Jap’s to take them to Muller.” | “And the Jap’s to stay there all night and see that he sticks to his job. Well, here’s where we stick to ours, then. But— lord, old man, I hate to think of what we'll have to do in the morning.” “We're getting Muller,” said I, “and that’s the big thing, and what the ——’s the use of thinking about the rest.”’ That’s what I told myself, too, and I Martin might choke his running gear up with sen- timent, but not I. It was a cruel trap Rounce was in, but he’d woven the net him- self with his own weak foolishness. The queer drinks were no excuse, nor the loneli- ness of Corregidor, nor the silly spell of tropical romance—bah, for that! And what if fine silk does go to pieces out here, while coarser cloth stands up? What had that to do with men? Or with Rounce? No, I didn’t let Rounce’s plight trouble COmiclboolks (©