All-Story Weekly, Vol. 112, No. 1 — page 86: what you’re looking at

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

76 down, but kept up a soto voce chitter- ing throughout the night. Also, the surf bellowed on the weather beaches, and the wind hissed and swished through the sea- grasses and the sea-thistles. So there was plenty of noise to cover the approach of the most clumsy of stalkers. And, of course, the sand muffled all footsteps. But Ghyll had forgotten the moen, and although he made the last advances crawl- ing, he showed his menacing sithouette against a skyline, and Mary was ready for him when he arrived. But she did not interfere at once. She let him fumble for the handle, and open the door of Maryland Manor, and lower him- self into the dark interior before she moved. But she acted then with a viger. She reached the door in a couple of jumps, slammed it shut, and wedged it fast with a stiff balk of wreckage. Then jumping on to the roof, she progued dewn- ward with, her weapon threugh the narrow glassless skylight and elicited howls. I do not blame Ghyll for giving tongue. Anybody would have vented his feelings if he had been punctured so vigorously with an inch of damming needle set at the end of a bamboo rod. It was Captain Teach himself—I beg his pardon, Admiral Teach; I. R. N., of course he was by that date—who put an end to the performance. His predatery, hawkhike nose, and his ear with the bit clipped out, and his dogged black chin, rese from be- hind a sand dune, and his voice inquired unpleasantly: ‘‘ Mary, what are you deing with a man on this island, may I ask?”’ There was a pause, and then: “ Please remember I am Miss Arncliffe to you,” came the retort. ‘Don’t give yourself airs. What did you let Blausberg, of all creatures, come here for? And what are you doing with him, anyway?” “I don’t know what it’s get to do with you, Captain Teach—”’ “ Admiral Teach, please, if you want to be formal.” ‘Qh, admiral, if you’re vam enough to want it. I don’t know what it’s get to do with fyou, but if it interests you, I'll admit ALL-STORY WEEKLY. that I was fighting him. But why Blaus- berg? The person said his name was Hal- ton Ghyll.” “Very likely. He’s a blond beast with many aliases. I understand he was on Ogden Brearley’s Maid of Athens, and had a bad attack of panic when I overhauled her. Sort of thing a dirty card-sharper of that clip would do. ‘‘ Drowned about six of his undesirable stable companions at the same time. Well, you get down to my boat, little girl, and Y'll attend to Blausberg.” “Are you going to kill him?” “Would yeu object if I did?” Certainly. He’s my—how do you put it?” “Your meat?” ‘I suppose so. I’ve been making holes in him with a darning-needle.” _ The pirate’s grim dark face relaxed into agrin. ‘“ The darning-needle I left for you? That pretty lilac-sprigged organdy muslin seems to have petered out. But you've found another use for my darning-needle, have you?” ‘Perhaps. Amyway, it’s an efficient darnmg-needle. Two-thirds of it are pushed into the end of this bamboo, and the other third sticks out. Mr.—er—the blond one, has been punctured by that odd thmnd at least twenty times. It wouldn’t be fair to shoot him after having gone through all that.” ‘““T wasn’t thinking of wasting a shot on him. There’s one lone, lorn tree on this cay, and we’ve a spare end of rope. “ Now, Mary’ dear, you get away on board the launch. You needn’t wait for the rest of the ceremony. I'll be with you in twenty minutes. Ah, Mr. Pickles, there you are. Brought that bit of line?” “Yes, sir,” puffed the stout gunner. “ But I hope you'll give me time to sptice an eye in the end of it. A bowline knot makes rather a clumsy job of this kind gf noose, I always think.” ‘“ Get your line hove over the top of that tree, Mr. Pickles, and don’t waste time. Miss Arncliffe and I want to be off.” ‘“‘ Aye, aye, sir,” said the gunner, run- ning a thick finger round inside his eight- een-inch collar, and taking himself off. “1 7 cCoOmiclbooks 10)