Argosy All-Story Weekly — "Sea Marauders" — page 139: what you’re looking at

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

door. Very indistinctly he saw the back of Slum bending over the inert form of Lance on the bunk. He thought it was the Kanaka. Rova. “ Not there,” he said. a couple of the crew.” She sensed the near presence of the man in whom now all her heart was bound up. She tried to push past Quimby. “ Let me see,” she demanded. He took her two wrists in his hands and held her firmly. ““ No, Miss Rova,” he said; “ the Kanakas are there. They have been drinking. You know how these natives are.” He shrugged his shoulders while she tried wildly to push past him. Then he added: “ They have taken off their clothes.” She desisted, falling limp against his side. He let go her wrists and placed an arm about her. His touch repelled and frightened her. She caromed away from him as if from something foul, and went back toward the saloon. He followed. Once more she faced him, her coun- tenance wax white, her eyes glowing dully with fierce intensity, the gray- green iris burning with foiled hate. She realized that what had happened was part of a set prearranged plan, and yet she could not place her finger on any obviously guilty movement of her father’s old neighbor. “Why haven’t you stopped the yacht, Mr. Quimby?” she’ demanded. “T asked you to long ago.” “T started for Kapala, but you—” Her head went up imperiously. “ Well, stop it, at once,” she ordered. “The Stingaree is going fast to sea. Put back into the cove. ‘This is out- rageous.”’ Quimby bowed gravely with his chin in his hands, but he did not move. “T’ll tell my father about this,” she hissed between set teeth. Her back was toward the sideboard and facing the companionway. Before she could finish her sentence, down the passage, mov- ing calmly, came the tall, slippered fig- ure of an Oriental wearing a long- “ Only =< Bs IT Tes ke ee. Ne. oe, oe eee oe ee” ee ee He faced , ~~ Ole gm +x ts. Dah a Fos “HAWAIIAN HEELS.- - 561 sleeved mandarin gown of watered silk, embroidered in gayly colored flowers. He came in, bowing low. “ Aloha,’ satd Ah Long. “ You are welcome, Miss Hollins. You do honor to my humble abode.” He paused half- way down the saloon. Rova looked to Quimby in conster- nation. In this new dilemma she could not prevent herself from looking in- stinctively toward the man who had so often been a guest in her home. “Tsn’t this Ah Long?” The Oriental bowed still lower. “ At your service.” “What does he mean by his abode?” Rova demanded of Quimby. Quimby sighed, and sat down as if in sudden weariness. He bowed his head in his hands. She stood beside him, looking at-him, perplexed and be- wildered, but she had no sense that she was in personal danger, and this sud- den turn in the situation had the effect of still further reassuring her in this. Ah Long pulled a chair and placed it close beside Rova. With an exagger- ated civility and an unctuous, suave movement: ‘“‘ Please be seated, Miss Hollins,” he urged in faultless English. “You are more than welcome in the humble water home of your obedient servant. This has been a tiring day for you. I am sure you must be fa- tigued. “Won't you kindly relax yourself and sit down? Your friend, Mr, Quim- by here, will no doubt explain to you how he unfortunately has made a mis- take.” A ghost of a smile appeared on the wrinkled, sallow features of the Chinese. “Just a little mistake,” he added softly and impressively. Quimby looked up as if with shame. “True,” he said to Rova. “It was a mistake for me to bet the Stingaree. Alas, even when I made the bet the yacht was no longer mine.” Until this moment Rova had no in- tention of sitting, but this caused her to sink to the proffered chair beside her, “ What!” she gasped. "ro «*, ee ee en ae Ee eet a= Ae” —— Se . ee a me ee 5. , PAC” $ a4 ee Wh » Tar NE RT RS ee ete Tcl tes ade Se HAS Se : si