Argosy All-Story Weekly — "Sea Marauders" — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

BY nT al ee ee eS eee . Pe 566 ‘Yes, there’s my room on the star- board side.” “Where’s the key?” He divined her purpose and reached for his pocket. “I don’t know,” he replied. “We seldom use a key. Perhaps I have one here.” He saw her purpose. He did not want her locked in his stateroom. Even though he had no actual intent of forc- ing his attentions upon her, still he did not want her to enjoy for any length of time the security of a locked room. She read in his movements and in the hesitation of his reply their stealthy evasion. She darted quickly beyond him into the passage, opened the door of the starboard stateroom, passed into it, flung it shut, and found, to her great relief, that it had a snap catch above the brass lock. This she slipped into place just in time to hold out the slower moving Quimby, who followed her and rapped sharply, at the Same time calling, ‘“‘ Please, a moment, I want to talk with you.” “Good night, Mr. Quimby,” came through the keyhole. ““ Please, Miss Rova—” “Good night.” There was silence for a time. . She | heard him pacing up and down the passageway outside the cabin. The sound of his footsteps rose above the dull, incessant throb of the engine. She looked out the port. She could see nothing but an illimitable expanse of water, a calm sea, many stars, a new moon in the first quarter, no sign of land. She looked at the furniture in the room. It was of coa wood, elaborately carved and polished. A large dressing chair, palpably a man’s, was of glisten- ing teak, with mother-of-pearl inlay. On the coa dressing table in mother-of- pearl was the single letter “ Q.”’ A pair of military brushes with solid gold backs were engraved also with this letter. ‘There was a double bed with a movable stead; also a connecting ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. bath. She examined this and made sure there was no outlet from it to the outer — passage. In one corner was a built-in secre- tary with elaborate marquetry. She ex- amined this and saw that it was filled with letters and documents. It was clearly the habitat of a man of large and important affairs. It was not a guest cabin. It was the owner’s stateroom. Softly and quizzically, she spoke to herself, as if addressing some one un- seen. “That was only a hunch of mine to call you a liar, Mr. Quimby,” she said. “ But it looks as if that was your other name. Ah Long is in the guest room. This is the cabin of the owner of the Stingaree, and it belongs to me. “Thanks. I don’t believe I’ll change a thing in it, unless I replace that heavy teakwood chair with something smaller. The desk fills up a lot of room too. | Maybe that can come out. Anyway we'll see. Time enough for that.” She began surveying herself in the glass, arranging her hair, tidying her waist. She looked at her hands. They were somewhat soiled from the long afternoon in the saddle. She went to the bathroom and splashed about there for a few minutes. Despite her reassurance and the recovery of her good spirits, however, she could take only a cursory and sub- conscious interest in her person or her comfort. Now that she was alone and safe for the time being, the oppressive mystery concerning Lance Houston controlled her thoughts. Who, or what, had hit him? Where was he? She did not once permit herself to consider that he might be overboard. Rova returned to the door in the passageway and listened. ‘There was no sound of footsteps now. She waited a few minutes longer. She could hear only the ululant swish of the water against the trim sides of the yacht, and the throb of the engine. com Chooks.com 2. : wo > “s s Sipe poet “er oc Pet yes Se