Black Caesar's Clan : A Florida Mystery Story

by Albert Payson Terhune

  CHAPTER VI

  IN THE DAY OF BATTLE

  As Gavin Brice sat with feet drawn up under him, listening tothe gruesome slither of the moccasins along the concretefloor just below he was gripped for a minute by irresistibleterror. It was all so simple--so complete! And he had beencalmly self-confident of his ability to command the situation,to play these people's own game and to beat them at it.Grinning and open-eyed he had marched into the trap. He hadbeen glad to let Hade and Standish think him safely out oftheir way, and had planned so confidently to return by stealthto the mainland that night and to Milo's house!

  And now they had had absolutely no difficulty in caging him,and in arranging that he should be put forever out of theirway. The most stringent inquiry--should any such be made--couldonly show that he had been bitten once or more by adeadly snake. Any post-mortem would bear out the statement.

  It was known to every one that many of the keys--even severalmiles from the mainland--are infested by rattlesnakes and byother serpents, though how such snakes ever got to the islandsis as much of a mystery to the naturalist world as is thepresence of raccoons and squirrels on the same keys. It issimply one of the hundred unsolvable mysteries and puzzles ofthe subtropic region.

  In his jiu-jutsu instructions Brice had learned a rule whichhe had carried into good effect in other walks of life.Namely to seem to play one's opponent's game and to be fooledby it, and then, taking the conquering adversary by surprise,to strike. Thus he had fallen in with Standish's suggestionthat he come to the island, though he had thought himselffairly sure as to the reason for the request. Thus, too, hehad let himself be lured into this storeroom, still smuglyconfident that he held the whip hand of the situation.

  And as a result he was looking into the ghastly eyes of death.

  Like an engine that "races," his fertile brain was undulyactive in this moment of stark horror, and it ran uselessly.Into his over-excited mind flashed pictures of a thousand bitsof the past--one of them, by reason of recent association farmore vivid than the rest.

  He saw himself with four other A.E.F. officers, standing in adim corner of a high-ceiled old room in a ruined chateau inFlanders. In the room's center was a table. Around thiswere grouped a double line of uniformed Americans--acourt-martial. In came two provosts' men leading between thema prisoner, a man in uniform and wearing the insignia of aUnited States army major--the cleverest spy it was said inall the Wilhelmstrasse's pay, a genius who had grown rich athis filthy trade of selling out his country's secrets, andwho had been caught at last by merest chance.

  The prisoner had glanced smilingly about the half-lit room ashe came in. For the barest fraction of a second his gaze hadflickered over Gavin Brice and the three other officers whostood there in the shadow. Then, with that same easy,confident smile on his masklike, pallid face, the spy hadturned his glittering black eyes on the officers at thecourtmartial table.

  "Gentlemen," he had said amusedly, "you need not go throughthe farce of trying me. I am guilty. I say this with nobravado and with no fear. Because the bullet has never beenmolded and the rope has never been plaited that can kill me.And the cell is not yet made that can hold me."

  He had said it smilingly, and in a velvet suave voice. Yes,and he had made good his boast. For--condemned to die atdaylight--he had escaped from his ill-constructed prison roomin the chateau a little before dawn and had gotten clean awayafter killing one of his guards.

  "He never set eyes on me except for that instant, there in theshadows," Brice found himself reflecting for the hundredthtime. "And there were all the others with me. Yet last nighthe recalled my face. It's lucky he didn't recall where he'dseen it. Or--perhaps he did."

  With a start, he came out of his half-hypnotic daze--a dazewhich had endured but a few seconds. And once more hisrallying will-power and senses made him acutely alive to thehideous peril in which he crouched.

  Then--in one of the odd revulsions which flash across men atunnaturally high tension--his daze and his terror merged allat once into a blaze of wholesome rage. Nor was his ragedirected against Rodney Hade, but against Milo Standish, theman whose life he had saved not twenty hours earlier, and whohad repaid that mighty service now by helping to arrange hismurder.

  At the thought Brice grew hot with fury. He longed to standface to face with the blackguard who had rewarded a life-giftin such vile fashion. He yearned to tell Standish in fierywords how unspeakable had been the action, and then foot tofoot, fist to fist, to take out of the giant's hide some titheof the revenge due for such black ingratitude.

  The ferocious impulse set steady his quivering nerves. Nolonger did his brain race uselessly. Again it was alert,resourceful, keen.

  Standish! Yes, and no doubt Standish's sister too! The girlwhose eyes had made him feel as if he were on holy ground--thegirl whom he had been so irritatingly unable to get out of hismind!

  With an angry shake of the head Gavin dismissed Claire fromhis thoughts. And his newborn hate concentrated on herbrother who had betrayed to death his rescuer. Obsessed withthe fierce craving to stand face to face with theblonde-bearded giant he banished his lethargy of hopelessnessand cast about for means of escape out of this seeminglyinescapable snare.

  First, the key must be found. Then the door must be reachedand opened. In the way of both enterprises writhed a halfdozen or more deadly snakes. And to the problem of winningpast them alive and getting to his enemy. Gavin Brice benthis trained faculties.

  The box whereon he sat was covered with loose boards naileddown only at one end, a long strip of thin iron or copperbinding the one unopened edge. So much his groping fingerstold him. Moving to one corner of the box top he pushed asidea board and plunged his hand into the interior. It was as hehad hoped. According to custom when the box had been emptiedthe jute and shredded paper stuffing of its contents had beenthrust back into it for future use.

  Feverishly, Gavin began to pull forth great handfuls of paperand of excelsior. These he piled onto the box top. Then,exerting all his skilled strength, he tugged at the narrowiron strip which bound, lengthwise, one side of the box.

  This task was by no means easy, for the nails were long. Andthe iron's sharp edges cut cruelly into the tugging fingers.But, inch by inch, he tore it free. And at the end of threeminutes he was strengthening and testing a willowy five-footstrip of metal. Laying this across his knees and fishing upanother double handful of the packing paper and jute he gropedin his pockets with bleeding fingertips for a match.

  He found but one. Holding it tenderly he scraped its surfaceagainst his nail--a trick he had picked up in the army. Thesulphur snapped and ignited, the wooden sliver burning freelyin that windless air.

  Giving it a good start, he touched the point of flame to thepiled jute and paper in front of him. It caught in aninstant. Still holding the lighted match, he repeated thisticklish process time after time, tossing handfuls of theblazing stuff down onto the floor at his side.

  In two minutes more he had a gayly-flaming pile of inflammablematerial burning high there. Its gleam lightened every inchof the gloomy room. It brought out into hideous clearness thewrithing dark bodies of the crawling moccasins, even to thepatches of white at their lips which gave them their sinistername of "cottonmouths." Fat and short and horrible to lookupon, they were, as they slithered and twisted here and therealong the bright-lit floor or coiled and hissed at sight ofthe flame and of the fast plying hand and arm of the captivejust above them.

  But Brice had scant eyes or heed for them. Now that his blazewas started past danger of easy extinction, he plunged bothhands again into the box. And now, two handfuls at a time.he began to cast forth more and more of the stuffing.

  With careful aim he threw it. Presently there was a wide lineof jute and paper extending from the main blaze across to thenext box. Then another began to pile up in an oppositedirection, toward the door. The fire ran greedily along thesetwo lines of fuel.

  Meantime the room was
no longer so clearly lighted as atfirst. For the smoke billowed up to the low roof, and inthick waves poured out through the small ventilator. Such ofit as could not find this means of outlet doubled backfloorward, filling the room with chokingly thick fumes whichwellnigh blinded and strangled the man and blotted out alldetails of shape and direction.

  But already Gavin Brice had slipped to the floor, histhin-shod feet planted in the midst of the blaze, whose flamesand sparks licked eagerly at his ankles and legs.

  Following the trail of fire which led to the box. Gavinstrode through the very center of this blazing path, heedlessof the burns. Well did he know the snakes would shrink awayfrom actual contact with the fire. And he preferred surfaceburns to a fatal bite in ankle or foot.

  As he reached the box its corners had already caught fire fromthe licking flames below. Heaving up the burning receptacle.Brice looked under it. There lay the rusty key, just visiblethrough the lurid smoke glare. But not ten inches away fromthe far side of it coiled a moccasin, head poisedthreateningly as the box grazed it under Gavin's sharp heave.

  Stooping, Brice snatched up a great bunch of the flaming paperand flung it on the serpent's shining coils. In practicallythe same gesture he reached with lightning quickness for thekey.

  By a few inches he had missed his hurried aim for themoccasin. He had intended the handful of fire to land on thefloor just in front of it, thus causing it to shrink back.Instead the burning particles had fallen stingingly among itscoils.

  The snake twisted its arrow-shaped head as if to see what hadbefallen it. Then catching sight of Brice's swooping hand itstruck.

  But the glance backward and the incredibly quick withdrawal ofthe man's hand combined to form the infinitesimal space whichseparated Gavin from agonizing death. The snake's strikinghead missed the fast-retreating fingers by less than a hair'sbreadth. The fangs met on the wards of the rusty key Bricehad caught up in his fingertips. The force of the strokeknocked the key clatteringly to the floor.

  Stepping back. Brice flung a second and better aimed handfulof the dwindling fire in front of the re-coiling reptile. Itdrew back hissing. And as it did so. Gavin regained thefallen key.

  Wheeling about choking and strangling from the smoke, hisstreamingly smarting eyes barely able to discern the fierytrail he had laid. Brice ran through the midst of the redline of embers to the door. Reaching it he held the key inone hand while the sensitive fingers of the other sought thekeyhole.

  After what seemed a century he found it, and applied andturned the key in the stiff lock. With a fierce shove hepushed open the door. Then as he was about to bound forthinto the glory of the sunset, he started back convulsively.

  One moccasin had evidently sought outer air. With this inview it had stretched itself along the crack of light at thefoot of the door. Now as the door flew wide the snake coileditself to strike at the man who had all but stepped on it.

  Down whizzed the narrow strip of iron Gavin had wrenched fromthe box as a possible weapon. And, though the impact cutBrice's fingers afresh, the snake lay twisting wildly andharmlessly with a cloven spine.

  Over the writhing body sprang Gavin Brice and out into thesandy open, filling his smoke-tortured lungs with the freshsunset air and blinking away the smoke-damp from his stingingeyes.

  It was then he beheld running toward him three men. Far inthe van was Roke--his attention no doubt having been caught bythe smoke pouring through the ventilator. The two others werean undersized conch and a towering Bahama negro. All threecarried clubs, and a pistol glittered in Roke's left hand.

  Ten feet from the reeling Gavin. Roke opened fire. But, as hedid not halt when he pulled trigger, his shot went wild. Beforehe could shoot again or bring his club into action. Brice wasupon him. Gavin smote once and once only with the willowy metalstrip. But he struck with all the dazzling speed of a trainedsaber fencer.

  The iron strip caught Roke across the eyes, smartingly andwith a force which blinded him for the moment and sent himstaggering back in keen pain. The iron strip doubleduselessly under the might of the blow, and Gavin dropped itand ran.

  At top speed he set off toward the dock. The conch and thenegro were between him and the pier, and from variousdirections other men were running. But only the Bahaman andthe little conch barred his actual line of progress. Bothleaped at him at the same time, as he came dashing down onthem.

  The conch was a yard or so in front of the negro. And now thefugitive saw the Bahaman's supposed cudgel was an iron crowbarwhich he wielded as easily as a wand. The negro leaped and atthe same time struck. But, by some queer chance, the conch, ayard ahead of him, lost his own footing in the shifty sandjust then and tumbled headlong.

  He fell directly in the Bahaman's path. The negro stumbledover him and plunged earthward, the iron bar flying harmlessfrom his grasp.

  "Good little Davy!" apostrophized Brice, as he hurdled thesprawling bodies and made for the dock.

  The way was clear, and he ran at a pace which would not havedisgraced a college sprinter. Once, glancing back over hisshoulder, he saw the Bahaman trying blasphemously todisentangle his legs from those of the prostrate and wrigglingDavy. He saw, too, Roke pawing at his cut face with bothhairy hands, and heard him bellowing confused orders whichnobody seemed to understand.

  Arrived at the dock Gavin saw that Standish's launch was gone.So, too, was the gaudy little motorboat wherein Rodney Hadehad come to the key. Two battered and paintless motor-scowsremained, and one or two disreputable rowboats.

  It was the work of only a few seconds for Brice to cut loosethe moorings of all these craft and to thrust them far outinto the blue water, where wind and tide could be trusted tobear them steadily farther and farther from shore.

  Into the last of the boats--the speedier-seeming of the twolaunches--Gavin sprang as he shoved it free from the float.And, before the nearest of the island men could reach shore,he had the motor purring. Satisfied that the tide hadcaught the rest of the fleet and that the stiff tradewind wasdoing even more to send the derelict boats out of reach fromshore or from possible swimmers he turned the head of hisunwieldy launch toward the mainland, pointing it northeastwardand making ready to wind his course through the straits whichlaced the various islets lying between him and his destination.

  "They'll have a sweet time getting off that key tonight," hemused in grim satisfaction. "And, unless they can hail somepassing boat, they're due to stay there till Hade or Standishmakes another trip out .... Standish!"

  At the name he went hot with wrath. Now that he had achievedthe task of winning free from his prison and from his jailorshis mind swung back to the man he had rescued and who hadsought his death. Anger at the black infamy burned fiercelyin Brice's soul. His whole brain and body ached for redress,for physical wild-beast punishment of the ingrate. The impulsedulled his every other faculty. It made him oblivious to theinfinitely more important work he had laid out for himself.

  No man can be forever normal when anger takes the reins. And,for the time, Gavin Brice was deaf and blind to every motiveor caution, and centered his entire faculties on the yearningto punish Milo Standish. He had fought like a tiger and hadrisked his own life to save Standish from the unknownassailant's knife thrust. Milo, in gross stupidity, hadstruck him senseless. And now, coldbloodedly, he had helpedto plan for him the most terrible form of death by torture towhich even an Apache could have stooped. Small wonder thatrighteous indignation flared high within the fugitive!

  Straight into the fading glory of the sunset. Brice wassteering his wallowing and leaky launch. The boat wasevidently constructed and used for the transporting of fruitfrom the key to the mainland. She was slow and of deepdraught. But she was cutting down the distance now betweenGavin and the shore.

  He planned to beach her on the strip of sand at the bottom ofthe mangrove swamp, and to make his way to the Standish housethrough the hidden path whose existence Milo had that daypoohpoohed. He trusted to luck and to jus
tice to enable himto find the man he sought when once he should reach the house.

  His only drawback was the fear lest he encounter Claire aswell. In his present wrathful frame of mind he had no wish tosee or speak with her, and he hoped that she might not mar byher presence his encounter with her brother.

  Between two keys wallowed his chugging boat and into a stretchof clear water beyond. Then, skirting a low-lying reef, Gavinheaded direct toward the distant patch of yellowish beachwhich was his objective.

  The sun's upper edge was sinking below the flat skyline.Mauve shadows swept over the aquamarine expanse of ripplingwater. The horizon was dyed a blood-red which was merging intoashes of roses. On golden Mashta played the last level rays ofthe dying sun, caressing the wondrous edifice as though theyloved it. The subtropical night was rushing down upon thesmiling world, and, as ever, it was descending without the longsweet interval of twilight that northern lands know.

  Gavin put the tub to top speed as the last visible obstaclewas left behind. Clear water lay between him and the beach.And he was impatient to step on land. Under the fresh impetusthe rolling craft panted and wheezed and made her way throughthe ripples at a really creditable pace.

  As the shadows thickened Brice half-arose in his seat to get abetter glimpse of a little motorboat which had just sprunginto view from around the mangrove-covered headland that cutoff the view of Standish's mainland dock. The boat apparentlyhad put off from that pier, and was making rapid speed outinto the bay almost directly toward him. He could descry afigure sitting in the steersman's seat. But by that ebbinglight, he could discern only its blurred outline.

  Before Gavin could resume his seat he was flung forward uponhis face in the bottom of his scow. The jar of the tumbleknocked him breathless. And as he scrambled up on hands andknees he saw what had happened.

  Foolish is the boatman who runs at full speed in some ofthe southwestern reaches of Biscayne Bay--especially atdusk--without up-to-date chart or a perfect knowledge of the bay'stricky soundings. For the coral worm is tireless, and the makingof new reefs is without end.

  The fast-driven launch had run, bow-on, into a tooth of coralbarely ten inches under the surface of the smooth water. And,what with her impetus and the half-rotted condition of herhull, she struck with such force as to rip a hole in herforward quarter, wide enough to stick a derby hat through.

  In rushed the water, filling her in an incredibly short time.Settling by the head under the weight of this inpouring floodshe toppled off the tooth of reef and slid free. Then with awallowing dignity she proceeded to sink.

  The iron sheathing on her keel and hull had not been strongenough in its rusted state to resist the hammerblow of thereef. But it was heavy enough, together with her big metalsteering apparatus, to counterbalance any buoyant qualitiesleft in the wooden frame.

  And, down she went, waddling like a fat and ponderous hen,into a twenty-foot nest of water.

  Gavin had wasted no time in the impossible feat of baling heror of plugging her unpluggable leak. As she went swayinglytoward the bottom of the bay he slipped clear of her andstruck out through the tepid water.

  The mangrove swamp's beach was a bare half-mile away. And theman knew he could swim the intervening space with ease. Yetthe tedious delay of it all irked him and fanned to a blindfury his rage against Milo. Moreover, now, he could not hopeto reach the hidden path before real darkness should set in.And he did not relish the idea of traversing its blind mazeswithout a glimmer of daylight to guide him.

  Yet he struck out, stubbornly, doggedly. As he passed thetooth of coral that had wrecked his scow the reef gave him apainful farewell scrape on one kicking knee. He swam onfuming at this latest annoyance.

  Then to his ears came the steady purr of a motorboat. It wasclose to him and coming closer.

  "Boat ahoy!" he sang out treading water and raising himself ashigh as possible to peer about him through the dusk.

  "Boat ahoy!" he called again, shouting to be heard above themotor's hum. "Man overboard! Ten dollars if you'll carry meto the mainland!"

  And now he could see against the paler hue of the sky. thedark outlines of the boat's prow. It was bearing down on him.Above the bow's edge he could make out the vague silhouette ofa head and upper body.

  Then into his memory flashed something which the shock of hisupsetting had completely banished. He recalled the motorboatwhich had darted, arrow-like, out from around the southernedge of the mangrove swamp, and which he had been watchingwhen his scow went to pieces on the reef.

  If this were the same boat--if its steersman chanced to beMilo Standish crossing to the key to learn if his murderplothad yet culminated--so much the better! Man to man, therebetween sea and sky in the gathering gloom, they could settlethe account once and for all.

  Perhaps Standish had recognized him. Perhaps he merely tookhim for some capsized fisherman. In either event, a swimmingman is the most utterly defenseless of all creatures againstattack from land or from boat. And Gavin was not minded tolet Standish finish his work with boat-hook or with oar. Ifhe and his foe were to meet it should be on even terms.

  The boat had switched off power and was coming to astandstill. Gavin dived. He swam clean under the craft,lengthwise, coming up at its stern and farthest from thatindistinct figure in the prow.

  As he rose to the surface he caught with both hands the narrowoverhang of the stern, and with a mighty heave he hoistedhimself hip-high out of the water.

  Thence it was the work of a bare two seconds for him to swinghimself over the stern and to land on all fours in the bottomof the boat. The narrow craft careened dangerously under suchtreatment. But she righted herself, and by the time he hadfairly landed upon the cleated bottom. Brice was on his feetand making for the prow. He was ready now for any emergencyand could meet his adversary on equal terms.

  "Mr. Brice!" called the boat's other occupant, springing up,her sweet voice trembling and almost tearful. "Oh, thank Godyou're safe! I was so frightened!"

  "Miss Standish!" sputtered Gavin, aghast. "Miss Standish!"

  For a moment they stood staring at each other through thedarkness, wordless, breathing hard. Their quick breath andthe trickling of fifty runnels of water from Gavin's drenchedclothes into the bottom of the once-tidy boat alone broke thetense stillness of sky and bay. Then:

  "You're safe? You're not harmed?" panted the girl.

  And the words brought back with a rush to Gavin Brice all hehad been through.

  "Yes," he made harsh answer trying to steady his rage-chokedvoice. "I am safe. I am not harmed. Apart from a fewfire-blisters on my ankles and the charring of my clothes andthe barking of one knee against a bit of submerged coral andthe cutting of my fingers rather badly and a few more minormischances--I'm quite safe and none the worse for the Standishfamily's charming hospitality. And, by the way, may I suggestthat it might have been better for your brother or thegentle-hearted Mr. Hade to run across to the key to get newsof my fate, instead of sending a girl on such an errand? It'sno business of mine, of course. And I don't presume tocriticize two such noble heroes. But surely they ought nothave sent you. If their kindly plan had worked out accordingto schedule. I should not have been a pretty sight for awoman to look at, by this time. I--"

  "I--I don't understand half of the things you're saying!" shecried, shrinking from his taunting toneas from a fist-blow. "They don't make any sense to me. But Ido see why you're so angry. And I don't blame you. It washorrible! Horrible! It--"

  "It was all that," he agreed drily, breaking in on herquivering speech and steeling himself against its pitifulappeal. "All that. And then some. And it's generous of younot to blame me for being just the very tiniest least bitriled by it. That helps. I was afraid my peevishness mightdisplease you. My temper isn't what it should be. If it wereI should be apologizing to you for getting your nice boat allsloppy like this."

  "Please!" she begged. "Please! Won't you please try notto--to think t
oo hardly of my brother? And won't you pleaseacquit me of knowing anything of it? I didn't know.Honestly. Mr Brice. I didn't. When Milo came back homewithout you he told me you had decided to stay on atRoustabout Key to help Roke, till the new foreman could comefrom Homestead."

  "Quite so," assented Gavin, his voice as jarring as a file's."I did. And he decided that I shouldn't change my mind.He--"

  "It wasn't till half an hour ago," she hurried on, miserably,"that I knew. I was coming down stairs. Milo and Rodney Hadewere in the music-room together. I didn't mean to overhear.But oh, I'm so glad I did!"

  "I'm glad it could make you so happy," he said. "The pleasureis all yours."

  "All I caught was just this:" she went on. "Rodney wassaying: 'Nonsense! Roke will have let him out before now.And there are worse places to spend a hot afternoon in thanlocked snugly in a cool storeroom.'"

  "Are there?" interpolated Brice. "I'd hate to test that."

  "All in a flash. I understood," she continued, her sweetvoice struggling gallantly against tears. "I knew Rodneydidn't want us to have any guests or to have any outsiders atall at our house. He was fearfully displeased with us lastnight for having you there. It was all we could do topersuade him that the man who had saved Milo's life couldn'tbe turned out of doors or left to look elsewhere for work. Itwas only when Milo promised to give you work at the key thathe stopped arguing and being so imperative about it. And whenI heard him speak just now about your being locked in a storeroom there. I knew he had done it to prevent your coming backhere for a while."

  "Your reasoning was most unfeminine in its correctness,"approved Gavin, still forcing himself to resist the piteouspleading in her voice.

  He could see her flinch under the harshness of his tone as sheadded:

  "And all at once I realized what it must mean to you and whatyou must think of us--after all you'd done for Milo. And Iknew how a beast like Roke would be likely to treat you whenhe knew my brother and Rodney had left you there at the mercyof his companionship. There was no use talking to them. Itmight be hours before I could convince them and make them goor send for you. And I couldn't bear to have you kept thereall that time. So I slipped out of the house and ran to thelanding. Just as I got out into the bay. I saw you comingthrough that strait back there. I recognized the fruitlaunch. And I knew it must be you. For nobody from the keywould have run at such speed toward that clump of reefs. Youcapsized before I could get to you, and--"

  She shuddered, and ceased to speak. For another moment or twothere was silence between them. Gavin Brice's mind was busywith all she said. He was dissecting and analyzing her everyanxious word. He was bringing to bear on the matter not onlyhis trained powers of logic but his knowledge of human nature.

  And all at once he knew this trembling girl was in no wayguilty of the crime attempted against him. He knew, too, fromthe speech of Hade's which she had just repeated, thatStandish presumably had had no part in the attempted murder,but that that detail had been devised by Hade for Roke to putinto execution. Nor, evidently had Davy been let into thesecret by Roke.

  In a few seconds Brice had revised his ideas as to theafternoon's adventures, and had come to a sudden decision.Speaking with careful forethought and with a definite objectin view, he said:

  "Miss Standish. I do not ask pardon for the way I spoke toyou just now. And when you've heard why you won't blame me,I want to tell you just what happened to me today from thetime I set foot on Roustabout Key, until I boarded this boatof yours. When you realize that I thought your brother andprobably yourself were involved in it to the full you'llunderstand, perhaps, why I didn't greet you with overmuchcordiality. Will you listen?"

  She nodded her head, wordless, not trusting her voice to speakfurther. And she sank back into the seat she had quitted.Brice seated himself on the thwart near her, and began tospeak, while the boat, its power still shut off bobbed lazilyon a lazier sea.

  Tersely, yet omitting no detail except that of his talk withDavy, he told of the afternoon's events. She heard, wide-eyedand breathing fast. But she made no interruption, except whenhe came to the episode of the moccasins she cried aloud inhorror, and caught unconsciously his lacerated hand betweenher own warm palms.

  The clasp of her fingers, unintentional as it was, sent astrange thrill through the man, and, for an instant, hewavered in his recital. But he forced himself to continue.And after a few seconds the girl seemed to realize what shewas doing. For she withdrew her hands swiftly, and claspedthem together in her lap.

  As he neared the end of his brief story she raised her handsagain. But they did not seek his. Instead she covered herhorrified eyes with them, and she shook all over.

  When he had finished he could see she was fighting forself-control. Then, in a flood, the power of speech came backto her.

  "Oh!" she gasped, her flower-face white and drawn,in the faint light. "Oh, it can't be. It can't! There mustbe a hideous mistake somewhere!"

  "There is," he agreed, with a momentary return to his formermanner. "There was one mistake. I made it, by escaping.Otherwise the plan was flawless. Luckily, a key had beenleft on the floor. And luckily, I got hold of it. Luckily,too, I had a match with me. And, if there are sharks as nearland as this, luckily you happened to meet me as I wasswimming for shore. As to mistakes--. Have you aflashlight?"

  From her pocket she drew a small electric torch she had hadthe foresight to pick up from the hall table as she ran out.Gavin took it and turned its rays on his wet ankles. Hisshoes and trouser-legs still showed clear signs of thescorching they had received. And his palms were cut andabraded.

  "If I had wanted to make up a story," said he. "I could havedevised one that didn't call for such painful stage-setting."

  "Oh, don't!" she begged. "Don't speak so flippantly of it!How can you? And don't think for one instant, that I doubtedyour word. I didn't. But it didn't seem possible that such athing--Mr. Brice!" she broke off earnestly. "You mustn't--youcan't--think that Milo knew anything of this! I meanabout the--the snakes and all. He is enough to blame--he hasshamed our hospitality and every trace of gratitude enough--byletting you be locked in there at all and by consenting tohave you marooned on the key. I'm not trying to excuse himfor that. There's no excuse. And without proof I wouldn'thave believed it of him. But at least you must believe he hadno part in--in the other--"

  "I do believe it," said Gavin, gently, touched to the heartby her grief and shame. "At first, I was certain he hadconnived at it. But what you overheard proves he didn't."

  "Thank you," she said simply.

  This time it was his hand that sought hers. And, even as she,he was unconscious of the action.

  "You mustn't let this distress you so," he soothed, notingher effort to fight back the tears. "It all came out safelyenough. But--I think I've paid to-day for my right to asksuch a question--how does it happen that you and yourbrother--you, especially--can have sunk to such straits thatyou take orders meekly from a murderer like Rodney Hade, andthat you let him dictate what guests you shall or shan'treceive?"

  She shivered all over.

  "I--I have no right to tell you," she murmured. "It isn't mysecret. I have no right to say there is any secret. Butthere is! And it is making my life a torture! If only youknew--if only there were some one I could turn to for help oreven for advice! But I'm all alone, except for Milo. Andlately he's changed so! I--"

  She broke down all at once in her valiant attempt atcalmness. And burying her face in her hands again she burstinto a tempest of weeping. Gavin Brice, a lump in his ownthroat, drew her to him. And she clung to his soaked coatlapels hiding her head on his drenched breast.

  There was nothing of love or of sex in the action. She wassimply a heartbroken child seeking refuge in the strength ofsome one older and stronger than she. Gavin realized it, andhe held her to him and comforted her as though she had beenhis little sister.

  Presently the passion of convulsive weepin
g passed, leavingher broken and exhausted. Gavin knew the girl's powers ofmental resistance were no longer strong enough to overcome herneed for a comforter to whom she could unburden her soul ofits miserable perplexities.

  She had drawn back from his embrace but she still sat close tohim, her hands in his, pathetically eager for his sympathy andaid. The psychological moment had come and Gavin Brice knewit. Loathing himself for the role he must play and vowingsolemnly to his own heart that she should never be allowed tosuffer for any revelation she might make, he said with agentle insistence, "Tell me."