Don Winslow of the Navy

by Frank V. Martinek

  XXI

  CHO-SAN

  With a cool shrug of his shoulders, the pseudo count returned to a studyof his manicured fingers. He'd understood from Hammond that there waslittle love lost between dashing Andre Borg and the saturnine Chinese,Cho-San. If that were true, a pose of insulting indifference would bethe safest.

  In any case, it seemed to be working now. As Don continued to ignore hispresence, the big Oriental stood glowering beside the table. Like a hugefrog, he seemed to swell with silent rage. Suddenly he beckoned theanxiously hovering headwaiter.

  "Another chair, Maurice!" he growled in a heavy bass. "MademoiselleLotus seems to be in the company of an idiot. I shall stay to protecther, in case he becomes a worse nuisance. Bring me a chair, quickly!"

  As Maurice hurried to obey, Lotus half arose, her hands clasping andunclasping in distress.

  "Please, Cho-San!" she choked. "Be patient with Andre--Count Borg, Imean! Five days ago he received a wound on the head, while carrying outyour orders. Since then his mind has not been the same...."

  "Evidently not!" grated the Chinese, seating himself in the chairMaurice had brought. "No man in his right mind deliberately insultsCho-San, though your Andre has come very near to doing so in times past.Well, Borg, have you lost your tongue as well as your reason? You had itat three o'clock this morning when you made this appointment with myward."

  "So your watchman overheard and told you about that, Cho-San!" drawledthe pretended Borg, as Maurice glided away. "I thought he would, but I'msurprised you were interested enough to follow Lotus and me here. Er--bythe way, it's quite true about that head wound I got. My memory hasblanked out. It's only now and then I recall something that's happenedin the past few years. Of course, I know you and Lotus, here; but howand why and where you came into my life I haven't the faintest idea!Awful nuisance, isn't it?"

  For sixty long seconds, Cho-San stared at "Count Borg's" handsome,rather bored features. His sloe-black eyes were so wickedly penetratingthat Don was glad his disguise didn't depend on paint or false hair.Even the tiny scar below his eye was genuine. For the rest, Don hopedthat he had copied Count Borg's own voice and manner successfully.

  At last Cho-San's big body relaxed its angry tenseness. When he spoke,his voice had taken on a smoother inflection.

  "I would give a great deal to know just _what_ has changed about you, mydear Count," he remarked. "It may be your mind--in another sense of theword--for certainly you have never dared to insult me publicly before.Your alleged loss of memory is all poppy-cock, of course. It may taketime to discover what your new game is, but I shall do it. Meantime, youwill take my orders as before, if you know what is good for you!"

  Don Winslow permitted a lazy smile to grow at the corners of his mouth.

  "Oh--ah--of course, Cho-San!" he murmured, covering a yawn. "And really,it doesn't make much difference whether you believe my memory's gone ornot, so long as _I_ know it has. But let's stop talking about orders andinsults and call Maurice back. Lotus will be much more interested in alobster a la Newburg I am certain."

  Cho-San agreed with a surly grunt, and the three orders were taken.During the meal "Count Borg" told the story he had rehearsed about hiscapture and subsequent escape from Haiti in Michael Splendor's plane. Hemade it brief but convincing, even naming the spot where he hadabandoned the plane sixteen hours before.

  As he talked he was aware that both the girl and her grim-faced guardianwere studying him closely. What thoughts were passing through theirminds, he scarcely dared to guess. Certainly Cho-San's moonlikepokerface betrayed even less than his grunted comments. Lotus, for somereason, appeared too upset for speech.

  Don was glad when the uncomfortable meal was over, and Cho-San made thefirst motion to leave.

  "I am sorry to interrupt your evening _tete-a-tete_, my dear CountBorg," the Oriental said with oily sarcasm, "but your presence isrequired at the comrades' headquarters. Immediately, do you understand?"

  With an indifferent smile, Don moved to pick up Lotus' evening wrap.

  "I told you my memory, not my understanding, had done a blackout,Cho-San," he drawled. "Lead the way, old dear, and I'll follow. Onlyfirst, I'll send upstairs for my medicine.... Er--Maurice! Will youphone up for my valet to bring it down now with my hat and topcoat?"

  "Medicine! Valet!" snarled the big Chinese, glaring furiously at Don."What new stall is this, Borg? I tell you, I'm in no mood for triflingtonight! A man in your youth and health needing medicine--bah! And whois this manservant you've picked up? Haven't I warned you...."

  "It's my wound, you know," cut in the pseudo count. "Ever since thatbullet nicked me, I've had the most frightful headaches. Actually blindme at times! So this morning I asked a druggist chap for something, andhe prescribed...."

  "To the devil with your druggist--and with you, too, Borg!" spat theScorpion leader. "You may think you're funny, but I do not. Lotus! Bringthis fool out to the door in three minutes, or it will be the worse foryou both. I'll wait for you just that long!"

  Turning on his heel, the bulky Oriental stalked out of the alcove.Following slowly with Lotus, Don saw Cho-San halt and stare at thefigure of "Penny" who had just appeared in the lobby. Evidently Red hadmade record time for a valet, after getting the head-waiter's phonecall.

  With a murmured excuse to Lotus, Don stepped forward to meet hismanservant at a point just out of earshot.

  "Listen, Red!" he whispered, taking the small bottle Pennington hadbrought. "I'm going for a ride with Cho-San and the Lotus in about twominutes. Follow us in another car, but watch your step. That's all fornow!"

  Slipping into his topcoat, he sauntered back to the girl.

  "Come, little Lotus!" he said banteringly. "We musn't keep your guardianwaiting. It's bad for the jolly old dragon's disposition. By the way,where are the comrades' headquarters he spoke of. I suppose I must havebeen there countless times, but it's all foggy in my head now."

  Sudden fear showed again in the look Lotus gave him.

  "I--I wonder, Andre," she said in a strained tone, "if Cho-San may notbe partly right about the change in you. It doesn't seem possible youcould have forgotten so many things! I wonder if you are not justplaying a part, for some strange purpose of your own!"

  There was no time for Don to think up a reply, as they were alreadypassing through the outer door. Just across the sidewalk the huge figureof Cho-San bulked beside a waiting car.

  Once inside the limousine, Don found himself in no mood for furtherself-explanations. More and more it was being impressed upon him thatthe job he had undertaken was beset with risks. So far he had been ableto dodge open failure; but this fact failed to set his mind at ease.

  Cho-San, and now Lotus herself, had made it plain that they suspectedsomething wrong with him other than a loss of memory. They seemed totake it for granted that he was really Count Andre Borg, yet theyaccused him of playing a part!

  Don would have given his right hand now to know just what suspicionswere seething in the minds of his two companions.

  Another question popped up to startle him, as the big car rolled throughSan Francisco's older, dimly lighted section.

  _Did the real Count Borg know the Chinese language?_

  As if in answer to his thought, Cho-San spoke suddenly in rapid,sing-song syllables.

  "_Kia hing--po pay-ow ni shi lee ting!_"

  Don's scalp prickled as if a gun had been leveled at his head. Was thisthe showdown he asked himself?

  "_So-lay-ow!_" came the chanted response from the driver's seat.

  Don's lungs deflated in a sigh of relief. The Chinese syllables were notmeant for him. He had the feeling of having stepped over another deadlytrap.

  "So Don Winslow is still in Haiti?" rumbled the Scorpion leader's nextwords. "Did you learn, my dear Count, anything about his further planswhile you were there? For instance, does he intend to return shortly tothe United States?"

  "I didn't hear a thing abo
ut his intentions, Cho-San," replied Donindifferently. "I fancy, though, that he'll be in the plane MichaelSplendor is flying here today. Splendor's a bit sore, you know, about mystealing his big cabin job. He broadcast the news that he was flyinghere on a hunch that I'd head for 'Frisco. Maybe his pilot will be thisWinslow chap."

  "Ummmm, I wonder!" mumbled the Oriental. "They say he looks enough likeyou, Borg, to be your twin. In a certain situation you might evenimpersonate him. Suppose, for instance, that Winslow should disappearwithout his friends being the wiser--just what would prevent your takinghis place in the interests of Scorpia?"

  Don's answer was a laugh that he tried to make natural.

  "Why, my dear Cho-San," he retorted, "the interests of Scorpia wouldprevent my doing that to take the words out of your mouth! I admit Ilook like Winslow, but his voice, his walk, and everything else abouthim is different; so don't talk nonsense!"

  "Cho-San _never_ talks nonsense, you fool!" hissed the Chinese. "Youwill do well to remember that your life depends on your usefulness toScorpia, and to me--its mouthpiece! If you don't, the next time a bulletstrikes your skull it may be better aimed!"