Evening star., 1914-04-19

GSS&9 century-old impulses undreamt Of
by the inhcritor,-and when these
bubble and spill the kettles lip, watch out.
There is island in the South Seas where small
mud geysers burst forth under the pressure Of the
foot. Fate had stepped Thomas.
As he sprang of his bunk he
son,-the outlaw in Lincoln green, the Yeoman
of the Guard, the bandanaed smuggler of the south
east coast. Quickly he got into his uniform. He
went about this affair the right way, with fore
sight and prudence; for he realized that he must
act instantly. He sought the purser, who was
cordial.
I'm not feeling we'll began Thomas; "and the
doctor is ashore. Where's there an apothecary
shop?'
1.-TWO blocks straight out from the pier entrance.
You'll see red and blue lights in the windows,
Tummy?"
I'm subject to dizzy spells. Where's Janeson?'
Jameson the surly cabin mate
Quit. Gone to the Cunard. Fool Like
a little money advanced? Here's a bill, five dol
lars
Thank you, Sir Twenty shiings ten pence!
doesn't Jameson take his peg little too often,
Sir?"
Hes Brighter Glad to get rid of him. Hurry
back. And don't stop at Mikes or Johnny's,
smiling
Il never touch anything heavier than ale, Sir.
Mikes Johnnys-it saved him the trouble of
asking-tippling pubs where stewards for
gathered.
HIS uniform his passport. Nobody ques-
toned him as he passed the barrier at dog
trot Outside the smelly pier sugar, coffee, and
Spices shipments from killigrcw & Coz he paused
to send short prayer to Heaven Then he ap-
preached a snooZing stevedore.
"Where's AIikese"
Lead YOU there OF scout"
"No; tell me where it is. Here's shilling"
Explicit directions followed; and away went
Thomas at dog trot again, the lust to punish,
MAIN, or kill in his heart. He not university
man, he had not played cricket at Lords or stroked
the crew from Leander; but he was island born,
chap for cold tubbings, callsthencs and long
tramps into the country pleasant Sundays.
Thomas was slender but sound and hard.
Jameson was not at Mikes nor at Johnnys; but
there were dozens of other saloons He did not ask
questions. He went in, searched, and strobe out.
In the lowest kind Of drinking dive he found his
man. A great of dizziness swept over
Thomas When it passed only the bandanaed
smuggler remained, cautious, cunning, patient.
The quarry was alone in a side room, drinking
gin and smiling to himself. For an hour Thomas
waited. His palms became damp with cold sweat
and his knees wabbled: but not in fear Four
glasses of ale, slipped slowly, tasting of wormwood!
In the bar mirror he could watch every move made
by Jameson. No went in. He had evidently
paid in advance for the bottle of gin. Thomas
ordered his fifth glass of ale, and Jamesons
head sink forward little. Thomas's sigh almost
split his heart in twain. Jamesons head went up
suddenly, and with drunken smile he reached for
the bottle and poured out stiff potion. He drank
it neat.
Thomas wiped his palms on his sleeves and
ordered cigar.
"Lonesomeo' asked the swart bartender This
good looking chap rather puzzle to him.
He wasn't waiting for anybody, and he wasn't
trying to get drunk. Five ales in an hour, and not
dozen words: just an ordinary Britisher who
Copyright. C. by the Botbs Merrill Company