Evening star., 1927-11-24

suddenly, with a low, snarllng oath,
| the more vicious for ita repression.
the figure sprang from the chair, and
stood with face thrust close against
! the mirror.
1t was Capt. Francis Newcombe.
| He stared into the glass, his fists
knotted at his sides. 1t was as though
| the two faces flung a challenge one at
| the other, each mocking the other in
a sort of hideous imitation of every
| muscular movement. They were dis
torted-the lips drawn back. display
| ing teeth as beasts might do; and in
the shadows the eyes were lost, only
| the sockets showing like small, black,
ugly. cavernous things.
| The minutes passed--long minutes.
| A metamorphus was taking place.
The faces became more composed;
they became debonair suaVe-and
I finally they smiled at one another as
| though truce had been proclaimed.
| cant. Francis Newcombe swung
back to the chair, and flung himself
| down IN it again. 1t was over TOT
the moment. For the moment! 1es'
that was it--for the moment! But II
would come again. Last night IN ms
bunk on the Talofa he had lam awake
and lived through hell. Today, be-
hind his mask of complaisance, fear
had gnawed. Fear. And 1t had
been his boast that fear and he were
strangers.
His lips grew tight.
| Well, his boast still held good!
What man had ever stood before him
and taunted him with fear! This
was fear in different sense. 1t
was a fear of the intangible, of what
he could not materialize into actual
form. 1t was the fear of the un-
known.
He was on his feet again.
Damn your' he snarled. Come
out into the open and fight! You hell
, hound, you spawn of the devil, come
: out, show your face"
No. Quiet! That would not do!
He was in control of himself again,
wasn't he? 1t was game of wits
Iagainst wits, of cunning matched
against cunning. But against whom
r and what was the stake Of this
, unknown. who had come to plague
, and torment him, played for? Re
venge? The law? A nemesis rising
, up out of forgotten things?
: His mind prodded and stfted and
strove, and in it's striving seemed 10
: Jar and jdngle and crunch like the
parts of some machinery in motion,
which, out of gear. threatened at any
, moment to demOlish itself.
If he went mad-like Mr.. Marlin!
, Ha. Ha.
|
This is bad-a bad bit of nerves. If
1t was the same blighter who fired at
me on shipboard-and it must have
been-why didn't he fire at me again
last night when he had an even better
chance, instead of yowling through the
darkness?"
That was better! 1t was the one
trump card in his hand: the card that,
as he had watched the daylight creep
| i'm fhrou0h
Talofa that morning, had determined
him, not only to carry on, but to make
| it serve as a trap to put an and to this
skulking familiar who had fastened
itself upon his trail. That wasn't
| fear, was it?
Shadow Varne, Vino was The fool
who dared to challenge Shadow Varne!
He was smiling now-but his lips
| were thin and merciless.
1t could no longer be held attribu-
table to some craZed, irresponsible act,
| that shot on shipboard, which chance
had elected should be fired through
his stateroOm window rather than
through any other. Logis now de-
/. MED that. The man who fired that
shot, and the man who had scream
ed out in taunting mockery at him
last night. were one and the same.
Well, who was it, then, who had
been on the liner, and was now on
Manwa Island?
There were only two. Runnells
and Locke!
Had Runnells had time to change
his shoes, or, granting the time. had
cunning enough TO have thought of
doing so? No: the chances we're a
It thousand to one against II. Locke.
It then? But Runnells had said that
{. Locke hadn't left the Talofa. Were
e Runnells and Locke ir7 ahOots to-
gether? They had been extremely
friendly on the way down. But
n Locke-it was preposterous. He
d knew who Locke was-a young Amer.
t lean business man of good family.
d 1t was curious, though, that Polly
n should have made that remark today
d about a trip like this Sn such short
acquaintance. No: there was moth.
e ing in that. 1t had happened too
. naturally. Locke had a good many
~ pairs of shoes. Like Runnells. none
of them had been wet; but he was
= not sure he had found all Of them in
g the darkness in the cabin with Locke
!. supposedly at least-asleep there OIL
e the opposite bunk. Locke could ca SHY
> have hidden a tell-tale pair; and Locke
! was decidedly the kind of man who
! would have had intelligence to do 50.
But how could Locke know him as
, Shadow Varne?
Z Well. there was RunneIls,
His jaws set with a snap. Was it
u Runnells? There was one way to
find Out-within the next ten minutes
l. with his hands at Runnells' throat!
: No; that would not do-not yet-save
v as a last resort. If it were not Run
> , nells, then any act like that on his
I part would disclose his hand, arouse
= Runnells' suspicious that this trip to
;, Manwa Island was perhaps, after all.
ian tntf
It He began to pace up and down TIT
> roOm-but noiselesSly, without sound
y His SubconSciOuS mind imposed the
=. necessity for silence.
His hands clenched until the nails
bit into the palms. Who was IT?
d What did it mean? What was at the
bottom of 1t? There was no ansU er
u that solved the question even to the
satisfaction of a tormented brain that
q would have grasped with eager relief
e at even a plausible conclusion. The
t law?
Y If the law had proof that be was
y Shadow Varne, he would not be an
instant at liberty-though he would
J. never be taken alive again-not even
Q under the helpless condition that had
L done him down in Paris for the first
u and only time, as that old busybody.
n Sir Harris Greaves, the rool who loved
I to play with lighted matches over a
d powder cask, had so unctuously set
i forth. But perhaps the law did not
e have proof. had only suspicion-was
1 only playing a game to trip him into
g disclosing his identity. Revenge?
t Then why not another shot last night,
t as on the liner; why
o The cycle. The Internal and ac-
d cursed cycle again.
u Well. whoever it was, they would
r play with Shadow Varne, would they?