Evening star., 1938-02-09
CHAPTER TX.

drew near, but she put that notion
aside as a figment Of her fancy,
Mounting the stairs, she tiptoed care
fully through the dim parlor and
into the bedroom, which was suffo-
catingly hot, the Venetian blinds
closed tightly.
Coming in from the brightness of
the morning, she was unable to see
clearly. Moving as quietly as pos
slbel to avoid disturbing Lane, Denise
went to the shades and pulled them
slightly open to change the sitting
eir
A few shafts of brilliant light fell
across the bed, which they disclosed
to be rumpled and empty. She jerked
the blinds fully open and stepped
across the room. There was no doubt
about it, Lane was gone.
She ran out of the room and over
to MacCauley's house, which was
only few yards distant in the little
square of buildings. Ordinarily, he
would be just finishing breakfast,
but his native servant smilinglv told
her that he had left for the upper
loading earlier in the morning. The
slim, 1.-the native had a pleased ex-
preston on his face which the sus-
plclous Denise was quick to notice.
The only inhabitants of the island
that she had any contact with at
all were the half dozen or so servants.
Aside from them, Denise had only the
1alntest notion of how the real ma
tives of Timora lived or what thev
did. She had only seen them in
thelr village once and never wished
to see them again.
But, despite her lack of experience
with their mannerisms and customs,
she still retained her primordial in
suncts that detected and pointed out
to her the things which were dan
gerous and treacherous. She recog-
nlzed the smile of MacCauley's
servant as that which would appear
on the face of jungle beast who
saw Its escape from man-made cap
tlvity close at hand, the escape in
curing the violent death Of its mas.
ter. 1t was an evil smile, ominous
and full of portents
She hurried over to the Office build
ing. Pearson was there and greeted
her with a false cheerfulness as she
entered
Nice day." he grinned; have you
got your umbrella handy?"
The statement was odd in both its
parts and she said so, asking why
the umbrella should be handy.
He got up and went to the instru-
ments panelled on the wall. She did
not know how to read them and cared
less. All she knew was that Mac
Cauley studied them for few minutes
every morning, grunted Wordlessly
and went out for little while. Pear
son pointed to an instrument that
she had heard him call a siphon
barometer. The mercury has been
dropping steadily for the last day
or So" Pearson told her. That
means rain. In these parts the
weather man is always right"
Denise was interested in other
things. Where are Lane and Mac.
Cauley?' she demanded
Pearson glanced at her quickly
and then back at the barometer.
They went up to the tin loading"
he said. "Why?"
She sighed with relief. Il thought
that man was lying" she explained.
He looked so happy about some
thing"
The young clerk deducted that she
meant MacCauley's servant. He
always looks that way" he remarked.
You shouldn't worry about things
Like that"
But Lane" she protested. He
wasn't well enough to leave. Why
did he?"
Pearson shrugged. Lanes done
stranger things than that" he re-
marked enigmatically.
Denise went to her desk and sat
down to work. How do you feel
today?" she asked quietly, being care
ful to look into a drawer so that she
would be unable to see the expression
on Pearson's chagrined face.
He answered after a painful pause.
I'm fine, thanks"
She looked up when she was sure
that he had control of his express
slons. Il was very sorry for what
happened yesterday" she told him.
"MacCauley's a brute"
Pearson flushed. THE next time
he lays a finger on me-" he said in
tone that carried grimness and
conviction, I'll kill him." His eye
fell meaningly upon a Winchester
rifle propped up in a corner of the
room.
Denise knew that he was In earn
est, and shrugged at the cold, dis
passionate way in which he made his
declaration. One moment she was
sympathetic with his controlled fury,
the next she saw the inevitable con-
sequences. NO." she said. you won't
kill him. He isn't worth the cost.
II you did it would mean the end
OF your liberty"
Pearson stopped her with an up
raised hand. Men die on these little
islands" he remarked. Nothing is
ever seriously done about it."
"Why?"
1.-The natives" he smiled, ARE
charming people. Very adaptable, too.
It's really surprisingly the number
Of white men they kill when they
get possession Of firearms. OF course,
the guns come from the white men
themselves. Not infrequently a man
is shot by his own weapon. Stolen,
naturally. The Dutch police are
forced TO take the word of the white
men who remain that the killing was
done by natives"
Il see." she said slowly. "You
mean that the natives are the goats
for lot of dirty work."
Precisely" he replied. But once
IN while they strike out for them
selves. Stick around while, you
may get . chance to see them In
action"