The Wilmington morning star., 1940-06-10
R&<nf KILLER !h;l:ts: $pEAk$


CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
what were you doing in that
boat?" asked the man named Pete.
He was a dark fellow, with an
attempted moustache. I didn't like
his looks.
ST wasn't playing tag!' I snap
ned at him.
The young fellow who was cut
ting the ropes that bound my hands
and feet was sober and wide-eyed.
You would have drowned in an
other minute"
DO you know who put you
there? Pete asked.
l shook my head. Il know his
name-that's all. I've never been
able to see his face. He's a boot-
logger named William Gala
Did I imagine that a startled
look passed across the face OF the
boy bending over me? l wondered
if I had made a mistake. Perhaps
these fellows were friends OF the
man who had tried to kill me.
I tried to hide my uneasiness as
I stood up and Strengthened my
aching back. There we're shooting
pains in my ribs. My hands and
feet felt dead, their circulation cut
off.
The boy was fumbling in the
sack that had been over my head.
He extracted a small peice of pa
per and looked at it in the light OF
a lantern. This belong to you?"
One of the other men reached
for it, but l got it first. 1t was a
sheet of rough note paper with
business memoranda on it. l
guessed it was a list of Calais GUS
toners or orders, lost in the sack
by accident.
Eyes, it's nine" I lied, and
stuffed it in a pocket. I leaned
against a pile of potato sacks, rub
bing my wrists together. I felt bet
ter now, except for the sore spots
where Gala had kicked me.
The members of the crew, five
or six of them, were gathered un-
certainly around me, just outside
the circle of light thrown by the
lantern. The boat was underway
again, pushing down stream
through the fog.
where's your next stopping
place? Where can I get OFF," I
asked.
For a moment there was no re-
ply, then the man named Pete in
formed me: 1--WE don't stop for
ten miles down the delta, and
there's no way you a get back
to the city in the middle of the
night. Why don't you go to Frisco
with us?"
But I don't want to go to San
Francisco. I've got to get back"
1 halted abruptly. l was going to
say that I had to get back to put
the police on the trail of William
Gala, but again I was afraid these
might be friends of his. I was sus-
picious, his having found this boat
so easily in the fog, and apparently
knowing its sailing time to the
minute. This might be the barge
that brought him his liquor sup
plies.
A small man with a limp stepped
forward. Come up to the galley
and get warm" he invited. II got
a pot of hot stew"
1 accepted his invitation. AS I
climbed the ladder to the upper
works of the potato barge I looked
back and saw dimly through the
fog the rest of the crew conversing
in a knot at the stern. They
seemed, from their gestures, to be
arguing about something.
The moon had disappeared COM
pletely. The night was a thick one
for summer.
The little man was very hospit.
able. He pulled an extra sweater
and a pair of much-laundered over
ais from a bag under his bunk.
changed into the dry clothes, al.
though they were several sizes too
small for me. At any other time !
could have laughed at the sight ]
must babe been.
My wet clothes I hung on hooks
beside the galley stove to dry, after
first extracting from my trousers
pocket the wet note that had beer
found in the sack. I was disap.
pointed to discover that it revealed
no names, only dates that evident
ty were records of business trans.
actions. I was especially interest
ed in one-"May is, II P. NJ" L
was a familiar date to me, five
Bella LANAN-COURT r
Founded on Ac