The Ely miner., 1943-12-02
Observation-Disclosures

I you have your notebook with you.
I'll try to supply you with one fact
day. It's usually tourists who sup
| ply us with facts, but you don't
seem to have your guide book with
YOU"
Anne put down her coffee cup and
looked at him across the table.
"Pete," she said evenly. WHATS
the matter with your"
'Who, me?"
"You," she said. you've been
perfectly foul all through lunch, and
you know it. What's the matter?"
He took his last cigarette out,
wadded the empty package and
dropped it into the ash tray in front
of him. He could see the warm flush
creeping up into her cheeks and her
tortoise-shell cats eyes getting dark
er storm warnings flying in
the Caribbean.
''Tm sorry" he said. SCI suppose
it's because I'm worried about you."
Then he could have kicked himself
across the graveyard into the At
lantic. That was just the thing he
shouldn't have said. He waited for
her to flare up and make some sting
ing retort. But she didn't.
''May I ask why you're worried
| about me?" she inquired calmly.
Somebody must have told her
about counting ten since he'd left
New York, he thought.
| Clr hr,% foil
you," he said quietly. ''That's the
| trouble"
He looked at her sitting there
cool and confident, and babe in
the woods, actually. If he could
just take her by the back of the
neck, the way you did kitten-or
Latin woman-and put her in a
plane and say $50 home!" every
thing would be easy. But he
couldn't. Nobody could. Or if he
could tell her why. His job pre-
vented that. Anyway, it would prob
ably be just the thing that would
make her stay even If she
believed him.
''Look, Anne," he said They were
at the far end of the open porch.
The boys had cleared empty ta-
bles around them. "You know I
| love you :"
eff it's jealous pique, dear :"
He interrupted her calmly. ''It
isn't. You're probably sick of hear
ing me say it, so let's skip it. The
point is, I like you, too. They're diff
ferent. And think you like me-"
"Oh, Pete" she began.
He gave her twisted grin to try
to conceal the sudden ache inside
him. When her voice was like that
it reduced his insides to quivering
jelly.
''The point is" he went on un-
steadily, "I'm going to ask you to
do something and not ask any ques-
tions, or try to guess the answers.
Just trust your Uncle Pete just
once"
He saw the shadow behind her
dark curling lashes and the almost
imperceptible lines between her eye
brows. He liked her eyebrows
they were dark and thick so that
they accentuated her slim oval face
not thin plucked lines that
made her look like a scared siren.
She looked at him clear steady
instant before she said, "You want
me to go home, don't you, Peter"
eyes. On tomorrow's Clipper. It's
full, but can manage that"
Anne looked down at the little col
ony of ants busily cleaning up the
crumbs she'd spilled on the floor.
Maybe she ought to go, of course.
Maybe she ought just to tell him
what she knew about Taussig and
Diego Gongaro-and Miguel-and go
quickly, before it was any harder
to go. But she couldn't. If she al
ways ran out when the sticking took
little well, sticking, then she
never would be any good. And this
meant that he must know some
thing about all of it anyway :.
something that she didn't know, be-
cause he couldn't
She looked up at him. "Pete,"
she said. ''I know it isn't on ac-
count of Miguel. I mean, it isn't
because you're jealous of him, and
T. and like Sue Porter. And if
it's Mr.. Taussig :"
She hesitated.
"Well, I'm not afraid of him. May
be I could even even help you,
! mean"
He stared at her. Without even
being aware of it, she had slipped in
the connecting link he'd been rack
ing his brain all morning to find for
himself. Taussig and his sanitary
engineering. Miguel Valera and Sal
vatore Vegas. And she was already
in it . . child playing dolls with
stick of dynamite. He pushed his
chair back abruptly.
you're going home tomorrow,
| Anne"
Her eyes flashed dark brown and
| green.
ST am not!"
'You are too. You're crazy fool.
You don't know what you're getting
into. This place is a keg of nitro
glycerine, and you're Ii ghting
matches to powder your nose.
You're getting on that plane tomor-
row morning if I have to tie your
hands and feet and put you on it my
self. And as for that spic you"
He stopped abruptly. She was
standing on the other side of the
table, erect and vibrant as a streak
of flame from blow torch, her eyes
sheets of molten gold, her face pale
with anger.
Don't you dare, Peter Wilcox"
Her voice was low and quivering.
81 won't go. I'll leave San Juan
| when I'm good and ready and not