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Show :The flltllf of the MbatJTOSS ,5 Abduction and kidnaping for ransom, Heifcure and looting", crimes once com-; com-; mon to the hly;h sean, are now practically prac-tically confined to the land. Why houhj It be ao? Desperate charartra Mill take to fihlpa. The opportunity for Hucceaful pursuit would neeia to be leca on the ocean than on the land. Occurences of modern piracy are rare, but It is not Illogical to expect them now and then. In thin tale of deviltry at sea, the author hoa pictured a series of adventures adven-tures that are well within the realm of probability and are about as pulse-atlrrlng1 pulse-atlrrlng1 as any of those glamorous ep-iHodes ep-iHodes celebrated In buccaneering lore. There Is high romance too, not any the less pleasing because It Is placed In the Twentieth century and not In a dlHiant pant. Just picture a millionaire aboard hla taunch and luxuriously appointed ocean yacht, awakening to the realization realiza-tion that, by a skilfully engineered plot, most of his honest crew have been replaced by a selected band of escaped convicts all killers men who have followed the sea and are desperate desper-ate to take any chance. Picture these outlaws, inflamed by money lust and under the diabollo guidance of a master mas-ter mind. Imagine the things that may happen and the rare sort of pirate tory that will evolve. The skipper was dependable and there were others brave and trustworthy, trust-worthy, but it was soon obvious to Elgax Radway that he and his guests were under a dire menace. It was the menace of criminality backed by brains. The steward was no ordinary functionary of the type. In him you will find a mystifying personality, an arch-criminal new to the pages of adventure ad-venture fiction. CHAPTER I Mr. Unwin Makes a Call The financier, sitting nlone in his remote and splendid library, looked up with a scowl at the apologetic secretary secre-tary who came softly In. "But," the secretary was reiterating, reiterat-ing, "he says he Is a very old friend. TJuwln Is the name. Tubby Unwin, sir. lie said you would remember him by that." He could see that his employer remembered. re-membered. Something of the hardness hard-ness fell from the face. Gibbons had gone back In that moment of recollection recollec-tion almost twenty years. Of course, lie remembered "Tubby" Unwin. And with Tubby there swam back into memory that other one of the three, Howard Bettington. They were inseparables in-separables at Cambridge in the old days. Every year they swore to have a reunion ; and in the eighteen years that had gone by he had not seen them once ! "Tell him I'm too busy to see anyone any-one for three days. Then ask him to dinner." Gibbons thought a moment. "Find out from him If Betty Hownrd Bettington Is In New York. If he Is, ask him to dinner and let me know when they are coming." The secretary, assuming an Intimate of his employer's must be of the fa-, vored classes over whom kind monetary mone-tary angels hover, gave Unwin the message and' supposed he was telephoning tele-phoning from another fine residence. Floyd Unwin's home was not of the kind to awaken envy even In a Gibbons Gib-bons secretary. It was a small apartment apart-ment on the fourth floor of a structure now dwarfed by light-absorbing and scornful buiTdings which hemmed It In. Unwin's daughter, Mary, used to say It looked as though it wanted to run away and hide, but dare not. If the place had no beauty It was home to the Unwins ; and there was a roof garden which endeared the commonplace common-place flat to them. It was to this retreat that Floyd Tnwin took his way on the receipt of Gibbons' message. His wife, who spent most of her Invalid hours on a couch, looked up with a smile. She was one of those really good women who accept bodily ills as God's judgments; judg-ments; she felt her long illness was sent In some mysterious way to prepare pre-pare her for eternal life. "I'm to go there to dinner next Wednesday," Unwin said, "and I'm to ask Howard Bettington. Gibbons is a very big man. They say, in ten years' time he will be the greatest capitalist in the country." Unwin mused a moment. mo-ment. "He was always inclined to be hard and masterful. . . . And yet, to think that but for me and my coaching, coach-ing, he would never have got his A. B." Unwin fell Into a mood of depression. depres-sion. At college he had been esteemed brilliant, and Gibbons had been accounted ac-counted dull. And Gibbons was a multi-millionaire. And Floyd Unwin solicited advertisements for a trade journal and was its associate editor! Then he thought of Howard Betting-irn, Betting-irn, who had made some success as a painter of seascapes. Bettington was the best of the three. He was better looking, better bred and could have attained eminence In anything he set his mind upon. And he had chosen to adventure into far corners of the earth and seas and every now and then exhibit his unusual canvases to the appreciative few who admired but did not buy. "Did you close that contract?" bs heard his wife ask. The contract had been talked over a great deal. The commission would have removed the steady calling of an Intolerant Individual Indi-vidual who concerned himself with payments of furniture on the Instalment Instal-ment plan. Unwin removed a dead leaf from a riant. lie did not want to meet his wife's eye. "The time was not ripe," he said, a little weakly. "Next month, perhaps." per-haps." His wife said nothing. To her It was an evidence that God desired her By Wyndham I-Iartyh COPTRICHT IN THB U. a WNtJ Scrvlca to be yet more strengthened and purified puri-fied by suffering. "Do you think Mr. Gibbons will?" she asked presently. "Yes," Unwin answered. "Why shouldn't he? It's a solemn moral obligation ob-ligation and I'm not sure It Isn't a legal one also. Gibbons was always a man of his word. I know he has the name for being hard In his dealings, but this Is different." He paused as he heard footsteps. "But not a word to the children. I don't want to raise their hopes and then have to disappoint them." It was Mary, eighteen and sweet, and now hopeful. She held in her hand a packet of the literature that Smith college sends out to those who seek to know her charms and terms. Mary was more than anxious to enroll. And during the last week her father had been letting fall sly hints that Northampton might not seem so far away as she thought. "Did you close the contract?" she asked, when she had kissed them. "Money Is tight," said Unwin, again plucking leaves. "1 shall try them In a month's time." He saw Mary droop a little. He knew the disappointment. It nerved him to give her uncalled-for encouragement. encour-agement. "I've something up my sleeve better than that old contract. On Thursday morning ask me what I mean. It may mean Smith for you and Tech. for Bob." "It seems too good to be true," the girl said. "Daddy, I'm so tired of being Mr. Itadway's stenographer. I'm In a constant atmosphere of fear and It's bad for me. Every one In the office trembles when he comes in. If It weren't that he pays more than I'm worth I'd leave tomorrow." When she had gone down to prepare the evening meal Unwin looked at his wife anxiously. "Mary is a very beautiful beau-tiful girl," he said. "I wonder if undesirable men try to force themselves them-selves on her." He walked about the roof garden aimlessly. That was his chief defect, this uncertainty of aim. Bob, the seventeen-year-old son, with the mechanical turn of mind, came in. Unwin turned to greet him with a cheerful smile. He anticipated the unasked question. "I didn't get It," he said; "money was tight. I went in at a bad time. Next month, perhaps. I'm sorry, Bob." The boy was taller than his father. In a sense he was a more resolute and reliable man. He put his arms about the elder with a protective gesture. "I know you did your best," he said simply. And all through the dinner poor Unwin Un-win was haunted by the certainty that he had not done his best. a a When the hour for dinner drew near Gibbons was inclined to blame the pale secretary that men like Bettington Betting-ton and Unwin, with whom he had now no common ground of intercourse, should be his guests. Outside the house Floyd Unwin was waiting for Howard Bettington. He needed moral support. He had come, so he told himself, upon a task that hardly promised success. He cursed himself for his perpetual enthusiasms. It had looked so simple, so probable, so assured. He bad been losing courage cour-age ever since he had douned his ancient evening dress. He had not seen Bettington for almost al-most ten years, but there was no mistaking mis-taking the tall form that came toward him out of the gloom. Together they knocked at the bronze doors. In the few moments that tlapsed before a footman opened to them, Bettington found himself ashamed that the old friendship had meant so little. He was conscious, vividly, of the good, dreaming student days, when Unwin had been so close a friend. He had forgotten Unwin after the first few years. Unwin had married while at Cambridge. Then came the girl and the boy. Bettington had once sent his old friend a painting. That was ail. As to Gibbons, that was different. The financier was so constantly spoken of that he was fresh in the mind. But all these years Howard Bettington had not once tried to meet him. He had heard him speak at a public banquet and had seen that the man he used to like was dead. In his place had come the grasping, unscrupulous capitalist who was to carve his way to power. The footman, when he had ushered the guests into a hall, where the butler but-ler stood commandingly, looked Curiously Curi-ously at them. He knew they were not habitues of the Gibbons home, or, indeed, of any of those great homes where such as he were content to serve. At Bettington the lackey looked with faint approval. Bettington wore, ns was his custom, a black velvet dinner din-ner coat. But it was well cut and the man moved as though these magnificent mag-nificent halls were his usual haunts. It was at Unwin, poor Floyd Unwin, scholar and failure, that the men-servants men-servants looked with scorn. Such garments gar-ments were not now worn. Bettington saw that Unwin was losing what small confidence he possessed. He patted the shorter man almost affectionately on the shoulder and simulated ap- j proval. "You look splendid," he murmured, mur-mured, "I suppose I ought to have worn full dress, too." Unwin trotted by his side vastly gratified. Gibbons was standing with that faint sneer on his face which had become habitual. The financier was prepared to be thoroughly '-ored. He judged man by Lis ability to make money; and with these standards he had only contempt for the small, nervous man who peered through thick lenses at him. He looked with deeper Interest at the painter. "It doesn't seem possible we are all of an age," he said, when they were seated. "Tubby looks fifty, I look forty, and I'm d d If Betty doesn't look ten years less. How do you do it?" Eettlngton resented the sneering manner In which the successful man of affairs regarded Unwin. "To me you look the elder," he said suavely. "Tubby may have put on I jf ii A Outside, Floyd Unwin Was Waiting for Howard Bettington. weight, but there's age In your face, Three Brass Balls, and wrinkles a half-inch deep." Gibbons flushed. He had not forgotten forgot-ten the old nickname given him in jest, for his ability to make small gains In loan and barter. He looked across the silver-laden table at Bettington. Bet-tington. The painter had a clear eye and a clear skin. There was a youthful youth-ful poise of body and a litheness which had long since left Gibbons. He glanced sourly at the other man. Even there he felt beaten. Unwin's gaze was serene and untroubled. There was a certain simplicity and directness about him which seemed childish. "I've worked," Gibbons snapped ; "that gives one lines and wrinkles." "You've hated," Bettington answered an-swered ; "your face is a chart of uncharitable un-charitable emotions. Your sort of success stamps its victim. Tubby and I have worked, too, remember." "Indeed, I have," Tubby sighed and thought of his non-success as a solicitor solic-itor of advertising. Gibbons looked about him. His guests, following his glances, saw what he meant. There was superb luxury everywhere. Did not these two men reali;:e that they were being sumptuously sumptu-ously entertained in magnificent rooms by one who had no greater opportunities opportuni-ties in youth than they? Less opportunities. oppor-tunities. Unwin was always a student stu-dent to whom academic tasks were easy. Bettington had a small property when Gibbons had but an allowance from a distant relative. From the pale secretary Gibbous hiid learned that Bettington had passed his life mainly in traveling and painting the sea In her sterner moods. His pictures were not such as to attract the dealer, although al-though his fellows revered him for his art. Economically he was a failure. And yet Gibbons could not rid himself of the feeling that they were not Impressed Im-pressed by his position. There was something slinging and Irritating In It. And he was annoyed to find that these two quiet guests were re-establishing that sense of unasserted superiority su-periority which they had exercised in college. There had been a time when these two meant more to him than uny other men. And when success came to him he forgot them. Gibbons grew a little ashamed ; but the feeling feel-ing lasted only a few moments. His arrogance banished It He had succeeded suc-ceeded ; they had failed. He was even a little gratified when the pale secretary secre-tary bowed his way In with two cables which demanded Immediate attention. "Made a million or so?" Bettington asked quizzically, when the secretary had taken down the answers and gone out. "Or lost one?" "Itadway is the loser," Gibbons smiled. "I have Just taken a railroad from him and he's too drunk to know about it till tomorrow." Tubby Unwin made an unexpected remark. "That will be the Memphis and Toledo road," he said. "It is Itadway's Itad-way's pet lamb." "How the h 1 do you know that?" Gibbons snapped. Unwin came to himself with a start. He realized that he had repeated something Mary had told him in confidence. confi-dence. He made a gesture as though to say, financial secrets were not hidden hid-den from him entirely. "Well, as you know so much about Radway, you'll be astonished to learn I've got him on the run. There Isn't room in New York for Radway and me." He told them something of his detestation de-testation for Radway; of how these five years he had been setting snares for him. "I never forgive or forget," Gibbons boasted. "I see that all marked on the chart which Is your face," Bettington answered. an-swered. "Anything else you see?" Gibbons sneered. Bettington gazed at him steadily. -The painter's good looks and splendid features forced themselves on the capitalist. cap-italist. "I see what all charts mark. Rocks, quicksands, reefs. You're headed for them, Gibbons." There was something dominating about Bettington. Gibbons felt It even in his magnificent home in a moment of financial triumph. "The unsuccessful," he said acidly, "always feel they have the right to criticize. It's about the only thing they can do; and they do that badly." "So you call me unsuccessful?" Bettington Bet-tington demanded. Then he smiled a little. "You are wrong. I've accomplished accom-plished what I set out to do. And I have what you will never have contentment. con-tentment. The difference between us is we measure success by different standards." "I'm the unsuccessful one," Unwin declared. "I have not done what I set out to do." "You don't have to advertise the fact." Gibbons said, still a little Irritated. Irri-tated. "I can see it." Bettington felt the protective instinct in-stinct calling him to defend the small, shy friend of other days. "It amazes me to think you troubled to give so elaborate a feast for two unsuccessful men. Why?" "Ask Unwin." the host returned, "lie told my secretary he had .Important .Im-portant business with me, and as I was busy all day and every evening but this I suggested a dinner. Thinking Think-ing of Tubby brought you to my mind, and I asked you, too. I'm waiting to know just how important this business busi-ness It." Unwin drew from his pocket a half-sheet half-sheet of paper and passed It across the table to Gibbons. The dinner was now at the coffee and liquor stage, and menservauts had withdrawn from earshot. Gibbons took It with a frown and read It through. "We, the undersigned," he read, "being "be-ing about to separate, do hereby swear that if one of us attains fortune and the others do not, the lucky one shall aid the unsuccessful cheerfully aud unasked un-asked in any way he is called upon to do. "HOWARD BETTINGTON ('Betty'). "FLOYD UNWIN ('Tubby'). "ALFRED GIBBONS ('3 Brass Balls')." Gibbons hauded it back to Unwin. "It's interesting," he admitted, "but not legal. It would have no value In a court of law. I tore my copy up years ago." Bettington reached for It and scanned the document. "I'd forgotten all about It," he said. "Hud you?" Gibbons said with a sneer. "It may not be legal," he heard Unwin saying nervously, "but in a matter of old friendship the spirit counts, not the letter." "Which shows you to be as foolish at forty as you were at twenty," said the financier. Bettington was conscious more fully than ever of Unwin's dejection. The hope which bad sustained him seemed now to have left him dull, broken and speechless. Bettington put his arm about the bowed shoulders. "Oh, Tubby," he cried, "are you so poor a judge of human nature as to come to Gibbons for help? If I had known you Were In need you might not have had this humiliation. Within this very week I've bought a camp and paid for it. I could have deferred payment pay-ment easily enough. What do you need It for?" "It's my children," said Unwin quietly. "They are crying, not for food, but for education. It's another species of starvation. I thought if Gibbons would advance enough money to get them where they want to be, I'd pay it off little by little. I see I was wrong. He is not the man we knew." Gibbons moved a little uneasily. The years he bad almost forgotten awoke in his mind with a peculiar distinctness. He did not like to remember re-member that he was the author of the document and executed it with the feeling that he was a beneficiary under un-der its terms. He had thought nothing noth-ing could stay Howard Bettington In his fight for fortune. Even Tubby Unwin, distinguished scholar, seemed far more likely to make a name than the undistinguished Gibbons. Changes. Changes. "How old Is the girl?" he demanded. "Eighteen," said Unwin. "She wants to go to Smith." "What about the boy?" "He's a year younger. They tell me he's a genius mechanically. He yearns to enter the Massachusetts Institute of Technology." "Nothing to It," said Gibbons scornfully. scorn-fully. "If he had a yearning for business busi-ness I might help. Let him think it over. What's the girl doing?" "She Is one of Radway's stenographers. stenog-raphers. She has great opportunities there, but her heart Isn't in the work." "Radway !" Gibbons snapped. "That's a good way to recommend her to me. Radway is my open and avowed enemy." He frowned as he thought of It. Then he smiled almost amiably. "Private stenographer?" he asked. "Or just one of the bunch In the office?" "Private," Unwin answered. "You see. she knows French and Spanish perfectly. Even Radway approves of her." "She knows a lot about his private affairs, I suppose. I wondered how you learnt of the Memphis and Toledo road. You got it from her. Look here, Tubby. Tell her the chances of bright women in business are enormous ; they far exceed any jobs colleges offer. I may make a place for her in my organization or-ganization if she is as bright as you say. Send her to see me tomorrow. If she's bright she'll make more money than her father." "This is one of the times I wish I had taken to commerce instead of nrtj" Bettington commented, ne had every sympathy with a girl who wanted more education; apparently Gibbons had none. "You'd have failed at It," Gibbons retorted. "Men of your kind always seem to think any fool can make a success of business and get where I am. I'm the sort who wins. Where would you be in a situation where supreme courage and resolution were required? I'll answer. You'd be found wanting. You've lived a remote life. If you haven't liked a place or a climate cli-mate you've gone somewhere else, looked for something easier." Bettington smiled a little. "I don't know." he said. "I've been In some tight places In far corners of the earth and I have not always lost After all. Gibbons, what do you know of me or Unwin?" "I know," said the capitalist hotly, "that one seeks the security of a trumpery Job and the comfort of a pitiful pay envelope, and the other gets out of the fight by daubing canvases." can-vases." His manner became less bellicose. belli-cose. "Don't forget to send the girl-around. girl-around. I'll see that she Is sent right into my private office and that's a privilege some would pay high for." His guests understood that the audience audi-ence was over. Alfred Gibbons had no more Interest In them. In a sense, they were dismissed. TO BE CONTINUED. |