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Show W. I Lee heard a chuckle and looked up to find Curt had returned as silently as he'd slipped out. "Dance? Okay," he said. "Much as I hate the idea, we'll go one of these evenings. It's a promise. Well, I found out what I wanted to know." He picked up his pipe and knocked out the cold ashes. His voice was careful as he told her of the footprints foot-prints he'd found. "But," he told her, "while I could hear your voice just now, I couldn't make out what you were saying from this spot. I was a little worried wor-ried for fear we might have been overheard last night I reckon not. Nevertheless, we'll have to be careful care-ful of what we say from now on." "And you suspect Ines." "Yes. If It were only Ines, I could put it down to housemaid's curiosity. But there's this greasy Vargas. I have a definite feeling he's more than a bodyguard a spy on me in the field." Lee said nothing, but her eyes clouded. Sounds from the kitchen now ceased. "Well, she's through for the day," Curt said. "We can make certain. I can watch her leave from the bedroom it's dark. You keep on talking." The back door closed and steps descended to the ground. The bamboo bam-boo drops were down all around the living room so that no one outside out-side could see what went on within. Curt left the room. Lee didn't snick- THE STORY SO FAR: Jeff Curtis and his wife, Lee, are already on their way to Tierra Libre when he receives a note from Zora Mitchell warning them not to come. When they arrive In Tierra Libre they find both Zora and her husband dead. It is Mitchell's Job as chief engineer engi-neer for a fruit company that Jeff has been called to fill. Later Jeff's friend Bill Henderson Is also killed, and Jeff suspects his employer, Senor Montaya, of murdering him and the MltcheUs because be-cause they bad found a clue to, the strange things going on at the plantation." planta-tion." Other sinister figures are the company com-pany chemist, Dr. Toenjes, and the flyers, fly-ers, Ryden .and Lannestock. Jeff's suspicions sus-picions are further aroused when the flyers fly-ers and Dr. Toenjes try to keep a disabled dis-abled U. S. Army plane from making a forced landing. But when Jeff talks to him later, Senor Montaya does not appear ap-pear to be alarmed. NOW CONTINUE WITH THE STORY CHAPTER, Xn Since arriving at San Alejo Curt hadn't seen much of his children, and one of the things be most en-loyed en-loyed was playing with them, letting let-ting Chuck and Euddy crawl over him. He loved making them squeal with happiness. And now little Sylvia Syl-via Mitchell was an added attraction. attrac-tion. So today Curt went home early, ear-ly, to have scran time with them before dark. Curt spent a full hour with the children before the clouds let loose with a ten-minute shower, a daily feature so regular they could set their clocks by it. The shower gave Curt a chance to calm the children down with a story so they wouldn't be too excited for supper and bed, and when Lee called for them he shooed them up the steps and into the house. But he remained outside. He returned to the open basement. For here his eye had caught something of interest inter-est during the play which he couldn't have investigated then without raising rais-ing the children's curiosity. The living room ran the width of the house across the front, screened on three sides a lanai, had this been Hawaii. Along the front and sides of this veranda-livingroom was a solid bank of hibiscus, broken only by the steps. A cement walk ran from the front around the side of the house to the rear, but a two foot space had been left for the shrubbery between this and the cement ce-ment floor under the house. enough to carry them on to some other place. But he knew he could place no reliance re-liance in them, and from the standpoint stand-point of efficiency it didn't often pay to take them on. In this case, however, how-ever, something in the man's bearing, bear-ing, drooping though it was, didn't quite match the rest of him, and Curt was sufficiently intrigued to pause. Emilio unwittingly settled the matter. He was standing by, eyes veiled. By now Curt could read the native's dead eyes, and the disapproval disap-proval Curt saw there was enough to swing his decision. Curt nodded toward the door and the man followed fol-lowed him inside. Emilio brought up the rear. Lauriano Duro, the draftsman in charge of the office, was bent over his work. "Anything for my attention?" asked Curt. "No, sir." The native straightened up, looked at the three, and Curt thought he caught a flicker of Emilio's eyelids before the draftsman bent over his table again. In silence Curt selected the maps he wanted, together with a bundle of white flags. He took down from a shelf a company camera, loaded it deliberately, handed the lot to Emilio. "Put them aboard, and get some lunches packed at the mess-hall. It'll be better than what they could put up for us over at the levee camp. See to it there's plenty of coffee black." Then, as Emilio hesitated, he barked, "Well! That's all! We've no time to waste." Emilio departed, and this time Curt definitely caught the flicker of eyes that Vargas aimed at Lauriano Duro as he turned to the door. Curt spoke to the stranger. "All right, Collins, where you from?" "Illinois, sir." "How long you been down here?" "Four years, sir." "Not so much 'sir,' if you don't mind!" Curt was rapidly getting in a mood. The prospect of two days of Emilio was facing him. "What've you done to keep going these four years?" "Worked most of the time, si worked, here and there. I've handled han-dled a Diesel shovel, done rough P fiSl 11 And on the edge of the cement, inside the hedge, were dried mud footprints! Someone had stood on this spot. Why? For only one reav son. To listen in on what passed above in the veranda-livingroom. Then who could it have been? The prints were broad and indicated flat shoes. They weren't large. The men in this clime didn't run to big feet, Curt knew, but he sensed these were woman's prints. Not Lee's, for she wore heels. The cook's? No, she didn't know English and eavesdropping eaves-dropping would have done her no good. That is, Curt had been told she knew no English. But Ines knew English. Not well, but enough for simple phrases, which meant that she understood it even better. Ines was the maid furnished fur-nished by Montaya. Whoever had left them had inadvertently in-advertently stepped into the hibiscus hibis-cus bed, then up onto the cement, and since this soil absorbed moisture mois-ture quickly it had to be early in the evening after the shower. Perhaps Per-haps after dinner when he and Lee sat on the veranda above. About the time Ines left for the day. Dinner. Curt was quiet and brooding, brood-ing, and Lee caught his eye on Ines whenever the girl was in the room. Especially, Lee noticed, he glanced at her feet. Lee wondered, but said nothing couldn't have at the table. What Curt saw was that the shoes Ines wore to work, despite her flare for style in dress, were for comfort, not style. They were practically heelless and broad enough for feet which had gone barefoot through childhood. After coffee. Curt collapsed on his shoulder blades in a comfortable bamboo chair which he pulled close to the couch. He lit his pipe and blew rings to the ceiling, and ignored ig-nored the stack of papers on the taboret by his side. Lee recognized the mood and got out her sewing-small sewing-small rompers to mend. She knew he'd start talking when he got ready. She took the couch, as he'd planned for her to do. A subdued clatter of dishes came from the rear as Ines removed them from the dining table to the kitchen sink. Then sounds from the sink. Curt came to life. ( "Lee, I want you to talk to yourself your-self for a while, as though you were talking to me." Lee shot him a startled look. "I want to know if ordinary conversation con-versation can be heard outside," he grinned. "Oh." But she stared. Curt put down his pipe, went to the door, silently let himself out into the dark. Lee, with the ghost of a snicker, sighed and did as asked, keeping her voice down as though Curt were beside be-side her. "Well, I suppose I might as well talk about the people I've met. I'll get as much attention as if you were here. Let's see, there's Mrs. Berry, the doctor's wife. She's from Pennsylvania, but she's no Quaker! Lee's hands flew at her work while she talked. "Oh, I've found there're quite a number of nice people here. It's a good clubhouse we have, with pool and billiard tables, a card room, and movies twice a week." carpentering, used a transit." "Where'd you come from last?" "I've been up at the Rosario mines on the hydraulic pumps." "Why'd you leave?" "Fired." "Drunkenness? " "Yes, sir." "I said I don't like the 'sir'! Well, I don't know what I can do for you. I've got to depend on the men under un-der me and I won't hire booze hounds." "I'm hungry, Mr. Curtis, and I'm a good worker. I don't get drunk very often. I can keep away from it, honest. I'll promise to leave it alone, if you'll give me a chance. I'll " "Don't snivel. Here," Curt sighed, "let's see what you look like on paper. pa-per. Fill this out. Make it snappy, I've only a few minutes to spare." The man took the application blank, sat down at a table and commenced com-menced writing. Curt loaded his pipe while he studied the man's back. He paced for a few moments, forgot to pull on his pipe, had to light it again. "Lauriano!" "Yes, sir?" "Here." He handed the native a bill. "Get me a tin of Briggs and a couple cartons of candy bars. Any hind. Put them aboard the launch and hurry back, I haven't much time this morning." The candy bars was an old trick of Curt's. It was his theory that the more candy a man consumed the less alcohol his system craved. The native hesitated, but under the glower Curt gave him, departed in haste. Lauriano Duro hadn't the pertinacity of his compatriot, Vargas. Var-gas. The screen door had no sooner soon-er slammed after him than Curt approached ap-proached the man at the table. "Stand up-" Collins rose to his feet. Curt looked him steadily in the eye a moment, then reached out and ripped open the shirt It practically came apart. The man's head jerked up. Curt grunted. "Thought so!" Collins' skin was smooth and healthily health-ily tanned and clean! The flesh ivas Arm and hard, no ribs showed. The man was in the pink of condition, other appearances notwithstanding. "All right, out with it, and quick. What do you want?" It was a different voice Collins used in answering, as he tucked the shirt together again and under his belt, a calm enough voice if not assured. as-sured. "Just what I asked for, a job." "Why the disguise?" A silence greeted this. "Quick, man, why'd you come to me?" "I came to see Mr. Mitchell, but got here lo late. Mr. Mclnnis, across the river, told me to see you." "Why?" "I want a job." Curt grunted again. "Collins! Collins! Col-lins! Sure!" The name had suddenly sudden-ly clicked. The man from Henderson's Hender-son's home town more lately from the Zone! "You wouldn't want to sec Bill Henderson, too, would you?" (TO BE CO.TI,LU At the bedroom window Curt first sed only his ears. er this time, but there was the hint of a smile in her voice as she spoke up. "Well, if I could get a date for a dance the first time I talked to thin air, perhaps this time I can get you started on that collection of orchids for me. After all, you promised prom-ised ..." At the bedroom window Curt first used only his ears. He listened to the pad of footsteps going to the gate, the normal click of the latch. Presently came a rustle of shrubbery shrub-bery and he knew his guess was correct. cor-rect. There could be no doubt. The rattan screen at the bedroom window was down. In lifting it aside to peer out, Curt made the slightest of sounds. Instantly his straining eyes caught a flicker of shadow slipping slip-ping into solid darkness around the corner of the house. Quickly followed fol-lowed the click of the gate latch again, muffled this time, but unmistakably un-mistakably the gate latch. He frowned. On the morrow the weather held hot, and coupled with the ever-present Emilio, it didn't improve Curt's disposition. It was midmorning when Curt and his shadow reached Tempujo for their trip upriver. By phone from San Alejo Curt had ordered or-dered the launch fueled and ready. He intended wasting no time here. But the need of a map or two took him first to his office. As he was about to turn into it a figure rose from under a palm and Curt was accosted by one of the most disreputable looking tramps he'd yet seen in the tropics. An American, clearly, but the many days' growth of beard, the filthy rags he wore, effectively concealed what kind of man this was. "Mr. Curtis, sir?" in a cringing voice. "Yes," Curt answered shortly. He hated subservience in a man. "My name is Collins, sir. I'm looking for work." Curt eyed the man. The eyes were bloodshot and told unquestionably unquestion-ably of hunger real hunger. "Well?" "I'm a good transitman, sir, and I'm good on gas engines or Diesels. I heard you need men." Curt stood silent. There were plenty of tropical tramps in these quarters drunken, irresponsible men, all of them fugitives, if not from the law, then from themselves. Curt had sufficient sympathy to give such derelicts a lift from his own pocket, or a little work if he could |