The Pirate of Panama (Musaicum Adventure Classics). William MacLeod Raine

from me. There was not a single chance to close with him. I was considering ignominious surrender when Miss Wallace saved my face.

      "Can he give you what he hasn't got?" she cried out, her natural courage and her contempt struggling with her fear for me.

      "So he hasn't it, eh?" There was a silence before he went on: "But it is in this room somewhere. You have it or he has it. Now, I wonder which?" He spoke softly, as if to himself, without the least trace of nervousness or passion. "Yes, that's the riddle. Which of you?"

      His eyes released me long enough to shoot a questioning glance at her, for from my face he could read nothing.

      "If you have it, Evie, my cousin, you will perhaps desire to turn it over to me for safe keeping. It will be better, I think."

      "For you or for me?"

      He laughed noiselessly, with the manner peculiar to him of having some private source of amusement within.

      "Would you shoot me if I didn't agree with you?" she continued.

      "My dear cousin," he reproved. From his air one might have judged him a pained and loving father.

      "Then what will you do?"

      "Yes, I really think it will be better," he murmured with his strange smile.

      "And I ask again, better for whom?"

      "For Mr. Sedgwick, my dear," he cut back.

      She was plainly taken aback.

      "But—since he hasn't the paper——"

      "We'll assume he has it. At least he knows where it is."

      His manner dismissed her definitely from the business in hand. "I must apologize for my brusqueness, Mr. Sedgwick, but I'm sure you'll understand that with a busy man time is money. Believe me, it is with great regret I am forced to cut short so promising a career. You're a man after my own heart. I see quite unusual qualities in you that I would have found pleasure in cultivating. But I mustn't let my selfish regret interfere with what is for the good of the greatest number. At best it's an unsatisfactory world. You're well rid of it. Any last messages, by the way?"

      He purred out his atrocious mockery as a great cat gifted with speech might have done while playing with the mouse it meant to destroy.

      "I'd like to make it clear to you what a villain you are—but I despair of finding words to do justice to the subject. As for your threat, it is absurd. You'd hang, to a certainty, on the testimony of Miss Wallace."

      He shrugged his broad shoulders.

      "Life is full of risks. We all have to take them, and for my part it lends a zest. Unfortunately, if you take this risk you will not be in a position later to realize that your judgment was at fault. That, however, is your business and not mine," he concluded cheerfully, lifting his weapon slightly and taking aim.

      "For the last time—— Do you give me the map, or do I give you a pass to kingdom come?"

      The girl moved forward so that she stood directly between me and the weapon. She was taking a paper from her hand-bag, but she did not lower her eyes to direct her hands in their search.

      "I reckon I couldn't make you understand how I despise you—and hate you! I'd rather be kin to the poorest beggar who sweeps the streets down there than to you," she flamed, flinging before him a paper.

      Warily he picked it up and glanced at it, still covering me carefully.

      "This is the map, is it?"

      "You may see for yourself," she blazed.

      "It is really very good of you to ask me to keep it for you, Evie. I'll take good care of it—not a doubt of that. It's far better in my hands than yours, for of course you might be robbed."

      His impudent smile derided her contempt. For me—I wouldn't have faced that look of hers for twenty maps.

      "We're not through with you yet," I told him.

      In gay reproof he shook a finger at me.

      "Ah! There speaks the lawyer. You'll bring an action, will you?"

      It annoyed me to be playing so poor a part before Miss Wallace.

      "You're an infernal scoundrel!"

      "I could argue you out of that uncharitable opinion if I had time, Mr. Sedgwick. But I'm devilishly de trop—the superfluous third, you know. My dear cousin frowns at me. 'Pon my word, I don't blame her. But you'll excuse me for intruding, won't you? I plead the importance of my business. And I'm very glad of an excuse for meeting you formally, Mr. Sedgwick. The occasion has been enjoyable and will, I trust, prove profitable. I'll not say good-bye—hang me if I do. We'll make it au revoir. Eh?"

      An imp of malicious deviltry danced in his eyes. It was not necessary to tell me that he was having a pleasant time.

      "Au revoir be it," I nodded, swallowing my bad temper.

      Once more he gave us his bland smile, a bow of audacious effrontery, then whipped open the door and was gone.

      It may be guessed he left me in no exultant mood. From the first the fellow had taken and held the upper hand. I had come through with no distinction at all and had let him walk off with the booty. But if there be those who think my spirit small I ask them to remember that a revolver staring one in the eye is a potent persuader.

      Miss Wallace was the first to speak.

      "You know now why I think him a dreadful man," she said, taking a deep breath of relief.

      "Just a moment," I excused myself, and ran into the outer office.

      Our office Cerberus was sitting at the gate of entry reading the enthralling story of "Hal Hiccup, the Boy Demon." From my pocket I fished one of the few dollars it held.

      "Jimmie, follow that man who has just gone out. Find out where he goes and whom he meets. If he stops anywhere keep a note of the place."

      The eyes of Young America grew big and round with astonishment, then lit with ecstatic delight. He was going to be a real detective.

      "The boss?" He jerked a dirty thumb in the direction of the chief clerk.

      "I'll make it right with him. Hurry!"

      "You bet I'll keep a peeper on him," he bragged, reaching for his hat.

      He was gone.

      I returned to my client.

      "Excuse me. I wanted to put a spy on your cousin. If he takes the map to a safe-deposit vault we ought to know where. And that reminds me—— What was it you gave him? I thought the map was on my table here?"

      "I gave him a copy of it, one my father took years ago."

      "But had it a corner torn off just like this one?"

      From her hand-bag she drew a scrap of paper. "I was tearing it off just before I took it out."

      My admiration was genuine enough.

      "You're a cool hand, Miss Wallace. My hat is off to you."

      The color deepened slightly in her cheeks. "That was nothing. I just happened to think of it."

      "You saved the day, anyhow. He stands only an equal chance with us."

      "But he doesn't. My father purposely made an error in the details in case the map happened to fall into the wrong hands. And the latitude and longitude aren't marked."

      I could have shouted my delight.

      "But he has heard the diary read," she added. "In that the right latitude was given. If he happens to remember——"

      "A hundred to one he doesn't, and even at the worst he's no better off than we are."

      "Except that he has money and can finance an expedition in search of the treasure."

      I came to earth as promptly as Darius Green.

      "By