The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories. Sapper
Gawd for that, guv'nor."
And the voice was that of a man in whom some faint hope of life had been rekindled. Mr. Robinson's idea of speed did not coincide with Percy's.
It was past eleven when they drew up finally outside Jim's flat.
"But why the dickens did you want me to go slower, after telling me to tread on the juice?" demanded Percy indignantly.
"One is so much more exposed to things in the back seat, Percy dear," said the girl. "But you drove very nicely."
"Why, we've taken as long to get up as we did going down counting in the twenty minutes we waited while Jim went ahead. Rotten."
"Push inside, and don't talk so much," remarked Jim. "As an ornament to the doorstep I'd prefer a gargoyle. I expect you could do with a drink, Robinson."
"Well, sir, I don't mind if I do," agreed the sailor. "Them machines seem to make one thirsty like."
Jim smiled, and led the way. And as a hardened bachelor he noted with a certain misgiving that installing Judy in his best chair was a very pleasant occupation. Not, of course, that there would ever be anything in it: he had merely held her hand in a comforting, fraternal way. Still—a very pretty girl: very pretty indeed.
"Now, Robinson," he said when they were all settled, "I'd be glad if you'd tell me one or two things. First of all how did you get mixed up in that bunch?"
"That's easy, sir. I was lodging down in Mother Shipwells—she takes in us seafaring men chiefly—when a bloke shoves 'is 'ead round the door at dinner-time to-day and sings out: ''Oo knows South America well?' I says I do. 'E h'asks me a few questions, and then says: 'Would you like to earn a fiver?' I says: 'Stop kidding.' 'E says: 'It's strite.' All I 'ad to do was to go and see some guys in the country that wanted h'information. That's how it 'appened, sir."
"Good," said Jim, "that's clear. Now, from what I heard this evening, you were talking about some island."
"That's right, sir. The first thing that little terror of a dwarf asked me was if I knew Lone Tree Island."
"That was before I got there," said Jim. "And you did know this island?"
"There h'ain't many men, sir, 'oove been in the coastal trade there 'oo don't," answered the sailor. "I knows it all right, as I told them guys down there. Knows it so well, as I says to 'em, that I wouldn't spend a night on it for a 'undred quid."
"But why the deuce not?" cried Percy, staring at him. "I mean, I'd spend a night in a temperance hotel for that."
"Look 'ere, sir," said the sailor to Jim. "A lot of you gentlemen—and you too, Miss—seems h'interested in Lone Tree Island. Now I'm only an h'uneducated man, and maybe you don't pay much count to what I says. But there's a man just 'ome from the West H'Indies 'olding a master's ticket 'oo knows more'n I do about the place. 'E's lodging not far from Mother Shipwells—Cap'n Blackett...."
"Wait a minute," cried Jim. "Big man with a hook nose, and blue eyes, who used to have an old tramp called the Indus?"
"That's the man, sir. Do you know 'im?"
"Know Bill Blackett? I should think I do!"
"Well, sir, he'll tell you h'everything, better'n than I can."
Jim put his hand in his pocket.
"Here's some money, Robinson. Get in a taxi, and go and see Captain Blackett. Tell him Jim Maitland wants him, and bring him back with you to-night. And if his memory wants jogging, just say—'The Union Bar, Pernambuco!'"
"Aye, aye, sir. If 'e's there, I'll bring 'im. Evening, mum: evening, gentlemen."
They heard the front door slam, and Jim, his eyes gleaming with excitement, began pacing up and down the room.
"Bill Blackett! A damned good man. We'll get the truth from him, my children, if we can get it from anyone."
And suddenly Judy Draycott understood the reason of Percy's hero worship. Just as a hunter quivers and fidgets at the sound of hounds, so was this man at the thought of adventure. And a little ruefully she realised that in all probability he had completely forgotten that he held her hand in the car.
"A pity that I sent the other half to my lawyers," he went on. "Still, it was safer, I suppose. And we can get to the maps later, after we've heard what Bill has to say."
He came with Robinson an hour later.
"By Jove! Mr. Maitland," he said as he shook hands, "you are the only man in London who could have got me out of bed at this hour."
"Good for you, Bill," cried Jim, and introduced him to the other two. "Take that chair, and you'll find the necessary beside you. I want some information out of you."
"So I gather from Robinson," said the other gravely. "I hear you've been making enquiries about Lone Tree Island."
"That seems to be the name of the spot," agreed Jim.
"Have you got the map of it?"
"Only half: the other is at my lawyers. There it is."
Bill Blackett stared at it for some time.
"Yes—that looks to me like a rough sketch of the southern part of the island. And if it is, Mr. Maitland, or if you—and I know what you are—have any idea of paying it a visit, my advice to you is to tear that up into tiny pieces and forget it."
"But why, Captain Blackett?" cried the girl breathlessly.
"Because, Miss, there are certain things in this world which it is best to leave alone. Mr. Maitland is a match for anything on two legs, as I very well know, but neither he nor any other man is a match for what ever it is that lives on that island. It's accursed: the island is accursed."
"Bill—you're pulling our legs," said Jim banteringly.
But there was no answering smile on the other's face.
"Was the case of the Paquinetta before your time?" he enquired.
"I don't seem to recall it," said Jim.
"Then if it won't bore you, I'll tell you the story."
"Fire ahead, Bill," cried Jim. "The night is yet young."
CHAPTER VII
"LONE TREE ISLAND," began Blackett, "lies south of Santos. In size it is about five miles north to south, and a little less from east to west. The eastern side has a biggish area of swamp which is practically impassable: the western side is mostly dense tropical forest. The northern part—the map of which isn't here—has one conspicuous conical hill, and west of that hill one even more conspicuous tree standing by itself on high ground."
"That confirms the accuracy of the other part of the map," said Jim.
"The first time I heard of it," went on the other, "was in '06. I was serving then as mate in a small line with its headquarters at Buenos. One day we got sudden orders from the owners to go there, which struck me as being pretty strange, seeing that there was no question of any cargo, and tramps don't generally go on pleasure cruises. And what struck me as even stranger was our old man's manner after we'd sailed. He wasn't a chatty card at the best of times, but that trip I couldn't get a word out of him. What was more, there was something wrong with the men. So at last I took the bull by the horns one morning when he came up on the bridge.
"'What's all the trouble, sir?' I said. 'The crew are as windy as if they were a girls' school.'
"'How long have you been out here, Mr. Blackett?' he answered.
"'About a year,' I told him.
"'You may remember the Paquinetta left Buenos six weeks ago sudden like,' he said.
"The Paquinetta was another of our line.