The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories. Sapper
was an easy one to get information about. He was a gentleman, I may say, who had come down in the world through drink, and therefore was rather a marked figure in the company he frequented. At last I got on to him again: he was in Monte Video. And he was dying. Moreover I discovered by methods into which we—ah!—need not enter that he was speaking the truth when he told me that he had given the map away, and did not know the name of the man he had given it to."
Don Miguel drew an immense handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead.
"Annoying, Mr. Maitland, as you will agree. To have run the man at last to earth and then find all one's trouble wasted was a bore. But I have sources of information at my disposal, which caused me not to give up hope, even though I left for Uruguay and returned here. And sure enough, some weeks after the man's death I received word that a certain young Englishman had been dining in the Jockey Club in Buenos Aires one evening, and drunk a little freely. Also he had talked a little freely. And again to cut a long story short it was obvious that this young Englishman was the man to whom the sailor had given the map. I, at once, left for the Argentine, only to find that I had again missed my man: he had left a week previously for England. I trust I am not boring you: you possibly know all this already."
"No: I don't," said Jim. "You are filling in one or two gaps very nicely."
"As I said, I am putting all my cards on the table," said the Brazilian. "To continue, I immediately got into communication with some friends of mine in England, giving them the name of the young man, and the boat he was travelling in."
"Thank you," said Jim shortly. "I know what happened then. They killed him."
The Brazilian waved a deprecating hand.
"Deplorable, Mr. Maitland, deplorable. I received a cable in code informing me of the fact. And—er—of other facts too."
"You interest me profoundly," murmured Jim. "What other facts do you allude to?"
Don Miguel lit a cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke before replying.
"I do not wish to flatter you unduly, Mr. Maitland," he remarked, "but your name is one that is fairly widely known. And when I heard from my friends in London that you had come into the picture it caused me a certain shock. True, they seemed to think that it was purely accidental, and at that I had to leave it. But when I discovered you were actually here, and in addition were with the sister of the young man who was so unfortunately shot, I realised at once that it was not accidental."
"Your reasoning is most profound," Jim assured him.
"And so, Mr. Maitland, we come to the point. What are we going to do about it?"
"Do about what?"
"I will be brief, as one busy man to another. Are we going into this thing together, or against one another?"
Jim, in his turn, lit a cigarette.
"May I ask by what right you come into it at all?" he asked. "The map belonged to young Draycott, and was stolen from him. In addition to that he was killed."
"My dear Mr. Maitland," said the other contemptuously, "are we members of some religious order that we talk about right? And if it comes to that, it was originally stolen by the sailor."
"With that I am not concerned in the slightest," said Jim. "It was given to Arthur Draycott, and further back than that I do not propose to go."
"Am I to take it then that you refuse my offer?"
"I wasn't aware you had made one."
"I suggest to you that you should cancel your proposed trip in the motor-boat and come in with us. My friends arrive the day after to-morrow: we leave in the evening. What do you say?"
"Why such altruism, Don Miguel?" asked Jim quietly.
The other shrugged his shoulders.
"If my information is correct there will be plenty for all of us," he remarked. "And since I am quite prepared to admit that Miss Draycott has a right to her share why should we not join forces?"
For a while Jim stared at him as if pondering whether to accept the proposal. Not that he had the slightest intention of doing so—he trusted Don Silvestre Miguel as far as the length of his foot—but he had to decide what line to take with him. The man was wealthy and unscrupulous, and the combination was a formidable one anywhere. In South America, where money means everything, it was doubly so.
"Suppose I fall in with your suggestion," he remarked at length, "what guarantee have I, Don Miguel, that your friends will be agreeable?"
The other leaned forward in his chair.
"I have been in wireless communication with them, Mr. Maitland," he said. "And I may say that it is their idea as much as mine. Come, come: we are men of the world. What is the use of your going in comparative discomfort when I can offer you the luxury of my yacht? We are bound to meet at the island in any case, so why not let us go there together?"
"The only objection to your idea," said Jim, "is the question of Miss Draycott. She knows that your friends were responsible for her brother's death, and somewhat naturally she would not relish being forced to meet them daily."
"Then leave her here, Mr. Maitland. You can look after her interests."
"You don't know the young lady, I'm afraid." remarked Jim, with a smile. "She has a very determined character. See here, Don Miguel,"—he seemed to have arrived at a sudden decision—"I will talk to her about the matter. I have, between ourselves, been trying to find an excuse to prevent her going. From what I hear, the place is most unhealthy, and not at all suitable for a woman. I can say that a hitch has occurred over our own boat, and tell her your alternative."
The Brazilian looked at him searchingly, but Jim Maitland had not played poker in most corners of the globe for nothing.
"Will you do so at once?" he demanded.
"My dear sir, how can I possibly get up straight from a conversation with you, and tell her that our boat has failed?"
Jim gazed at him blandly, and the other nodded his head.
"True," he acknowledged, "true."
"It must be done this evening," continued Jim. "After dinner perhaps."
"And when shall I know your answer?"
"As soon as that incalculable time has elapsed in which it takes a woman to make up her mind," answered Jim, and Don Miguel rose.
"Very good, Mr. Maitland: we will leave it at that."
He picked up the card which Jim had laid on the table and scribbled on it.
"My telephone number," he remarked. "I shall hope to hear from you as soon as possible."
Jim watched him cross the lounge, and leave the hotel, bowing ceremoniously to Judy as he passed. Then he joined his cousin and the girl.
"Where's Bill?" he asked.
"Gone down to the boat again," said Percy. "What did that bandit want?"
He told them briefly.
"But you aren't dreaming of doing it, are you, Jim?" cried the girl.
"I am not," said Jim. "But I had to fob him off with something. If I'd given him a flat refusal we'd never have got off to-morrow. As it is it's not going to be plain sailing, though I think I've fooled him all right."
"Are you afraid he may tinker with the boat?" asked Percy.
"My dear lad, a man with his length of purse in this country can do anything. I wish to heaven we could get away to-night. And here's Bill returning with a face like a boot."
"They're getting at us, Mr. Maitland," cried the sailor as he sat down. "That old rascal Antonio, who is one of the part owners of the boat has just broken it to me. Somebody has spread it around that we're going to Lone Tree Island, and not a man will sail with us. Say they'd rather be sacked than go to such a place."
"Hell!"