In the Dead of NightMcIntyre, John T. (John Thomas)
General
In the Dead of Night
McIntyre, John T. (John Thomas)
Mystery fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
“They seem to be enjoying the pastime immensely,” commented Kenyon,
under his breath, “so it would be a pity to interrupt them.”
He softly crossed the deck and made his way down the iron steps leading
to the engine-room. This was also brilliantly lighted; the engine was
throbbing swiftly, but there was no sign of anyone in charge.
“All the better for me,” muttered the adventurer, as he dropped his
Colt back into his pocket. “I suppose the matter upon deck has them all
interested.”
In an instant he had shut off steam, and the engine began to slow down;
then he ascended the iron stairs once more and gained the deck. The
revolver shots still continued from the _Piedmont_; but those upon
the _Wizard_ were not replying. From the shelter of the housing Kenyon
looked aft. As before, only two unwounded men were visible, and these,
all unconscious, in their excitement, that the engine had stopped, were
crouched under the bulwarks reloading their weapons. The _Piedmont_
had clung to the larger vessel; and now that she had all but lost her
headway, the attacking party came alongside and leaped upon the deck of
the _Wizard_.
While the two sailors were being seized, Kenyon slipped down into the
cabin, a strong suspicion forming in his mind. So when, a little later,
Farbush came bursting in, followed by Hong Yo, who was assisted by a
couple of men, they found the adventurer seated coolly in a steamer
chair, rolling a cigarette. And as they stood staring with eyes of
wonder, he looked up and smiled.
“Ah, gentlemen,” he greeted, “how do you do?”
For a moment neither Hong Yo nor Farbush was able to speak; then the
former waved his hand in dismissal to the two men who had helped him
down into the cabin; when they were gone, he turned to Kenyon once more.
“Well?” asked he, and his deathly face was set like stone.
“I’m sorry to say that it does not seem to be at all well,” replied
Kenyon. He lit the cigarette and pointed to a couple of chairs. “Won’t
you sit down?”
“Where is Forrester?” inquired Farbush. His face was flushed, and there
was anger and suspicion in his eyes.
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
Both men sat down and looked at him silently for a time. Apparently
they were wholly unable to account for him. At length Hong Yo spoke
again.
“What are you doing on board the _Wizard_?” he asked.
“My errand is exactly the same as your own,” smiled Kenyon. “I came to
find Forrester.”
A light of intelligence crossed the countenance of Farbush.
“Ah, I think I understand!” exclaimed he. “You received my message
after all.”
“It is very seldom that I miss anything of importance,” evaded Kenyon,
evenly. “It is a thing that I have drilled myself to, you see.”
“And when you learned the circumstances, you suspected Forrester of the
burglary,” cried Farbush, triumphantly. “Hong Yo said that you would
not--that like himself you had confidence in the traitor.”
Kenyon drew the cigarette smoke deeply into his lungs, and expelled it
slowly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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