Cargo of Coffins Read Free Page A

Simpson. He sensed that because he knew the ways of Paco all too well.
    “I . . . I shall have to consult Miss Norton,” gasped Simpson. “After all, I am only her captain. Perhaps,” he added hopefully, with an uneasy glance at Lars, “perhaps she will not consent to another crew member when there are no vacancies.”
    “She’ll consent to anything I propose,” smiled Paco.
    “Someday she’ll discover how wrong she is,” said Simpson. “We won’t be able to get away with this forever.”
    “But while we can get away with it, we can make our fortunes. What better means of transportation is there than the Valiant ? Who would dare suspect Teresa Norton of smuggling? You are getting shaky, Simpson.”
    “What if I am?” said the captain, abruptly belligerent.
    Paco shrugged. “Let it pass. Suppose you catch up with Miss Norton—she just went toward the quay—and ask her.”
    “I don’t think I shall,” said Simpson. Suddenly he began to whine. “You can’t make me do this, Paco. After all, we know this man is an escaped convict. . . .”
    “So am I,” said Paco. “And so will you be someday. Get along and make the request.”
    “And if I refuse?”
    Lars knew how dangerous was the ground on which Simpson stood. A soft, purring note had come into Paco’s voice.
    Again Paco shrugged that fatalistic Latin shrug. “Refuse, then. Come, we grow too serious. Let us go somewhere and have a drink and after that I’ll file this paper at the bank.” He looked at Lars and the smile was uncertain for an instant. “No. I’ll file that paper now, across the street. Wait here.”
    Lars was helpless to stop this with three beneath the awning. Sullenly he watched Paco cross the pavement and enter the bank. He knew now he should not have delayed that bullet. He should have taken his chance when he had it, despite the risk.
    Lars and Simpson were uncomfortable together. Simpson considered Lars far beneath him and Lars considered Simpson a very low form of insect life. Simpson was a man who would betray an employer like the girl Lars had seen. He would sell out a trust for a pittance. He was weak and unintelligent. And though Lars might have warned Simpson, he did not. Simpson would not have taken the warning and the crime merited the punishment.
    Paco came back, breezily jingling the coins in his pocket, smiling with good humor, walking elastically.
    “And now, my uneasy companions,” said Paco, “let us partake of refreshment.”
    “Sorry,” said Lars slowly. “I’m afraid I’m not drinking with either of you.”
    Paco laughed merrily. “Still the same Lars! At least let us find you a good bed before we leave you. This afternoon I’ll bring you news . . . No. I have a better plan. Too bad you do not possess a strategic mind, Lars. I might have been dead by now if you had. Simpson, meet me in an hour at the Café of the Captains.”
    Simpson grumbled about it but it was easily seen that he was glad to get away from the company he was in. In mutual disgust and distrust they parted.
    Paco and Lars walked up the avenue between the palms and the white building fronts, proceeding silently for three blocks. As they turned down a side street toward a sailors’ hotel, Paco grinned suddenly.
    “Perhaps I wrong you, Lars.”
    “Perhaps.”
    “You seem to be falling into this with suspicious ease.”
    “Am I?”
    “But I know you too well to suppose that you have changed your mind. You saw Miss Norton, didn’t you?”
    “Certainly.”
    “You always were a romantic fool, Lars. And there’s the difference between us.”
    “I am not interested,” said Lars.
    “But I am,” smiled Paco as they paced along toward a swinging sign. “That is the difference. You are a romantic fool and I am merely romantic. You allow scruples to stand in your way and thereby hamper yourself. Undoubtedly you were on the verge of potting me from cover this afternoon. But you didn’t. Why? Because it would not have been