Hurricane Read Free Page B

him away.” A weary note was in her voice and she moved her slender, well-kept hands in a helpless gesture.
    Spar edged slowly toward the door, hoping that no one would notice him, but then Chacktar came back. “I’ve told him to pack, Monsieur Perry. Servants are at work even now.”
    A sullen-faced man who wore a jacket bearing four gold bands stepped belligerently forward. “But how can he go?”
    “On the Venture, of course,” said Perry.
    “I am the captain of the Venture, ” said the one in gold braid.
    “What do you mean, Larson?” demanded Perry.
    “That I carry no murderers while I work for you. And I have a contract. I cannot jeopardize my reputation for that worthless sot of yours.”
    “None of that,” said Perry. “Do you mean you’d desert me now?”
    “Call it that if you will.”
    Another gentleman moved forward to the two. He was small, dressed foppishly in a mess jacket, black sash, tuxedo pants. The tight-fitting, abbreviated white coat bore silver buttons. The fellow had a small mustache, a slender face, a dreamy dark eye.
    “We make too much of this,” he said.
    “Not enough, Count Folston,” replied Perry.
    Count Folston smiled. “But certainly you can buy the officials out.”
    Perry scowled. “Hardly. I have the interests of Perry Sugar Central to consider. I have my own reputation to think about. I must get him away before anyone finds out.”
    “But,” said Folston with a shrug, “that would only brand him what he is. I believe it would be better if the Venture set to sea with a yachting party.”
    “But I cannot go,” said Perry. “I have my business.”
    A light but throaty voice floated out of the back of the room. “Oh, I think that would be just dandy.”
    Perry glared, Folston smiled.
    Spar looked into the shadows to see a black-haired, jet-eyed girl who puffed slowly on a cigarette she held in a long holder. She looked quite Spanish, very sophisticated. Spar instantly disliked her.
    “Miss Bereau is right,” said the girl in blue. “It would be better if we all went.”
    “Correct, Peg,” said Folston. “It’s your decision, seeing that someday you will be marrying the brute.”
    Spar’s heart sagged within him. This dream married to that drunk? Impossible!
    “Yes,” said Folston, stifling a yawn with a dainty slap, “we had better all go. That will make it look better. A sea cruise is what we need. I myself am rather bored with Martinique. So little excitement here, you know.”
    The man with the gold braid bristled again. “I’m not taking anyone out on the Venture . There’s a storm, and there’s my ticket to consider. Do what you like with your boat, Perry. Count me out.” He picked up his garish cap from the bookshelf, bowed to all those present, and stepped past Spar and out of the room.
    “Obedient blighter ,” said Folston. “Is the mate fit to captain her?”
    “The mate?” said Perry. “Oh, my God, I forgot the mate. He’s in the hospital. He fell down a hatch and broke his leg.”
    “Then we have no captain,” said Folston, pondering the matter, chin in hand.
    “Can’t . . . can’t you get a captain?” said the girl in blue.
    “No, Miss Mannering,” said Perry. “Not here in Martinique.”
    Spar looked at them all. He wondered what they would say and do if they knew he was an escaped convict from the penal colony. Probably throw him to the official wolves, doubtless.
    For minutes he had been debating about the Saint. Should he stay here and try for vengeance or come back later? Right now, penniless as he was, to stay might be very foolish. And then, he owed a debt to the girl in blue. She had made him realize that the world contained something other than death and fever and slime. She had been an excellent stabilizer for a man who has long lived in madness. A glimpse had been enough.
    But he had better not trust these men, these women. Somehow, he would get free. Once more he started to edge toward the doorway. A flash of