The Devil—With Wings Read Free Page B

there’s a woman looking for you.”
    â€œWhat sort of a woman?”
    â€œAnd the Japanese are spreading the net for you. We’ve got to get out of Port Arthur.”
    â€œThat’s what they expect us to do.”
    â€œSure,” said Ching. “But, gee whiz, you can’t stick around here and get yourself bumped off. I just passed a squad in the street. There isn’t a place in town they’ll leave untouched. What happened?”
    â€œNever mind,” said Forsythe. “You mentioned a woman.”
    â€œSure. You bet. An American. She’s been going all over Port Arthur asking everybody where she can find Akuma-no-Hané. ”
    â€œYou’ve seen her?”
    â€œNo. Of course not. But a clerk from the steamship office told me that a coolie who knows a waiter in the All Worlds Café who—”
    â€œThe grapevine. Certainly. What have you found out about her?”
    â€œHer room-boy told me she’s behind with her bill and hasn’t eaten for two days. She’s high-strung, out of her head because her brother—”
    â€œWhy does she want to meet me?”
    â€œNobody knows. But with the patrols out, I don’t think—”
    â€œAn American, stranded.… What’s her name, Ching?”
    â€œPatricia Weston.”
    Ching thought he saw Forsythe give a start. “Gosh, you know her?”
    Forsythe tossed the looted letters before Ching. Ching’s eager black eyes soaked up the words, his mouth sagged. “They’re nuts! You didn’t kill any guy named Weston!” Ching scowled. “They’re trying to hang one of their own blunders on you.”
    â€œShinohari never blunders,” remarked Forsythe casually. “He controls the Records office. He had a very definite reason for doing away with an American engineer, another reason for making me the goat.”
    â€œPolitical?”
    Forsythe was grinning balefully. “Shinohari’s reasons in this must have been personal. Japan would not be interested in one lone American engineer, could not risk international complications attendant to his death. Ching, Shinohari is up to something and he’s trying to keep it from his superiors. By pinning this killing on me with these false records—”
    â€œAw,” said Ching, “the more I hear from these Japs, the less respect I’ve got for their noodles. We’re trying to oust the well-known son of the universe, Henry Pu Yi . And that hasn’t got a thing to do with—”
    â€œYou grow careless,” said Forsythe. “Ching, I think you had better slip over to her hotel and say that I’m waiting here to see her.”
    â€œMaybe she’s lined up with the Japanese Intelligence. This may be just another clumsy trap to—”
    â€œShe would not be so blatant about contacting me if she was Japanese Intelligence. Bring her here.”
    Ching shrugged. “Okay. You’re the boss. But this is liable to bring our old pal Shinohari right down on our ears.”
    He went out and closed the door behind him.
    Forsythe sat for some time looking into his empty glass and thinking about nothing in particular. He was not a nervous type and the life he had been leading for the last three years had only schooled him into better self-discipline.
    He got up lazily and walked to the washbasin and mirror across the room. He lit the lamp there and held it up at the level of his shoulder, looking at his reflection. The curiosity in his study faded to weariness. He set the light down and poured out some water.
    Puzzled with himself, he shaved carefully and then changed his shirt. He raised the lamp once more and looked at himself. He was not very pleased. The black silk was wrinkled and the white ideographs over the pocket were suddenly distasteful to him.
    His lean face tightened into a grimace of disgust. He said slowly and mockingly, “The Devil With Wings.”
    When