miss finding Leontine and Sydney. We did, however, run across Burke,
bent evidently on watching, also.
"I don't like this business," he confessed, as we paused to compare
experiences. "I've been thinking of that Mexican business you hinted
at, Kennedy. You know the islands would be an ideal out-of-the-way spot
from which to start gun-running expeditions to Mexico. I don't like
this Leontine and Burleigh. They want to make money too bad."
Kennedy smiled. "Burleigh doesn't seem to approve of everything,
though," he remarked.
"Perhaps not. That's one reason why I think it may be more dangerous
for Sydney than he realizes. I know she's a fascinating girl. All the
more reason to watch out for her. But I can't talk to Sydney," he
sighed.
It was an enigma and I had not solved it, though I felt much as Burke
did. Kennedy seemed to have determined to allow events to take their
course, perhaps in the hope that developments would be quicker that way
than by interfering with something which we did not understand.
In the smoking-room, after we left Burke, Kennedy and I came upon
Erickson and Burleigh. They had just finished a game of poker with some
of the other passengers, in which Burleigh's usual run of luck and
skill had been with him.
"Lucky at cards, unlucky in love," remarked Burleigh as we approached.
He said it with an air of banter, yet I could not help feeling that
there was a note of seriousness at the bottom of it. Had he known that
Leontine had been with Sydney on the deck? His very success at poker
had its effect on me. I found myself eying him as if he had been one of
the transatlantic card sharps, perhaps an international crook. Yet when
I considered I was forced to admit that I had nothing on which to base
such a judgment.
Erickson presented a different problem, to my mind, There was indeed
something queer about him. Either he had not been perfectly frank with
us in regard to the improvement of his properties or he was concealing
something much more sinister. Again and again my mind reverted to the
hints that had been dropped by Marlowe, and I recalled the close
scrutiny Whitson had given the four that night. So far, I had felt that
in any such attempt we might count on Whitson playing a lone hand and
perhaps finding out something to our advantage.
It was the morning of the last day of the voyage that most of the
passengers gathered on the deck for the first glimpse of the land to
which we had been journeying.
Before us lay the beautiful and picturesque harbor and town of
Charlotte Amalie, one of the finest harbors in the West Indies, deep
enough to float the largest vessels, with shipyards, dry-docks, and
repair shops. From the deck it was a strikingly beautiful picture,
formed by three spurs of mountains covered with the greenest of
tropical foliage. From the edge of the dancing blue waves the town
itself rose on the hills, presenting an entrancing panorama.
All was bustle and excitement as the anchor plunged into the water, for
not only was this the end of our journey, but the arrival of the boat
from New York was an event for the town.
There was much to watch, but I let nothing interfere with my
observation of how the affair between Sydney and Leontine was
progressing. To my surprise, I saw that this morning she was bestowing
the favor of her smile rather on Burleigh. It was Sydney's turn now to
feel the pangs of jealousy, and I must admit that he bore them with
better grace than Burleigh, whatever that might indicate.
As I watched the two and recalled their intimacy at the Burridge the
first night we had seen them, I almost began to wonder whether I might
not have been wrong about Leontine. Had it been that I had distrusted
the woman merely because I was suspicious of the type, both male and
female? Had I been finding food for suspicion because I was myself
suspicious?
Erickson was standing beside Sydney, while we were not far away.
Evidently he had been saving up a speech for the occasion and now was
prepared to deliver it.
"Mr. Sydney," he began, with a wave of his arm that seemed to include
us all, "it is a pleasure to welcome you here to our island. Last night
it occurred to me that we ought to do something to show that we
appreciate it. You must come to dinner to-night at my villa here in the
town. You are all invited, all of us who have become so enjoyably
acquainted on this voyage which I shall never forget. Believe me when I
say that it will be even more a tribute to you personally than because
of the official position you are to hold among us."
It was a graceful invitation, more so than I had believed Erickson
capable of framing. Sydney could do nothing less than thank him
cordially and accept, as we all did. Indeed, I could see that Kennedy
was delighted at the suggestion. It would give him an opportunity to
observe them all under circumstances different enough to show something.
While we were thanking Erickson, I saw that Whitson had taken the
occasion also to thank Mrs. Erickson, with whom he had been talking,
just a bit apart from the group. He made no secret of his attentions,
though I thought she was a bit embarrassed by them at such a time.
Indeed, she started rather abruptly toward the group which was now
intent on surveying the town, and as she did so, I noted that she had
forgotten her hand-bag, which lay on a deck-chair near where they had
been sitting.
I picked it up to restore it. Some uncontrollable curiosity prompted me
and I hesitated. All were still looking at the town. I opened the bag.
Inside was a little bottle of grayish liquid. What should I do? Any
moment she or Whitson might turn around. Hastily I pulled off the cap
of my fountain-pen and poured into it some of the liquid, replacing the
cork in the bottle and dropping it back into the bag, while I disposed
of the cap as best I could without spilling its contents.
Whether either she or any one else had observed me, I was not going to
run any chances of being seen. I called a passing steward. "Mrs.
Erickson forgot her bag," I said, pointing hastily to it. "You'll find
her over there with Mr. Whitson." Then I mingled in the crowd to watch
her. She did not seem to show any anxiety when she received it.
I lost no time in getting back to Kennedy and telling him what I had
found, and a few moments later he made an excuse to go to our
state-room, as eager as I was to know what had been in the little
bottle.
First he poured out a drop of the liquid from the cap of my
fountain-pen in some water. It did not dissolve. Successively he tried
alcohol, ether, then pepsin. None of them had any effect on it.
Finally, however, he managed to dissolve it in ammonia.
"Relatively high amount of sulphur," he muttered, after a few moments
more of study. "Keratin, I believe."
"A poison?" I asked.
Kennedy shook his head. "No; harmless."
"Then what is it for?"
He shrugged his shoulders. He may have had some half-formed idea, but
if he did it was still indefinite and he refused to commit himself.
Instead, he placed the sample in his traveling laboratory, closed and
locked it, and, with our luggage, the box was ready to be taken ashore.
Nearly every one had gone ashore by the time we returned to the deck.
Whitson was there yet, talking to the captain, for the shipping at the
port interested him. I wondered whether he, too, might be suspicious of
those cases consigned to Erickson and others. If so, he said nothing of
it.
By this time several vessels that looked as if they might be lighters,
though fairly large, had pulled up. It seemed that they had been
engaged to carry shipments of goods to the other islands of St. John
and St. Croix.
Kennedy seemed eager now to get ashore, and we went, accompanied by
Whitson, and after some difficulty established ourselves in a small
hotel.
Most of the tourists were sightseeing, and, while we had no time for
that, still we could not help doing so, in going about the town.
Charlotte Amalie, I may say, proved to be one of the most picturesque
towns in the Windward Islands. The walls of the houses were mostly of a
dazzling whiteness, though some were yellow, others gray, orange, blue.
But the roofs were all of a generous bright red which showed up very
effectively among the clumps of green trees. Indeed, the town seemed to
be one of gaily tinted villas and palaces. There were no factories, no
slums. Nature had provided against that and man had not violated the
provision.
The people whom we met on the streets were mostly negroes, though there
was a fair sprinkling of whites. What pleased us most was that nearly
everywhere we went English was spoken. I had half expected Danish. But
there was even very little Spanish spoken.
Burke was waiting for us, and in spite of his playing the role of
traveling salesman managed to direct us about so that we might as
quickly as possible pick up the thread of the mysterious death of
Dwight. It did not take long to gather such meager information as there
was about the autopsy that had followed the strange death of Sydney's
predecessor.
We were able to find out little from either the authorities or the
doctor who had investigated the case. Under the stress of suspicion,
both the stomach and the contents of the stomach of the unfortunate man
had been examined. No trace of anything out of the way had been found,
and there the matter had rested, except for suspicion.
One of our first visits was to the American consulate. There Sydney, by
virtue of his special commission, had, with characteristic energy,
established himself with the consul. Naturally, he, too, had been
making inquiries. But they had led nowhere. There seemed to be no clue
to the mysterious death of Dwight, not even a hint as to the cause.
All that we were able to discover, after some hours of patient inquiry,
was that Dwight had suffered from great prostration, marked cyanosis,
convulsions, and coma. Whether it was the result of some strange
disease or of a poison no one, not even the doctor, was prepared to
say. All that was known was that the blow, if blow it had been, was
swift, sudden, sure.
We ran across Whitson once or twice during the day, busily engaged
renewing acquaintance with merchants and planters whom he had known
before, but I do not recall having seen either Burleigh or Leontine,
which, at the time, I thought rather strange, for the town was small
and strangers were few. The more I thought of it the more firmly
convinced I was that Dwight had discovered some secret which it was
extremely inconvenient for somebody to have known. What was it? Was it
connected with the rumors we had heard of gun-running to Mexico?
Erickson had invited us to come late in the afternoon to the dinner and
we did not delay in getting there. His house proved to be a veritable
palace on the side of one of the hills rising abruptly back of the
shore. Flights of massive stone steps, quaint walls covered with
creepers, balustrades overlooking charming gardens, arcades from which
one looked out on splendid vistas and shady terraces combined to make
it a veritable paradise such as can be found only in tropical and
subtropical lands. Most wonderful of all was the picture of the other
hills unfolded, especially of the two ruined pirates' castles belonging
to semi-mythical personages, Bluebeard and Blackbeard.
The Ericksons were proud of their home, as well they might be, in spite
of the complaints we had heard Nanette utter and the efforts of
Erickson to sell his holdings. Mrs. Erickson proved to be a charming
hostess and the host extended a hospitality such as one rarely meets.
It quite made me uncomfortable to accept it at the same time that I
knew we must view it all with suspicion. Nor did it make matters any
better, but rather worse, to feel that there was some color of excuse
for the suspicion.
Burleigh arrived proudly with Leontine, followed closely by Sydney. At
once the game was on again, Leontine pitting one against the other.
Whitson came, his attentions to Mrs. Erickson a trifle restrained, but
still obvious. Burke and ourselves completed the party.
To the repeated urging of Erickson we made ourselves quite as much at
home as we politely could. Kennedy and Burke, acting under his
instructions, seemed to be ubiquitous. Yet, beyond a continuation of
the drama that had been unfolded on the ship it did not seem to me at
first that we were getting anywhere.
Kennedy and I were passing alone along a colonnade that opened off from
the large dining-hall, when Craig paused and looked in through an open
door at the massive table set for the dinner.
A servant had just completed setting out cocktails at the various
places, pouring them from a huge tankard, for the purpose, which had
been standing on a sideboard. Guests had been walking past through the
colonnade ever since we arrived, but at the moment there was no one
about, and even the servant had disappeared.
Kennedy stepped lightly into the dining-hall and looked about sharply.
Instinctively I stepped to a window where I could hear any one
approaching. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him narrowly
scrutinizing the table. Finally he pulled from his pocket a clean linen
handkerchief. Into an empty glass he poured the contents of one of the
cocktail-glasses, straining the liquid through the handkerchief. Then
he poured the filtrate, if I may call it such, back into the original
glass. A second he treated in the same way, and a third. He had nearly
completed the round of the table when I heard a light step.
My warning came only just in time. It was Burleigh. He saw us standing
now in the colonnade, made some hasty remark, then walked on, as if in
search for some one. Had it been interest in Leontine or in the
dining-room that had drawn him thither?
Kennedy was now looking closely at the handkerchief, and I looked also.
In the glasses had been innumerable little seeds as if from the fruit
juice used in concocting the appetizer. The fine meshes of the linen
had extracted them. What were they?
I took one in my fingers and crushed it between my nails. There was an
unmistakable odor of bitter almonds. What did it mean?
We had no time now for speculation. Our prolonged absence might be
noticed and we hastened to join the other guests after finishing the
round of glasses in which he had been interrupted.
How, in my suppressed excitement, I managed to get through that dinner
I do not know. It was a brilliant affair, yet I found that I had
completely lost my appetite, as well one might after having observed
Kennedy's sleuthing.
However, the dinner progressed, though each course that brought it
nearer a conclusion afforded me an air of relief. I was quite ready
when, over the coffee, Kennedy contrived to make some excuse for us,
promising to call again and perhaps to visit the Erickson plantation.
In the secrecy of our room in the little hotel, Craig was soon deeply
buried in making use of his traveling laboratory. As he worked I could
no longer restrain my impatience. "What about that little bottle of
keratin?" I asked, eagerly.
"Oh yes," he replied, not looking up from the tests he was making.
"Well, keratin, you know, is also called epidermose. It is a
scleroprotein present largely in cuticular structures such as hair,
nails, horn. I believe it is usually prepared from pieces of horn
steeped in pepsin, hydrochloric acid, and water for a long time. Then
the residue is dissolved in ammonia and acetic acid."
"But what's its use?" I demanded. "You said it was harmless."
"Why, the pepsin of the stomach won't digest it," he returned. "For
that reason its chief use is for coating what are known as 'enteric
capsules.' Anything coated with keratin is carried on through the
stomach into the intestines. It is used much in hot countries in order
to introduce drugs into the intestines in the treatment of the tropical
diseases that affect the intestines." He paused and devoted his entire
attention to his work, but he had told me enough to assure me that at
least the bottle of keratin I had found had proved to be a clue.
I waited as long as I could, then interrupted again. "What are the
seeds?" I queried. "Have you found out yet?"
He paused as though he had not quite finished his hasty investigation,
yet had found out enough to convince him. "There seem to be two kinds.
I wish I had had time to keep each lot separate. Some of them are
certainly quite harmless. But there are others, I find, that have been
soaked in nitro-benzol, artificial oil of bitter almonds. Even a few
drops, such as might be soaked up in this way, might be fatal. The new
and interesting phase, to me, is that they were all carefully coated
with keratin. Really, they are keratin-coated enteric capsules of
nitro-benzol, a deadly poison."
I looked at him, aghast at what some of us had been rescued from by his
prompt action.
"You see," he went on, excitedly, "that is why the autopsies probably
showed nothing. These doctors down here sought for a poison in the
stomach. But if the poison had been in the stomach the odor alone would
have betrayed it. You smelt it when you crushed a seed. But the
poisoning had been devised to avoid just that chance of discovery.
There was no poison in the stomach. Death was delayed long enough,
also, to divert suspicion from the real poisoner. Some one has been
diabolically clever in covering up the crimes."
I could only gasp my amazement. "Then," I blurted out, "you think the
Ericksons--"
Our door burst open. It was Burke, in wild excitement.
"Has anybody--died?" I managed to demand.
He seemed not to hear, but dashed to the window and threw it open.
"Look!" he exclaimed.
We did. In the late twilight, through the open sash we could see the
landlocked basin of the harbor. But it was not that at which Burke
pointed. On the horizon an ugly dark cloud rose menacingly. In the
strange, unearthly murkiness, I could see people of the town pouring
out into the narrow streets, wildly, fearfully, with frantic cries and
gesticulations.
For a moment I gazed at the sight blankly. Then I realized that
sweeping on us was one of those sudden, deadly West-Indian hurricanes.
Our harbor was sheltered from the north and east winds. But this wind
was southern born, rare, oncoming in a fury against which we had no
protection.
Hastily closing his armamentarium, Kennedy also hurried out on the
street. The gale had become terrific already in the few minutes that
had elapsed. From our terrace we could see the water, gray and olive,
with huge white breakers, like gnashing teeth, coming on to rend and
tear everything in their path. It was as though we stood in an
amphitheater provided by nature for a great spectacle, the bold
headlands standing out like the curves of a stadium.
I looked about. The Ericksons had just driven up with Burleigh and
Leontine, as well as Whitson, all of whom were stopping at our hotel,
and were about to take Sydney on to the consulate when the approach of
the storm warned them to stay.
Leontine had hurried into the hotel, evidently fearful of the loss of
something she treasured, and the rest were standing apart from the
trees and buildings, where the formation of the land offered some
protection. As we joined them I peered at the pale faces in the
ghastly, unnatural light. Was it, in a sense, retribution?
Suddenly, without further warning, the storm broke. Trees were turned
up by roots, like weeds, the buildings rocked as if they had been
houses of cards. It was a wild, catastrophic spectacle.
"Leontine," I heard a voice mutter by my side, as a form catapulted
itself past through the murkiness into the crazily swaying hotel. It
was Burleigh. I turned to speak to Kennedy. He was gone. Where to find
him I had no idea. The force of the wind was such that search was
impossible. All we could do was to huddle back of such protection as
the earth afforded against the million needles of rain that cut into
our faces.
The wind almost blew me flat to the earth as, no longer able to stand
the suspense, I stumbled toward the hotel, thinking perhaps he had gone
to save his armamentarium, although if I had stopped to think I should
have realized that that strong box was about the safest piece of
property on the island.
I was literally picked up and hurled against an object in the
darkness--a man. "In the room--more keratin--more seeds."
It was Kennedy. He had taken advantage of the confusion to make a
search which otherwise might have been more difficult. Together we
struggled back to our shelter.
Just then came a crash, as the hotel crumpled under the fierce stress
of the storm. Out of the doorway struggled a figure just in time to
clear the falling walls. It was Burleigh, a huge gash from a beam
streaming blood down his forehead which the rain washed away almost as
it oozed. In his arms, clinging about his neck, was Leontine, no longer
the sophisticated, but in the face of this primeval danger just a
woman. Burleigh staggered with his burden a little apart from us, and
in spite of everything I could fancy him blessing the storm that had
given him his opportunity.
Far from abating, the storm seemed increasing in fury, as though all
the devils of the underworld were vexed at anything remaining
undestroyed. It seemed as if even the hills on which the old pirates
had once had their castles must be rocking.
"My God!" exclaimed a thick voice, as an arm shot out, pointing toward
the harbor.
There was the Arroyo tugging at every extra mooring that could be
impressed into service. The lighters had broken or been cut away and
were scudding, destruction-bent, squarely at the shore almost below us.
A moment and they had crashed on the beach, a mass of timbers and
spars, while the pounding waves tore open and flung about heavy cases
as though they were mere toys.
Then, almost as suddenly as it had come, the storm began to abate, the
air cleared, and nothing remained but the fury of the waves.
"Look!" exclaimed Kennedy, pointing down at the strange wreckage that
strewed the beach. "Does that look like agricultural machinery?" We
strained our eyes. Kennedy did not pause. "The moment I heard that arms
were getting into Mexico I suspected that somewhere here in the
Caribbean munitions were being transhipped. Perhaps they have been sent
to Atlantic ports ostensibly for the Allies. They have got down here
disguised. Even before the storm exposed them I had reasoned it out.
From this port, the key to the vast sweep of mainland, I reasoned that
they were being taken over to secret points on the coast where big
ships could not safely go. It was here that blockade-runners were
refitted in our Civil War. It is here that this new gun-running plot
has been laid."
He turned quickly to Sydney. "The only obstacle between the transfer of
the arms and success was the activity of an American consulate. Those
lighters were not to carry goods to other islands. They were really
destined for Mexico. It was profitable. And the scheme for removing
opposition was evidently safe."
Kennedy was holding up another bottle of keratin and some fruit seeds.
"I found these in a room in the hotel," he added.
I did not comprehend. "But," I cut in, "the hand-bag--the dinner--what
of them?"
"A plant--a despicable trespass on hospitality--all part of a scheme to
throw the guilt on some one else, worthy of a renegade and traitor."
Craig wheeled suddenly, then added, with an incisive gesture, "I
suppose you know that there is reputed to have been on one of these
hills the headquarters of the old pirate, Teach--'the mildest manner'd
man that ever scuttled ship or cut a throat!'"
Kennedy paused, then added, quickly, "In respect to covering up your
gun-running, Whitson, you are superior even to Teach!"
XII
THE SUNKEN TREASURE
"Get story Everson and bride yacht Belle Aventure
seeking treasure sunk Gulf liner Antilles."
Kennedy and I had proceeded after a few leisurely days in St. Thomas to
Porto Rico. We had no particular destination, and San Juan rather
appealed to us as an objective point because it was American.
It was there that I found waiting for me the above message by wireless
from the Star in New York.