At the table next to us--and the tables at the Burridge were so close that one almost
rubbed elbows with those at the next--sat a party of four, two ladies in evening gowns
and two men in immaculate black and white.
"I hope you are right, Leontine," returned one of the men, with an English accent. "The
natural place for the islands is under the American flag, anyway."
"Yes," put in the other; "the people have voted for it before. They want it."
It was at the time that the American and Danish governments were negotiating about the
transfer of the Danish West Indies, and quite evidently they were discussing the islands.
The last speaker seemed to be a Dane, but the woman with him, evidently his wife, was
not. It was a curious group, worth more than a passing glance. For a moment Craig
watched them closely.
"That woman in blue," he whispered, "is a typical promoter."
I recognized the type which is becoming increasingly frequent in Wall Street as the
competition in financial affairs grows keener and women enter business and professional
life.
There were plenty of other types in the brilliantly lighted dining-room, and we did not
dwell long on the study of our neighbors. A few moments later Kennedy left me and was
visiting another table. It was a habit of his, for he had hundreds of friends and
acquaintances, and the Burridge was the place to which every one came.
This time I saw that he had stopped before some one whom I recognized. It was Captain
Marlowe of the American Shipping Trust, to whom Kennedy had been of great assistance
at the time of the launching of his great ship, the Usona. Marlowe's daughter Marjorie
was not with him, having not yet returned from her honeymoon trip, and he was
accompanied by a man whose face was unfamiliar to me.
As I recognized who it was to whom Kennedy was speaking, I also rose and made my
way over to the table. As I approached, the captain turned from Kennedy and greeted me
cordially.
"Mr. Whitson," he introduced the man with him. "Mr. Whitson is sailing to-morrow for
St. Thomas on the Arroyo. We're preparing to extend our steamship lines to the islands as
soon as the formalities of the purchase are completed."
Marlowe turned again to Kennedy and went on with the remark he had evidently been
making.
"Of course," I heard him say, "you know we have Mexico practically blockaded as far as
arms and munitions go. Yet, Kennedy, through a secret channel I know that thousands of
stands of arms and millions of rounds of ammunition are filtering in there. It's shameful. I
can't imagine anything more traitorous. Whoever is at the bottom of it ought to swing. It
isn't over the border that they are going. We know that. The troops are there. How is it,
then?"
Marlowe looked at us as if he expected Kennedy to catch some one by pure reason.
Kennedy said nothing, but it was not because he was not interested.
"Think it over," pursued Marlowe, who was a patriot above everything else. "Perhaps it
will occur to you how you can be of the greatest service to the country. The thing is
damnable-- damnable."
Neither Kennedy nor I having anything definite to contribute to the subject, the
conversation drifted to the islands and Whitson's mission. Whitson proved to be very
enthusiastic about it. He knew the islands well and had already made a trip there for
Marlowe.
A few moments later we shook hands and returned to our own table. It was getting late
and the only type that was left to study was the common Broadway midnight-life genus.
We paid our check and were about to leave. For an instant we stopped at the coat-room to
watch the late arrivals and the departing throng.
"Hello!" greeted a familiar voice beside us. "I've been looking all over town for you.
They told me you had gone to the theater and I thought I might possibly find you here."
We turned. It was our old friend Burke, of the Secret Service, accompanied by a stranger.
"I'd like you to meet Mr. Sydney, the new special consular agent whom the government is
sending to the Danish West Indies to investigate and report on trade conditions," he
introduced. "We're off for St. Thomas on the Arroyo, which sails to-morrow noon."
"Great Scott!" ejaculated Kennedy. "Is everybody daffy over those little islands? What
takes you down there, Burke?" Burke looked about hastily, then drew us aside into a
recess in the lobby.
"I don't suppose you know," he explained, lowering his voice, "but since these
negotiations began, the consular service has been keenly interested in the present state
and the possibilities of the islands. The government sent one special agent there, named
Dwight. Well, he died a few days ago. It was very suspicious, so much so that the
authorities in the island investigated. Yet the doctors in the island have found no evidence
of anything wrong, no poison. Still, it is very mysterious--and, you know," he hinted,
"there are those who don't want us down there."
The Secret Service man paused as though he had put the case as briefly and pointedly as
he could, then went on: "I've been assigned to accompany the new consul down there and
investigate. I've no particular orders and the chief will honor any reasonable expense
account--but--" He hesitated and stopped, looking keenly at Kennedy's face. I saw what
he was driving at.
"Well--to come to the point--what I wanted to see you about, Kennedy, is to find out
whether you would go with me. I think," he added, persuasively, "it would be quite worth
your while. Besides, you look tired. You're working too hard. The change will do you
good. And your conscience needn't trouble you. You'll be working, all right."
Burke had been quick to note the haggard expression on Kennedy's face and turn it into
an argument to carry his point. Kennedy smiled as he read the other's enthusiasm. I would
have added my own urging, only I knew that nothing but a sense of duty would weigh
with Craig.
"I'd like to think the proposal over," he conceded, much to my surprise. "I'll let you know
in the morning."
"Mind," wheedled Burke, "I won't take no for an answer. We need you."
The Secret Service man was evidently delighted by the reception Kennedy had given his
scheme.
Just then I caught sight of the party of four getting their hats and wraps preparatory to
leaving, and Kennedy eyed them sharply.
Marlowe and Whitson passed. As they did so I could not help seeing Whitson pause and
shoot a quick glance at the four. It was a glance of suspicion and it was not lost on Craig.
Did they know more of this Mexican gun-running business than Marlowe had hinted at? I
watched Kennedy's face. Evidently his mind was at work on the same idea as mine.
Burke accompanied us almost all the way home, with Sydney adding his urging. I could
tell that the whole combination of circumstances at the Burridge had had an effect on
Kennedy.
I went to bed, tired, but through the night I knew Craig was engaged on some work about
which he seemed to be somewhat secretive. When I saw him again in the laboratory, in
the morning, he had before him a large packing-case of stout wood bound with steel
bands.
"What's that?" I asked, mystified. He opened the lid, a sort of door, on which was a
strong lock, and I looked inside.
"My traveling laboratory," he remarked, with pride.
I peered in more closely. It was a well-stocked armamentarium, as the doctors would
have called it. I shall not make any attempt to describe its contents. They were too varied
and too numerous, a little bit of everything, it seemed. In fact, Craig seemed to have
epitomized the sciences and arts. It was not that he had anything so wonderful, or even
comparable to the collection of his laboratory. But as I ran my eye over the box I would
have wagered that from the contents he might have made shift to duplicate in some
makeshift form almost anything that he might need. It was truly amazing, representing in
miniature his study of crime for years.
"Then you are going with Burke to St. Thomas?" I queried, realizing the significance of
it.
Kennedy nodded. "I've been thinking of what I would do if an important case ever called
me away. Burke's proposal hurried me, that's all. And you are going, also," he added.
"You have until noon to break the news to the Star."
I did not say anything more, fearful lest he might change his mind. I knew he needed the
rest, and that no matter what the case was in the islands he could not work as hard as he
was doing in New York.
Accordingly my own arrangements with the Star were easily made. I had a sort of roving
commission, anyhow, since my close association with Kennedy. Moreover, the
possibility of turning up something good in the islands, which were much in the news at
the time, rather appealed to the managing editor. If Kennedy could arrange his affairs, I
felt that the least I could do was to arrange my own.
Thus it came about that Craig and I found ourselves in the forenoon in a taxicab, on the
front of which was loaded the precious box as well as our other hastily packed luggage,
and we were on our way over to Brooklyn to the dock from which the Arroyo sailed.
Already the clearance papers had been obtained, and there was the usual last-moment
confusion among the passengers as the hour for sailing approached. It seemed as if we
had scarcely boarded the ship when Kennedy was as gay as a school-boy on an
unexpected holiday. I realized at once what was the cause. The change of scene, the mere
fact of cutting loose, were having their effect.
As we steamed slowly down the bay, I ran my eye over the other passengers at the rail,
straining their eyes to catch the last glimpse of the towers of New York. There were
Burke and Sydney, but they were not together, and, to all appearances, did not know each
other. Sydney, of course, could not conceal his identity, nor did he wish to, no matter
how beset with unseen perils might be his mission. But Burke was down on the
passenger-list as, and had assumed the role of, a traveling salesman for a mythical
novelty- house in Chicago. That evidently was part of the plan they had agreed on
between themselves. Kennedy took the cue.
As I studied the various groups, I paused suddenly, surprised. There was the party which
had sat at the table next to us at the Burridge the night before. Kennedy had already seen
them and had been watching them furtively.
Just then Craig jogged my elbow. He had caught sight of Whitson edging his way in our
direction. I saw what it was that Craig meant. He wanted purposely to avoid him. I
wondered why, but soon I saw what he was up to. He wanted introductions to come about
naturally, as they do on shipboard if one only waits.
On deck and in the lounging and smoking rooms it did not take long for him to contrive
ways of meeting and getting acquainted with those he wished to know, without exciting
suspicion. Thus, by the time we sat down to dinner in the saloon we were all getting
fairly chummy.
We had met Burke quite as naturally as if we were total strangers. It was easy to make it
appear that Whitson and Sydney were shipboard acquaintances. Nor was it difficult to
secure an introduction to the other party of four. The girl whom we had heard addressed
as Leontine seemed to be the leader of the group. Leontine Cowell was a striking
personality. Her clear blue eyes directed a gaze at one which tested one's mettle to meet. I
was never quite sure whether she remembered seeing us at the Burridge, whether she
penetrated the parts we were playing. She was none the less feminine because she had
aspirations in a commercial way. As Kennedy had first observed, she was well worth
study.
Her companion, Barrett Burleigh, was a polished, deferential Englishman, one of those
who seem to be citizens of the world rather than subjects of any particular country. I
wondered what were the real relations of the two.
Jorgen Erickson was, as I had surmised, a Dane. He proved to be one of the largest
planters in the island, already wealthy and destined to be wealthier if real estate
advanced. The other woman, Nanette, was his wife. She was also a peculiarly interesting
type, a Frenchwoman from Guadeloupe. Younger and more vivacious than her husband,
her snappy black eyes betokened an attractive personality.
Leontine Cowell, it seemed, had been in the islands not long before, had secured options
on some score of plantations at a low figure, and made no secret of her business. When
the American flag at last flew over the islands she stood to win out of the increase of land
values a considerable fortune.
Erickson also, in addition to his own holdings, had been an agent for some other planters
and thus had met Leontine, who had been the means of interesting some American
capital.
As for Burleigh, it seemed that he had made the acquaintance of Leontine in Wall Street.
He had been in the Caribbean and the impending changes in the Danish West Indies had
attracted his notice. Whether he had some money to invest in the speculation or hoped to
profit by commissions derived from sales did not appear. But at any rate some common
bond had thrown the quartet together.
I need not dwell on the little incidents of life on ship. It must have been the second day
out that I observed Leontine and Sydney together on the promenade-deck. They seemed
to be quite interested in each other, though I felt sure that Leontine was making a play for
him. At any rate, Burleigh was jealous. Whatever might be the scheme, it was apparent
that the young Englishman was head over heels in love with her.
What did it mean? Was she playing with Sydney, seeking to secure his influence to
further her schemes? Or did it mask some deeper, more sinister motive? From what I had
seen of Sydney, I could not think that he was the man to take such an affair seriously. I
felt that he must be merely amusing himself.
Busy with my speculations, I was astonished soon after to realize that the triangle had
become a hexagon, so to speak. Whitson and Nanette Erickson seemed to be much in
each other's company. But, unlike Burleigh, Erickson seemed to be either oblivious or
complacent.
Whatever it might all portend, I found that it did not worry Kennedy, although he
observed closely. Burke, however, was considerably excited and even went so far as to
speak to Sydney, over whom he felt a sort of guardianship. Sydney turned the matter off
lightly. As for me, I determined to watch both of these women closely.
Kennedy spent much time not only in watching the passengers, but in going about the
ship, talking to the captain and crew and every one who knew anything about the islands.
In fact, he collected enough information in a few days to have satisfied any ordinary
tourist for weeks.
Even the cargo did not escape his attention, and I found that he was especially interested
in the rather heavy shipments of agricultural implements that were consigned to various
planters in the islands. So great was his interest that I began to suspect that it had some
bearing on the gun-running plot that had been hinted at by Marlowe.
It was the evening after one of Kennedy's busy days scouting about that he quietly
summoned both Burke and Sydney to our cabin.
"There's something queer going on," announced Craig, when he was sure that we were all
together without having been observed. "Frankly, I must confess that I don't understand
it--yet."
"You needn't worry about me," interrupted Sydney, hastily. "I can take care of myself."
Kennedy smiled quietly. We knew what Sydney meant. He seemed to resent Burke's
solicitude over his acquaintance with Leontine and was evidently warning us off.
Kennedy, however, avoided the subject.
"I may as well tell you," he resumed, "that I was quite as much influenced by a rumor that
arms were somehow getting into Mexican ports as I was by your appeal, Burke, in
coming down here. So far I've found nothing that proves my case. But, as I said, there is
something under the surface which I don't understand. We have all got to stick together,
trust no one but ourselves, and, above all, keep our eyes open."
It was all that was said, but I was relieved to note that Sydney seemed greatly impressed.
Still, half an hour later, I saw him sitting in a steamer-chair beside Leontine again,
watching the beautiful play of the moonlight on the now almost tropical ocean after we
had emerged from the Gulf Stream. I felt that it was rather dangerous, but at least he had
had his warning.
Seeking Kennedy, I found him at last in the smoking-room, to my surprise talking with
Erickson. I joined them, wondering how I was to convey to Craig what I had just seen
without exciting suspicion. They were discussing the commercial and agricultural future
of the islands under the American flag, especially the sugar industry, which had fallen
into a low estate.
"I suppose," remarked Kennedy, casually, "that you are already modernizing your plant
and that others are doing the same, getting ready for a revival."
Erickson received the remark stolidly. "No," he replied, slowly. "Some of us may be
doing so, but as for me, I shall be quite content to sell if I can get my price."
"The planters are not putting in modern machinery, then?" queried Kennedy, innocently,
while there flashed over me what he had discovered about shipments of agricultural
implements.
Erickson shook his head. "Some of them may be. But for one that is, I know twenty
whose only thought is to sell out and take a profit."
The conversation trailed off on other subjects and I knew that Kennedy had acquired the
information which he sought. As neatly as I could I drew him apart from Erickson.
"Strange he should tell me that," ruminated Kennedy as we gained a quiet corner of the
deck. "I know that there is a lot of stuff consigned to planters in the island, some even to
himself."
"He must be lying, then," I hastened. "Perhaps these promoters are really plotters. By the
way, what I wanted to tell you was that I saw Sydney and Leontine together again."
He was about to reply when the sound of some one approaching caused us to draw back
farther into the shadow. It proved to be Whitson and Nanette.
"Then you do not like St. Thomas?" we heard Whitson remark, as if he were repeating
something she had just said.
"There is nothing there," she replied. "Why, there aren't a hundred miles of good roads
and not a dozen automobiles."
Evidently the swiftness of life in New York of which she had tasted was having its effect.
"St. Croix, where we have the plantation, is just as bad. Part of the time we live there,
part of the time at Charlotte Amalie in St. Thomas. But there is little difference. I hope
Jorgen is able to sell. At least I should like to live a part of the year in the States."
"Would he like that, too?"
"Many of us would," she replied, quickly. "For many years things have been getting
worse with us. Just now it seems a bit better because of the high price of sugar. But who
knows how long that will last? Oh, I wish something would happen soon so that we
might make enough money to live as I want to live. Think; here the best years of life are
slipping away. Unless we do something soon, it will be too late! We must make our
money soon."
There was an air of impatience in her tone, of restless dissatisfaction. I felt also that there
was an element of danger, too, in a woman just passing from youth making a confidant of
another man.
It was a mixed situation with the quartet whom we were watching. One thing was
sufficiently evident. They were all desperately engaged in the pursuit of wealth. That was
a common bond. Nor had I seen anything to indicate that they were over-scrupulous in
that pursuit. Within half an hour I had seen Leontine with Sydney and Nanette with
Whitson. Both Sydney as consular agent and Whitson through his influence with the
shipping trust possessed great influence. Had the party thought it out and were they now
playing the game with the main chance in view?
I looked inquiringly at Kennedy as the voices died away while the couple walked slowly
down the deck. He said nothing, but he was evidently pondering deeply on some
problem, perhaps that which the trend of affairs had raised in my own mind.
Our delay had not been long, but it had been sufficient to cause us to 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