Evening Star Newspaper, September 27, 1936, Page 84

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In the suddenly silent amphitheatre, only one sound made itself manifest, the steady thump, thump, thump of the bare feet of the fire-walkers as they approached the fiery pit with swift, steady strides. The leader reached the edge. For a moment the reddish light reflected the moist smoothness of his perspiring skin. Then he took another forward step, placed his naked foot down on the surface of one of the hot rocks. A gasp went up from the spectators. Without hesitating, without chang- ing the tempo of his stride, the chief of the fire-walkers marched across the rocks which ‘covered the red pit, and behind him, in a steady procession, came the half-dozen fire-walkers, their heads up, fates as expressionless as though they,, themselves, were in a hypnotic trance. A matter of silent seconds, and the last of the little string of men had marched their unhurried way across the pit of fire! A murmur of sound welled upward. The skeptic who had been watching with powerful binocu- lars, and who had dropped them as the little file of natives marched across the pit, groped for them with nerveless fingers. The man who had prodded the rocks with the long stick held to the charred rod with a grip so intense that the bones of his knuckles seemed about to burst through the skin. ‘The head of the fire-walkers swung his followers in a quick circle, marched steadily back to the pit, and dropped to all fours. Somewhere among the spectators, a woman screamed. The natives crawled on hands and knees steadily across the glowing red surface of the rocks. The crossing completed, they stood mute. The chief made a short statement in the native language, which was trans- lated for the benefit of those who did not understand Tahitian. He was, he explained, willing to take any person across the pit. He would guarantee that this person would be unharmed, if implicit obedience were given to his instructions, and if that person sin- cerely believed that what he had seen was the manifestation of faith in the Fire God. There were no volunteers. Slowly, the group dispersed. Tracy Burke slipped his hand under Lynn’s elbow. ‘“Why didn’t you tell me about that paper?” he asked. Her tawny eyes met his calmly. "““There was nothing to tell.” “But you had it all the time.” She said slowly, “Really, Mr. Burke, I have always prided myself upon being accountable to no one for my actions, and I don’t care to make an exception in your case.” ‘Stunned by her cold formality, Tracy bowed, and said, *‘Good night.” He returned to his hotel, packed and was soon on board the ship which was to take him back to San Francisco. When he awakened, the next morn- ing, a fresh, salty breeze was whipping through his porthole. He jumped out of bed, showered, dressed and went on deck. The ship was churning its way through a tranquil purple sea toward the equator. On the starboard side were scattered patches of clouds, tropical rain squalls marching in end- less procession across the ocean. “Good morning, Mr. Burke.” Burke whirled to encounter the smiling amiability of Roscoe Brown- ing’s clean shaven features. ““You here!” he exclaimed. “Why, I thought you lived on the island.” “I do.” “But you had just arrived.” ““And, so had you.” *But I had a reason for leaving. I don’t mean that you didn’t; what I meant is that the authorities — ‘“Yes. I know all about it.” “Surely you, with an official resi- dence on the island, weren’t ordered to leave?” ““No,” Browning said, “I think you THIS WEEK Teeth of the Dragon Continved from page ten and Miss Downey were the only ones who were ordered to leave.” Tracy said in a puzzled tone, ‘“You speak as though there were quite a few others whom we know aboard.” ““There are,” Browning said, his smile taking the sting from his words. ‘“You and Miss Downey left the island because of a command on the part of the authorities. The rest of us tagged along.” ‘““How many are there?"” Browning started checking them off on his fingers. “To begin with, there’'s Miss Downey and yourself, of course, and Alton Clegg. Then there's Wanda Hara, the native girl, and a man I'm afraid you’'ve all been over- looking, a chap by the name of Vipcent Gary.” ‘“What has he to do with it?"” “I'm merely giving you a list of the passengers who found it convenient to leave Tahiti. Since you and Miss Downey were the only ones who had official orders, we can assume that the others came because of a natural in- terest either in you or Miss Downey or inasolution of the murder mystery.” Burke swung to face him. “‘Look here, Browning, you've made a couple of cracks about that murder and, so far as I'm concerned, it’s time to have that straightened out. I'm calling for a showdown, here and now.” Browning shook his head and smiled. “‘Before 1 say what I'm going to say, let me first apologize for my rudeness of night before last. I sensed that one of you had a bit of paper, which I thought ' might make trouble. I can assure you that 1 was merely trying to save you annoyance and incon- venience. That was the reason I asked the question in the manner that I did. Now then, as far as the rest of it is con- cerned, forget it. You're young, hot- headed and impulsive, and, if you don’t mind my saying so, you haven’t the faintest idea of what this is all about. Now, keep your shirt on! You asked for a showdown, and I'm put- ting my cards on the table. A murder was committed. The probabilities are that only one person committed that murder. There are six of us aboard, sufficiently interested to cut short our stay in Tabhiti. “‘Let’s concede that neither you nor Miss Downey knows anything what- ever about that murder. Then, for some reason, the person who does know about the murder wants to tag along with you and Miss Downey.” Burke stared at him in uncordial ap- praisal, ““That accounts for three, and only three. What interests me is why these others came along.” “I can’t tell why the others came along. I can only tell you why I sud- denly decided to book passage.” Burke raised his eyebrows. “In case you want to know,” Browning said, with a trace of bellig- erence, ‘“‘it’s because I'm personally interested in Miss Downey."’ ““You,” Burke exclaimed. ‘“‘Why you're — "’ “I know,” Browning said irritably. ‘“You can omit the usual line that I’'m old enough to be her father, because I'm not. I'm probably seventeen or " eighteen years older than she is, and that’s not such a whale of a difference as you may think. I'm interested in her, and I'm telling you frankly that I am. I think she’s playing a game which may get her into trouble, and I'm hoping to forestall some of that trouble. Now, there’s no call for you to get belligerent, and, above all, there’s no reason for you to get jealous. It's a fair field open to all.” Burke said with dignity, ‘‘There’s certainly no reason for me to get jeal- ous. I can assure you that I have no personal interest whatever in Miss Downey.” The words had hardly left his lips when he heard a voice behind him: “Good morning, gentlemen.” He turned to face the tawny eyes of Lynn Downey, eyes which studied him with a disconcerting steadiness in an appraisal which seemed to hold both cynical disapproval and patron- izing amusement. “Good morning,” he said, with cold formality, while Browning took her hand and said, ‘‘Listen, Lynn, I want you to understand a couple of things.” “I don’t need to,” she told him. “I think [ can understand the entire situation. Am I addressing a couple of breakfast hunters? It’s rather late, but I think I can tell you how to promote some delicious ham and eggs.” “I've had breakfast,” Browning rejoined. Lynn nodded, shifted her eyes to Burke, waited for him to signify that her suggestions would be welcome, but the young painter, feeling strangely ill at ease, conscious of the rebuff he had received before, bowed and said, “It’s very kind of you. Some day, per- haps, when I'm really hungry.” He shrugged his shoulders and turned away, leaving the field in the undis- puted possession of Roscoe Browning. As the ship moved northward to- ward the equator, Tracy determined to interview each of the persons Ros- coe Browning had referred to. It was no trick to contact Alton Clegg. Before the ship had reached the doldrums, Clegg was unburdening himself to Burke. To be sure, Burke had no means of knowing whether the glib recital which poured from Clegg's lips had any modicum of truth or was a carefully rehearsed story which had been concocted for the purpose. ‘“Watch this man Browning,” Clegg said. ‘‘He’s deadly. I'm going to tell you frankly where I stand, because I think you'll prove a valuable ally.” He flicked ashes from the end of a cigarette. ‘I can’t tell you the stakes that are being played for,”” he added, “because I don’t know all of them. But I can tell you that human lives are merely pawns in the game. Ever hear of free-lance international spies, who unearth secrets no government would ever dare to try for, officially?"” ““Only in fiction.” ““Well, don’t scoff at fiction! It has to follow the general groundwork of fact or it wouldn’t be convincing. Take Browning, for instance. He's a ring- leader of the free-lance spies who steal information and sell it to the highest bidder. And look at this woman who goes by the name of Lynn Downey. Has she ever demonstrated to you her wonderful memory?”’ “Only in a casual manner,” Burke said, trying to keep the interest from his voice. ‘“Well, let me tell you something about her. You can cover a page of paper with figures, hand it to her, let her look at it, and take it away. She’ll close her eyes and tell you the total of all the columns reading from left to right or the total of all columns read- ing up and down. She’ll duplicate every figure on that paper. That wom- an has a photographic brain, and if you think she’s using those powers merely to teach school or to give a few jaded business men lectures on how to improve their memories, you're crazy.” ‘“You mean she’s one of these free- lance spies?”’ Clegg nodded. ‘‘And has used her powers of obser- . RAZORS ON TREES! South American Indians pick their razors off trees —use nutshells to scrape off their whisk- ers! Don’t scrape your face...insist upon smooth-shaving genuine Gem Blades. Only genvine Gem Blades can make your Gem Razor 100 % efficient. Magazine Section vation to pick up some information the rest haven’t been able to get?”’ “Exactly. It was information writ- ten in Chinese on a sheet of notebook paper.” *‘Can she read Chinese?”’ ‘“No, but she can look at a sheet covered with Chinese characters and remember them.” “‘And that was the bit of paper she tossed into the fire?”’ Clegg shook his head gravely. ‘‘She took advantage of the emotional ten- sion to fool us all. Someone handed her a note warning her that she was to be murdered before she left the Valley of the Fire-Walkers. No matter how blasé you may be, you can’t view that fire-walking without a thrill, and Lynn Downey, with a daring that is typical of her, held up the real paper, crumpled it into a ball, and then turned her back. While she had her back turned, she substituted the warning note for the genuine and tossed that into the fire. ~ We were too worked up to think clearly. ‘At the time, the fact she had switched papers didn’t occur to any of them, and they let her escape un- harmed, because, with the informa- tion locked in her brain, she had pur- chased the most efficient form of life insurance possible.” ‘‘And,” Burke asked, amused, and trying to draw Clegg out, “what’s “ your connection with all this?" Clegg said slowly, *‘I’'m in the secret service of a certain country.” ““And you're telling me all this just out of a casual friendship?” Clegg was impatient. ‘‘I'm telling you all this to sase your life, you poor babe in the woods! Can't you see where you stand? When this ship reaches San Francisco, there’s going to be another investigation of Gregory Jackson’s murder. Each one of these spies is afraid he, or she, may be de- tained. So they’re all going to gang up on you. You're just an innocent little lamb being led along to the sacrificial , altar, and the rope that’s around your neck is a woman'’s smile!”” Clegg arose. ‘“Think that over for a while and see if you feel so smugly amused!” And he stamped his way down the deck, his pounding feet expressing his disgust that the young millionaire painter had not taken his tip more seriously. (To Be Continved NextWeek) 3 MILE ko HONING MARATHON! Here’s why Gem Blades give youcleaner, all-day shaves without irritating your skin...50% thicker, they’re honed fo 3 miles and stropped 4840 times to an un- g — equalled keenness. _ 1 - | e i -t s it — O RO e i AR T A,