The Slickers by L. Ron Hubbard Read Free Book Online

them lay a briefcase, its contents spilling out on the rug. Clark knelt beside the case and ran quick fingers through the papers. He found several radiograms but they all dealt with market matters.
    Then he discovered a series of penciled notations. He was about to pass them by when he saw one figure of a million and a half. Another figure had been subtracted from it, leaving something less than half a million. A million and a half was the value of the dope which had been traced to the dock from which the Cubana had sailed.
    Clark thrust the paper into his breast pocket and glanced about for other clues.
    The knob of the door rattled. Clark jerked to his feet and sprang behind the door, palming his gun.
    The door swung back. From behind it, Clark could not see the intruder. There was no other sound. Evidently the person who had entered was standing on the threshold studying the room. Abruptly the door slammed shut, and Clark was again alone.
    Quickly he jerked the knob toward him and jumped out into the passageway. A back was retreating around a bend of the corridor. Clark plunged after it. The man ahead was Harrington.
    Clark snapped out and caught at the fat man’s shoulder, spinning him around. Harrington’s face was lined, his eyes wide and fearful.
    â€œWhat … what … what’s the matter?” he blurted.
    â€œWhat were you doing in Davis’ room?” snapped Clark.
    â€œMy wife!” wailed Harrington. “I can’t find her. I thought she might … might … I left her in the cabin twenty minutes ago, and now she’s gone.”
    Clark studied the fat features and then released the shoulder.
    â€œI haven’t seen your wife, and I wouldn’t know her if I did see her,” he informed Harrington. “What were you doing on the fo’c’s’le head a half-hour ago?”
    â€œWho, me? Why, I went up there with Davis. He said I’d been drinking too much, needed air. Wanted me to— What are you looking at me that way for, man?”
    â€œDid Davis take you there?” said Clark. “Was he the one that suggested it?”
    â€œCertainly. What’s … what’s wrong with going up there for a minute to get some air? Listen, I’ve got to find my wife.”
    â€œGo ahead,” Clark snapped.
    Then he walked back toward the salon. Deep in thought, Clark did not at first notice the girl who darted out of a cabin ahead of him. She was tall and blond, well poised, dressed in a flowing evening gown. She glanced back—and her eyes mirrored terror. With two quick strides he caught up with her.
    â€œPardon me,” he offered, “but perhaps I can be of help?”
    â€œHelp? Perhaps a moment ago, but not now. We’re burning!” Her face was blank, as though she talked in a nightmare. “I saw the smoke, and he’s done it!”
    â€œWho’s done it?” Clark pursued.
    Then she seemed to snap back to reality. She turned as though she wanted to get away, but Clark’s gaze held her.
    â€œI don’t know who he is,” she whispered. “He warned me not to take this boat. He said … he said …”
    â€œWho are you?” Clark’s tone was even, soft. “You are referring to the man who shipped a million and a half dollars’ worth of dope on this boat. You are afraid of him for some reason.”
    She gasped, and looked at him wide-eyed.
    â€œI know nothing about that,” came her hasty denial. “I don’t want—”
    â€œDon’t want him arrested, that it?”
    â€œNo, no! I mean—I don’t know what I mean! You’re a detective. You’re ready to pin anything on anybody at the slightest excuse. You won’t get her, but I don’t care what happens to him. He’s rotten all the way through.”
    â€œWho is?” demanded Clark.
    â€œI don’t know his name. He’s a fiend, a devil. He’s made her life a