The Slickers by L. Ron Hubbard Read Free Book Online Page A

living hell. I only saw him once, and then he wore a mask. His eyes were black and cruel. They bore straight through you. He’s aboard this ship. She told me that he was.”
    â€œAnd who is she?”
    â€œMadame Seville, of course.”
    Clark suppressed his astonishment. Now the ends were beginning to tie together.
    â€œThen Madame Seville is aboard,” he pressed. “I have been trying to find her.”
    â€œYou won’t!” declared the girl. “She’ll be dead, if she isn’t already. I’ve been searching for an hour, but she has vanished. She was supposed to meet me tonight—to tell me about him—but she didn’t come. But if anything happens to me, there are two men that you must watch. One is Morecliff. The other is Davis.”
    â€œAll right,” Clark agreed. “But who are you?”
    â€œI am Harrington’s secretary, Jean Raymond.”
    Leaving the girl in her room, Bob Clark started up the companionway to the boat deck. The smoke which hit him there was blinding, suffocating.
    Stepping in close to a funnel, he pulled himself up on a stay and peered forward. Men were up there, scurrying back and forth in the light of the flames, carrying hoses and chemical extinguishers.
    By this time, news of the catastrophe was seeping through the cabins. Men and women stood about in huddled little groups, their eyes round with fear, watching the flames.
    Morecliff was standing beside a davit looking forward, a faint smile on his face. His dark eyes swept restlessly, triumphantly, over the scene.
    Before Clark could approach him, an elderly lady snatched at the detective’s arm.
    â€œHadn’t we better take to the boats?” she cried.
    â€œNo,” said Clark. “It will be all right in a few minutes, I’m sure. They’ll have it all under control.”
    â€œBut my son says that it’s below deck, too!”
    Clark left her abruptly. If this were true, it was quite possible that the entire hold would go up in flames. Clark hurried down a companionway and went forward to the deck just under the bridge. He found the shaft. One glance was enough. Far below he could see fire licking.
    He jumped to the forward promenade and stared at the first cargo hatch. Small coils of smoke were coming up from the cracks. The hold was on fire. Clark knew in that instant the ship was doomed.
    There would be no saving it now. The best they could hope to do would be to send up rocket signals and take to the boats before the deck was consumed.
    With that in mind he started in the direction of a companionway, but a small glass case caught his eye. Rockets! With one kick he broke the glass and jerked down an armload.
    Stumbling through the haze which now spread from the elevator shaft, Clark made the promenade of B deck. It was completely deserted. He lunged to the rail and threw down his burden. Taking a box of matches from his pocket, he propped a rocket against the rail.
    He struck a match, shielded it momentarily from the whipping wind. Suddenly a hand lashed out and knocked the blaze from his grasp.
    The detective whirled, his eye raging. Davis stood there, unperturbed, shaking his head in the negative, a gun in his hand.
    â€œDon’t you think that that is the duty of an officer?” he said softly, his hawk face twitching.
    â€œThen get an officer down here!” snapped Clark. His muscles tightened. He measured the distance between them. “Why don’t you want me to send out a warning?”
    â€œThere are reasons,” purred Davis. “I am afraid that I will find it necessary to lock you in your room.”
    â€œYou tried that once,” Clark snapped.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    Clark started to shrug, but the movement was deceptive. Suddenly his hands jabbed at the gun. It went off, far to the right. Then his fist smashed into Davis’ mouth.
    Davis screamed, his black eyes wild with hate. Dropping the gun, he