Hearts of Three 64

Hearts of Three 64

And for the next hour, as in a nightmare, no longer a free agent, Bascom

yielded to Francis’ will in the maddest stock adventure of his life.

 

“Oh, well,” Francis laughed at half-past eleven, “we might as well quit

now. But remember, we’re no worse off than we were an hour ago. We were

zero then. We’re zero now. You can hang up the auctioneer’s flag any

time now.”

 

Bascom, heavily and wearily taking down the receiver, was about to

transmit the orders that would stop the battle by acknowledgment of

unconditional defeat, when the door opened and through it came the

familiar ring of a pirate stave that made Francis flash his hand out in

peremptory stoppage of his broker’s arm.

 

“Stop!” Francis cried. “Listen!”

 

And they listened to the song preceding the singer:

 

“Back to back against the mainmast,

Held at bay the entire crew.”

 

As Henry swaggered in, carrying a huge and different suit-case, Francis

joined with him in the stave.

 

“What’s doing?” Bascom queried of Charley Tippery, who, still in evening

dress, looked very jaded and worn from his exertions.

 

From his breast pocket he drew and passed over three certified checks

that totaled eighteen hundred thousand dollars. Bascom shook his head

sadly.

 

“Too late,” he said. “That’s only a drop in the bucket. Put them back in

your pocket. It would be only throwing them away.”

 

“But wait,” Charley Tippery cried, taking the suit-case from his singing

companion and proceeding to open it. “Maybe that will help.”

 

“That” consisted of a great mass of orderly bundles of gold bonds and

gilt edge securities.

 

“How much is it?” Bascom gasped, his courage springing up like

wild-fire.

 

But Francis, overcome by the sight of such plethora of ammunition,

ceased singing to gasp. And both he and Bascom gasped again when Henry

drew from his inside pocket a bundle of a dozen certified checks. They

could only stare at the prodigious sum, for each was written for a

million dollars.

 

“And plenty more where that came from,” Henry announced airily. “All you

have to do is say the word, Francis, and we’ll knock this bear gang to

smithereens. Now suppose you get busy. The rumors are around everywhere

that you’re gone and done for. Pitch in and show them, that’s all. Bust

every last one of them that jumped you. Shake ‘m down to their gold

watches and the fillings out of their teeth.”

 

“You found old Sir Henry’s treasure after all,” Francis congratulated.

 

“No,” Henry shook his head. “That represents part of the old Maya

treasure——about a third of it. We’ve got another third down with Enrico

Solano, and the last third’s safe right here in the Jewelers and

Traders’ National Bank.—Say, I’ve got news for you when you’re ready to

listen.”

 

And Francis was quickly ready. Bascom knew even better than he what was

to be done, and was already giving his orders to his staff over the

telephone—buying orders of such prodigious size that all of Regan’s

fortune would not enable him to deliver what he had sold short.

 

“Torres is dead,” Henry told him.

 

“Hurrah!” was Francis’ way of receiving it.

 

“Died like a rat in a trap. I saw his head sticking out. It wasn’t

pretty. And the Jefe’s dead. And ... and somebody else is dead——”

 

“Not Leoncia!” Francis cried out.

 

Henry shook his head.

 

“Some one of the Solanos——old Enrico?”

 

“No; your wife, Mrs. Morgan. Torres shot her, deliberately shot her. I

was beside her when she fell. Now hold on, I’ve got other news.

Leoncia’s right there in that other office, and she’s waiting for you to

come to her.—Can’t you wait till I’m through? I’ve got more news that

will give you the right steer before you go in to her. Why, hell’s

bells, if I were a certain Chinaman that I know, I’d make you pay me a

million for all the information I’m giving you for nothing.”

 

“Shoot——what is it?” Francis demanded impatiently.

 

“Good news, of course, unadulterated good news. Best news you ever

heard. I—now don’t laugh, or knock my block off——for the good news is

that I’ve got a sister.”

 

“What of it?” was Francis’ brusque response. “I always knew you had

sisters in England.”

 

“But you don’t get me,” Henry dragged on. “This is a perfectly brand new

sister, all grown up, and the most beautiful woman you ever laid eyes

on.”

 

“And what of it?” growled Francis. “That may be good news for you, but I

don’t see how it affects me.”

 

“Ah, now we’re coming to it,” Henry grinned. “You’re going to marry her.

I give you my full permission——”

 

“Not if she were ten times your sister, nor if she were ten times as

beautiful,” Francis broke in. “The woman doesn’t exist I’d marry.”

 

“Just the same, Francis boy, you’re going to marry this one. I know it.

I feel it in my bones. I’d bet on it.”

 

“I’ll bet you a thousand I don’t.”

 

“Aw, go on and make it a real bet,” Henry drawled.

 

“Any amount you want.”

 

“Done, then, for a thousand and fifty dollars.—Now go right into the

office there and take a look at her.”

 

“She’s with Leoncia?”

 

“Nope; she’s by herself.”

 

“I thought you said Leoncia was in there.”

 

“So I did, so I did. And so Leoncia _is_ in there. And she isn’t with

another soul, and she’s waiting to talk with you.”

 

By this time Francis was growing peevish.

 

“What are you stringing me for?” he demanded. “I can’t make head nor

tale of your foolery. One moment it’s your brand new sister in there,

and the next moment it’s your wife.”

 

“Who said I ever had a wife?” Henry came back.

 

“I give up!” Francis cried. “I’m going on in and see Leoncia. I’ll talk

with you later on when you’re back in your right mind.”

 

He started for the door, but was stopped by Henry.

 

“Just a second more, Francis, and I’m done,” he said. “I want to give

you that steer. I am not married. There is only one woman waiting for

you in there. That one woman is my sister. Also is she Leoncia.”

 

It required a dazed half minute for Francis to get it clearly into his

head. Again, and in a rush, he was starting for the door, when Henry

stopped him.

 

“Do I win?” queried Henry.

 

But Francis shook him off, dashed through the door, and slammed it after

him.

 

 

THE END.

 

 

CAHILL & CO., LTD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND DUBLIN

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

 

┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐

│ BOOKS BY JACK LONDON │

├─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤

│ │

│MICHAEL BROTHER OF JERRY 6s. net│

│ │

│ _Daily Graphic_—“A clever and intimate study of a thoroughbred │

│ dog—full of adventure.” │

│ │

│ │

│JERRY OF THE ISLANDS 6s.│

│ │