The light stabbed into a narrow black tunnel under the vines. The mere thought of entering it made Ron-nie shudder, but he gathered his courage and did as he was told. When he was finally able to stand erect and look around, he was astonished to discover that he was in a large cave, clean, dry, and pleasantly cool. Nor was it an ordinary cavern of eroded limestone, such as he had glimpsed during the afternoon. In the beginning, no doubt, it had been just that. But in some distant past man had smoothed the walls and leveled the floor; then he had caned extra rooms and grottoes, and decorated it all with symbolic designs of birds and fish chiseled into the rock. Finally—and Ronnie found this equally astonishing—modern man had furnished it with a variety of odds and ends and actually succeeded in making it homelike.

Lanterns, ancient and modern, hung about the walls. Only one was lighted, and by its feeble glow he could make out chairs and an ancient table of carved wood, a cot with what seemed to be a hand-woven cover, and some built-in bookshelves jammed with old books. A net hammock hung in a corner between stout metal hooks driven into the rock. At an angle to the right of it was a man-made alcove obviously used as a kitchen. Beyond it, in a larger alcove, the lantern light glinted faintly on the ornate post of an old bed. The region on the other side of it was lost in darkness. What I have is yours," Black Luis said, and now there was more than mere politeness in his voice. “Make yourself at home."

“Thank you," said Ronnie, peering about in wonder. “This is some place. Did you just find it, or what?"

"Oh, we've always sort of known about it. I mean, Marlowe and I, and his ancestors and mine. The indios used it before the Spanish came. This country's full of caves. Most of them are known, but the Spanish never learned of ours. Did Ana María Rosalita tell you about it?”

“She said you'd gone underground.”

"Well, she knows of it, though she's never seen it. We've never used it except as a hiding place. My grandpapa got in trouble once, and hid in here for two years. He's the one who fixed it up the way it is now. Worked in here all day and came out only at night to pick fruit or catch fish. That's how w e have to live." Black Luis gave a short, bitter laugh, then added, “But we won't be able to hide here much longer. A few more weeks. . .” He shrugged.

Ronnie stared at him." What's going on? Besides what's happening tomorrow, I mean."

"Tomorrow is part of it. It belongs to the same string of trouble. The string is being tightened all around us. Soon it will squeeze us out.”

"And Bernardo is the one who's pulling the string?

“Who else? But don't ask me why. It makes no sense. It is a crazy thing." Black Luis sighed. "I am not afraid for myself. I would hate to lose this place, yes. But it is no great matter. I can get lost and manage somehow. The big worry is that the same string tightening around Ana María Rosalita. That is what scares me.”

"It scares me too," said Ronnie, remembering how viciously the Señora had struck her after leaving boat. "She told me she'd run away, if things got bad, and come here. She won't let them take her back Santo Domingo."

"But that is their plan! I know " The black pounded his fists together. "They would get rid of us both. My grapevine is good. Marlowe gets around. What he misses, I get from Nicky Robles. His sister works at Las Alturas. That's the old Montoya villa where Don Bernardo is living now. I don't know how Ana María Rosalita can get out of that place-"

“What's wrong with it?"

“It’s built on the side of the mountain, like a fort. Anyway, it would be just like that dirty bribon to lock her in her room.”

"Then we'll go and get her out," Ronnie told him.

"If you think that would be easy-“

"Nothing is easy on an empty stomach," Marlowe interrupted from the darkness of the entrance.

"It is past time to eat, marinero, which means it is no time to talk of troubles and make plans. The Blue Boy's about had it today. Didn't he tell you someone's been trying to kill him ever since he reached San Juan?"

"Madre!" the black boy exclaimed. "Who would want to do a thing like that? Sit down. Tell me about it while I bring the supper.”

“I have his dessert," Marlowe called. “I've just picked it." A red and gold object the size of two teacups rolled but of the darkness and skittered across the stone to-ward the table. The aroma of it instantly filled the cave.

Ronnie caught it up and held it in the light. "A mango!" he exclaimed. "A ripe one!”

"Of course it's ripe!" Marlowe said tardy. "Did you think I'd be scummy enough to offer you a green one?"

"No, but-I mean-"

“I've heard how the Blue Boy goes for mangoes,” said the voice from the dark. "So I thought I'd get you an extra-special one. Bet you never saw any like it!”

"No," Ronnie replied, his wonder growing. "I never did." His fondness for mangoes had been well publi-cized, but almost no one realized how much knowl-edge he had acquired about the subject. This mango was not only out of season, but it didn't even belong here. In fact, he couldn't think of any place it did belong.

"I-I certainly appreciate it," he managed to say. "It's hard to believe you just picked it."

"But I did! Not two minutes ago!"

"You didn't pick it from any of those trees I saw outside."

“Well, not exactly," Marlowe admitted. "It came from one of the others."

"What others?"

"Oh, don't be so nosy! Can't you just accept a g thing when it's given to you?" But, Marlowe, I can't help wondering. I-I know this is extra special. That's why I'm so interested. W-won't you come out and show yourself, so I can thank you in person?"

“Absolutely not! You just want to satisfy your over-grown curiosity. You'll accept me as I am, or not at all."

"But I've already accepted you-"

"Not for what I am! I'm really a ghost. That's why I can't show myself."

"But you're not a ghost," Ronnie persisted. "I know better! In fact-"

"I am too a ghost!" Marlowe snapped. "I was even named for a ghost. If you don't believe it, ask Black Luis."

Ronnie glanced at the suddenly grinning Negro, who was placing baked yams and hunks of cold fish wrapped in banana leaves on the table. "People around here think he's a ghost," said Black Luis,

"When they hear him and can't see him, they run. I mean, they run.” Black Luis chuckled. "But you didn't run. You're the first person I know who didn't."

"I wanted to," Ronnie confessed. "But I couldn't afford to. I had to find a place to hide." There was a sudden silence. Then Marlowe said in a puzzled tone, "I can't understand why anybody would want to hurt the Blue Boy. It doesn't make sense.”

There were a lot of things around here, Ronnie thought that didn't make sense. Bernardo's tightening string was crazy enough. And Marlowe, to put it mildly, had given him a walloping jolt. Even now, when he had finally begun to suspect what Marlowe could be, it was hard to believe. But the thing that made the least sense of all was the mango.

He placed the incredible fruit on the table before him, then started in hungrily on the fish. Between bites he said, "I had to run away because somebody thinks I know too much. The trouble started in New Orleans. . .”

While he told what had happened to him, part of his mind centered on the mango. It was impossible, because it couldn't have grown here. There wouldn't be a ripe mango on the island until next spring, and that was months away. Yet here was a ripe one, finer than any he had ever seen, so fresh from the tree that the dew was still on it.

Where did Marlowe get it?

8

HAUNTED MOUNTAIN

RONNIE AWOKE SUDDENLY in the night, shaken by a dream as frighteningly real as the one he had had on the ship. He was sliding and plunging downward through wet jungle growth in absolute blackness. There was an instant of horror when he lost contact with Ana María Rosalita behind him, and Black Luis ahead, and abruptly began to fall, down, down, down.

The dream had neither beginning nor end, but the terrible reality of it brought him upright on the cot where he had been asleep, to stare wildly around at his unfamiliar surroundings. Then, in the dim light of the lantern, he saw the half-eaten mango on the table. Instantly everything fell into place. He sank back, trying to forget the dream, and wished he could have gone fishing with Black Luis. He had never been fishing in his life. But until he knew more about the area and had learned to find his way around in the dark, it had been agreed that it would be better if he remained out of sight.

"This island's crawling with people," Black Luis told him before leaving. "You may not see them, but they happen to be watching, they'll see you. And they’ll see you for sure if there’s money in it for them."

It was something of a shock to realize that the price of safety was to become a voluntary prisoner in a cave. There wasn't the slightest doubt that Peter, or who-ever it was that had followed him so far, would be able to trace him to the spot where he had left the bus in the rain. The search would broaden. Soon every per-son living for miles around would be on the watch for him.

"It's the same with me," the black boy added. Everybody around here works for Don Bernardo. Either in the cane or the coffee. They call themselves my friends. Ha! You could buy half of them for ten dollars. They keep Don Bernardo informed. Last month one of them saw me in my papa's old house. Next day Don Bernardo came and burned the place down, then smashed the pump at the well."

“But why?"

"Lots of reasons. Claimed it belonged to him. Claimed Don Carlos never really gave me the place. Chimed I was an—an undesirable alien and didn't want me hanging around. Told people if I didn't have water and a roof, I'd have to go back where I be-longed. Well, I've got water and a roof he doesn't know about. It's all on my own property.”

"If Don Carlos gave it to you, surely you have a deed to prove it."

“Of course he has a deed! " Marlowe exclaimed from the shadows. "It's in that tin box on the shelf. I'll bet that dirty bribon burned the house thinking he'd burn the deed with it."

"That wouldn't make much difference," he to them.

"Deeds have to be registered. With a good lawyer-"

Lawyer, he instantly discovered, was a bad word, almost as bad as money. It brought a shriek of

"Vul-ture!" from Marlowe, and dire mutterings from Black Luis. It developed that Black Luis actually had gone to a lawyer, the very man who had made out the deed in the first place, and who had often done work for Don Carlos.

"He told me to get lost," the Mack boy spat out. "He told me I was under age and an alien, and had no legal rights since I didn't have a guardian. And he told me I'd better get back to Santo Domingo where I belonged, and fast, before the immigration people caught me. Then he said Don Carlos had made a mistake in deeding me property, but that Don Bernardo felt sorry for me, and would be glad to give me a little cash for my claim. I told the dirty diablo-"

"But you went to the wrong lawyer! Can't you see? Don Carlos is dead, and he wants the Montoya busi-ness. So he'll do whatever Bernardo tells him. But the whole thing is crazy. Why does Bernardo want to drive you away and take your property? With what he's in-herited, I'll bet he's one of the richest men in the islands! He's got thousands of acres! Why does he want this little piece?

"I can't figure it."

“But there has to be a reason. Tell me what happened. I mean, you said you'd lived in Harlem. Why did you leave and go to Santo Domingo? If I can hear the whole thing, maybe. . .”

"Well, when my papa died, I had nobody to look me but an aunt. When she decided to live in New York, I had to go along."

"What about Marlowe?"

Marlowe grumbled, "Somebody had to stay behind I keep an eye on things. Anyhow, I wasn't wanted."

"I wanted you," Black Luis said, "But I wasn't allowed to take you. You know that. Anyway, when my aunt died, I wrote to Don Carlos in Santo Domingo and asked for a job. You see, my people had worked for him and his people for a hundred years. When he sent me the money to come down, I moved fast. Madre, was I glad to leave! I came here first and got Marlowe, then went on to Santo Domingo. Later, when the trouble came-"

“I know that part of it. But what happened after you got here with Ana María Rosalita? Why did Don Carlos give you this particular piece of land? Did you ask for it?”

"Sure. But not until he said he was going to give me some land anyway. He said land reform was corn-ing, and the government was going to take land from people like him and divide it up in little pieces for people like me. So he wanted me to have the best of it. When I picked this place—and I wanted it anyway because I was born here—he said I ought to choose a piece that was worth more, a piece I could raise a crop on to sell. But I said no, this place had everything. My papa once told me a man could live here naturally all his life, the way a man should live, and never be in need."

"Except for money.”

"Money! " the black boy exclaimed. "It should never have been invented. My papa said it makes slaves of everyone!”

"But you have to have it."

Marlowe cried, "If people had the sense to live naturally, they wouldn't need it! In such impossible quantities, I mean."

"Look," said Black Luis, "if I treat this place right , it will give me money. It grows everything—oranges, limes, grapefruit, bananas, coconuts, mangoes, plan-tains, guavas, papayas, sapodillas, yes, and breadfruit even. And if all those fail me, I can get money from the sea. Right out there." He waved his arm. "Standing on the beach. I don't need a boat. The water is deep a few feet out. Very deep. It is so deep the Cristobal Colón could come right in and tie up at the sea grape tree where Nicky Robles leaves my mail."

"Really?"

"It is true. It is a valley, submerged. Two big vessels could come in there. And all the best fish around can be caught from the beach—snapper, grouper, bo-nito. . .”

Ronnie swung his feet to the floor and started to get up. Instead he sat thoughtfully on the edge of the cot, and again went over in his mind all that Black Luis had told him. He was almost certain now that he knew the answers to two important questions. Maybe three. But knowing the truth, he realized, didn't solve any-thing. It wouldn't stop Bernardo, and it didn't help Ana María Rosalita in the slightest. But first things first. If he could prove one of the answers—the truth about Black Luis' citizenship—it might save their hid-ing place for a while and give them time to make fur-ther plans. But the very first thing of all was to get Ana María Rosalita safely away from Bernardo's house. He wished they could take a few extra days to scout the place, but a delay might be dangerous. What if the Señora decided to return to Santo Domingo earlier than expected?

He decided they had better go after Ana María Rosalita early tomorrow evening. A glance at his wristwatch told him that Black Luis and Marlowe wouldn't be back for at least an hour, for it was hardly past midnight. He got up and went to the table, and touched the money he had spread out upon it to dry. The afternoon’s deluge had soaked through his billfold and dampened everything in it. The bills were still damp. Reluctantly he left them as they were, and hoped that Black Luis wouldn't come back too soon and discover them.

Turning away, he caught sight of his zipper bag lying open on the floor at the foot of the cot. He got out his copy of Time and Duality, then tried to adjust the lantern so he could see to read. The lantern, he dis-covered, was almost out of oil. He soon found that all the other lanterns, as well as the several lamps, were empty Frowning, he got his flashlight from the where Black Luis had left it, and went in search of fuel can.

He located the can and a rusty funnel in a storage niche just past the kitchen area. It was a small can and he was dismayed to feel the lightness of it when he picked it up. Hardly a pint of oil remained in it. As he remembered what Ana María Rosalita had told him, he realized that anyone without money for stamps would hardly have enough for necessities.

Very carefully, so as not to spill a drop, he filled the lantern. But instead of turning up the wick, he lowered it until it gave barely enough light to see by. The remaining oil in the can would have to be ra-tioned. Only Nicky Robles could safely buy more fuel for them, and that might take time. It was thirst as much as curiosity that drew him into the rear passage when he found there was no water to drink in the kitchen area. After some fifty feet he stopped abruptly, surprised to see a flight of steps curving upward on the right. He was tempted to climb them, for as he played the light over them he could feel a steady draught of rising air; evidently the stairway acted as a ventilator, and led to some opening higher on the mountain.

Then, faintly, he heard water running somewhere ahead.

A few feet farther on he came to more steps cut into the rock, but these led downward. He descended for a short distance into a circular room where three small pools, raised above the floor and fed by a tiny spring dripped one into the other and flowed away in a narrow trench. The trench ended in a dark fissure in the floor that probably carried the drainage out to sea. Ronnie glimpsed the carvings on the wall and guessed that the Indians, long ago, must have used this chamber and its pools for some sort of religious purpose. The place certainly solved a lot of problems now. A cake of soap, a towel, and a blackened cooking pot by the lower pool indicated its present use. Beside the upper pool was a pewter mug, inviting one to drink. It was the best water he had ever tasted. He washed in the middle pool and, refreshed, returned to his cot in the main part of the cave.

He did not feel in the least sleepy, and his intention was to put the money away as soon as it was dry, and think about Dr. Prynne's equations until Black Luis and Marlowe returned. He had never tried working any of the equations in his head. But, with his memory, there seemed to be no reason why he couldn't. Especially that last one, where he thought he had found a mistake. Tonight, however, it was impossible to concentrate. New questions, and unanswered old ones, kept rising in his mind. Along with big questions, like the mystery of the mango, little ones clamored for solution. How did so much large furniture ever get into a place with such a small entrance? And what sort of creature was it that kept calling co-kee! co-kee!? Even in here he was aware of the countless voices that shook the dark outside.

The furniture, of course, must have been brought in through a larger opening, one now sealed over. And the night chorus, could it be that some kind of frog was making it?

But what of the mango?

It struck him suddenly that Dr. Prynne himself would have been mightily interested in where that mango came from.

He was still wondering about it when he fell a4eep.

The unmistakable sound of men's voices, coming from somewhere near, jerked Ronnie awake. He sat up quickly. The lantern still cast its feeble glow upon the table, but from a narrow recess in the wall beyond it came a shaft of pale daylight. Black Luis was standing there motionless, listening. Ronnie swung off the cot and crept close. Seeing him, the black boy put a finger to his lips and pointed to a long, narrow crack extending at an angle through the rock at the back of the recess. Ronnie slipped into the place and put his eyes to the crack.

He was astonished to discover that he was looking down upon the flat shelf of rock where he had met Black Luis last evening. Almost directly below, hardly twenty feet away, two men were moving uncertainly about, talking.

One man, who wore the cap of an official, muttered, "See yonder? Someone's been here. They built a fire in that corner.

"Don Bernardo did that," the other grumbled.

"What for?”

“Oh, we found a pile of wood up here he thought the Luis boy might be using, so he burned it along with the house."

“That Luis boy has really upset him. I wonder why?"

"Don't ask me. I just do as I'm told.”

"Well, it's none of my business. My job is to catch the boy and deport him. Are there any more trails around here, and places to hide?”

"Not unless you're a mongoose. I've been all over this little mountain. It is full of holes, but there are none big enough to put your head in."

“Well, we'd better leave a man around to keep watch while we search over the ridge. The Luis boy may come back. Maybe after dark."

"You won't get anyone to stay here after the sun goes down.”

"Why not?" the official asked sharply.

"The place is haunted."

"Nonsense!”

"Ask anyone around here. Every soul I know will tell you the same thing. If you come here in the eve-ning, a voice will float all about you and warn you to leave. I have heard it myself."

"There must be a rational explanation for such a phenomenon."

"I've given you a rational explanation. The place is haunted. If you do not believe in the truth of such things, then you're not rational."

“Well, I've always said the spirits of the indios are still around. Perhaps we'd better leave." Ronnie watched the men start down through t-he heavy growth, then glanced at Black Luis. The black boy was grinning. "My grandpapa fixed this place. There was another entrance here once, but he changed it. I don't know how. It was long, long ago. He was a stoneworker, and very clever. Can you smell fish cooking?"

"No. Why?"

“I am cooking those I caught last night. In the stone oven my grandpapa built. But you cannot tell it ~ cause the smell goes up, up, high into the mountain. I think maybe the limestone cleans it. Outside I have climbed all the way to the mountain's top, and sniffed the holes where the air comes out. But I cannot smell fish when I cook them. My grandpapa was a smart man.

As he turned, the black boy's attention was caught by the money that still covered the table. He stiffened. “Madre!" he muttered. "So much wealth I saw it last night when I came. Take it away!

"We share and share alike," said Ronnie. "Part of it is yours.”

"No! I want nothing to do with it. Money is evil"

"There's nothing evil about that money. I earned it. Every penny of it. If you earned five dollars by selling some fish, you wouldn't call it evil, would you?"

"No, but there are thousands and thousands yonder-"

“Yes," Ronnie agreed, his mind working as swiftly as it had ever worked. "And if you'd sold thousands and thousands of fish, you'd have a pile just like it, and would be just as evil. What's more, we're going to need every dollar of it before we're through. You're in trouble. I'm in trouble. Ana María Rosalita is in trouble. This money's going to help us all."

“I don't see how. I'd rather put my faith in some other things."

"How do you mean?"

“If Ana María Rosalita were here, she'd tell you. She may be young and small, but she is a great hechicera. As a worker of spells, I've never seen her equal." Oh, golly, thought Ronnie. Here we go again. But quickly he said, "I've been thinking about her. We've got to go and get her. Tonight."

Black Luis nodded slowly. "I've been thinking of her too. She must leave there tonight. Tomorrow may be too late. But Marlowe and I will get her. You'd bet-ter stay here."

"Nothing doing! From what you've told me of that place, you and Marlowe can't manage it alone. I'm going."

"But you re so pale. Your face and your hair. If someone sees you—and they will-"

"I'll rub soot or something over me." Ronnie paused, scowled at the money, then asked,

"Where's Mar-lowe? I-I've got to talk to him."

"He went outside to check on those fellows." Ronnie began picking up the bills on the table. He was tucking them away in his billfold when Marlowe's sharp voice sounded in the darkness of the entrance.

"Marinero! " he called excitedly. "More men have come! Look down on the beach." The black boy whirled to the recess and pressed his face to the crack in the rock. Ronnie slipped in beside him and did the same. Their narrow window on world afforded a clear view, not only of the shelf below, but of the sea grape tree beyond the foot of mountain, and the scrap of beach to the left of it. Two men were setting up a tripod above the beach.. Several others had paused near the sea grape and were studying what seemed to be a chart. It took only a glance for Ronnie to realize what was happening.

"They are surveyors and builders," he said.

"Surveyors! " Black Luis echoed. "Builders! But-but why? What-"

"You've got deep water here," Ronnie said slowly. Don't

you realize what that means?" "But-but there's deep water all around the island."

"Not up as close as this, in a place that's protected, I'll bet some company wants to build a factory here,

"A-a factory?"

"Yes. And not just an ordinary one, either, if they plan to bring their own ships in here. It'll have to be huge."

"No!" the black boy whispered. "No! I won't have it!

"If you can prove you own the land," Ronnie re-minded him, "it's your chance to get rich."

"But he's rich now! " Marlowe exclaimed. Unless you're talking about money—and mere money couldn't buy what this place gives him,"

“It sure couldn't," Black Luis muttered. "But how am I going to keep it? Even if Ana María Rosalita helps me, I-I can't fight them all."

Ronnie said, "Sure you can. Didn't you ever hear of fighting fire with fire?"

"What's fire got to do with it? I don't dig you, Blue Boy"

“We'll start with that money you saw on the table. It may be evil, but we'll need it to get the fire going. Bernardo's using the law to drive you off and get rid o£ you. So we'll use the law to drive him off."

"But-"

"Just a moment. I've got to know one thing. When you were in Santo Domingo, did Don Carlos ever change your citizenship?"

"Not that I know."

"Did you ever sign your name to any piece of paper having to do with citizenship?"

"Ha! I never signed my name to anything. Why should I? I was just another black boy named Luis. Don Carlos said I was the blackest Luis he'd ever known and he'd known lots. He always called me Black Luis. It was a joke between us. You see, my real name is Black. Luis Black. It's on the records here. But in Santo Domingo I was just a black boy who hung around doing odd jobs, and who spoke the same lan-guage all the other boys spoke. Nobody ever asked me where I came from."

"Why were you doing odd jobs? I thought you went there to work for Don Carlos."

"And that's just what I did. I was his spy."

Ronnie stared at him. “His spy?"

"Sure. With Marlowe's help."

Marlowe said, "Somebody had to find out what wickedness was going on behind his back, That was our job. Madre! We found out."

"And just in time," Black Luis added. "I'd sure hate to be sent back. They know me now. They'd cut my throat. And if they got their dirty hands on Ana María Rosalita. . ." He shook his head.

"You won't he deported," Ronnie told him. "The law's on your side. I'm sure I can prove it.”

"How?"

"I'll explain it tomorrow, after I've been to Mayagüez."

"Mayagüez? But you can't-"

“I've got to go, and as soon as possible. But not till we get Ana María Rosalita here. So we'd better start figuring how we're going to manage it. Have either you or Marlowe been inside Las Alturas?"

"I've been in it," the black boy said slowly. "But I don't know it too well. Marlowe, he's been all over it"

Ronnie, his lip clenched between his teeth, turned and searched the dark corner of the cave.

"Marlowe," he begged, "please come out. We-we've got to get acquainted. It'll take all three of us to get Ana María Rosalita out of that place, but the biggest job is yours."

“I know it," Marlowe muttered. "I'm the only one who can get in Las Alturas without being seen."

"Then please come out and help us draw a plan of the place." Marlowe did not answer. Black Luis said, "He's shy."

"And I don't blame him," said Ronnie. "Marlowe, I’d feel the same way if I were in your place. But honest, I think of you as one of us, and that's all that mat-ters. Marlowe, please . . .”

Marlowe said sharply, "How can a ghost possibly show himself?”

“But you're not a ghost! I've already guessed what are. So why keep hiding?"

"You-you've guessed?" said Marlowe in a small voice. But almost instantly he exclaimed, "Oh, fiddle--dee-pooh! You've outsmarted yourself, Blue Boy. You couldn't know. Or would you be stringing me?"

“I'm not stringing you. I've figured it out. You're about the rarest thing on earth. You re a- “Don't say it!" Marlowe screeched." Think it if you wish. But don't ever, ever say it!

"But why-"

"Because you'll destroy my integrity. That's why. I won't be me anymore. I'll just be something you've classified, like a bird or a bug. I simply won't have it. You must accept me as I am, and stop prying."

“But I have accepted you," Ronnie insisted.

“Yes but you're still prying to see if you're right—and you could be wrong. I could be many things be-sides what you think, including a disembodied voice. How does that grab you, Mr. Smarty?" Ronnie swallowed. "Okay. You win. I-I'll play it any way you want, Marlowe. But please help us.”

"Of course I'll help! I know the inside of Las Alturas better than that rascally Bernardo will ever know it. Get a pencil and some paper and I'll tell you exactly how to draw the plan of it. But before we get started, let's have some breakfast. I can't think on an empty stomach, and neither can you." Black Luis grinned and said, "Breakfast on the way, companeros. Oranges and some generous pieces of freshly baked plantain and fish, served on banana leaves, speedily appeared on the table. A smaller piece of fish and halt of a peeled orange were placed on another section banana leaf and left in the angle of the kitchen.

All this, in the strangeness of the cave, was beginning to seem utterly mad and unworldly to Ronnie until he sat down at the table with paper and pencil. Then once again he found himself staring at his half-eaten mango.

Marlowe, he was sure, could be explained. But there was no explanation for the mango. Unless, of course, Dr. Prynne was right . . .

9

ASSAULT UPON A CITADEL

BY RONNIE'S WATCH it was twenty minutes of midnight when they set out for Las Alturas. They would have preferred a much later start, when fewer people were abroad, but it would have allowed too little time to accomplish their mission.

"After we get there," he said, "we ought to have at least two hours to find Ana María Rosalita and get her out of the place. A lot of little things could hold us up. And we can't afford to have daylight catch us before we get back here. Too many people are on the watch for us.

"I'll find her,” Marlowe promised. "That won't take me five minutes." Sure, thought Ronnie. If you're what I think you are, you'll recognize her scent and go straight to her room. But aloud he said, "It isn't finding her that wor-ries me. It's getting her out. They're bound to have her door locked. Suppose the key is gone. What'll we do?"

“The key will he in the Señora's room, Marlowe said promptly. " I'll go there and get it."

"And if you can't locate it?"

"I'll find it if I have to cut loose with the spook deal Madre! It would give me great pleasure to scare one out of her skin. She is diabolica."

"Don't you pull any spook stuff till I know the score. Remember, I'm going inside with you." Black Luis said, "Don't you think I ought to be the one to go inside? I'm bigger than you, and a lot stronger. She'll have things to carry-"

“No, it has to be me inside. Being small's a help. I can bide easier. And my memory will be a bigger help if something goes wrong. You don't realize how many things I can think of at the same time. Anyway, someone has to keep guard outside. It ought to be a person familiar with the country. Why, I don't even know what those little creatures are that sing so loud at night."

"That's the coqui," said Black Luis. "It's called the songbird of the islands."

"A bird, is it?"

"Its not really a bird. It's a tree frog. A tiny one. It's named from its call—co-kee! Most sing co-kee, but some sing ma-ree. At night you can always tell when someone is coming, because the coquis stop singing when he is near. De veras! Maybe I had better be the one to keep guard. The coquis tell me many things."

Just before they left, Ronnie carefully smeared his face and arms with a concoction made of grease, a bit of soot, and a red powder from pounded achiote seeds, which grew wild on the mountainside. It turned his skin a deep mahogany. When he had drawn on his wig and a dark shirt, he doubted if even Peter Pushkin would have glanced at him twice.

Marlowe went ahead to make sure no one was around, and Ronnie crawled and fumbled his way along behind Black Luis in a slow descent of the mountain. After they had waded the creek the going was easy for some distance, but presently the beach became almost too rough to follow. Until they neared the captain's cottage nearly a mile down the coast, they were forced to weave in and out through brush, outcroppings of rock, and scattered clumps of wild guavas and sea grape. It was a bright night, with a half-moon riding the ridges on the left, and Ronnie could see every detail around him. Several times he tried his best to catch a glimpse of Marlowe, but failed. His first guess was that Marlowe might be a mongoose. The evidence, at least, pointed in that direction. And though he hadn't re-membered it at first, there really had been a talking mongoose that lived, of all places, on the Isle of Man. And a smart one too. He had read of it by accident when he was looking up something else, but had paid no attention to it because he hadn't believed it. It had sounded too kooky, like Ana María Rosalita's magic. Still. . .

As they approached the gleaming strip of beach that marked the captain's property, Black Luis turned sharply to the left. Within the shadow of the palms that formed a dense grove here, Ronnie paused a mo-ment and looked back wistfully at the moonlit beach. The lazy sea that washed it glowed with phosphorus. What a beautiful spot. He wondered what it would be like to feel carefree, and be able to run along water's edge in his hare feet, and to swim and fish, and hunt for shells. He had never had a chance to do those things. Nor would Gus have ever thought of bringing him to a spot like this.

"Keep moving," Black Luis whispered. "We've long climb ahead. And be mighty careful. We're almost at the road."

They crept past the cottage, a pale masonry shape on concrete stilts, with every opening covered with grillwork. Beyond it the ground sloped upward through the breadfruit grove the captain had spoken of, and now the sound of traffic could be heard for the first time. Presently Ronnie saw the headlights of cars, and then they were crouching behind a gate, waiting for a chance to cross the road unnoticed. So far they had seen no one. But all at once the nearness of the road, with its seemingly endless traffic, brought sharply back to Ronnie the danger he and Black Luis were in. To his knowledge, at least four men were searching for him, and probably as many more were on the watch for Black Luis. It would be a miracle, he suddenly realized, if they could actually do what they had planned and not run into trouble.

At the first break in the traffic Marlowe called to them, and they raced across the road and slipped into the tangle on the other side.

From the darkness that now enclosed them Marlowe said cheerfully, "All is clear below, comrades. The path is here, and it is safe to use your light. But watch it later. Something is going on upstairs."

“Any idea what it is?" Ronnie asked quickly.

“Can't tell yet. But a lot of cars keep going up and down on the Las Alturas road." They began climbing the narrow, steep path, which us a shortcut used by the plantation workers to the coffee trees high above. The private road to Las Alturas wound back and forth somewhere on the right; occasionally headlights flashed through the treetops as a car swept around a turn. It was nearly a half hour before they reached a cor-ner of the plantation and saw, clinging to the side of the mountain ahead, the huge century-old villa of the Montoya family. Ronnie, breathing raggedly and all but exhausted from his climb, stared at it in dismay. The place was ablaze with lights. Above the happy singing of the coquis, as loud here as in the jungle be-low, came strains of music and occasional voices lifted in drunken song. Bernardo, obviously, was having what seemed to be turning into an all-night party.

"Mil diablos!" Black Luis muttered. "What are we going to do?"

"What we came to do," Ronnie said grimly "I'm going to get her out of there. And if anybody tries to stop me-"

"You're not big enough to get tough without a weapon," Black Luis told him. He took out his knife and groped in the shrubbery. Presently he came up with two small clubs the size of a policeman's nightstick. "Thought I'd better have one myself," he ad-mitted. "Let's go." They crept forward on a branching path that led, Ronnie knew, to the servants' entrance in the wall. The careful plan he had drawn from the descriptions given him had fixed every detail of Las Alturas clearly in his mind. With its great supporting walls, the place was like a fort. The main entrance, high on the right, was through huge iron gates and across a broad courtyard, now jammed with cars. The only practical way to slip inside, he had reasoned, would be through the servants' door they were now approaching. With Marlowe's help, of course, for it would have to be un-locked from the inside. They stopped at a sudden warning whisper from Marlowe. Ronnie dropped to his hands and knees and crawled carefully forward until he could peer around the clumps of flowering shrubs that blocked his view.

Now, for the first time, he could see the servants' entrance. His mouth tightened. The outside light was on, the outer door of iron grillwork was ajar, and a man and a woman were standing on the threshold, drinking from paper cups while they peered out at the night. They must have come from the kitchen just above, for both wore aprons.

Black Luis crawled up beside him, grunted, but said nothing. All they could do was wait. Ronnie scanned the windows, hoping to discover one that could be entered. But like the captain's house and most of the others he had seen on the island, every opening was covered with ornate grillwork as a protection against prowlers.

Suddenly he whispered, "Marlowe?"

"Right here," came the whispered reply from under a bush "You’re about to ask me if I can sneak In Unobserved."

“Can you?”

“Certainly! I'm a very clever little fellow. Shall I enter, find Ana María Rosalita's room, and tell her we'll be up soon to let her out?

"Yes. And check on the key, will you? If it's in the Señora's room, maybe you'd better bring it to me. It could save us a lot of trouble later."

"Madre! If I should find the key, it just occurs to me that it might he stupid not to use it immediately. Why not let her out on the spot? That is, if I can handle such an unwieldy object. The keys in that den of iniquity are enormous.”

"No, Marlowe. Don't do that! It’ll he dangerous. Someone's bound to see her-"

"What difference will it make? Listen to them! They're whooping it up. Who would bother to stop her, or even care? No one but the Señora or Bernardo. And naturally I will take no chances with those two.”

"Okay," Ronnie said doubtfully. "It might be worth a try." Something told him it wouldn't work, but there was nothing else they could do at the moment. He sat chewing worriedly at his lip, trying to think of other plans if this one should fail. All at once he whispered to Black Luis, "Do you know where the fuse box is located?"

"Fuse box? You mean where the electricity comes into the house?"

"Yes." Evidently Black Luis had had more experi-ence with lamps than electrical circuits. Ronnie raised his head and pointed to a wire slanting through trees high on the right. "See yonder? That's the power line coming up from the road. But with all the ivy and growth around the house I can't tell where the line enters."

"I remember now,” said the black boy. "Go in that door yonder, climb the steps to the kitchen like you've drawn on the plan, and at the top of the steps, on the wall to the right, there's a big flat metal box with wires coming out of it. That must be it."

That had to be it, Ronnie thought, and realized Las Alturas had been built before the days of electricity and concealed wiring. "Is the fuse fox an old-fash-ioned one, with a knife switch in a separate box, or is it modern?"

"I-I wouldn't know. What difference does it make?"

It would make a lot of difference. But all he said was, "Can't tell yet. Wait till Marlowe gets back."

Impatiently he watched the two servants, who were still standing in the doorway. Finally he glanced at the luminous hands of his watch. Why did time always seem to drag so when you were waiting for something to happen?

The two servants left, but their place at the door was almost immediately taken by another servant who glumly lounged there smoking a cigarette. The slow minutes crept by. What had happened to Marlowe?

Abruptly Black Luis plucked his sleeve and pointed to the sky on the right. The stars were being blotted out by spreading darkness. A faint rumbling could be heard in the distance.

"Capista!" he muttered uneasily. "We've got to get that small one out of there fast, or we’re in trouble. If that rain hits us, we won't find our way off this mountain before daylight." At that moment the servant moved away from the door, and almost immediately afterward there was a rustling under the shrubbery and Marlowe returned. “I found her, companeros," he began hurriedly, and now his sharp little voice was no longer cheerful. "She is in that middle bedroom upstairs on the east side, next to the Señora's room on the northeast corner. She is locked in, of course, the excuse being—from what I overheard—that she is subject to fits and quite violent. She-"

"What's wrong?" Ronnie interrupted impatiently.

"There's nothing wrong with her, except that she's hungry. It's that ding-ratted blasted key," Marlowe wailed. "It's not in the door. It's not in the Señora's room. I tore the place apart. I ripped it asunder. I made a shambles of it. When I found out they hadn't fed our little camarada a mouthful of food since they brought her here, I went quite berserk. In my anxiety to find the key, I got into the Señora's closet and quite shredded her best dresses. But no key. Madre de Dios! What was I to do? I rushed back to Ana María Rosa-lita's room and talked to her under the door, and she said get a key from another room and try it. That I did, pronto. But no luck. All the keys are different, except that they are monstrous. Then Ana María Rosalita said that maybe the Señora kept the key in that gold mesh bag she always carries in her hand. It would be just like her, and it seemed the only chance. So downstairs I go in a flash to find the Senlora, and there she is in the middle of the drawing room floor. And what is she doing?"

Marlowe paused, gasping, breathless. Then he almost shrieked, "She is dancing! Dancing alone!

A solo. Just as if she were nearer fourteen than forty. All the others are sitting in a big circle around her, clapping their hands and singing. And the mesh bag? She is waving it aloft as if it were the head of John the Baptist." Marlowe paused again, and gasped, "Oh, that infamous female python of a desollada! How I would like to give her a taste of my teeth!”

Ronnie said quickly, "Could you tell by the way the bag was swinging if there was anything heavy in-side?”

"It was heavy! I would swear the key is in it."

"Then use your teeth, and we'll get it, Right now, while she's still dancing. But we'll have to change plans entirely. Here's the idea."

Marlowe would dash in first and head for the draw-ing room while Ronnie and Black Luis rushed for the fuse box. The moment the box was opened and he knew what could be done with it, he would start counting slowly to give Black Luis time to race up the hack stairs to Ana María Rosalita's door. At the count of ten he would pull the switch, plunging the house into darkness, then wreck the fuse box if he could, and run for the main stairway with his flashlight. His final task would be to use the light to lead Ana María Rosa-lita and Black Luis—who would carry her bags—safely out of the house. He was still talking swiftly as he leaped to his feet and started for the still-open grill door ahead. His final word was , "Don't forget, we'll leave by the Font entrance. The back hall will be jammed, because every-body will be trying to turn the lights on. If we get separated, just keep going and we'll meet at the captain's house."

He wanted to ask Black Luis if he knew how to drive a car, but there wasn't time. They were suddenly inside the servants' entrance, and leaping up the short flight of steps to the service hall behind the kitchen. One glance told him he was too small to reach the switch box, but before he could ask for help Black Luis had swung up a long arm and jerked the box open, and in the next instant had thrust forth a chair for him to stand on.

As Black Luis sped away behind him, Ronnie began to count. At the same time his eye explored the unfamiliar interior -of the box. It was fairly modern, which meant that, instead of a dangerous knife switch in a separate compartment, there were a series of square plugs that could be pulled out entirely. Unfor-tunately it had been poorly assembled, for three of the plugs had identical marking. He was trying to decide which was the main plug, when his eye caught movement in the kitchen door.

He turned to see a woman in an apron staring at him. "You there!" she snapped. "What in the world do you think you are doing?"

Ronnie held up a finger for silence and gave her a smile. "I've been ordered to play a trick on the party, he informed her in a stage whisper. "Don't say anything." He was already past the count. Holding both his stick and flashlight in one hand, he jerked out the first plug.

Nothing happened.

He thrust the plug into his pocket so it could not be used again, and jerked out the second one. Again nothing happened. Desperately he gave the third a jerk, and instantly Las Alturas was plunged into darkness.

He got down from the chair and hastily thrust all three plugs behind a pile of newspapers he had noticed in the corner. Only now did he turn on his light and dart past the servant woman who was still gaping in the doorway.

From the rooms beyond the kitchen he could hear startled voices, mutterings, and uncertain laughter, Abruptly there was an earsplitting scream, and a woman shrilled, "Something's biting me!

Help! Help!"

Using his light as little as possible, Ronnie dodged around the near-panicky crowd in the drawing room, gained the entry hall, and raced up the great marble stairway. By the time he reached the door to Ana María Rosalita's room, Black Luis had torn open a mesh bag and with an unsteady hand was trying to thrust a huge key into the lock.

The key went in, the door opened, and the light shone on the white pinched face of the tiny girl in-side. So much had happened since he had seen her last that it seemed to Ronnie weeks had passed instead of less than two days.

“Oh, I knew you'd come!" he heard her say. "I knew it. I'm all ready."

"Thank Marlowe," he told her quickly. "Grab her bags, Black Luis. Let's get out of here, camarada! Fast!"

He caught her hand and tugged her swiftly along the hall to the stairway. They hurried downward. In the rooms below matches and lighters were beginning to make pinpricks in the darkness. As they reached the entrance hall, the beam of a flashlight suddenly swept the area and fastened upon them. The beam touched Ana María Rosalita, and there was a startled grunt followed by a curse.

"So it was a trick!" a man said hoarsely. “Get back upstairs, girl! As for you two, I'll have the law-"

Ronnie swung his light in the man's face, hoping to blind him momentarily so they could slip past, but a hand far stronger than his own knocked it from his grasp and seized him firmly. The flashlight smashed against a wall and went out. But Ronnie was still car-rying his stick under one arm , and now he managed to get a grip on it with his left hand. He began swing-ing it in a fury. That it was Bemardo he was attacking he had known from the instant he glimpsed the man's face. There was no mistaking the resemblance to the Señora. It added strength to his fury, and he must ha knocked Bernardo down and broken his flashlight, for the way to the front entrance was suddenly clear, He managed to find Ana María Rosalita's hand again, and they ran outside together. Black Luis was close behind, but Ronnie did not know this until they had dodged around a row of cars in the courtyard and were near the gate. The rushing blackness overhead had already swallowed the moon, and the stars were rapidly vanishing. He could barely make out the gate opening. Then he heard Black Luis say, “What are we going to do? We'll never find our way down the mountain unless we follow the road. And in two minutes the sky will break open and we'll be wishing we had fins."

“Can you drive a car?"

“No."

Ronnie swallowed. He had handled a car only once in his life, and that was a little Italian sportster he had been allowed to use on an Argentine estate. There were cars here he could have stolen, for he doubted if many of the owners would have bothered to remove the keys in a place like this. But most of them seemed to be large machines with which he was unfamiliar. Dare he risk driving one on a narrow mountain road, on an inky night in a rainstorm?

Already scattered drops were beginning to fall. He looked wildly around, hoping to see a small sports model, but a sudden warning from Black Luis sent scurrying to the side of the courtyard. They crouched behind a large sedan as racing headlights swept around the mountain. A car whined upward at high speed, and whirled recklessly through the gate. It came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the drive-way, effectively blocking the only exit.

A man got out and stood swaying drunkenly while he bellowed for a servant to come and carry his pack-ages. When no servant appeared, he lurched toward the villa, leaving the motor running and the headlights on to show him the way.

"We've got to take it," Ronnie whispered. "Let's go!" He caught Ana María Rosalita’s hand, and they raced to the car and piled in. Black Luis followed with the bags and tumbled into the hack seat amid a collec-tion of bottles and boxes. It was a sports car, and it had a set of floor shifts enough like those he had once used to give him a grain of confidence, But his legs were not long enough to reach the brake pedal, and he was forced to slide the seat forward before he could put the thing in reverse and attempt to turn around. Somehow, perhaps with the aid of Ana María Rosa-lita's whispered prayers, he got the car turned and headed through the gate.

As they started down the mountain, thunder clanged and roared around them, and the tropic rain began to fall in blinding sheets.

10

SPELL

RONNIE HAD THE PRESENCE OF MIND to shift to low gear, or they might have gone over the edge of the mountain on the first hairpin turn. The car, though a sportster, was much larger and heavier than the one he had been allowed to use so briefly, and he sat so low in the bucket seat that he was unable to make out the side of the road. The only thing to do, he realized, was to hug the mountainside on his left, and pray.

The rain increased. With every passing second it became more difficult to see the way. Several times he braked to a full stop, waited until he could glimpse a few more yards ahead, then cautiously inched onward.

They may have been halfway down to the main road when some instinct warned him it was time to stop. As he braked again his straining eyes were able to distin-guish what seemed to be two ancient gateposts on the left.

"Do you know if it's safe to drive in there?" he asked Black Luis.

“It’s a good road for a short distance. It goes down to a pineapple field in the other valley." Ronnie tugged the wheel over. Carefully, slowly, he sent the car between the posts and on into the black-ness on the other side. When he finally stopped, it was only because it had become impossible to see anything ahead.

He turned off the switches and closed his eyes, sud-denly limp. Behind him Black Luis whispered fer-vently, "Madre de Dios! We made it!"

“Yes," he managed to say. "We'll be safe here for a while. But as soon as we can see, we'd better start walking."

Beside him Ana María Rosalita gave a tremulous, "Oh! " Then, "Oh It's so won derful!"

“It sure is," said Black Luis. "It's wonderful."

"What's so wonderful?" said Ronnie.

“Being with people who care about you,” she said. "I mean people who really care. It's so awful to be alone and not have anybody."

"I know what you mean," Ronnie admitted. "I've been all through that."

“Then why don't you be my brother?" she said. "Black Luis is. I made him my brother after Bernardo turned out to be such a monster. Anyway, I think it would be nice to have two brothers. Then we'd be a sort of family."

Ronnie swallowed. "Why," he began, "that-that's a great idea. We're all in the same boat. I mean, we don't have relatives or anybody else that gives a hoot. We have only each other." They were silent a moment, and the only sound was the thundering rain. Then in a tiny voice Ana María Rosalita said, "I-I'm so happy I could cry."

"Then why don't you?" Ronnie said. "From what I've read, it's the best thing in the world for people at times."

"But hechiceras don't cry. Only I-I'm so weak." She tried to suppress a sniffle and added, "And when I’m weak I'm like a run-down battery, and I just can't help myself."

“Oh, golly," Ronnie burst out, "you must be starved! Marlowe said those devils didn't give you a bite to eat! What made them treat you that way? Are they just plain mean?"

"Money-loving mean," Black Luis muttered. "Can't you see? They've got to get rid of her. If they don't, that bribon of a Bernardo won't inherit what her papa left her. But they're afraid of her. Especially the Señora. So they starve her."

"You mean-“

“It's just like our little sister says. Starve an hechi-cera, and she gets so weak her battery runs down. She can't protect herself."

"I-I see.”

"And she can't protect herself when she’s trying to help somebody else, either. That's why the Señora was able to wallop her on the dock, like you told me about. But she kept that man from shooting you.”

"Yes," Ronnie admitted. He was careful to keep doubt from his voice, even though he wondered.

"She sure did."

Ana María Rosalita giggled suddenly. "It's not really funny; it just seems that way when I look back on it. Maybe it's because I'm so hungry I'm silly. But you should have seen that weaselly creature's face when I cried to him, 'You can't shoot! '—and of course he couldn't, because I'd turned on all I had. And then the Señora gave me the wallop. O-o-oh! I've never been hit so hard. Bernardo's chauffeur had to carry me to the car, and I was still dizzy when they locked me in that room.”

Ronnie found himself clenching his fists in renewed fury. "Anyway," he said, "Marlowe partially paid her back for hitting you. He bit her. But good. I hope her foot rots off."

"Marlowe bit her? I thought I heard a scream, but-“

“That was Marlowe sinking his teeth in. When he let her have it, she dropped the bag that had the key to your room in it. So you can thank him-" he stopped suddenly, then exclaimed, "Hey! Where is Marlowe, anyway?"

Black Luis said, "He doesn't like to ride in cars. But don't worry about him. He'll be curled up somewhere waiting for the rain to stop.”

"I keep wondering what he is," Ronnie said curi-ously. "I'm pretty sure I know, because only a-“

"Don't say it!" Black Luis interrupted quickly. Remember what he told you.

"And we re not allowed to tell you," Ana María Rosalita added. "Because we promised we'd never, never give his secret away, and if we didn't keep our promise to him he'd know it, and it would spoil everything. But he'll tell you himself later, specially when he learns you've become our brother. Anyway, what difference does it make what he is? He's a personality and practically a brother, and that's all that matters.”

She paused, sniffed, and said abruptly, "I smell shrimp!"

"Maybe they're falling in the rain," Ronnie offered.

"Oh, Madre mia, I mean cooked shrimp. I wish I didn't love them so. I've been dreaming of them for hours and hours. I could eat tons of them. I tell you I smell them."

"You're so hungry it's making your nose play tricks."

“But I do smell shrimp!”

"I smell them too! " Black Luis burst out. "They must be back here. Under all these bags and bottles. If we had a light. . .”

Ronnie fumbled hastily over the instrument panel. Suddenly the light above his head came on. Ana María Rosalita, seeing his dyed skin for the first time, squealed and cried, "Caspita! You've turned into an Indian! " At the same moment he saw the left side of her face, which had been hidden from him when her door was opened. It was swollen and discolored, and her eye was nearly closed. Black Luis saw it and gasped, and muttered an angry exclamation. Ronnie growled, "For what she did to you, I hope both that devil's feet rot off!"

"No," said the tiny girl. "Don't say that. I think she is loca and cannot help what she does. Where is that shrimp? Oh, find it, Black Luis, before I perish utterly!”

Behind them bottles clinked and clattered and there was a great upheaval of things. All at once Black Luis cried, "Mira! He emerged holding up a large con-tainer made for carrying hot and cold foods. Inside was a heavy plastic bag filled with freshly boiled shrimp, all peeled and buttered. There were enough in the bag to feed thirty people. "And there are ten big boxes of potato chips to go with it," Black Luis said happily. "Gracias a Dios. Let us eat."

"And go easy, camarada," Ronnie cautioned. "I went hungry for a couple days once, then stuffed myself. Was I ever sorry!"

Ana María Rosalita made only gurgling noises of pure happiness. But after ten minutes she was able to say," I've never, never tasted anything so good, and I just couldn't stop till I'd built up my willpower. It took fifty-two shrimp to do it. But now I have the will to resist further food until we get to the cave.”

At the thought of the cave, Ronnie scowled at his watch, suddenly troubled. Finally he began searching the car for a flashlight. There was no flashlight in the car, though he located some paper cups, which they held out in the rain to fill with drinking water.

At last he said to Black Luis, "Is there a path along here somewhere that will take us down to the highway?"

"There's a path, but it's a bad one. Even if we had a light, I wouldn't want to try it in the dark. We'd be better off on the Las Alturas road."

“That's too dangerous. It's not raining as hard as it was. I'll bet Bernardo's got cars out looking for us already. The path's the only way.

"Well, we sure can't take it till there's enough light to see by." Ronnie shook his head. "I'm afraid that'll be too late . . . unless we want to hide somewhere in the woods all day. But I don't like that. Golly, there are too many people on the watch for us already. There are four that I know of trying to find me—and there must be at least four more searching for you. And in a few hours, when Bernardo gets things organized, oh, brother!"

“But-but I don't understand," Ana María Rosalita interrupted. "Why are they after you, Black Luis? I know you've had to hide so Bernardo wouldn't make trouble. But has it got any worse since your last let-ter?"

Ronnie exclaimed, "You bet it's got worse! The police and the immigration people are after him. Bernardo wants him caught and deported, and I mean fast. Bernardo's pulling every trick in the book to get that land, so a factory can he built on it. I think a big company wants it. Anyway, the surveyors were out there this morning—I mean yesterday morning-"

"Not a factory! " the tiny girl cried.

"I think so, and it'll probably be a whale of a big one. The place is on deep water, and that makes it really special. Why, if Bernardo handles things right, that land would earn a thousand times what the gov-ernment would ever pay for it in land reform. I'll bet-"

“Wait!" she said. "I-I've just remembered some-thing. When the Señora brought me to Las Alturas, Bernardo followed us upstairs and they talked about a factory. A big, big, big factory where they would make chemicals and plastics, and all kinds of stinky things. It would he next to a little mountain that they would grind up for the lime or something in it. And all the land around was to be flattened, and they would build hundreds and hundreds of little boxy houses that they'd rent or sell to the workers for a profit. He could talk of nothing but profit. Profit, profit, profit!”

She caught her breath and added in a whisper, "I-I didn't even dream he was talking about your place, Black Luis."

They were silent a moment. At last Black Luis re-peated sadly, "Profit, profit, profit! My papa said that a man who lives for profit would cut down every tree in the Garden of Eden to make a dollar."

"Sure," Ronnie muttered. "Where d'you think all the Edens have gone? Into somebody's pocket. In this world the dollar comes first."

There was another silence. Beside him Ronnie saw that Ana María Rosalita was clenching her hands, and that a terrible anger had risen in her. Suddenly she be-gan beating her tiny fists upon the scat.

"Black Luis is my brother," she whispered. "I'll not allow my brother to be treated so horribly. No! I'll not have it! She was trembling now, and her voice was rising. "Oh!" she cried. "Oh! That dog! That wretch!

That unspeakable thief! I'll make him wish he'd never been born!" She stopped, and an icy calm came over her. "I must find a telephone," she announced quietly.”

“A-a telephone?" Ronnie gasped. “What in the world for?

"To make a call, of course.”

But-"

“Do not ask me about it. No one must even speak of it until I have made my call and done what I am going to do. It must be done. And as soon as possible. But first I must find a telephone." Ronnie said, " I know where to find the key to Cap-tain Anders' cottage. Would he have a phone?"

"Not unless he had one put in after Papa sold him the place." Black Luis said, "We'd better try it anyway. He just might have had one put in. If not, the nearest tele-phone is at the Beach of the Three Brothers. Madre! I would hate to go there today with all the world look-ing for us.”

Ronnie frowned at his watch, then peered out at the dripping blackness. The rain seemed to have stopped. For the first time since the storm he could hear the coquis. They were shrieking happily.

"I don't know how we're going to travel in the dark," he said. "But if we don't want to get caught, we'd sure better get started."

Black Luis led the way, carrying Ana María Rosa-lita's bags. Ronnie followed, clinging to her with one hand; the other held fast to the plastic bag in which the shrimp had been packed. He had left most of the shrimp behind and kept only a small amount, which he thought they might be in need of later. The moment they left the car he had a vivid recollection of his last dream, and he was shaken by doubt.

It seemed impossible that all three of them could ever grope their way safely to the highway. By some miracle Black Luis found the path, but now their downward progress became ten times as un-certain and difficult. The next half hour was a night-mare. They tripped over rocks and roots, and slid and fell endlessly. A slow fright grew in Ronnie. There came a terrible moment when he lost contact with Ana María Rosalita, and stepped forward into nothingness. Now the dream became reality as he plunged downward.

He thought he had fallen into a cavern when another miracle occurred. Spongy growth cushioned his fall, and he landed in what seemed to be a thicket of young tree ferns. He called out to the others, and pres-ently Ana María Rosalita came sliding down beside him. When they followed Black Luis again, the night was graying. Soon they could hear traffic on the high-way, though it was bright daylight before they reached it,

They crouched for long minutes in the shrubbery, waiting for a break in the traffic, then they dashed madly for the safety of more shrubbery on the other side. They had come out far below the captain's place. Now, aware that many eyes could be on the watch for them here, they began creeping toward the breadfruit grove with all the caution they possessed.

At the very edge of the grove Ronnie was startled by a small, sharp voice coming from a guava thicket near him. Then he realized the speaker was Marlowe. "Hold it, companeros! Praise be that you got here safely! But go no farther. There are men everywhere looking for you. Even the police were here a few min-utes ago, checking on the house."

"The police! " Ronnie whistled softly. “Marlowe, do you know if the captain has a phone?”

"Of course he has a phone! How else could he order a taxi when he needs one? He doesn't keep a car here.”

"Well, we've got to get in and call some people. Do you think we can make it through the door without being seen?"

"Sit tight a minute and I'll take a look around. If the coast is clear, as they say, I'll bring you the key."

"It's in a coconut shell in the corner of-"

"I know where the key is hidden, brother Blue. Nothing around here escapes a smart little fellow like me." There was a quick, sniffing sound, and abruptly Marlowe exclaimed, "Madre! I smell shrimp!

I'm expiring for a shrimp!”

“Oh, Marlowe," whispered Ana María Rosalita, "I know how you feel." She reached quickly into the shrimp bag, then thrust her hand into the guava bush. "It's so good to be back with you, Marlowe. And thank you for biting the Señora!"

From the bush came small gurgling sounds of joy. "Um, nipping the Señora, um, was an unqualified pleasure. Ummm! There's nothing better than shrimp! Umm-m-m . . .”

"Except mangoes.”

"I'll, um, bring you one shortly. Now that you are with us again, um, I'm sure all our fortunes will change. Sit tight, everyone. I'll be right back."

Hardly more than a minute could have passed when Ronnie heard a rustling in the guava bush, and a small brass key fell almost directly into his hand.

"All clear at the moment!" Marlowe said in a rush. “Make it fast, and you'll be safe. Don't forget to lock the door when you get inside, and keep away from the windows." They raced through the breadfruit grove, passed the great mango tree that shaded the cottage, and ran up the high flight of steps to the veranda. In seconds they were through the outer grill door and the inner door to the hall, which opened to the same key.

Inside, safe at last, both Ronnie and Black Luis col-lapsed in the nearest wicker chairs. But Ana María Rosalita, seemingly undaunted by all she had been through, went directly to the telephone. Ronnie could only stare at her in astonishment.

The tiny girl was mud-streaked, torn, and bedrag-gled; her dark hair was awry, one eye was half closed, and the side of her face was swollen and bruised. But all this did not in the least detract from her look of absolute determination when she picked up the re-ceiver. She managed to get the operator, and in a man-ner as grand as a duchess she demanded that a call be put through immediately to Las Alturas.

"This is Ana María Rosalita Montoya de la Torre," she announced, "and I must speak to Bernardo Mon-toya on a matter of greatest importance."

Ronnie had never seen her like. Whether it was her manner or the Montoya name that brought instant action, he could only guess, but all at once he was aware of a furious squawking coming from the re-ceiver, and he realized that an angry Bernardo was on the other end of the line.

"Shut up and listen to me!" Ana María Rosalita ordered. In her high, clear voice there was all the coldness and sharpness of needle-pointed icicles. "Ber-nardo, you must instantly stop what you are doing to poor Black Luis, or you will be terribly, terribly, sorry. Have you forgotten that my grandmother was a daughter of the Shee? I have the power. I warn you I will use it unless you do what is right. Will you leave Black Luis alone?”

From the receiver came more furious squawking. Abruptly Ana María Rosalita cried, "I have warned you, Bernardo! Now you must suffer. In an hour a wart will begin to grow on your nose. In two hours there will be another wart. By morning your face will be covered with them. There will be more, and more, and more, and they will grow uglier, and uglier, and uglier. You will become the most loathsome creature in all the islands. The only way you can ever get rid of them is to do what I have told you."

Quietly she replaced the receiver and came to the center of the room. With a little wave of her hand, she said in her duchess manner, "I must be left entirely alone." Ronnie hastily followed Black Luis into the adjoin-ing room, which turned out to be the captain's den. As he passed through the doorway he glanced quickly back, and glimpsed Ana María Rosalita sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, lips moving silently. Black Luis whispered, "Madre! I'd sure hate to be Bernardo now!"

"You-you really believe-"

"Don't you, brother Blue?"

"I-I don't know what to believe," Ronnie con-fessed, "Don't forget, I wasn't raised the way you were.”

"No," the black boy whispered. "And what a great pity. You didn't have my advantages. I had a wise papa, and he raised me right. He said to keep faith in God and Jesus, but don't take too much stock in the local priest."

"What was wrong with the local priest?"

"Oh, he didn't think magic was good. He taught that it all came from the devil. Imagine that! Why, the Bible is full of magic."

Ronnie said nothing. After all, he thought, he really shouldn't disbelieve in something just because com-mon sense said it was impossible. Common sense had once said that man couldn't split the atom or fly to the moon. And common sense was still trying to tell him that Dr. Prynne had rocks in his head. Yet, if there wasn't a second world like this one, existing in the same space but in another dimension, where did Mar-lowe go to get those impossible mangoes?

Time passed, and weariness pressed down upon him. He closed his eyes and started to drift off to sleep. But plans had been at work in the back of his head, and at the thought of the telephone he became wide awake an the instant. The telephone! Yesterday, when he had decided to go to Mayagüez, he hadn't dreamed that there might be an available telephone anywhere near. It would solve a lot of problems.

He tiptoed to the edge of the hall, found the tele-phone book, then slipped back into the den and began studying the list of Mayagüez lawyers. The important thing, of course, was to pick the right one. He was carefully planning how to do this when a small sound jerked his head around. Ana María Rosa-lita, herself again, and now a very tired and bedrag-gled little girl, was coming into the room. Black Luis whispered, "You-you've done it, small sister?”

"I’ve done it," she told them, as she came in and practically fell upon the sofa, "It was an awful thing to do, and it quite used me up, but it had to be done. If you could see how bad your trouble sign has become. . .”

Suddenly she sat up, and a look of fright came over her small pinched face. "Oh, dear! All our trouble signs are looking absolutely ghastly. I just saw mine in the mirror, Boy Blue. It's a horror, and yours is even worse. I-I hope nothing happens until I've had some rest. I'm too utterly gone to even-“

She was interrupted by Marlowe's sharp little voice. From somewhere in the dense foliage near the side window he called, "I've brought something that ought to recharge you! Unlatch the screen, somebody, and I'll toss it in."

Black Luis swung out of his chair and started for the window. He froze in mid-stride as the telephone in the hall began to ring.

The sound brought Ronnie to his feet.He stood rigid with shock. Who could possibly be calling here? Had Bernardo guessed where they were? Or were the police on the line, hoping curiosity would betray a hidden occupant?

Again the telephone rang, imperiously demanding attention,

"Answer it! " Marlowe shrieked. "It must be im-portant!”

Ronnie darted into the hall. With an unsteady hand he reached for the receiver. 11

THE MAGIC LINE

RONNIE SWALLOWED, and raised the receiver to his ear. "Hola?" he managed to say, pretending to be a house servant, h asked in Spanish, "To whom do you wish to speak?

"Ron?" spoke a familiar voice. "Ron McHenry?" In his overwhelming relief, Ronnie almost dropped the receiver." Captain Anders!" he cried. "Oh, golly, I'm glad it's you! I didn't know whether to answer or not. So I just took a chance-"

I took a chance myself, son. Tried a dozen times to reach you. Thought I'd give the cottage one more ring before I left. Heard you had a squeak getting ashore, but couldn't get the straight of it from anyone. Anyway, I've been doggoned worried about you. I'm in the Mayagüez office now, and if I had an hour to spare, I'd take a run out there. But my vessel's nearly loaded and I'll have to be under way shortly. Are you all right? Did you find Black Luis? Have you had any more trouble?"

"We-we've all had trouble, sir. We-"

“All of you? Who the dickens is with you?”

"Black Luis and Ana María Rosalita, We spent the night getting her away from Las Alturas. They had her locked up there, Those devils hadn't given her a bite to cat since she left the ship. She-"

“What?”

"We ducked in here to hide about an hour ago. Everybody's looking for us—the police, the immigra-tion people, Bernardo's men. . . .” He gave the cap-tain a brief account of what was happening. From the other end of the line came an explosion of salty wrath that rattled the receiver. Then the cap-tain said tersely, "Ron, you're going to need help in this. I can be out there in fifteen minutes."

"Don't come out, sir. It isn't necessary. I'm sure I can handle things-"

"But, son, you're all in a spot! It's a dangerous situation. There must be something I can do."

"There certainly is, sir." Ronnie's mind was already leaping far ahead. "In fact, there are two things. But first, I wonder if this phone is safe?"

"Safe enough. Just keep speaking in English. Very few people at this end of the island understand it,"

"Well, the immediate thing is a lawyer. I want the best there is, and the cost doesn't matter." The captain said without hesitation, "Pardo Green is your man. His office is in Mayagüez, and I've known him since he was your age. My only worry is that he may be busy. Maybe I'd better call him, tell him this is an emergency, and see if he'll meet you at the cottage." That was exactly what Ronnie wanted. "But just one thing before you do. The three of us are minors, and we have no rights without a legal guardian to act for us. Ana María Rosalita has a guardian, but we've got to get rid of him, fast. Neither Black Luis nor I have anyone. So we've all decided we'll stick together and be a family. But of course we'll have to have a guardian. Will-will you let us name you for the job?"

"Guardian? For all three of you?" The captain sounded astounded.

“It-it's just a legal thing," Ronnie hastened to say. "I mean, we certainly wouldn't let it be of any expense to you—and as for interfering with your privacy here when you retire-"

"Doggone it, son, don't get me wrong. Of course I'll take on the job I'm honored. It'll be up to the court to appoint me—and I can see a whale of a court battle shaping up before this thing's over—but I'm sure Pardo Green can handle it. Let me call his office, then I'll call you right back." Ronnie hung up and turned to see Ana María Rosa-lita and Black Luis watching him breathlessly.

"Did-did he say he would? " the tiny girl asked.

"He sure did. I hope you two don't mind my jump-ing in and picking him without talking it over with you first. But I had to grab him when the chance came. You see, if we want to stick together, we've got to have a guardian. So it ought to be someone we all know and like. We wouldn't want the court to appoint a stranger."

"De veras, no!" said Black Luis. "But the captain—ah, there is a man. They come no better."

"He's wonderful," whispered Ana María Rosalita.

"Please, everybody keep his fingers crossed, and pray we get him." She crossed her fingers on both hands, drifted back to the sofa, and curled up upon it like an exhausted kitten. She was almost instantly sound asleep.

When Captain Anders called again a few minutes later she did not awaken. "I got Pardo Green's office," he told Ronnie. "Juan Pardo himself wasn't there, but I talked to both his partner and his secretary, and ex-plained as much as I dared. They're hooked. I'm sure Juan Pardo will go along with them. He's in Aguadilla for the morning. They are trying to phone him in Aguadilla now and have him stop by the cottage on tile way hack to Mayagüez. His partner, Jaime Garcia, said he'd come out and see you himself this evening if they can't locate Juan Pardo in time. So we'll just have to wait."

"I see," said Ronnie. "It sounds very hopeful."

“And I've decided," the captain hastened on, "that if I can locate a substitute master in the next hour or two—and I'm sure I can—I'll stay over and see this thing through with you. Since I'll be retiring in a couple weeks anyway-"

“No, please—you mustn't do that! Can't you see what will happen? If Bernardo's lawyer is any good, he'll wreck you in court!”

"Wreck me? How?"

“If you appear too soon, he'll say you're behind all the trouble. You'll be accused of abduction, and con-tributing to our delinquency, and the court will be told that you are just trying to get your hands on us because of our money. We'll lose you—and we simply I can't let that happen."

"Whew! I hadn't thought of that side of it. Doggone it, son, you sound like a lawyer."

"I-I've been forced to study it a little," Ronnie admitted. "Just for my protection." He drew a long breath of relief. Though he hadn't wanted to mention it, the captain's presence at a time like this, with so many people on the watch for them, could be a great danger.

But, Ron," the captain added, "don't forget the spot you're in. You can't appear in public and help others without exposing yourself."

“I know that, sir, and I think I have a solution. I'm going to work on it as soon as I've talked with Pardo Green. What does he look like? Things are getting sort of rough, and I want to be able to recognize him before I let him in the door."

The captain described both lawyers, then discussed how they could keep in touch with each other during the coming weeks. Ronnie had a lump in his throat when he finally hung up. The possibility that he might actually have Captain Anders as a sort of substitute father was a little overwhelming. As he turned away from the telephone he saw Black Luis hauling a pair of beach mattresses from the hall closet." Let’s get some sleep," the black boy mumbled. They spread the mattresses upon the living room floor. Ronnie sank down on one and wearily removed his shoes. He tore off his wig, which miraculously had remained in place during their blind plunge down the mountainside, then sat a moment peering about the room. He was very uneasy.

"We ought to take turns standing guard," he said.

"Forget it, brother Blue. Marlowe's keeping watch. He can sniff trouble long before it gets here." Ronnie was asleep the moment his head touched the mattress.

He awakened in the middle of his third dream of terrible reality to find Black Luis anxiously shaking him.

"Someone's coming!" the black boy whispered. "Two men, Marlowe said. Strangers. They left their ear out by the gate."

Ronnie sat up, but for a moment it was impossible for him to think. The dream was too real, too vividly before him. After his first two experiences, he knew it was going to happen exactly as he saw it. Seldom had he felt so frightened and helpless.

With an effort he thrust the dream to the hack of his mind, and glanced at his watch. It was hardly one o'clock. For a hopeful moment he wondered if the visitors could be Pardo Green and a friend. Then he realized that the lawyer would surely come alone.

He was studying the room carefully when he saw Ana María Rosalita watching him wide-eyed from the doorway of the den.

"Come in here, camarada," he whispered. "Keep down on the floor." The living room, with bedrooms and den on either side, a broad veranda facing the sea, and kitchen and smaller veranda at the other end, was entirely windowless. Even if the place hadn't been built high off the ground, as a protection against floods and prowl-ers—apparently a common practice around the island—they ought to be safe here from prying eyes. But, somehow, in spite of the heavy grillwork that enclosed every opening, even the downstairs patio, he didn't feel safe. He put a finger to his lips and crawled to the kitchen, where a corner window looked beyond the side of the grilled entry area. Hardly had he raised up to peer out cautiously between the curtains, when he glimpsed the men approaching through the breadfruit trees.

They were moving slowly, warily. Something about them seemed familiar, but the crowding foliage hid their faces until they were only a few yards from the steps. Then he stiffened with shock. He was not surprised to recognize the shorter man as Josip, the cabin steward. Seeing Josip first, he in-stantly expected the other to be Peter Pushkin. But it wasn't Peter. The thin, quiet, gray man was Gus Woolman's old partner, Wally Gramm.

Wally Gramm! Seeing the man at this moment was a double shock, for Wally had been in his dream. Now he knew that it must have been Wally who drove Josip from the docks the other day, instead of Peter. But which of them had sent the gunmen—and where was Peter now?

As he stared at the man, something in his mind did an almost computerlike reassessment of what had happened in New Orleans. And, like a computer, it fur-nished him with an instant answer. It put Wally and Peter in entirely different roles, and though he couldn't prove it yet, he was sure the answer was right.

Wally moved to the steps, halted, and peered care-fully around. Then silently he climbed the steps and tested the grill door to the porch. On the ground below him Josip stood quiet and watchful. Suddenly Wally Gramm called softly, "Ronnie? Ronnie boy? Let me in! Hurry, I've come to help you."

Ronnie clutched his hands to keep them from trem-bling, and glanced back toward the living room. In the dimness beyond the hall he could just make out the pale little triangle that was Ana María Rosalita's face. Again he put his finger to his lips, saw her nod, and almost jumped out of his skin as Wally Gramm pressed a button by the door, and the kitchen buzzer went off loudly.

"Ronnie! " the thin man called. "I know you're here. This is Wally. I've come to help you, boy!

Let me in! "He waited, pounded on the grill door, and pressed the buzzer several more times. "Ronnie, for heaven's sake, use your head, boy! I've come all this way to help you. Let me in!" Wally Gramm stood there more than a minute, lis-tening, then silently went down the steps. On the ground, Josip said in a low voice, "He has to be here, sir. This is the captain's place, and there was no ques-tion but that he was headed for here."

"Let's look around," the thin man said. "If I could get inside. . .”

Ronnie waited, breathless, while the men circled the cottage. As nearly as he could guess, there was only one area below where they might possibly force an entry. This was in the front where, he reasoned, part of the grillwork must be hinged. Obviously there had to be a way of folding it aside so the place could be used as a patio, and so bathers could reach the beach without going through the kitchen and around outside. That meant an inside stairway.

He chewed on his lip a moment, trying to visualize where the stairway entrance could be hidden. At last he realized it must be in the rear wall of the living room, behind one of the doors he had thought opened to a closet.

Suddenly worried, he started to crawl over to inves-tigate it. There he heard low voices coming from the far corner of the kitchen veranda. Peering out again, he glimpsed Josip and Wally Gramm moving away in the direction of the road. He watched until they were out of sight, then hurried back to the living room.

"They're gone," he muttered, sinking into the near-est chair. He was limp with relief. "One was that snoop of a Josip," he told Ana María Rosalita. He ex-plained about the steward to Black Luis and added, He found out about this place, and brought a man here named Wally Gramm. I-I've got a feeling they've gone to find tools so they can try to break in. They be-lieve I'm hiding here." The black boy held up a huge knobby walking stick he had found somewhere in the house. "Let them break in," he said grimly. "May the good Mother for-give me, but it will be the last time they break in any-where."

"Pardo Green ought to be able to do something about them," Ronnie said. Seeing their puzzled faces, he remembered that they had all fallen asleep before he could tell them about the lawyer. He explained and added, "All we can do now is wait."

"Oh, dear!" Ana María Rosalita exclaimed, rising. "Oh, dear! I must be a fright. I've got to get cleaned up before-"

"No you don't! "Ronnie ordered quickly. "You stay just as you are.”

"But why?" she wailed. "I look ghastly! But ut-terly!”

"I don't care. I want the lawyer to see you, so he can tell the judge. When you fight law with law, you've got to use both barrels and all the ammunition you can find."

"Then maybe you ought to brighten up my bruises with some of your paint." Suddenly she giggled. "That is, if you can spare what's left. You ought to see your-self!"

"Oh, golly gee!" He gaped in the wall mirror. Dashing to the bathroom, he scrubbed at the blotched face, hardly recognizable as his own, but some of the paint refused to come off. Finally he compromised by rubbing his skin with a towel until it was an even tone, a somewhat dubious tan, and replaced his wig. He I hated to wear the wig again, but it seemed wiser to keep the blue hair hidden. A small, sharp voice called plaintively from one of the windows in the den, "Will somebody please bring me another shrimp before I expire? Don't you know it's time to eat?”

They decided to have lunch in the den so they could talk to Marlowe while he kept watch from the tree, The moment they entered, Ronnie found himself star-ing at two monstrous golden-red mangoes on the cof-fee table. Ana María Rosalita squealed with delight, and Black Luis speedily began slicing one of them into a bowl for dessert.

Ronnie forgot about food and stood frowning almost in disbelief at the remaining mango. Suddenly he went to the captain's desk and began jotting down the un-forgettable numbers and symbols of Dr. Prynne's last—and doubtful—equation. He had not been able to put the dream out of his mind, but being occupied with Prynne's theory helped to keep it in the background. Ana María Rosalita watched him as long as she could stand it. "Boy Blue," she burst out abruptly, "what in the world are you doing?"

“I'm trying to figure out the truth," he muttered.

“About what?" Marlowe called from the window.

“Those mangoes you bring, for one thing."

"They are magic mangoes," said Ana María Rosa-lita, with a touch of her duchess manner. "And natu-rally they come from a magic place."

"They're not magic," he persisted. "They're real. I’ve eaten one, and I know."

"That doesn't keep them from being magic, silly! Anyway, how can you possibly figure out magic things with mathematics?"

"Because you can always prove a truth of this kind with the right equations. Only, Prynne's theory is a hard thing to prove. And I-I never was too sure about it."

"H'mm," Marlowe grunted. "On something like this you'd better be sure. Don't you know that doubt is a closed door?"

"But-but blind belief is stupidity!

“Oh, fiddle-dee-pooh! You can't see through a closed door. Now, let's hear about this Prynne's the-ory," Marlowe went on. "If it bugs you, maybe I can straighten you out. I'm a very logical little fellow."

“Dr. Prynne," said Ronnie slowly, " was a great mathematician whom few people could understand. He wrote a book called Time and Duality, or the Mathematics of Coexistent Planes. In it he set out to prove that every planet has a twin very much like it, and that the twin planet exists in the same space with it, but in another dimension."

"Well?" said Marlowe. "What about it?"

"What about it!" Ronnie cried. "Why-why, if you look at it logically, the whole idea is absolutely crazy-"

But that’s not a logical approach," Marlowe in-terrupted. "Didn't I tell you that doubt is a closed door?"

“Yes, but I'm trying to prove by mathematics-"

“Are you trying to prove he's right, or wrong?"

“I-I-"

“Oh, my goodness, said Ana María Rosalita, "All this is so silly. Can't you see that Dr. Prynne is right? Why, even my grandmother knew there was a magic world, and she didn't need a lot of stupid arithmetic to prove it. It's something every daughter of the Shee knows, practically from the time she's born. That's why it's so easy for anyone with the power to disap-pear." She snapped her fingers. "Just like that."

Ronnie gaped at her. He had tried to approach the mango mystery in an intelligent and scientific manner. But here it was bogged down again in a morass of magic.

Suddenly he demanded, " Did you ever disappear?"

"I haven't got around to it yet. But I'll try it soon."

"Ha!" said Marlowe teasingly. "Why haven't you tried it? It's not as easy as you think. And of course, if you happen to be chicken-"

"I'm not chicken!" the tiny girl retorted. “You know very well that no one, not even you, smarty pants, can slip under the magic line unless you're close enough to see it. After all, it isn't found everywhere. And I've been nowhere near it for ages.”

"But-but what is this magic line?" Ronnie persisted.

Black Luis said, " I'm told it's just a soft of shimmer-ing. Now you see it, now you don't—and it moves.

"A-a sort of shimmering? " Ronnie repeated, dazed. "But where?" Its along the beach in places, real low. You'd never see it unless you have the eyes for it. Our little sister, she has the eyes. I have not, so I must follow Marlowe. When he says jump, I jump. Hombre, but fast. Only I scramble—for one must go under, not over." Black Luis shook his head. "It would be a good world, a very good world, except for one thing. It is a magic place, surely, but it is lonesome. It is the most lonesome place I ever saw.”

Ronnie stared from one to the other. Something very fixed and orderly within his mind seemed to have been given a rude shaking.

"Magic," he muttered." I-I just can't-"

"It's only a word," Marlowe reminded him from the window. "Don't take it so seriously. Actually, there isn't any magic. Does that make you feel better?"

Ana María Rosalita looked shocked. "Oh, Marlowe! How can you say such a thing?"

"Oh, fiddle-dee-pooh! A word is a word. What's magic? Nothing but the ability to do something every-body knows is impossible. See?"

"Oh! " said the tiny girl. "But of course!"

"Only, my dear little witch, just remember that nothing is impossible. So, when you do things that others cannot, it merely means-“ Marlowe broke off abruptly. "Quieto!" he hissed. People are coming!" Their first five visitors turned out to be a group of children who used the captain's property as a shortcut to the beach. When the children were past the cottage, Ronnie crept to the corner window. Ana María Rosalita followed. They peered out between the curtains, enviously watching those outside racing along the sand, and splashing in the lazy surf.

“Oh, if we could just be out there with them!" the tiny girl whispered. "Did you ever hunt shells on a beach?"

"No. I never had the chance."

“I did it only once, when Papa came back here on a visit. I was awfully little. Later in Santo Domingo I wasn't allowed out. Papa had too many enemies." She gave a wistful sigh. "Oh, it must be wonderful to be safe—and free to go out and play like that."

Suddenly she stared at him. "Something's wrong, Boy Blue. What is it? Did you have another of those real, real dreams?"

"Yes."

"Tell me about it."

“I-I can't. Not now.” He swallowed. This dream concerned her too closely. And at the very worst of it, before he learned what happened to her, Black Luis had wakened him. Ronnie was almost relieved when they heard Mar-lowe's quick call of warning. In the next breath they both glimpsed the man ap-proaching from the right side of the palm grove. The man was tall and swarthy, and there was a curious grimness about him. He wore a green sport shirt, and carried an attache case.

Bonnie studied him, and said quickly, "That has to be Pardo Green." 12

STRATEGY

WHEN THE MAN IN THE GREEN SHIRT identified himself, Black Luis hurried down the stairway and let him in through the grilled door to the patio. Ron-nie met him in the living room, gave their names, and briefly explained their predicament.

While he listened, Pardo Green slowly paced the room, his narrow eyes going searchingly from one to the other. Once he paused before Ana María Rosalita and gently touched her bruised face with the tips of his long, hard fingers. Something like an angry growl came from his throat.

"You see how it is," Ronnie said finally. "There's not only Black Luis' trouble, and the way Ana María Rosalita's been treated, but there's the fact that both of them will be taken to Santo Domingo if they are caught. And—and that will practically amount to mur-der."

"Murder?" questioned the lawyer. "Why?"

"Because they'll kill us," Black Luis told him. "They don't like us over there." Pardo Green suddenly snapped his fingers. "Of course! I remember now." His voice was deep, and he I spoke English without a trace of an accent. "You're the young fellow who helped Ana María Rosalita get away from there when a mob took after her. Crazy fanatics. There was quite a bit of talk about it here at the time. H'mm. No wonder Don Carlos gave you the land." He paused, scowled, and said, “And now Bernardo wants it back. Why?" When Ronnie explained, the lawyer exploded. "A chemical factory! God preserve us! " He wrinkled his nose.

Black Luis said quickly, "But Ana María Rosalita has put the fix to it. That's why we came here this morning. So she could talk to that bribon on the tele-phone." Pardo Green looked sharply at the tiny girl. "What in the world did you tell your brother?

“Bernardo is not my brother," she said emphati-cally. "He was only my half brother in the beginning, but now I am through with him, I've made Black Luis my brother. And I've also made Ron—Ron McHenry—my brother. We have no one but each other, so we've decided to be a family. And Captain Anders has prom-ised to be our guardian."

"But we'll have to get rid of Bernardo first, and that won't be easy. H'mm. What was it you told him on the phone this morning? I'll have to know."

"I warned him," she said, with a touch of her duch-ess manner, "that if he didn't leave Black Luis alone, I would give him warts."

“And did you?"

"I did," she replied in her icicle tone. "Big, ugly ones. On his face." Pardo Green stared at her. He sat down. "Warts," he said softly. "If you said you gave them to him, I'm sure he's got them. Anyone with a mind as positive as yours ..." Suddenly his grim, swarthy face cracked into a smile. All at once he slapped his knee and laughed. "That rascally peacock—with warts!

How I'd like to see him now! But he won't show himself to a soul. He'll sign papers, though, to get rid of the things. And he'll hate you more than ever.”

The lawyer frowned. "Unfortunately, this won't save Black Luis from being deported. If he's an alien-"

“But he's not an alien! " Ronnie interrupted. "He was born right here on the island, and that automati-cally makes him an American citizen. He’s never changed it.',

"Can you prove that, Ron?"

"I'm certain it can be proved, sir. His birth must be recorded somewhere, and surely there are people living who remember it. He was born on his own prop-erty, in the house that Bernardo burned down. Ber-nardo's been trying to frighten him away and take advantage of him because he's an orphan and has no one to stand up for him. And-and I think it's awfully fishy that Ana María Rosalita has no citizenship. Don't you?"

"Frankly, yes."

“I'll bet," said Ronnie, "that's just a rumor Ber-nardo started to cover up something. Why, I'll bet she was born before her father became a Dominican subject—If he ever did. If we checked into it-"

"Hold it," said Fardo Green. "I've a tape recorder here, and I want to take all this down." He placed his attache case flat upon the coffee table, opened it, and pressed something inside. "Gather close. I don't want it to miss a word. But first, Ron, where do you fit in the picture?"

"I don't quite fit, sir. I'm an outsider. It just hap-pened that each of us was in trouble, so we sort of joined forces. We all want the captain for our guard-ian.”

"What's your trouble?"

"I-I know too much. Someone wants to kill me. But please, let's not go into that now. Did you bring a camera?"

"I brought a camera," said the lawyer, studying him curiously. "I borrowed one. When my office told me Ana María Rosalita had been badly beaten, locked up, and starved-"

"But it wasn't quite as bad as you make it sound," the tiny girl interrupted.

"It's bad enough, and in court it's got to sound bad. That devil really swatted you. I'd like to put you in a hospital and have a doctor, but no-"

"It could be dangerous,” Ronnie said instantly.

Pardo Green nodded. "It could be very dangerous. We've got a tiger by the tail. Until we can take it to court, the law's entirely on Bernardo's side. If he finds her before we're ready to fight him—and that could I take weeks-"

"He'll have her in Santo Domingo before we know it."

"Then we're licked." Pardo Green was up and pac-ing the floor again. "I'd better tell you now that this is going to be rough. We've got to dig up facts that will take time and money. Until we have those facts, I must keep you hidden where Bernardo and the police can't find you. You can't stay here. The police are bound to come back and make an official entry."

The lawyer shook his head. "Trouble is, I can't think of a place on the island where you'd be safe. With Bernardo's means-"

Black Luis said, "We have a place. It's my cave.”

"A cave? Good grief, son, you're not a bunch of rats!”

"But it's a wonderful spot! " said Ronnie. "It has everything—furnished rooms, a kitchen, running water. . . Black Luis' grandfather hid in it for years, so it ought to be safe enough for a while."

"I know about the cave," said Ana María Rosalita, "and that is where we will hide." her positive tone brought a twinkle to Pardo Green's hard eyes."I guess that settles it." Ronnie reached for his billfold. "Now about ex-pense money-"

“We'd better pray on that," said the lawyer. "We'll win this in time, and it will come out of Bernardo's pocket. But until then, Captain Anders has guaran-teed the expenses.”

"No, please, I promised to pay for everything."

"But, son, have you any conception how much money it may take to dig up the evidence we need?"

"I can make a good guess," Ronnie told him. Hur-riedly he counted out most of the money in his billfold and thrust it across the table. "Here's nine thousand for a start. It won't go far if you have trouble and have to send investigators to Santo Domingo. But by the time it's gone, I'll have more.”

Pardo Green looked at him in blank astonishment. "I don't get this. You're a surprising person. And what in heaven's name is a kid your age doing with such a wad in his pocket?”

"I earned it. My-my manager gave it to me just before he was killed. He saw what was coming .”

Pardo Green continued to stare at him. Suddenly he exclaimed softly, " Clavos de Cristo! Would you be wearing a wig, and have blue hair under it?"

"Yes, sir." Ronnie glanced at the others. "They know about me. So does Captain Anders."

"Good Lord! I should have guessed sooner. Are you in danger now?"

"I'm afraid so"

"Do you realize how this complicates things?"

"Yes, sir. Everything's pretty complicated at the moment. But I believe I've figured out what to do." He chewed on his lip while he thought swiftly ahead. Wally Gramm worried him, but the biggest problem was how the three of them could get safely away from here.

He looked at the lawyer and said, "While I repeat to the tape recorder what I've already told you about Bernardo, will you phone the FBI for me? I-I want you to set up a meeting with them here tonight, about an hour after dark."

"Okay. But why so late, son?"

To give Black Luis and Ana María Rosalita a chance to get started for the cave. We don't want the FBI to find them here and ask too many ques-tions.”

“Lord, no!”

“And you'd better remind them to bring their own tape recorder. I'll have a lot to tell them." They had nearly finished their recording session with Pardo Green when a small sound drew Black Luis to the den. He returned swiftly.

"Those men who came earlier," he whispered to Ronnie. "They're back—with tools!"

“What's all this?" Pardo Green asked. Ronnie hurriedly explained what had happened. I've been expecting them back. Josip—he's the stew-ard—is sure I'm here, alone. Wally Gramm wants to break in-"

"For what? To kill you?"

"Maybe—if he's the one who killed my manager. He pretended he came to help me, but I think he really wants to-to set me up for someone else to do the dirty work."

"There are others after you?"

"They flew out ahead of the boat and were waiting for me on the dock. Three of them. Two were the men who nearly got me in New Orleans. The third was my tutor, Peter Pushkin. He-"

"Hold it," Pardo Green whispered. I believe our callers are coming up the steps. Keep out of sight."

The lawyer waited until it was evident, from the sounds, that someone was trying to force the grill door. Then he swiftly unlocked the kitchen door and sprang out upon the entry porch, fuming like an angry vaca-tioner disturbed in his siesta. His furious promise to call the policia sent Wally Gramm and Josip into hasty retreat, muttering apologies.

But for the threat that hung over them, Ronnie would have found it very funny. The thought of his dream filled him with a growing dread. While the others went through a final questioning, he slipped into the study to worry over his plan for the evening.

Pardo Green had called the main office of the FBI and had been told that men would be on their way from San Juan as soon as the Treasury agent could be located. "Guido—he's Guido Gonzales-" the lawyer had said, "wants to come out himself. You've got everybody there excited. Holy Moses, I didn't know this concerned that big foreign accounts ease I've been reading about."

"I didn't either, at first," Ronnie admitted.

"Well, it looks like you're the key to the whole thing. They're even beginning to call it the Blue Boy Case."

As he slumped down on the study sofa, there was a rustling in the leaves by the window. Marlowe whis-pered, “Hey, brother Blue, what's the big deal for tonight?"

"The FBI is coming," Ron whispered back. "Be-fore they get here—as soon as it's dark enough—Black Luis and Ana María Rosalita are going to leave for the cave. You-you've got to help them."

Sure I will! What's bugging you?"

"It'll be hours before I can leave. The plan is for Pardo Green to go with me as far as the sea grape tree.”

"Well? What’s wrong with that? I'll scout the way."

Ronnie swallowed. "But-but I had a dream about tonight-"

“That real, real dream you wouldn't tell little sis-ter?"

"Yes. Something's going to happen, because in the dream Pardo Green's not with me. I-I'm running, and men are trying to catch me. I'm carrying a small can of oil to fill the lanterns-"

"You'll find it at the foot of the stairs where the captain left it. But the men—do they catch you?"

"I-I don't know. But that's not the worst of it. Just as I reach that rocky place up the beach, I stumble and fall. And there in front of me is Ana María Rosalita's smaller bag. If something hadn't happened, it wouldn't have been dropped there. Which means something is going to happen there tonight."

"Ulp! I do not like that. But if there is trouble, we will squeak out of it somehow. Is there more to the dream?"

"A-a little. As I get to my feet, a man is closing in I behind me. I hear you yelling, and I see another man—this one's Wally Gramm—coming around the edge of the rocks.”

"Then what?"

“I don't know. That was when Black Luis shook me awake."

"Madre/ That is bad. But every problem has a solu-tion. I was with you in the dream, so I will be with you tonight. And never forget that I am a very clever little fellow." The first shock of the evening came at sundown, just as they were finishing a cold supper out of cans from the pantry. It was a visit from the island police.

There were two. They went swiftly around the house, testing the grillwork, and climbed the steps to the entrance,

"Policia!" one called. "Open up." He put his finger to the buzzer while his companion unhooked a huge ring of keys from his belt.

Ronnie was already feverishly helping Ana María Rosalita hide the evidence that more than two people had been eating here. Black Luis opened the door to the inner stairway, found the key to the patio, and ran for the tiny girl's bags.

Pardo Green whispered, "Ron, let them out below and lock up behind them. I'll stall the police." Ronnie crept down the stairway and unlatched the bottom door. With Black Luis' key he tiptoed to the big grill door facing the beach, unlocked it, and carefully eased it open. He looked quickly around, then motioned to the others. The black boy and the tiny girl sped silently across the flagstones and slipped outside.

As she passed him, Ana María Rosalita whispered breathlessly, "We'll be waiting for you, Boy Blue!”

Sick at heart, he locked the door and watched a few seconds while they raced through the palm grove and started up the beach. It was still bright daylight. Why couldn't the police have come later?

As he turned back to the stairway, he saw the small can of oil where Marlowe had said it would be. He swallowed, wondering if he really would find them waiting at the cave. The sound of angry voices drew him swiftly back to the living room. As he locked the upper door he heard Pardo Green in the kitchen, shouting through the win-dow, "This is ridiculous! Search the house? For what?"

"I tell you a girl has been abducted!" a policeman shouted back. "We have orders to search-"

“A girl has been abducted? Who is she?"

"She is no less than the small sister of Bernardo Montoyal"

“Madre de Dios! Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Pardo Green jerked open the kitchen door, rushed out, and unlocked the grill door. "Come in, gentlemen, come in! Tell me, who was foolish enough to commit such an outrage?"

"All we know is that two ruffians forcibly took her away during the night. Don Bernardo tried to stop them, but he was attacked and beaten unmercifully."

"Poor fellow," said Pardo Green. "I suppose he's confined to his bed, and no visitors are allowed.”

"So we have been informed. We regret this intru-sion, but every building must be searched. This is a terrible thing."

The men went briskly through the cottage, examin-ing everything. After asking a few questions, they left. Pardo Green looked quizzically at Ronnie. "How hard did you hit that rascal?”

"As hard as I could, but I didn't hurt him much, And Black Luis didn't touch him. He was carrying her bags."

"Then it has to be warts. Oh, brother! Our little Ana María Rosalita must have done a job on him!”

Ronnie turned away, his small hands knotted in his pockets. By now Ana María Rosalita and Black Luis had reached the rocky area, and the thing that was going to happen had happened. There was nothing in the world he could do to help them.

It was exactly an hour after dark when Guido Gonzales arrived from San Juan with two other agents, each carrying a tape recorder. Guido Gonzales, a slender, soft-spoken man, introduced those with him as Jose Aviles an assistant; and Thomas Church, from the Treasury Department.

Ronnie had rather expected the cold-eyed Treasury agent to look as he did, though sports clothes and glasses made an even greater change in the man’s ap-pearance. But neither by a second glance nor an uncer-tain word did Ronnie betray the fact that he was aware of the other's identity. Smiling, Guido Gonzales said, "Before Juan Pardo called, we never dreamed we'd be meeting the Blue Boy in person and have him straighten out one of the biggest tangles on record."

"I don't promise to solve anything," Ronnie replied quickly. "All I can do is tell you what I know and remember."

"But that should clinch it," said the agent, as the others set up their tape recorders. "First, before we get started, how long have you known that Gus Woolman and Wally Gramm were mixed up in this foreign accounts thing?"

"Only during the past five weeks."

"But you were with them more than three years,” the Treasury man said. "Surely, in all that time-"

"They were not as important as you think," Ronnie answered. "They were just temporary agents for a group of people who had money to hide, so they wouldn't he taxed. All Gus and Wally did was arrange to have it collected and delivered to foreign banks, where it went into secret accounts. I didn't know this at the time. It wasn't until I read about the secret accounts in the papers and recognized some names, that I began to figure it out."

Guido Gonzales said, "How long did Gus and Wally act as agents?"

"Only six months. The money was hidden by then, and they had a better thing going with me as the Blue Boy."

The Treasury man, Thomas Church, asked, “How did you happen to recognize those names you mentioned?

“Because I was the bookkeeper. That's why Gus took me out of that reformatory—so I could memorize the accounts. I didn't know what it was all about at the time. All that mattered to me was to keep out of that boys’ jail, where I didn't even belong. I knew Gus was a sharpie of some kind, but he was good to me, and I did what he wanted and didn't ask questions." Ronnie paused and said, “The accounts worried me at times, but I didn't know they were dynamite till things got had in New Orleans. There were no written records of what thirty people did with two hundred million dollars. I was the only record."

The men stared at him. Guido Gonzales whistled softly. "That's far more than we thought. But why was Woolman killed?"

“Because he tried to protect me. Can't you see? When a bunch like those people got scared and found out I could wreck them, something had to be done. So I’m sure they ordered Gus and Wally to do it. Or else. Only, Gus refused." Ronnie swallowed. “I can't prove Wally killed Gus, but of course you can.”

Thomas Church said a little doubtfully, "Are you sure you have enough facts of the kind we need? Ordi-nary records won't help us much. This case is involved. There are real names, false names, numbered accounts in different banks. . .”

Ronnie glanced at him wearily. "I know it. I can match name for name, the number that goes with it, the code for each bank, the date and amount of each deposit, the totals for each name, and a lot more that will come when I start remembering. If you'll just let me get started . . .”

Names, dates, numbers, and more numbers. Names that stood for other names, and numbers and sums and mounting totals. . .

The tape that unwound in his mind rolled steadily until after midnight, when Pardo Green called a re-cess. Someone brewed a pot of coffee and served it with stale cookies from the pantry. Then the tape be-gan to roll again.

The end of the tape came at three in the morning.

The men looked at him in awe. Jose Aviles said, “What he did is impossible. But I saw him and heard him..."

Thomas Church closed his tape recorder and said to Ronnie, "I'd like to stay the rest of the night, but we have a plane to catch in the morning, so we'd better get on to San Juan. Where's your bag?" Pardo Green snapped, "You're not taking him back to the mainland!"

"I certainly am," said the Treasury man.

"No!" said Ronnie, shocked. “I won't go with you! You've taped everything—you don't need me in per-son!"

“Of course you don't," said Pardo Green." Besides, he wants to stay. He's needed here on another mat-ter-"

“Sorry. This is a Treasury case. It comes first."

Ronnie said angrily, "You mean money comes first above everything. But not in my book. I'm not going with you."

"You have no choice," Thomas Church reminded him,

Pardo Green said, "Have you a paper giving you legal possession of him?"

"My orders are enough. I'm taking custody of him. He's a minor, and in danger. He’ll need protection-"

"Protection! " Ronnie cried. "What kind of protec-tion did I get in New Orleans when you were Peter Pushkin?"

Thomas Church stiffened. "I'm surprised you recog-nized me. And I'm sorry about New Orleans. But at the time we had no idea you were the key to the case. Anyhow, you were foolish to run away.”

"What did you expect me to do? Stand around and be shot? Did you know that the same nice pair were waiting to greet me in San Juan? You walked right by them when you crossed the dock." Before Thomas Church could get over his astonish-ment, Ronnie turned to the inner stairway door. With his hand on the knob, he glanced knowingly at Pardo Green and said, "While I get my bag, why don't you tell them about Wally?"

The lawyer instantly understood and began talking swiftly while Ron stepped through the opening and quietly closed the door behind him.

With his heart suddenly pounding furiously, he tip-toed down through the blackness and eased the lower door open. At the sight of the bright moonlight streaming through the patio grillwork, he paused a moment in dismay. Then he caught up the oilcan, moved to the patio door, and drew from his pocket the key he had thrust there hours before.

Slowly, carefully, he turned the key in the lock, opened the door, and slipped through. Just as care-fully he closed and locked it again.

The night was alive with the happy singing of the coquis as he began creeping through the palm grove, but the one sound he wanted to hear did not come. It was the reassurance of Marlowe's small, sharp voice. With every step away from the cottage he moved a little faster. Soon he was running. He was almost at the upper corner of the grove when he heard a faint shout behind him. It sent him racing madly across the sand and up the narrowing beach. At this hour the moon was over the sea instead of the mountains, making the beach nearly as bright as day, and offering no protective shadows to hide him. So bright and clear was it that he could make out every detail of the rocky area ahead. The tumbled rocks offered the first break in the low cliff that flanked this part of the beach. Once there, he had only to dart to the right and find safety in the tangles that stretched on to Black Luis'

mountain. And somehow, in spite of the danger he knew awaited him, he was certain he would reach safety. His first two dreams had taught him that.

But what of Black Luis and Ana María Rosalita?

Something had already happened ahead. As his fly-ing feet brought him closer to the rocks, he felt a sick fear of what it had been. At a sudden shout behind him he risked a quick glance over his shoulder. The man he had once known as Peter Pushkin was hardly fifty yards away, gaining rapidly. At that instant, just as in the dream, he stumbled and went sprawling in the sand. And there, directly in front of him—as he had known it would be—was Ana María Rosalita's smaller bag. Scrambling to his feet, he unconsciously caught up the bag in his left hand—for he still clung to the can of oil with his right—and whirled to dart into the tangle.

"No! " Marlowe screamed abruptly, from some-where near." The other way! To the left!" Before Ron could turn again, he saw Wally Gramm, a very grim and determined Wally Gramm, step quickly from the shadow of the rocks with a weapon in his hand. This was where the dream had ended. Only now did he understand why Wally happened to be here at this hour. It was the bag. In a flash he realized that Wally and Josip had seen the others leave the cottage, that Josip had recognized Ana María Rosalita and guessed she could lead them to the person they sought. They had escaped at the cost of the bag—so the bag had been watched.

All this went through his mind as he flung the oil-can into Wally's face. But even as he flung it, the man dropped his weapon and cried out hoarsely as if some-thing had bitten him. Whirling away, Ronnie glimpsed Thomas Church pounding close and heard Marlowe urging frantically,

"Dive under the line! Hurry! Dive!

If he had been looking at it directly, he would have missed it, but he saw it out of the corner of his eye—the vaguest sort of a shimmering near the water's edge, something that might have been only a drifting cob-web. All at once he knew that this was the route the others had been forced to take. He dove and rolled frantically under that gossamer thread of light. There was the momentary sensation of being caught between a whirlwind and a thunderclap. Then everything vanished. Wally Gramm was unable to protest as Thomas Church slipped handcuffs over his wrists. He was a frightened man. "A ghost bit me!" he gasped.

"Don't be a fool!" Thomas Church said angrily, shaken by what he had seen but could not believe. "Where's Ronnie?"

"I don't know! He was right in front of me—and then he wasn't. Maybe that ghost-"

"There's no such thing as a ghost! Where's the boy? He has to be somewhere!

"I'll tell you where," Wally Gramm muttered. "He's still nine jumps ahead of everybody, like he always has been. And don't talk to me about ghosts. I was bitten by one. I left that fool Josip here to keep watch, but it scared him away. Me, I don't scare easy—but when a voice yells at you out of nowhere, and then bites you. . .”

Very near them, if the distance could have been measured, but an immeasurable space away except by Prynne's mathematics, Ronnie got to his feet and looked slowly around with a mixture of growing won-der and delight.

Dr. Prynne had mentioned that conditions here probably would be opposite, and obviously they were. It had been after three in the morning when he left the other beach, and here it seemed about that time in the afternoon. The sea, which had been on his left, was now on the right. As for people. . . There were none. The race of man hadn't evolved here yet. He was aware of that instantly by the cleanli-ness of the beach and the untouched look of every-thing. Black Luis had said this was a lonesome place, but that was because Black Luis had been the only human here that first time. It wasn't lonesome now. Ronnie saw the footprints leading across the sand to the trees. "Hey, where's everybody?" he called happily.

"Probably stuffing themselves on mangoes," said Marlowe from somewhere behind him, "Follow the tracks, brother Blue, and I'll show you the camp. And don't turn around, for I'm terribly exposed

here."

"But isn't it about time we-"

“No!" Marlowe shrieked. "Don't you dare look back! Or haven't you learned that ghosts can bite?"