• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

"Do you?" he repeated, wistfully.

"Yes," was the whispered reply. "And, Lee, I'll help you to come through - clean! I believe in you!"

And the tide washed up the shores of the creek so that, even in the darkness, the white sands seemed to gleam.

CHAPTER. XXIII

MOROCCO KATE, ALLY

"Who are you? Who is trailing me? Is that you, LeGrand?"

The challenge came sharply out of the darkness, and Colonel Ashley, who had been following Morocco Kate, plodding along through the sand, stumbling over the hillocks of sedge grass, halted.

"Who's there?" was the insistent demand. "I know some one is following me. Is it you, LeGrand Blossom? Have you - have you - "

The voice died out in a choking sob. "She's gamer than I thought," mused the detective. "And, strange as it may seem, I believe she cares." Then he answered, almost as gently as to a grieving child:

"It is not LeGrand Blossom. But it is a friend of his, and I want to be a friend to you. Wait a moment."

Then, as he came close to her side and flashed on his face a gleam from an electric torch he always carried, she started back, and cried:

"Colonel Ashley! Heavens!"

"Exactly!" he chuckled. "You didn't expect to see me here, did you? Well, it's all right."

"Then you're not after me for - " She gasped and could not go on. "That last deal was straight. I'm not the one you want."

"Don't get Spotty's habit, and throw up your hands just because you see me, Kate," went on the colonel soothingly. "I'm not after you professionally this time. In fact, if things turn out the way I want, I may shut my eyes to one or two little phases of your - er - let us call it career. I may ignore one or two little things that, under other circumstances, might need explaining."

"You mean you want me for a stool pigeon?"

"Something like that, yes."

"And suppose I refuse?"

"That's up to you, Kate. I may be able to get along without you - I don't say I can, but I may. However it would mean harder work and a delay, and I don't mind, seeing it's you, saying that I'd like to get back to my fishing. So if you'll come to reason, and tell me what I want to know, it will help you and - Blossom."

"Blossom!" she gasped. "Then you know - "

"I may as well tell you that I was back there - a while ago," and the colonel nodded vaguely to the splotch of blackness from whence Morocco Kate had rushed with that despairing cry on her lips.

"I'm a friend of LeGrand Blossom's - at least, I am now since I overheard what he had to say to you and Miss Webb," went on the detective. "Now then, if you'll tell me what I want to know, I'll help him to come across - clean, and I'll help you to the extent I mentioned."

Morocco Kate seemed to be considering as she stood in the darkness. Then a long sigh came from her lips, and it was as though she had come to the end of everything.

"I'll tell," she said simply. "What do you want to know? But first, let me say I didn't no more have an idea that Sport Carwell was going to die than you have Do you believe that?" she asked fiercely.

"I believe you, Kate. Now let's get down to brass tacks. Who is Jean Carnot, and where can I find him?"

"Oh!" she murmured. "You want him?"

"Very much, I think. Don't you?"

"Yes, I do! I - I would like to tear out his eyes! I'd like to - "

"Now, Kate, be nice! No use losing your temper. That's got you into trouble more than once. Try to play the lady - you can do it when you have to. Calling names isn't going to get us anywhere. Just tell me where I can find your former husband - or the one you thought was your husband - Jean Carnot."

"You're right, Colonel Ashley, I did think him my husband," said Morocco Kate simply. "And when I found out he had tricked me by a false marriage, and wouldn't make it good - well, I just went to the devil and hell - that's all."

"I know it, Kate, and I appreciate your position. I'm not throwing any stones at you. I've seen enough of life to know that none of us can do that with impunity. Now tell me all you can. And I'll say