Page:Weird Tales Volume 5 Number 3 (1925-03).djvu/150

Quinn had just yielded to the doctor's insistence when there came a knock at the door. Olivier opened it to find Pedro, overlooker on Lord Hupert's estate, standing behind the bell-boy.

"I've an urgent message for you, sir, from Miss Joan," he said, as Olivier motioned him into the room and shut the door.

"Last night, sir, after I'd given you your horse, Miss Joan went to Susan Forsythe—the Scotchwoman, you know—and told her you were trying to find out where Professor Maquarri went when he stayed the night in Plymouth. She said the arrest of her stepfather today depended on your finding that out, so Susan thought of me. Maquarri never paid any attention to me, but the quadroon, Mariquita, and I have had dealings, and I had reason to watch her. I shadowed her one night, and saw the professor come out of her house. He reproached her for not returning earlier, and acted like he was a regular visitor to the house, so when I told all this to Susan, she and Miss Joan sent me off here in a great hurry and bade me tell the same story to you."

Olivier and Quinn were plainly excited.

"Could you take me to that house now? Immediately?" cried Olivier.

"It would have to be right away, sir. The professor has gone to the dock to see Mr. Felix off to St. John's, and I passed the woman, Mariquita, just now on her way to market. It will be an hour before the professor returns, and it will take Mariquita as long to fill her market basket, but we had best be off at once, sir."

As Olivier made his way down Parliament Street with the overlooker, his hopes beat high. He would go immediately to the governor of the island and lay his case before him. Then would come the warrant for Maquarri's arrest, and Joan would be finally safe. That afternoon, or evening at the latest, he could ride out to her with the news.

"Hey there, Pedro, is the boat sailing for St. John's this morning, do you know?" sang out a shopkeeper, standing in his doorway.

"Yes, I think so. Why shouldn't it? Just because the barometer is a bit low? We've had these hurricane scares before, you know."

"Yes, but this time the barometer's down to 30.03, and the wind hasn't shifted. If it falls to four tenths and the wind doesn't change, we'll be in the direct path of a hurricane before afternoon, you'll see."

Pedro laughed as he turned to Olivier.

"He's the joke of the island, sir. Richest merchant in town, and always in dread of the hurricane. Nobody pays any attention to him any more. We're always having close scares this time of the year."

In a few minutes the two men had reached the cottage at the edge of the small hamlet which Olivier had passed the night before. Pedro, who seemed to know the place well, took Olivier around to the rear door and inserted a key in the lock. He gave no explanation of how he had come by that key, and Olivier, who could form his own conclusions, asked no questions. Pedro kept watch outside while Olivier quickly padded about through the three small rooms of the cottage. He was looking for a place where his formule and the supply of zodium might be, but there was no trace of them.

"Pedro, Pedro," he called softly, "the door to the hurricane cellar is locked. Have you a key to it, by any chance?"

Pedro shook his head. Well, never mind, thought Olivier. If the cellar door was locked, it was evidently for a reason. People did not usually lock the door to the one refuge in case the dreaded hurricane took them by surprize. He would risk it. He would swear out a warrant of arrest on the