Title: Tramp in Haiti
CITATION DOWNLOADS THUMBNAILS PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00028494/00001
 Material Information
Title: Tramp in Haiti
Series Title: Tramp in Haiti
Physical Description: Book
Creator: Hilton, John
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00028494
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.

Downloads
Full Text


Following Peeper John was no part of Carmody's business,
but he was just in the mood to play Good Samaritan for the
stranger with the bulging money-belt. If he'd known the
adventure was to lead him back to an old sweetheart, and
then on to a new one, and into plenty of danger, he'd probably
have thought twice-and gone just the same!


HERE were very few people
out because the night was as
hot as the day had been and,
even though Port-Au-Prince is


right on the water and backed with
cool-looking green hills, at this
time of the year it's plenty stifling.
And what made it worse was that
for two days now there had been
no rain. It was so hot that nobody
seemed to have energy for any-
thing. Nobody, that is, but Peeper
John who had followed the
stranger out of Soledad's drinking
place and right now was on his way
to roll him.
In a way, it was the stranger's
own fault. Pulling out heavy dough


Carmody fired as the man reached
for his gun.


-# i-t,







TRAMP


IN


HAITI

By JOHN HILTON


in a money belt when a man like
Peeper is around always can be
counted on as a sure ticket to a
blow on the head.
I still don't know why I decided
to follow them. Usually, I mind
my own business.
By keeping out of the patches of
light made by the moon, I man-


"


aged to stay pretty close to them.
So when Peeper raised his sap as
they came alongside the Outer
Cemetery, my cry caused him to
miss the blow that would have laid
out the little guy.
Peeper whirled at my cry, just
in time to get my fist full in his
face. He went down heavily. The
little guy was staring stupidly at
me. I grabbed his arm and hustled
him away before Peeper had a
chance to come to. There was the
barest possibility that Peeper
hadn't recognized me.


.iAI&_;






20 Spicy-Adventure Stories


On the way to the hotel-the
stranger lived, he said, at the Na-
cional-he told me his name was
Carras. Julien Carras.
We went upstairs, me opening
his door and flicking on the light.
Then, he swayed drunkenly and
just looked. I was surprised, too,
but I managed to say hello.

MONITA DEL ORTO had risen
from a wicker chair. She had
been sitting in darkness. The
daughter of a wealthy planter, I
had met her when, shortly after
doing my hitch in the Marines, del
Orto hired me to drill troops for a
counter-political movement.
The only word to describe the
smile on Monita's face is "mock-
ing". Oh, I knew what she was
thinking. She was thinking that
that no-good Carmody, who ducked
out on a date with her (which was
why she was mad at me) had got-
ten her friend stinko.
I couldn't say anything then,
though, because I was too busy re-
freshing my memory about her.
Tall and dark, with raven-black
hair and the same kind of eyes. Her
face was tanned and her lips red
as a rose. Now, in a white linen
suit, and satin blouse of the same
color-an outfit that had a Tiffany
body for a background-well, that
was all I needed to set my blood
pounding again. Even if I hadn't
noticed-which I did!-the way ev-
ery line of her body flowed easily.
And the barely perceptible way
her small, firm breasts rose and
fell as she panted under the heat.
"Take him into the bathroom,
Carmody," she said. "Throw him
into the tub and then get out."
"And leave the door open a


little," she added. "I want to make
sure he doesn't drown."
She sat down then, crossing her
legs and displaying a flash of tan-
talizing flesh above the sheer silk
stocking she wore. She always wore
stockings, I remembered, on a date
or when she came to town.
And you know, when I tossed
Carras into the tub, clothes and all,
I was just a little bit jealous. After
all, I hadn't meant to miss that date
with her. There had been a little
gun running job to be done and I
collected plenty. But when I tried
to reach her later, she still had been
doing her slow burn.
I hung around for a few minutes,
tossing a sponge onto Carras' head.
And then, as he started to come out
of it, I got ready to leave.
He looked up, blinked a second,
and said: "Where are you going,
amigo?"
"Home."
"But I don't want you to, amigo.
You have done me a great favor.
I must repay you."
"Skip it. You'll have enough
trouble taking care of your hang-
over."
He struggled to his feet, flashed
a smile. "You will wait, amigo,
with Senorita del Orto. I wish to
talk with you."
Well, an order is an order. I
went out. Monita had heard, all
right, and her face showed it. She
said nothing, just sat there stiff
and straight.
There was some liquor on the
table and I mixed a drink. She said
no. A word that came pretty natu-
ral to her.
Carras came out, wearing a
dressing gown that had been hang-
ing in the bathroom. "You have







Tramp in Haiti


introduced herself, amigo?"
"I know the lady," I said. "But
she doesn't want to know me."
He looked at both of us a minute
and then laughed.
"Oh, a lover's quarrel. Is it not
so?"
Monita flushed. "It is not so."
Carras put a hand to his head.
"This is splitting like the hammers
of hell," he smiled. "And you
should not argue." He smiled
again. "I have need of Mr. Car-
mody, senorita. Tonight, he has
done me a big favor." He shook
his head. "Sometimes, for my own
good, I drink too much. But three
days in this devil's heat...."
"For your own good," I cut in,
"you should stop showing money
around guys like Peeper John."
He grimaced. The girl spoke up.
"My father has received word from
you that the Bolivar will be in to-
morrow. I have come to arrange
the payments."
Carras spoke as he mixed drinks
for us both. "The understanding,
senorita, is that your father will
purchase from my agents a ship-
ment of gravel."
A frown crossed Monita's face.
"Yes," she said, slowly. "And
here is the money." She reached
into her wallet, brought out a
package. "I have not counted it,"
she said. "My father wrapped it
up.7
Carras took the package, tossed
it on the desk. "And you, Mr.
Carmody, where shall I reach
you?"
I gave him my address. "I still
don't know what I have to do."
He laughed. "You will oversee
the natives. Sort of a bodyguard."
I said that ought to be easy.


Handling natives was a cinch. Or
so I thought at the time when I
figured a bodyguard's job such as
Carras was offering me, meant be-
ing a West Indies Simon Legree.
Yeah, I was wrong.
Monita and I went out together.
I could see she was worried about
something and so I asked her if
anything was the matter.
She stared at me for a moment
as we walked to her car. Then, she
said, curtly: "Get in, Mike. I'll
drive you home."

MY HOUSE was a little ways out
of town, in the opposite di-
rection from the way Monita lived.
I knew then, when she was so will-
ing to drive me, that something
was up.
But until we got there, she didn't
say anything. I did the talking,
explaining what had happened
when I broke that date. She smiled
a little then and I figured it was all
right to ask her in.
This time she took a drink,
sipped it slowly. "I am worried
about father, Mike," she said. "All
that gravel. He is going to make
driveways to facilitate his ship-
ping.'
"That's not a bad idea," I said.
"It would help him. It's a good
idea."
"It's not his idea. It's Rodol-
fo's." A frown came over her face.
"That man. ..."
I agreed with her. Rodolfo
Quesada was her father's foreman.
And to me, a heel. I'll always sus-
pect he was mixed up in the revolu-
tion del Orto had had me fighting
against.
"We can't afford it, Mike," she






22 Spicy-Adventure Stories


said. "But Rodolfo talked him in-
to it."
Her lips started to quiver. "I am
frightened, Mike. He seems to have
such influence over father."
I went over to her, put my arm
on her shoulder. It trembled under
my fingers. "I'll keep an eye on
him tomorrow," I said. "I don't
trust Rodolfo worth a damn."
She smiled then, that slow,
sensuous smile I knew so well.
That smile was as good as an in-
vitation and in an instant my lips
were on hers; her lips that were so
warm and moist and inviting. As
I drew her closer, I could feel every
throbbing line and curve of her
body and my heart started pound-
ing madly, in rhythm with the
drumming going on in my head.
For an instant, she struggled and
then she moaned softly and went
limp ...

A NATIVE boy, pounding on the
door, awakened me. He had a
message from Carras summoning
me to the wharf where the Bolivar
had come in during the night.
I dressed hurriedly and, fum-
bling for a clean shirt, my hand
hit my .45 which was beneath the
shirts in a dresser. I didn't think
I'd need it and was going to leave
it there when I remembered the
night before and Peeper John. If
he knew who had socked him, he'd
be looking for revenge. I slipped
it into my pocket.
Even that early in the morning
it was plenty hot. And when I went
onto the deck of the tramp steamer
the iron plates were already too
hot to touch.
Carras was waiting on the


bridge, talking to the captain. The
ship was flying an Italian flag.
I was introduced to the captain.
He spoke pretty good English.
Carras said: "I want to get an
early start, Carmody." He pointed
to nearly a hundred natives on the
wharf. "So I hired them in ad-
dition to the two trucks." He
added: "Besides, the captain is
anxious to get away as soon as
possible."
"Yes,' the skipper put in.' And
I'm afraid the tourists we are car-
rying will be disappointed." He
shrugged. "Those... what do you
call them, Vagabond Tours? . .
they are such a nuisance. I have
some tourists on board."
I agreed with him. Carras con-
tinued. "You will see that the
natives hurry the gravel to Senor
del Orto. And arrange things with
the Marine representative."
"I'll do that,'' I said. "Sergeant
Wilson is a good friend of mine.
You'll have no trouble."
Carras smiled, fished into a wal-
let and handed me a couple of bills.
I whistled as I saw the two century
notes. He said: "Is that satis-
factory?"
"That," I grinned, "is highway
robbery. Thanks."
On my way down to see Wilson,
I bumped into a man on the gang-
plank. I started to say I was sorry.
But I forgot all about it when I saw
that the man was Quesada. The
expression on his dark face showed
he didn't like me, either. I watched
as he went toward the bridge and
joined Carras. He must have asked
about me because I saw him nod in
my direction.
Wilson was already on the
wharf. He had come over, as a







Tramp in Haiti 23


"Spill it!" I said, and a bullet bit
into my shoulder.


matter of routine, to check up.
"We've got to be careful about
what goes out of here and what
kind of ships come in, Mike," he
said. "The U. S. has passed the
Neutrality Law you know."


"It's okay," I said. "Del Orto
is buying a load of gravel. And
then the boat's hoisting anchor.
They've got tourists on, too."
He went away and I started su-
pervising the load. I had been


v^






24 Spicy-Adventure Stories


working about half an hour when
a musical voice said: "Do you
speak English?"
I turned, intending to say what
did she think I was a white native.
But I didn't. I just stared. She
was blonde, not too tall, and with
a figure that spoke for itself. She
had on the usual tropical costume,
white linen skirt and silken blouse,
this latter very interesting and re-
vealing. The capable breasts sil-
houetted beneath it were a four
star attraction any day. There was
a candid camera covered with
customs stamps on her shoulder.
And she had never been in Port-
Au-Prince before or she would
have known enough to wear a slip
beneath her flimsy skirt. Though
she might not have cared about the
penetrating Haitian sunlight which
silhouetted symmetrical limbs and
tapering thighs. She wore wide,
rosetted garters. Just an old fash-
ioned girl!
I managed to stammer: "Sure I
speak English?"
She laughed and asked the way
to the Nacional Hotel. I was tell-
ing her, when she cut in, and asked:
"Do you know a man named
John?" Her forehead puckered.
"They call him Peeper, I think."
I stared at her. Peeper? What
in hell did she want with that
renegade, that gun runner, that
smuggler, that general thief-those
were the thoughts running through
my mind and they must have been
reflected in my face.
"Do you know him?" she asked
again.
"Know him?" I spluttered ...
"Why, he .. ."
"He's my brother," she said.
I tried shaking my head to make


sure this was no dream. Her
brother? Sister to that oaf? This
delicious dish?
"You see," she explained, "I
haven't seen him in some years."
I couldn't take it any longer.
"You'll probably find him in Sole-
dad's bar," I said. "It's down the
street a ways. About a quarter mile
past the Nacional."
She thanked me and went off.
My eyes followed her easy, loping
walk. And for a minute I was
actually worried about the way I
had treated Peeper.
In another hour, the natives were
loaded and ready for the haul. The
trucks had gone on ahead. Carras
came over, his face beaded with
sweat. The linen suit was sticking
to his body. "I'm going home to
change," he said. "You can ride
ahead and I'll catch up with you."
He looked at me. "You got a
gun?" I nodded and at the same
time wondered why. Then he said:
"Just keep the natives in line,
Carmody. And don't let them stop
until they reach del Orto's place."
Quesada came off ship then. Car-
ras spoke to him a moment and
then they separated.

THE sun was kicking up plenty
now, beating down silently and
mercilessly. Out on the water, heat
waves danced around. A tramp
was plowing slowly northward
and I remember thinking how
smart she was not to be stopping
in this inferno.
The heat took the life right out
of a man. The natives seemed to
be the only ones who could stand it.
To a white man, it burdened the
shoulders, cramped the heels, dead-
ened the brain.







Tramp in Haiti 25


I got the natives started and was
just about to climb into my flivver
when a marine came over. "The
sergeant wants you to have Mr.
Carras sign these. And get them
back to him right away if that ship
is going to leave."
"Why didn't he have him sign
them earlier?" I yelled. "I got
work to do."
"So have I. The sergeant for-
got them. You know him, corpo-
ral."
I stuffed the papers into my
pocket and went over to the hotel.
I didn't bother calling, I figured
he'd be upstairs taking a bath and
changing his clothes. On the way
up, I passed the bar and then
stopped. Peeper John was there,
his huge bulk against the mahog-
any.
"Hey," I said. "Did your sister
find you?"
"My sister?" His face was ex-
pressionless. "She's in Europe
someplace." He glared at me.
"What is this, Carmody, another
,one of your tricks?" He pushed
his face close to mine and pointed
to his blackened eye. "Where did
you go last night after I left Sole-
dad's."
I evaded the question. "I'm not
kidding," I said. "The girl came
in on a tramper. I sent her to Sole-
dad's to look for you."
"Thanks." He turned on his
heel and went out.
I tossed a few silent curses at
him and hurried upstairs. My job
was to take care of those natives.
There was no response to my
rapping. Figuring he was in the
tub, with maybe the water running,
I tried the door. It opened easily.
Carras was stretched out, face


down, on the floor. He was wearing
only his dressing gown and had
apparently been trying to reach his
pants when the bullet went into his
head. His hand was stretched
toward the trousers. There was a
gun in his pocket. The money belt
I had seen him use the night before
was on a chair. Each compartment
was opened. The desk showed that
someone had gone through it.
But who? Certainly not Peeper.
He wouldn't kill a guy and then
hang around a bar in the same
building. Besides, he would have
taken the money.
Suddenly, I remembered The
packet Monita had given him!
There must have been something
mighty important in it. Something
important enough to commit mur-
der for And that something hadn't
been money or the killer would
have taken the belt too!
I bent down, rolled Carras over.
My eye fell on a tiny piece of paper,
sticking to his dressing gown. I
looked it over and then put it into
my pocket. Right then and there
I had an idea of talking to Peeper's
sister!
Because what I picked up was a
canceled customs stamp. And her
candid camera had been covered
with them! Add also to that the
little piece of information she had
requested: the way to the Nacion-
all
I picked up the phone, told the
desk clerk to send for the local
police and Sergeant Wilson. The
latter, under provisions of the
treaty between Haiti and the
United States supervised the con-
stabulary.
Then I hurried downstairs. And
right before my eyes, sitting grace-







26 Spicy-Adventure Stories


fully and apparently without a care
in the world, was Peeper's sister!
I went over. She recognized me
and smiled.
"How long have you been
here?" I asked. "And what about
this brother of yours?"
She looked mystified. The can-
did camera was still on her shoul-
der. "Not long," she said. "I went
to that Soledad's and then came
here."
"That's fine," I said. "I told him
you went there and he has gone to
look for you."
"Oh, thank you," she said. "I
had better go there then."
My eyes were on the camera. I
wanted to see if a stamp was miss-
ing. Then, I had an idea. "I'll
phone there," I said. "Unless you'd
rather I drove you over."
"You're so kind, Mr... ?" She
paused. I told her Carmody and
she said her name was Peggy.
We got into the car. Soledad was
standing outside the place.
"Peeper?" He waved vaguely.
"He gone to look for you at del
Orto's." He clucked his tongue and
his fat jowls jellied. "He plenty
mad for you, Mike, he say you
play joke on him and he break
your neck."
"Oh!" There was an astonished
cry from the girl.
"It's all right," I said. "Take it
easy. We'll go out there. Then you
can explain." I added. "Peeper and
I don't get along any too well."
Soledad grunted, pointed to the
sky. "Big damn' storm coming up.
Better hurry."
I was thinking of that, too. That
and the fact that Carras was dead,
the natives were on their way,
Peeper was looking for me and,


alongside me was a dame I sus-
pected of murder.
We spun inland, the girl sitting
so that the camera was by the door.
After we had climbed the steep
streets and passed the Champ de
Mars, we went into a deep, mysteri-
ous canyon. On either hand rose
banks of earth and rock and
above them walls of masonry.
Masses of tropical verdue over-
hung the walls on either hand and
the air was heavy with the scent
of frangipani and bougainvilles.
In the distance the mountains
were being smothered with black,
ominous clouds.
"Will it rain hard?" she said.
"Can we make it?"
"We'll make it," I said. In back
of my mind was the thought of
getting her and Peeper together
and then springing my surprise.
My hunch told me there was a
Senegambian lurking around. And
it could easily be Peeper in black-
face.

l' HE trees hung motionless and
an electric tension gripped the
atmosphere as we plugged along.
On the steep sides of the mountain
black masses of clouds whirled
with angry velocity, enormous
streamers of mist detaching them-
selves from the main body and
drifting this way and that like
gray curtains.
Large drops began falling on the
radiator. Peggy pointed toward
the left. There was a tiny white
house there. "Let's stop until the
storm is over," she said. "They
don't last long, do they? And I'm
frightened."
The house she had pointed out
was one used as fool storehouses






Tramp in Haiti 27
by the residents. I started to say
we would go on. But then I had M hand caught her
an idea that I could look over that anide and she went 4
camera while we were in there, sprawling.
I stopped the car alongside the
road and grabbed her hand. "We'll
have to make a run for it." Rain
drops pattered thicker and faster.


The light of the sun grew pale and
sickly. And then, just as we
reached the door, the storm burst
upon us, with a blinding flash and
earth shaking reverberations.
An icy wind rushed down the
mountainside. Lithe, elastic palms
whipped almost to the earth while
massive mangoes and oaks labored
and groaned. The sky opened and
water crashed down in torrents.
Lightning flashed above a cannon-


ade of thunder. Balls of fire
streaked down from the heavens
and ran along the ground, dazzling
our sight as we looked out a small
window, and bursting at last in
unbearable brilliance.
She was frightened,-or that's
what it seemed like then-as we
stood there in darkness; me hav-
ing forgotten to bring my flash-
light from the car. I could feel her
press closer until my chest thrilled


~s~w;r~3






28 Spicy-Adventure Stories


to the softness of her breast. She
pressed closer, her breath coming
in little gasps and her head tilted
back invitingly. My hands on her
arm were hot and vagabond and
then as I touched her garter she
screamed: "Why, you ... !"
I had the derringer I had noticed
in her garter, when the light went
through her dress on the pier, in
my hand.
"All right, sister," I said. "Spill
it. Why did you kill Carras?"
She recoiled a little, then
snapped: "Give it to him!"
A bullet bit into my shoulder and
as I tried to turn around a gun
came down on my head with ter-
rific force. Peeper's evil face was
grinning as darkness descended.

J HADN'T any idea how long I
was out. I crawled over to the
wall. My head was splitting and
blood from the wound in my shoul-
der had reddened my white coat
and coagulated, making the arm
look like one of those apples on a
stick we used to have back in New
York.
I threw up twice trying to get
to my feet. Then I finally made it.
They hadn't taken my car and I
was glad I had the key in my pock-
et. Peeper must have had his.
My only thought was to get out
to del Orto's place as fast as I
could. The storm had left the road
muddy as hell and the going was
slow.
Del Orto's place stood about a
hundred yards back from the road.
I was just turning into the bend
that led into the road when some-
thing odd struck me.
There wasn't a sign of a native.
No trucks. No nothing except a


coupe outside del Orto's house! I
was too late!
I pulled up behind the other car,
got out and started into the house.
And then I heard it-a woman's
scream, wild and frightened. Mo-
nita!
I thanked Heaven Peeper hadn't
searched me and taken my gun. I
ran toward the sound.
Quesada had Monita in his arms
and was dragging her toward the
door. Her clothes had been ripped
almost off and blood covered her
face where he had struck her. The
sight of this infuriated me. I let
out a bull roar and fired as he saw
me and tried to reach for his gun.
He went down. Monita sank to the
floor.
I ran over, took her in my arms.
Her tender flesh was bruised and
discolored. She was too hysterical
to notice her lack of clothing. And
she owned very little of it now.
What shreds remained barely
covered her satiny skin and her
small, firm breasts ineffectively
tried to hide behind the tatters.
Her legs and thighs were almost
entirely exposed.
She opened her eyes. They were
wide with fear. "Mike," she whis-
pered hoarsely, "we've got to stop
them. They've gone to the cove.
Peeper and that woman."
"Peggy?" I snapped the name.
Monita nodded. "He"-she point-
ed to Quesada-"killed my father
when dad found out that he was
being double crossed."
She hid her face in her hands.
When she took them away, her
eyes were wet. "I didn't know,"
she said slowly, "that dad and
Rodolfo had planned to sell sul-
phur to belligerent nations. The







Tramp in Haiti 29


gravel was only a blind to get the
natives here so that they could
haul the sulphur to the Bolivar
which would start out to sea and
then go to the cove behind our
place." Her voice trembled as she
went on. "But Rodolfo arranged
to have another steamer hi-jack the
load. That's why that woman came
here. Dad overheard how she
killed Carras and confronted Ro-
dolfo with evidence of his treach-
ery." Her voice broke. "Rodolfo
killed them."
I groaned. The cove was about
two miles away. If I could stand
them off-! I decided to take a
chance. "Look," I said. "Take my
car and go into own. Get Wilson
and a detachment of Marines. Tell
them to come out fast. Maybe we
can stop them."
I ran out, climbed into Que-
sada's car. It was light but fast
and in record time I made the
cove. I stopped the car at a safe
distance and went along behind
the bushes that lined the road.
Monita had been right. There
had been a hi-jack in progress. The
crew from a steamer-I made out
the name, Steuben!-was holding
guns on the bunch from the Boli-
var, who were herded along shore.
Peeper was cursing the natives,
who were just finishing up. The
girl was standing there coolly
smoking a cigarette. I itched to
get her neck between my hands.
Just then, Peeper growled. "Where
in hell is Rodolfo? He oughtta be
here now."
The girl laughed. "He'll be
along. As soon as he disposes of
that little fool." She looked at her
watch. "Do you think I should go
back and get him?"


Peeper started to say something
when suddenly a sailor yelled and
pointed to the sky. "Looka. It's
coming here!"
I followed his finger. And could
have shouted for joy. A Marine
scouting plane was flying low over
the ships. It couldn't help seeing
what was going on. And it would
radio its findings right back.
Consternation spread like wild-
fire as the plane zoomed over our
heads. The natives broke and ran.
The sailors from the Bolivar took
the opportunity to set on their cap-
tors and in a minute curses and
grunts and the sound of blows
split the air as all hell broke loose.

I SAW Peeper start to run. I
jumped from my hiding place.
He saw me coming. I dropped to
the ground as his gun barked. My
shot caught him in the stomach
and he pitched face forward. Some
of the sailors were running for the
ships. One of the men tripped over
Peeper's body.
The plane flew low and a blaze of
machine gun bullets went over our
heads. I laughed, even then. It
was McGregor piloting the plane.
And he could handle his guns. I
knew nobody would dare move to-
ward the ship now.
Suddenly, I caught a flash of
white. In the excitement, P. ---'y
had slipped away, unnoticed, and
was running hell-bent-for-leather
toward a car. Her legs flashed
white in the sunlight as she pulled
up her skirt to make better speed.
My arm ached horribly as I
pounded along behind her. She
looked back once, saw me. A bullet
from her derringer whipped along-
(Continued on page 107)







By
HENRI


ST. MAUR


The ship pulled out of it,
coasted down-but it was too
late.


In the space ship he had
found the strangest of all
adventures-with a girl he
could not love until it seemed
too late. There was more
than beauty in her, and more than ugliness in the girl of
Venus


W


S









Tramp In Haiti
(Continued from page 29)


side my cheek. I was just about to
fire when she threw the gun aside.
It was empty!
She ran on but I started gain-
ing, shortening the distance be-
tween us. There was a knifing pain
in my head and black spots were
dancing before my eyes as I drew
closer to her, close enough to try
a flying tackle because all of a sud-
den I realized that a few more feet
of this running would lay me out
colder than a mackerel.
I went through the air, struck
out with my hand. It caught her
ankle and she hit the ground. But,
like a wildcat, she whirled . .
kicking . biting . scratching.
Her long nails raked my face leav-
ing furrows of blood. Striking out,
my hand caught her blouse ripping
it open and leaving the entire up-
per part of her body almost ex-
posed. A ripping sound came
from her skirt as she kicked des-
perately at my face and I got a
glimpse of pink garters and taper-
ing thigh.
Then, she made a powerful lunge
for my gun, for the instant leaving
her face exposed. My short jab
struck her flush and she went out
without a murmur.

MONITA was standing beside me
when I came to. The room was
familiar. It was her house! She
was standing there, a smile on
her face and a cold compress in
her hand. My eyes roved around
the room, fell on Sergeant Wilson
and a tall stranger. I started to
speak but Monita put a cool finger
on my lips.


"That's right, Monita," said
Wilson. "We'll do most of the talk-
ing."
He stood grinning before me.
"It's a lucky thing for you, Car-
mody, that you forgot to return
them papers to me I asked for. Be-
cause when the Bolivar hoisted
anchor without any okay, I sent
McGregor and his plane to stop
her." He paused, then remember-
ing: "Oh, this gentleman"-he in-
dicated the tall stranger-"is
Lieutenant Heath of Naval Intelli-
gence. He was after Peeper John's
sister."
Heath smiled and shook hands.
"We've suspected her for a long
time," he said. "She's much clever-
er than her brother. He was just
big and stupid. When she learned
del Orto and Quesada had ar-
ranged to sell Carras a cargo of
sulphur for belligerents, she
planned to hijack it. The profit in
it would be enormous, so she told
her brother that if he and Quesada
wanted to be smart they could get
double pay for it; especially with
Carras out of the way."
Heath grinned. "You, of course,
messed things up a bit, Carmody,
when you showed up at the Na-
cional. Both Peeper and his sister
were making a getaway. She
stopped to wire the tramp steam-
er, Steuben, which was loitering
around. Peeper, in the lobby, saw
you and told his sister. So she hung
around waiting to learn what you
had found. In the meantime, my
office had intercepted Peggy's code
message and started me here."
I groaned. "But there was


Tramp in Haiti


107






108 Spicy-Adventure Stories


something they were after. Some
package." The lieutenant was fum-
bling in his pocket as I said: "And
we've got the goods on Peggy. I
knew there was something phony
when I saw a gat in her garter. Be-
sides, I've a stamp from her candid
camera that I found beside Que-
sada's body."
Heath laughed, produced the
package. "This is of no value to
us," he said. "But it would have
helped skipper of the Steuben. It's
a map of mines laid by the enemy.


We found it on Peeper's body."
He got up, shook my hand again.
"Well, Peggy's confession will
keep her out of mischief for some
time to come. Okay, Wilson, let's
go."
As they went out, I said to Mo-
nita: "It's too bad, a girl as pretty
as Peggy, having to go. ..."
Her hand closed over my mouth.
"Mike," she said, "you're delirious.
Go to sleep."
I did. For a little while.




University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs