Queen of the Flaming Diamond Part 6

Although opinions among geologists vary, many believe in Hobbs and his work. A consulting gem expert at the world famous Field Museum put forth this story to your editor, and convinced him that Hobbs is a clear headed expert who knows what he is talking about. Somewhere under the waste of snow, probably a little east of Hudson Bay, there is a fortune in uncovered diamonds. A fortune that could easily eclipse the yield of Africa's richest diamond fields.--ED.]

Jim Drake knew all he wanted to for the time being. He turned toward the unlighted marquee of the Owl Limb.

"Looks as though the police closed the place up," Puffy said soberly.

"Gonna stay sober tonight?"

"Do you know where that check room girl lives; the one you call Mary?"

Drake asked.

Puffy's face sobered.

"She's married and has three kids," he said. "I don't know where any married women live."

Jim chuckled. He twisted the car into the traffic again, and with a swift U-turn, headed the coupe toward home.

"Just the same I need information from a married woman," he said. "And you're getting out at the next corner in a perhaps futile effort to find Mary."

"And if her husband doesn't meet me at the door with a shotgun," Puffy asked, "what do I ask her?"

Jim shot an appraising look toward the deserted corner ahead, whipped the coupe up beside a traffic officer and opened the door.

"From now on," he said, "we are interested in Lardner. He's a busy man these days. Mary ought to know where her boss is. Women like that have an idea of everything that is going on. Find out where Lardner went and meet me at the apartment as soon as you can."

Puffy was already on the sidewalk.

"Leave it to me, Cinderella," he said. "I get the idea. If you can't follow the fox, you're gonna follow the wolf and let him lead you to her."

Drake nodded and smiled after the st.u.r.dy figure with a growing respect.

"Move along there!" The gruff voice came from his side. "Can't be holding traffic all night for you."

Drake turned, saw the officer grinning at him, and shot into the traffic.

The door of the apartment was ajar. The puzzled expression on Jim Drake's face changed to one of worried interest. He pushed the door open swiftly, and silently. The lights were out. A sound came from the direction of the window and straining he thought he saw the curtain blow in slightly. On tiptoe he went swiftly around the side of the big room. The chair by the bed had been moved and he struck his s.h.i.+n on it in the dark.

The room flashed white as he pressed the electric b.u.t.ton. Hot anger pa.s.sed through his body. Every piece of furniture in the room had been tipped upside down. Linings were torn from the chairs. His clothing was heaped in an ugly pile in the middle of the floor. Drawers were pulled out and emptied.

The fur! He ran swiftly to the closet, twisted the handle and breathed a sigh of relief. The cedar chest was broken and splintered around the lock, but the cover hadn't been lifted. He inserted the key quickly and drew out the fur cape. Its rich depth felt more precious than ever in his fingers. Here in his hands was the link to his first real love affair.

A footstep sounded faintly behind him. His heart was in his throat.

Drake whipped around and sprang to his feet. He stared straight into the barrel of a wicked automatic. Lifting his eyes slowly, he studied the man who held the weapon.

The stranger's face was hard as stone, almost barbaric. His bronze skin stretched tightly over firm, high cheek bones. The mouth was open slightly in a determined way. Teeth that flashed like an uneven row of pearls seemed half savage, yet not unfriendly.

"You will come toward me slowly," the man's voice was cultured, yet hesitant, as though he hadn't spoken English for many years. "A false move will destroy you."

He backed away toward the center of the room.

"How ... where?" Drake stammered.

"You forgot to examine the bath," the gunman said. "You are not a painstaking young man, Jim Drake."

Jim started. The man knew his name, held a gun on him that threatened immediate death, and yet his voice was friendly, ever courteous.

"I have nothing here that you want," Drake said.

He stood in the middle of the room now. The stranger reached down carefully with one hand, still holding his aim. He twisted a chair upright and sat down. For the first time Drake had a chance to look him over more carefully. His eyes were the same deep black as Sylvia Fanton's. Cold and yet somehow gentle.

"You are holding in your hand what I need more than anything in the world." The man relaxed but the gun didn't waver. Drake sat down opposite him on the edge of the bed.

"The fur?" he asked.

"The fox fur." The gun settled on the strange intruder's knee and he leaned forward eagerly. "Give it to me at once. If I leave with it now, you will be troubled no more. This is as our mistress demands."

Then Sylvia Fanton had sent him. He must be one of the henchmen she had spoken of. At once Drake felt relieved. He pushed the fur away from him slowly, hating to part with it. The man stood up, took it with his free hand and held it tightly.

"You are very wise," he said slowly.

He started to back toward the window.

"Wait," Drake was on his feet, "Sylvia promised to return in the morning. Why...?"

A look of compa.s.sion spread across the gunman's face.

"Sylvia Fanton is no more," he said pityingly. "You had but a brief glimpse of an earthly woman who is the most perfect creation on earth.

Now she has completed her mission and will return to her people."

"Then you did get the diamond?" Drake was sorry at once that he had spoken. The man's eyes turned icy.

"We have done what we came to do," he said shortly. "We appreciate the part you played in our success. More than that, I am not at liberty to discuss. Please do not follow me as I leave."

Then, carefully,

"Make no mistake, Mr. Drake. Our queen came very close to deserting her sacred trust. If you were to see her again, you would not enjoy the same close a.s.sociation. There is no place in her life for you, or you would be going with me instead of staying here at the point of a gun."

Drake moved forward hesitantly, and then stopped with the gesture of a man who knows he is beaten.

"Okay," he admitted. "You've got me on the spot. But remember this: George Lardner thinks more of that diamond than he does his life. He's going to leave a trail of blood in every country of the world, but he'll get it if you don't kill him first."

The gunman's face was a mask of hatred.

"Do not underestimate the power Lardner is fighting," he said grimly.

"There will be blood, yes. It will be Lardner's blood. He has a debt to pay, and it is not our wish that you be involved when payment is made. Our leader whom you know as Sylvia Fanton has one message for you. Goodbye."