“Ah, me friends,” sighed Michael Splendor, as the big twelve cylinder car picked up speed, “'tis great to be gettin’ home again after the last few days of excitement! I’m well along in years now, and risks are not so thrilling as they used to be. I’d rather be sittin’ by me own fireplace in peace and comfort.”
Panama’s amused chuckle drifted back from the front seat.
“You didn’t act that way, sir, when you were slamming bullets into those two Scorpion bombers!” he observed. “And when some of their slugs ripped into us, it just made you all the happier—to judge by what I heard!”
“Whisht, lad!” growled the veteran, scowling ferociously. “'Twas naught but the Irish blood of me enjoyin’ the scrap. A true son of Erin always howls when he fights; but me brain was tellin’ me all the while that war is a horrible business, even when you’re fightin’ to stop it. And that reminds me, Commander! I’ve made certain arrangements to further your scheme for impersonatin’ Count Borg!”
XVII
ORDERS FROM WASHINGTON
“You mean,” asked Mercedes, as the little party sat sipping their after dinner coffee on Splendor’s wide veranda, “that you actually approve of Don’s risky plan? To me it seems like taking a hundred-to-one chance. There are so many traps he might walk into whichever way he turns!”
“Aye, there’s no denyin’ the dangers,” Michael Splendor agreed solemnly. “But there are ways of lessening them, I think. Take that treacherous radioman, for instance, he is only too anxious to talk, and he knows a great deal that will be useful to Don Winslow. The other captives have not been persuaded to loosen up.”
“Then you’ve interviewed them all?” queried Red Pennington, in surprise. “Gee, you must have been busy while Don and I were pounding our ears this afternoon! But how’re we gonna get hold of Corba again? I heard Captain Riggs sayin’ that he was shovin’ off again in the morning.”
“And so he is,” said Splendor. “But tonight, some time durin’ the wee, small hours, another closed car will be comin’ out here from Port-au-Prince. Inside of it will be Corba and our new friend, Count Borg, under guard, of course. We’ll have a talk with them tomorrow, providin’ Headquarters okays Commander Winslow’s scheme. We should be hearin’ any minute from the phone call I put through to Washington.”
As he spoke, there came the faint ringing of a telephone bell, somewhere in the villa’s spacious interior. A moment later a soft-footed native servant approached Michael Splendor’s chair.