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10  Abbott's Monthly

-in the seat of his pants. The impact raised him off his feet, and sent him careening at a crazy angle down the corridor. Millie closed the door, and turned to Baxter. "Tom," She said, "that's one of the holes you were talking about that need plugging. You'll have to watch him. But don't 'spot' him. There are other ways, and we'll take care of Mr. Cole later. Is that understood?" 
"As you say," Baxter replied, "but I'd hate to be in his shoes."
"And now, Anton," continued Millie, "your man Cole was at the key hole 'listening in' for information. He wasn't after you, because I felt his gun when I helped him through the door. Besides he was on his knees, as you know. He's trying to locate that steel box, and no doubt he's found out that you were in Chicago last week. He's heard about George LaRue, and he knows that box left Jac Mel! He's simply putting two and two together. He also knows that the diagram showing the location of the box - should be in this room! He's not so dumb."
"Well, if a box is all he wants," said LaRue, "I'll see that he makes his selection. And I'll also see that he picks the right one. But what are those - conditions - you mentioned, Millie, a few minutes ago? I'd really like to know."
"Very well, you shall know - but not tonight. Come tomorrow - both of you - to Room 416, Gulf View Hotel in Mobile, and be there in the afternoon at two o'clock. I'll have something of interest to tell you, be very sure of that. And bring all the records with you. Everything. That is everything except your 'gats,' and you won't need them, as it will be a peaceful meeting. And it will be our first and last meeting for a while, as I am sailing Saturday - the day after tomorrow - for Port au Prince - to see Mother Delanoye. Do you know Mother Delanoye, Anton?"
"I'm sorry, swee - Millie, but I don't. My! I must be excited! I almost called you sweetheart!"
"WHY, Anton, I really believe you're getting - ambitious," countered Millie, smiling, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "But come! We must go upstairs. It's a shame the way Tom is treating his guests. They must think he's dead. We've been down here almost an hour. And how that orchestra is playing! Listen, Anton! They're playing a song for you! 'When Your Hair Has Turned to Silver!' We'll go upstairs and dance! I crave - diversion! I must have it!"
Millie laughed and turned to Baxter. "And you, Tom Baxter," she continued, "go put some peroxide on your face. I'll make your excuses. That's the penalty you pay for interfering - with a woman." Baxter smiled and left the room.
Anton stood watching Millie. "Come, sweetheart," he said, "we must have - one kiss - only one - to seal our new agreement." She stood now by his side, with one arm resting lightly on his shoulder. The subtle, gentle pressure of her body, the warmth of her skin, her seductive, elusive fragrance, the very nearness of this voluptuous, beautiful creature, intoxicated and inflamed him; then her appealing, upturned face, with its lure, its wild, delightful invitation and its sensuous promise - fired his veins - quickened his pulse - and filled him with a mad, insensate desire to reclaim this woman - whose virginity he had assailed!
He strained he gently to him, and she yielded, deliciously! There was the - kiss! And what a kiss! They were molded into one - mind, body and soul! Strains from the orchestra above filtered through the passageways and into the room, but they  paid no heed, and for  long time she remained in his arms, happy - deliriously happy! It was the kiss of life - or death! December paying homage at the shrine of June!
Upstairs all was merriment, laughter, gaiety! The hundred guest drank, danced, drank- and danced again. It was a glorious night! An Arabian night! Entertainers - professional entertainers - sang, danced, cavorted, under soft, vari-colored lights, and told questionable jokes, which provoked roars of laughter. Two little brown-skinned boys, in purple trunks, gymnasium shoes and nothing else, stages a burlesque prize fight - feinting, jabbing, jumping over each other, and making grimaces, until the audience, huddled about in a circle, laughed until their sides ached. One woman becoming hysterical, fainted and had to be carried out of the place.

11
Millie Marrero brought in her chauffeur, Richard LaRue, who was still sitting outside in his car; Richard, her pilot-chauffeur - who had brought her in a few hours by motor boat from Port au Prince, to Mobile, and thence to Baxter's Point. She danced with Richard, brother of George LaRue, nephew of the great Anton, and she enjoyed the dance, because Richard was young, and attuned to youthful impulses. They called him Richard, the silent one, because he seldom spoke, though he hated much. And above all others in the world, for good and sufficient reasons, did he hated his uncle, Anton LaRue, most.
Meanwhile Anton, whose genius and unbounded wealth had made the party possible, calmly smoked a cigarette and watched the proceedings from the confines of a darkened room. Now and then he glimpsed Millie, Richard LaRue, and later Tom Baxter, who seemed busy mixing fresh bowls of punch. None of the guests, to their knowledge, had ever seen Anton LaRue. His notoriety, the magic of his name was such, that should his presence become known, a riot surely would have followed. So he sat in silence, while a few privileged flunkies danced attendance on him (which he liked), and for which they were handsomely rewarded. A recluse in his own house, he smiled and thought of new worlds to conquer, of the morrow with its shipment coming in, of that strange steel box with its treasure - of Millie Marrero!

At daybreak next morning Anton LaRue's organization - his gang - was on the job. The boat was expected in at any minute. There was no indication of the party the night before. The bottles had disappeared, debris removed, floors polished, rugs vacuumed - everything was spotlessly clean - and the gang had breakfasted. 

They smoked and lounged about now, in perfect contentment, all ten of them, in the luxurious den Anton LaRue had made in the basement, and which he called the smoking room. The room, 25 by 50 feet, was panelled, decorated and softly illuminated by an indirect lighting system. Pool and billiard tables were at one end of the room, while on the side nearest the beach was a large open fire place, with a log in readiness for instant use. There was a profusion of Coxwell chairs, divans, leather arm chairs and settes. A large, built-in library contained hundreds of volumes, and a rack in the corner was stuffed with the latest magazines. At the end of the room nearest to Anton LaRue's private office was a trap door, cleverly concealed and covered with a Chinese rug, which led to the secret tunnel on the beach. 

Outside the sun threw a golden shaft through the lilac trees, the apple and orange trees, dispelling the dew as if by magic. The intoxicating perfume mingled with that of the rose bushes which bordered the lawn, and 

[[Illustration spread across the gutter between pages 10 and 11 shows a small boat with four men aboard. Three face forward, and two of them carry what appear to be long guns. The man at the bow seems to be gesturing 'stop' toward the back of the boat. A fourth man looks to the rear. They are just under an elevated pier. A short distance behind them is what appears to be a semi-submerged submarine.]]

[[caption]]At length a tiny speck far out in the Gulf gradually assumed a definite shape and a few minutes later with its armed convoy, the powerful motor boat glided into a shed and was tied fast to the dock—— [[/caption]]

Illustrated by Edgar Riley

Transcription Notes:
Image description maybe needed? Image description now added. 2020-02-11