A little boat put out from the yacht. It picked up two men who alighted from the seaplane. The motor
roared and the amphibian took off, heading back to land.
The arrivals were brought to the Cordova. They came up the ladder and the men who manned the boat
passed two bulky bags after them. Standing on the deck, the arrivals faced Rodriguez Zelva. The chunky
South American smiled as he recognized the faces of his man Pesano and Frank Desmond, the traitor.
The bags belonged to Desmond. Zelva motioned to a member of the crew. The man took the bags
below. Desmond, wearied in appearance, followed. Zelva gripped Pesano's arm and took his man to a
lower cabin.
There they found two others. One was Ellsdorff, the German agent in Zelva's employ. The other was
Alvarez Legira, stretched in a chair with his wrists handcuffed behind him. Pesano grinned at the plight of
the consul from Santander.
“All worked good?” questioned Pesano.
“Very fine,” said Zelva. “I have the box here on the boat, in a very nice strong room which our friend
Legira provided. Here is the key”—he dangled it from his hand—“and I shall keep it.”
“What about the crew?”
“Of this ship?” Zelva laughed and looked at Ellsdorff, who grinned in response. “They are on the other
boat. They will not be there long.”
He made a gesture indicating a man being thrown overboard. Pesano smiled.
“It was very easy,” declared Zelva. “We captured this boat with no trouble. This man”—he pointed to
Legira—“walked into the trap. I think we shall keep him—for a while. We will bring over more men to
make a crew, when we are ready to leave. But first, we have business with another—”
He made a pointing gesture toward the door. Pesano nodded in understanding.
“You must listen to this, Legira,” said Zelva, in a pleased tone. “It will be one thing you will like very
much. You were tricked by a man named Desmond. Very good. Very good—for us—but not for him.
He is here now.”
Legira's eyes flamed with hatred.
“This man Desmond,” continued Zelva, “is of no use now. So we shall finish him. You like that, eh?”
An expression of satisfaction flickered on Legira's face. This, at least, would be one bit of justice.
Desmond, the double-crosser, was to be double-crossed.
“Which of you two?” asked Zelva, politely, turning first to Pesano and then to Ellsdorff.
Pesano drew a sharp-bladed knife from beneath his coat. Ellsdorff produced an automatic.
“Which is best?” Zelva questioned Legira.
“The knife,” said the consul, his eyes gleaming with revenge.
Pesano looked at Zelva and pointed eagerly to the door. Zelva nodded.
“Give me some time,” said Pesano. “I have talked to him in New York. I shall be friendly. Let me do it
as I wish. Where is his room?”
Zelva pointed.
“Up near the strong-room,” he explained. “It has the letter A on the door.”
Pesano nodded.
WHEN he had gone, Zelva leaned back in his chair and spoke thoughtfully.
“So you had a fine way, Legira,” he said. “A fine way to take that money. You were clever, but it has
done you no good. It was very good for you to have this fine yacht. Where, may I ask, were you going?”
“To Santander,” declared Legira.
Zelva laughed. Crook that he was, he could not understand any one whose mind worked differently. He
did not believe Legira's statement. The consul became sullen and morose.
