El Diablo Part 54

Turning to the man who was standing by the Slavonian, he ordered: "Better put the steels on him, Jack. I'll take this one while Joe stays down here with the stuff."

When the _Bennington_ entered Crescent Bay followed by the _Richard_ towing the _Fuor d'Italia_, excitement was rife at Legonia. And as the boats came to anchor off the Golden Rule Cannery a large crowd of curious village-folk collected on the dock.

The consensus of opinion, in Silva.n.u.s Rock's absence, was expressed by the local postmaster. There had been another fight at El Diablo and "Uncle Sam had stepped in and 'pinched' the whole darned bunch." To that opinion, the crowd for the most part concurred though there were some who thought otherwise.

It remained for Silva.n.u.s Rock himself to upset the truth of the postmaster's statement. Scarcely able to credit their sight, the villagers saw the magnate of Legonia led forth from the Golden Rule Cannery in the custody of strangers. Strangers who spoke and acted with an air of authority and displayed shining badges to part the crowd as they walked with their prisoner to meet the small boat from the cutter.

Then came Blankovitch wearing hand-cuffs.

It was some time before the truth leaked out through the lips of a newspaperman who was aboard the _Bennington_. Even then there were some who doubted.

Mascola killed by Bandrist? Impossible. Bill Lang and Richard Gregory murdered at El Diablo and Mexican Joe who had been with them, found on the island?

Silva.n.u.s Rock a smuggler? Why the very thought was absurd.

But the postmaster was gifted with more sagacity. With an ear trained to catch the slightest drift of public opinion, he declaimed after hearing all the evidence:

"I ain't much surprised. Kind o' had my suspicions of old Rock all along though I never said nothin'. But I allays did say that young Gregory was a comin' citizen."

Purple dusk settled closely about Legonia at the close of the most memorable day in the history of the village. For a time the streets were deserted as the fishermen sought their homes at supper-time to retail the latest bits of gossip which were current in the saloons.

Kenneth Gregory's name was upon every lip. No story was complete unless he figured in it. The Golden Rule Cannery had been closed until further notice. Gregory had bought all the fish brought in by the alien fleet.

His wharves were piled high with fish-boxes. His vats were full of albacore. He was going to give everybody a chance if they "shot square"

and became American citizens. Rock and Blankovitch had been taken with the men from Diablo Island to the jail at the county-seat. The body of Mascola was still in the custody of the local undertaker and Bandrist had been removed to a hospital. But of the men themselves little was said. An era of universal friendliness prevailed throughout the village.

At the Lang cottage Aunt Mary was striving vainly to a.s.semble her guests about the table for the evening meal.

"The biscuits will be ruined," she pleaded. "Leave the talk go. You've all talked yourselves half-sick now."

Jack McCoy protested as Miss Lang led him to the table.

"Remember, I wasn't there," he said. "And I've got a lot to find out before I get caught up."

Hawkins slid into a chair by McCoy.

"Well that's about all there is to it, Mac," he said. "Except that the _Gray Ghost_ made a clean get-away in the fog. You see the Custom House has been wise to her for a long time but they never could catch her with the goods. For some time there has been a lot of dope floating around in tuna cans so they kind of laid it to some fish cannery. In talking it over with Cap. I began to look this fellow, Rock, up. And I found among other things, that he didn't have a dollar until a few years ago. He made his money quick, and as far as we knew, right here in town. Then, this Diablo stuff gave me a hunch."

Gregory looked up quickly at the mention of the island.

"Easy on the Diablo stuff, Bill," he cautioned. "Aunt Mary doesn't know much about that."

When supper was over, Jack McCoy rose hastily.

"I must be getting back," he said. "We have a big night-shift and fish to burn. And they will burn unless I'm on the job."

Gregory followed him to the door.

"I'll be down pretty quick, Jack," he said. "I want to see Miss Lang a minute before I go."

A crooked little smile twisted the corners of McCoy's mouth and for a moment he looked deep into Gregory's eyes.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," he began somewhat uncertainly, and seeing that Gregory made no denial, he put out his hand. "I hope you'll both be happy," he said slowly.

Then he turned quickly and hurried out the door. Hawkins hurried after him.

"I guess I'll go down with McCoy," he explained. "I want to keep near a phone." Then he turned to Aunt Mary. "In to-morrow's _Times_ you'll get the latest details of the secret of El Diablo," he said as he bade her good night.

When Hawkins had gone out and Aunt Mary had retired to the kitchen, Gregory exclaimed to d.i.c.kie Lang in a low voice:

"There's one secret she won't get in _The Times_. She won't have to wait that long. For I'm going to tell her now."

"You'd better not," answered the girl. "You would have to shout. She's unusually deaf to-night. All the neighbors would hear."

"That's what I want," Gregory cried as he walked to the kitchen with d.i.c.kie following close behind.

In the semi-darkness of the little pantry-closet he took the girl in his arms.

"It's the only secret I'd never be able to keep," he confessed. "And I want the whole world to hear it."

Pushing aside the swinging-door, he went into the kitchen to tell Aunt Mary.

[Ill.u.s.tration: In the semi-darkness of the little pantry-closet]

THE END