West of Guam by Raoul Whitfield

business trip. But you are mistaken—Sam Ying is not in love with me. We have been just friends.”
    Jo Gar widened his eyes. He decided that Rosa Castrone was lying. He said:
    “I have money for him—quite a large amount. He has told me that should he suddenly go away you would act for him. He has no family in Manila, no relations.”
    The girl was staring at him. She started to speak, but her lips closed tightly. Jo said:
    “It is not always easy to raise a large sum of money hurriedly. That is why Sam Ying came to me and made arrangements. Perhaps he left some word with you, some address.”
    Suspicion showed in her eyes. She shook her head. “I do not understand,” she said.
    Jo Gar smiled. “I will be very definite,” he told her. “Sam Ying saw much of you before he departed. He did not depart, however, on the Toya Maru. A Chinese answering his description in a general way, and registering as Sam Ying did depart. Sam Ying is very wealthy, but his wealth was not all obtained strictly according to Island law.”
    He stopped. He was still smiling, but Rosa Castrone had become sullen. Her eyes were narrowed on his. She shrugged.
    “Sam Ying went to China,” she said. “That is all I know.” Jo nodded.
    “Sam Ying has been kidnapped,” he stated quietly. “He is being held because he will not pay an amount of money. It is bad of you not to pay it.”
    She laughed harshly. She turned her back on him and walked towards a window, the shutters of which were drawn. The wind was singing through the palms beyond the house—the avenida was fringed with them. Suddenly she faced him.
    “Why do you say that?” she flared. “Why is it bad of me not to pay it? You have just said that you have money for him—that he came to you and made arrangements. Why do you not—”
    She stopped abruptly. The expression in Jo Gar’s eyes stopped her. He was smiling in a cold mocking way.
    “So you do admit that someone must pay money?” he said in a quiet tone. “Ying is not then aboard the Toya Maru?”
    There was hatred in her eyes. She was breathing heavily.
    “I do not know what you are saying,” she said. “You are not of the Island police—they do not want Sam Ying. You have not been sent for, Señor Gar. It is late in the evening—all I know is—”
    She hesitated. Then she shrugged her rather thick shoulders. “Sam Ying has gone to China,” she said. “He sailed on the Toya
    Maru.”
    Jo Gar bowed just a little. He was smiling almost pleasantly.
    “I am sorry to have made you admit that he is being held for a large sum of money,” he stated. “He is in an unfortunate position—he cannot call for the police. Perhaps he was himself forced to go to the steamship office and register for the journey he did not make. Sam Ying is himself beyond the law.”
    Rosa said sharply: “What do you care? What does it matter to you? You would be anxious to bring charges against him. He gave you no money—you are keeping none for him. He never went to you. You have lied to me!”
    The Island detective smiled, shrugged his narrow shoulders. He said:
    “You have lied to me.” He moved close to her; his eyes were on hers. “So has Mr. Harnville.”
    For a second he was sure fear flickered in the blue of her eyes—and then she was staring at him almost stupidly. He moved away from her, but he did not turn his back.
    “If Sam Ying was being held—and you were to blunder—he would be killed,” she said suddenly.
    Jo Gar frowned at her.
    “That would be unfortunate,” he replied, “for you.” She cried out shrilly, in a rage:
    “What have I—to do with it?”
    He smiled at her. He shrugged. At a sharp clap of his hands the house-boy came pattering into the room. Jo Gar beckoned to him. The boy came to his side. He was very small, with large, black eyes. He looked very innocent.
    With a swift movement the Island detective slipped the wrapped knife from his pocket.
    He unwrapped it—held it towards the house-boy.