Part 35 (1/2)
”Got me in the shoulder,” muttered the man.
”And he might have gotten _me_,” said Peter, ”which would have been worse.”
”You mean--you didn't--_know_,” groaned Hawk, getting up into a sitting posture.
”No. I didn't,” replied Peter.
He had found the torch now and was flas.h.i.+ng it around on the ground while he picked up the scattered money.
”I'll fix him for this,” groaned the stranger.
Peter glanced at him.
”His men will be down here in a moment. You'd better be getting up.”
”I'm not afraid. They can't do anything to _me_. They'd better leave me alone. McGuire don't want me to talk. But I'll squeal if they bother me.” Peter was aware that the man was watching him as he picked up the bills and heard him ask haltingly, ”What are you--going to do--with that money?”
”My orders were to give it to you. Don't you want it?”
Peter turned and for the first time flashed the lamp full in the injured man's face. Even then Peter didn't recognize him, but he saw Hawk Kennedy's eyes open wide as he stared at Peter.
”Who----?” gasped the man. And then, ”_You_ here! '_Cre nom!_ It's Pete, the waiter!”
Peter started back in astonishment.
”Jim Coast!” he said.
Hawk Kennedy chuckled and scrambled to his feet, halfway between a laugh and a groan.
”Well, I'm d.a.m.ned!”
Peter was still staring at him, the recovered bills loose in his hand.
Jim Coast thrust out an arm for them.
”The money,” he demanded. ”The money, Pete.”
Without a word Peter handed it to him. It was none of his. Coast counted the bills, the blood dripping from his fingers and soiling them, but he wiped them off with a dirty handkerchief and put them away into his pocket. Blood money, Peter thought, and rightly named.
”And now, _mon gars_, if it's all the same to you, I'd like you to take me to some place where we can tie up this hole in my shoulder.”
This was like Coast's impudence. He had regained his composure again and, in spite of the pain he was suffering, had become his proper self, the same Jim Coast who had bunked with Peter on the _Bermudian_, full of smirking a.s.sertiveness and sinister suggestion. Peter was too full of astonishment to make any comment, for it was difficult to reconcile the thought of Jim Coast with Hawk Kennedy, and yet there he was, the terror of Black Rock House revealed.
”Well, Pete,” he growled, ”goin' to be starin' at me all night?”
”You'd better be off,” said Peter briefly.
”Why?”
”They'll be here in a minute. You've got your money.”