Free The Second Murray Leinster Megapack by Murray Leinster

might have some resource, I remained.”
    “How many of them?” asked Bell shortly.
    “Two,” she said quietly. She looked at him, her large eyes entirely calm and grave.
    “Give me the package,” said Bell briefly. “They’ll be more anxious to get it back than to bother you. And I’ll either knock them cold or hold them in a scrap until you get away.”
    She reached in her pocket and handed him a small thick envelope. He stuffed it in the side pocket of his coat.
    “I will walk away,” he observed, “and they’ll follow me. Can you arrange to give me some sign that you’re safe?”
    “By the gateway,” she told him. “My handkerchief. I shall start as soon as you have vanished. If I am followed, I will drop this handkerchief, as it is. If I am not followed, I will tie a knot. But what can you do?”
    “I’ll do something,” said Bell coldly. “Something!”
    She smiled, with the same odd bitterness her father had shown.
    “My father—shot himself,” she said briefly. “I have no particular hope of doing better. But I shall not be Ribiera’s slave.”
    She remained quite still. Bell moved away. He hurried. There was thick jungle ahead, a section of the Gardens that is painstakingly preserved untouched and undisturbed, that visitors to the capital of Brazil may observe a typical sample of the virgin interior. He dived into that jungle as if in flight.
    And very shortly after, two men dived in after him. They hesitated, these men, because your policeman of Rio does not like to injure his uniform, and there are many thorns in jungle growths. But they entered it, having first drawn small glittering weapons. And then from the jungle came silence.
    * * * *
    It seemed to be silence. But there may have been some small unusual noises. It would not be easy to tell if they were unusual or not, because there are peculiar flashes of charm in certain Brazilian institutions. The preservation of the spot of jungle itself is one. Another is the fact that in the Gardens all manner of wild things live at large and provide unexpected and delightful surprises to the usually foreign visitors.
    So there were noises, after a bit. Such noises as some grunting wild thing might have made, perhaps. But they might also have been the gasping of a man as breath was choked out of him.… And there was a cracking sound a little later, which might—of course—have been any one of any number of accidental and perfectly natural causes. And it might have been a man upon whom another man had hurled himself, when the second man landed on his jaw. And thrashing noises a little later might have been anything.
    But after what seemed a long time, Bell emerged. Alone. He was breathing quickly, and there were scratches on his face and hands which—well, which might have been made by thorns. He went swiftly back toward the spot where Paula had waited. He looked cautiously. She was gone.
    And then Bell went leisurely, in the studious fashion of a person going through the Botanical Gardens because it was the thing to do, toward the gateway and the surface cars. As he neared the gate his eyes roved with apparent casualness all about. He saw a tiny speck of white on the edge of the roadway. It looked as if it had been flung from a car. Bell picked it up. It was Paula’s handkerchief, and there was no knot whatever in it. In fact, its lacy edge was torn.
    “They’ve got her,” said Bell, apparently unmoved.
    * * * *
    He waited for a car. A bulky figure wearing thick spectacles came placidly from the Gardens. It waited, also, for the car. The car arrived, in its two sections of first and second class; the first reserved for cavalhieros , which is to say persons wearing coat, shirt, collar, necktie, hat, shoes and socks, and carrying no parcel larger than a brief case. Lesser folk who lacked any of the sartorial requirements for admission to the first class section, or wore tomancos instead of shoes, heaped themselves into the second section and