Free The Second Murray Leinster Megapack by Murray Leinster Page B

future responsibility.
    He yawned, tapping his lips with the back of his hand, signaled for a stop of the car, and got out. Five minutes later he had signaled a taxicab and given Ribiera’s address. In six minutes he was being whirled toward the one house in all Rio de Janeiro from which his chance of a safe departure was slightest. In little more than half an hour he had dismissed the cab and was gazing placidly into the startled eyes of the doorman. The doorman, like all of Rio where Ribiera was known and feared, knew that Bell was being hunted.
    Bell handed over his card with an inscrutable air.
    “The Senhor Ribiera,” he said drily, “returned to the city last night. Present my card and say that I would like to speak to him.”
    The doorman ushered him inside and summoned the major-domo, still blinking his amazement. And the major-domo blinked again. But Bell followed with the air of an habitué, as he was again ushered into the luxurious salon in which he had once been offered a drugged drink.
    Again he sank down in a softly padded chair and surveyed the pictures and the minor objects of decadent art about him. Again he lighted a cigarette with every appearance of ease, and again had the impression of eyes upon him. The major-domo appeared, somewhat agitated.
    “The Senhor Ribiera,” he said harshly, “will see you only if you are not armed. He requires your word of honor.”
    Bell smiled lazily.
    “I’ll do better than that,” he said languidly. “I haven’t had time to buy a revolver. But the automatic he had put out of commission is in my pocket. Present it to him with my compliments.”
    He handed over the weapon, butt first. The major-domo blinked, and took it. Bell sat down and smiled widely. He had been expected to be uproarious, to attempt to force the major-domo to lead him to Ribiera. And, of course, he would have been led past a perfectly planned ambush for his capture—but he might have killed the major-domo. Which would not disturb Ribiera, but had disturbed the servant.
    Bell smoked comfortably. And suddenly hangings parted, and Ribiera came into the room. He smiled nervously, and then, as Bell blew a puff of smoke at him and nodded casually, he scowled.
    “I came,” said Bell deliberately, “to make a bargain. Frankly, I do not like to break my word. I was under obligations to deliver a package from Senhor Canalejas to a certain messenger who will take it to my government. I have done it. But I am not, Senhor Ribiera, a member of the Secret Service. I am entirely a free agent now, and I am prepared to consider your proposals, which I could not in honor do before.”
    He smiled pleasantly. Effrontery, properly managed, is one of the most valuable of all qualities. Especially in dealing with people who themselves are arrogant when they dare.
    Ribiera purpled with rage, and then controlled it.
    “Ah!” he rumbled. “You are prepared to consider my proposals. There are no proposals. The Master may be amused at your cleverness in escaping. I do not know. I do know that I am ordered to make you my slave and send you to The Master. That, I shall do.”
    “Perhaps,” said Bell blandly: “but I can go without food and drink for several days, which will delay the process. And while I cannot honorably tell you how to stop the man bearing Senhor Canalejas’ package to my government, still… If I willingly accepted a dose of yagué in token of my loyalty to The Master.…”
    Ribiera’s good humor returned. He chuckled.
    “You actually mean,” he said jovially, “that you think you were given some of The Master’s little compound, and that you wish to make terms before your hands begin to writhe at the ends of your wrists. Is not that your reason?”
    Bell’s eyes flickered. He had been horribly afraid of just that. But Ribiera’s amusement was reassuring.
    “Perhaps,” said Bell. “Perhaps I am.”
    Ribiera sat down and stretched his fat legs in front of him. He surveyed Bell with an