Free Hurricane by L. Ron Hubbard Page B

place at once, using fair means and foul.
    Suddenly, Spar sank his fist to the knuckles in the Saint’s coat. Folston, unnerved by the blow, slipped back to the floor. Spar threw himself on top of the man, hands seeking out the throat. And the shark screamed for mercy.
    Men darted forward to pry them apart, but Spar was shouting, “Stay back! Stay back and listen! Now, Saint Folston, tell them you framed me. Tell them I didn’t know about that cargo in Paramaribo!”
    In choked words, feeling his death near at hand, the Saint talked. He talked for fifteen minutes and each time he tried to stop, Spar’s thumbs went deeper into his throat. And then when the police and the soldiers had the story, and not until then did Spar stand up.
    Peg Mannering was instantly at his side. Spar, in terse phrases, told his own side of the events, ending up with, “I know you are neither judges nor juries, but what you have heard tonight is true, and after hearing it I am confident that men of your intelligence and understanding will certainly see to it that France does not unjustly condemn me, that France will free me of my sentence.”
    The major shouted, “France will not desert you!” in a fervor of patriotism which he so seldom found a chance to indulge.
    “Nor will the police!” cried the chief. “I take the responsibility of setting you free this minute. You and this so young Tom Perry.”
    “Thank you,” said Spar, with a smile.
    But Peg Mannering was not smiling. Peg Mannering knew that everything rested as it had before for her. This had changed nothing.
    “But where is Tom?” said Frederick Perry.
    “Probably in the office,” said the chief of police. “I saw him there but a moment ago.”
    Frederick Perry disappeared and returned carrying an empty cash box, eyes wide with questioning.
    The guard at the door came in and said, “Was it all right to let those people through?”
    “What people?” demanded the police chief.
    “The young man and the dark-haired girl. They said they had to make a boat and I saw that they were not being held.”
    “A boat!” cried Frederick Perry. “The liner which sails at dawn. That Bereau woman has . . . has . . . kidnaped him.”
    “Ah,” said the chief of police, “I shall bring them back.”
    But Frederick Perry shook his head. “No. No, do not bring them back. Let them go. He has taken all the money he will ever get from me. He has caused me all the trouble he ever will. Let him go.”
    Peg Mannering, face radiant, stood very close to Spar. The major and his prisoners departed with military precision. The police, taking Chacktar’s corpse with them, roared away.
    “And now where?” said Spar, not really caring.
    Frederick Perry stopped in the center of the floor and looked fixedly at Spar. “Where? Why, young man, nowhere. I want you to stay here. You have done me a greater service than you know.
    “For years I have looked forward to the time when I could leave this island and this work. For years I thought Tom would finally come to his senses and look elsewhere than into his cups, but I realize now that I was nursing a dream. I’ve been hard, perhaps I am being unjust in letting him go away with that woman. But perhaps he loves her. Perhaps she will do things for him I never could do.
    “But that does not solve my problems. I must get away from this place. And, after the things you have done, after saving me—what you did, I can but ask you another favor.”
    Spar, startled, looked up from Peg’s face and said, “Another favor?”
    “Yes, live here in this house, manage my interests, consider yourself as my son. Will you?”
    “After certain legal ties are tied, yes.”
    “Oh, it would all be legal. I will see to it that—”
    “No, no,” said Peg Mannering, laughing. “He means . . . or I think he means . . . hope he means . . .”
    Frederick Perry’s face relaxed into a benign smile.

 
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