Free Cargo of Coffins by L. Ron Hubbard

important.”
    “Don’t be foolish,” said Terry. “We trust you, Your Highness.”
    “Of course,” said Aunt Agatha with an indignant sniff.
    “Tell them you’ve got Auberville and Patou and Renoir and Tallien down there. Tell them you’re about to seize this ship. Tell them you received four million francs for this deal.”
    Paco laughed amusedly. He gave Terry a broad, humorous wink. “Of course, Lars. That is just what I have planned. Come now, old fellow, quiet yourself while we place you in safekeeping. This madness will pass, Miss Norton. I am desolated. If I had known—”
    Lars made a lunge for Paco’s gun but Paco had read the intention in Lars’ eyes. Paco leaped agilely back and fired.
    Lightning seared through Lars’ shoulder. He was turned by the bullet. Falling, he crashed into the bulkhead.
    Paco stood with curling smoke about him, still smiling, apologizing to the ladies.
    Sailors were coming from the deck. Four men took Lars in custody.
    Lars tried to fight them off but they clung hard.
    “Miss Norton!” shouted Lars. “You’ve got to believe me! Paco is going to attack before dawn! For God’s sake, arm the crew!”
    “Terry,” said Paco, as they hustled Lars away, “if I had known this . . .” Paco was very sad.

CHAPTER NINE
    To the Attack
    T HE brig was dimly lit by the blue bulb outside the bars in the corridor. Lars, sitting hunched on the bunk, was still too big for the place, dwarfing it to the size of a hatbox.
    Ralph was nervously giving Lars’ arm medical attention. Ralph had read a great deal about first aid, but it was fortunate for Lars, just the same, that the bullet had passed straight through the flesh of his muscular shoulder. And Lars was watching impassively while Ralph sweated and felt green when he touched the sticky blood.
    “You’ve got to do it,” said Lars.
    “I . . . I can’t,” whispered Ralph, plastering down the adhesive tape. “Sis would murder me!”
    “Paco is going to murder all of us. I’ve told you where you could find your rifles and ammunition and pistols. Why do you think Paco wants those? You’re a sensible fellow, Ralph. You know that I couldn’t do anything to this whole ship all by myself.”
    “I don’t dare,” said Ralph.
    “You call that a trial?”
    “No, but—”
    “All right. It’s Paco’s word against mine. And it’s your life unless you get this straight here and now. I tell you they’re going to attack. You won’t need any more proof than that.”
    “No, but—”
    “All right. The minute they strike, you be ready. You get those keys and swipe the riot guns up to the bridge. You take my revolver out of Terry’s keeping. And then, when they strike, you hot-foot it down here.”
    “But how’ll we get to the bridge?”
    “We go forward on this deck to the engine room. We go up through the fidley . You leave that to me. They won’t try to hit at the bridge because they don’t think anybody there is armed. And another thing. Keep watch by Miss Norton’s door. At dawn, tell her that I’m dying. Tell her anything. But get her down here so she’ll be on her way when Paco and the rest crack down. Understand?”
    “Sure, but—”
    “It’s your life and Miss Norton’s I’m thinking about, Ralph. You need do nothing if Paco fails to take over the ship.”
    Ralph got up. His eyes were feverishly bright as he began to understand that there might be excitement in the offing.
    “Maybe . . . maybe I’ll do it.”
    Lars watched him out, heard the door lock. And then, wearily, he lay back upon his bunk.
    In spite of the tension within him he knew he must have slept. A far-off shout came to him. He sat up and swung his legs down.
    A shot sounded somewhere forward and Lars was on his feet, hands gripping the bars of the door. He shook them.
    His every thought was concentrated upon Ralph. If the boy succeeded in getting Terry down here, if he succeeded in bringing the keys, if he had placed the riot guns on the