id Jamison curtly, "it's time you showed some sense, now.
We're going to find out some things before we get reckless. This town
isn't a big one, but it always was a hell on earth. No extradition
from here. It's full of wanted men. It's dying, now, from the old days
when all ships passed the Straits before the Panama Canal opened up,
but it ought to be still a hell on earth. And we're going to put on
these sheepmen outfits, and put up at some low caste sailors' and
sheepmen's hotel on shore, and find out what is what. In the morning,
if you like--"

"In the morning," said Bell coldly, "I'm going to settle with The
Master."

* * * * *

They found a small and filthy hotel, in a still filthier street where
the houses were alternately black and silent and empty, and filled
with the squalid hilarity most seaport towns can somehow manage to
support. The street lamps were white and cold. The dirt and squalor
showed the more plainly by their light. There were sailors from the
few ships in harbor, and women so haggard and bedraggled that shrill
laughter and lavish endearments remained their only allure. And Bell
and Jamison plodded to the reeking place in which a half-drunk
sheepman pointed, and there Bell sat grimly in the vermin infested
room while Jamison, swearing wryly, went out.

He came back later, much later. His breath was strong of bad whiskey
and he looked like a man who feels that a bath would be very
desirable. He looked like a man who feels unclean.

"Give me a cigarette," he said shortly. "I found out most of what we
want to know."

* * * * *

Bell gave him a cigarette and waited.

"Good thing you stayed behind," said Jamison. "I want to vomit. Why
people go in hell holes for fun.... But I was very drunk and very
amorous. Picked up a woman and fed her liquor. Young, too. Damnation!
She got crying drunk and told me everything she knew. I gave her money
and left. Punta Arenas is The Master's, body and soul."

"One could have guessed it," said Bell grimly.

"Nothing like it is," said Jamison. "Every living creature, man,
woman, and child, has been fed that devilish poison of his. The
keepers of the dives go fawning to the local officials for the
antidote. The _jefe politico_ is driven in his carriage to be cured
when red spots form before his eyes. The damned place is full of
suicides, and women, and--oh, my God! It's horrible!"

A humming, b