THE PLAN THE town lot speculator took his feet down from the desk and George, flinging his cigarette away, got up, took a few paces, and altered his position by straddling his chair, leaning his arms on the back. It was a favourite trick of old Harley du Cane. When big things were on, and if there was a crisis and he was seated and talking to you, ten to one he’d get up, take a few paces, and then sit down again straddling his chair as if he were riding a horse. “Well, that’s settled,” said George. “I’m with you. What’s your plan? You said you knew where this man is and could put your finger on him.” “I guess I was talking through my hat,” said Hank. “It’s a way I have, times.” “Then how the devil are you going to find him?” “It’s a way I have, times,” said Hank, not seeming to hear the other, “but I’m never far wrong when I’m talking that way. I don’t know where the chap is any more than I know where17 Solomon’s aunt’s buried, but I’ve a feeling that his haunt’s round about the islands down Santa Catalina way. I know all the coast running from Monterey right to Cape St. Lucas. I had a tenth share in a shark boat once, and I’ve nosed into all the cricks and corners right to the end of Lower California, and I’ve got a feeling that the Dutchman’s using the Channel Islands and that we’ll fetch him somewhere about there, if we’re clever.” 17 “You’re sure it’s Amsterdam Joe we’re after?” “No, I’m not.” “But great Scott, you said you were sure.” “I was talking,” said Hank, “the words were hit out of me by something outside my head, but I’m never far wrong when I’m taken like that. I’d bet a thousand to a nickel it’s him, but that’s not being sure. You see, it’s not Dutch Pete, for I saw him shot with my own eyes, but the affair was hushed up, and they gave his name different in the papers. He was hand and fist with Joe and that’s what put the wrong idea about. Joe went south more than nine months ago, superintending a fishery or something down there, and he hasn’t come back, and he’s just the chap to fill this bill—and there you are.” “Well, it doesn’t much matter,” said George, “as
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