The Devil—With Wings Read Online Free PDF Page A

Forsythe, “you go of your own free will.”
    â€œI do nothing of the kind,” she snapped hotly. “If I resisted, a murderer of your practice would probably strangle me so that you could get away. And…and I see no use in getting some poor Chinese killed. You have not heard the last of killing Robert Weston.”
    â€œI suppose not,” sighed Forsythe, getting up. “All ready?”
    â€œNo. Wait. I can’t go. It would be dishonest. I owe…” She stopped and felt cheap. He was slowly reaching inside his jacket and inside his shirt. She heard snaps pop and then crack as they were put back.
    Dull yellow discs glowed in his hand.
    He dropped them carelessly in a small shower on the bed.
    Her eyes were wide, “Sovereigns!”
    â€œWhat did you think they were? Cough drops?”
    He leaned out of the window and looked carefully down into the street below. The regular tramp-tramp-tramp of a Japanese patrol came around the corner and passed out of sight in another street.
    She was still staring at the money. Three coins in the lot had deep dents in their soft metal. He had taken them from a belt about his waist and she had fired at the bright silver buckle of his belt.
    â€œCome on,” ordered Forsythe for the tenth time.
    She was angry with him again. He took his luck so casually!
    She moved nearer to him and he suddenly reached out and stood her up against the window. He whipped a line from nowhere and lashed a harness around her.
    He leaned out and whistled shrilly and then guided her on her way.
    A moment later she was standing on the roof beside Ching, breathless from dangling over dizzy space. Ching looked appraisingly at her.
    â€œYes, sir,” said Ching with decision. “A lot of broads hung around Yale, but you got them beat from the start.”
    â€œYou’d better lower that line to your Devil With Wings.”
    â€œSure,” said Ching, abashed under the cold scrutiny she gave him.
    As he helped Forsythe up over the edge, Ching knew definitely that he hadn’t ever seen a girl like her. She had nerve enough…
    â€œYou promised sandwiches?” said Patricia.
    â€œThat’s better,” replied Forsythe, giving Ching a signal.
    â€œWhat’s better about it?” she cried with fury. “Just because I’m hungry enough to eat with pigs is no sign I am one!”
    Forsythe smiled at her fondly but his goggles made the grin gruesome. She backed away from him, biting at a slice of ham.
    Forsythe hurried them down the fire escape, cautioning them to silence. She was not interested in silence or anything in the world that moment but the feeling of food between her small white teeth.
    They dropped one by one to the street and Forsythe helped her into a car on which the Rising Sun was emblazoned.
    â€œBut this is a staff car!” she said with sudden alarm.
    â€œOf course,” said Forsythe.
    â€œIt’s Shinohari’s car,” said Ching with pride. “I stole it myself.”
    â€œGet going,” said Forsythe.

CHAPTER FOUR
    Betrayal
    T HE staff car pulled to a stop on the edge of a flat field outside Port Arthur. The expanse, dun and common by day, had the appearance of an enormous silver lake under the rays of the waning moon.
    The buildings stood in a shadowy, self-effacing huddle, only one white line of light showing between the shutter bottom and a windowsill.
    A door opened and spilled an orange flood across the yard. It banged shut and hurried footsteps grew louder. The scarlet of the Rising Sun on the door was not bright in the hazy shimmer of moonbeams. But it was plain.
    Panting and frightened, a Chinese with furtive eyes and a thin, cunning face came to an abrupt stop beside the running board. He had come so swiftly from the lighted room and he was so sure of the Rising Sun on the door that he did not give the dark interior before him more than a glance.
    â€œCaptain! He is coming here