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PAGE TWO
Cameron Dockery'
SYNOPSIS: Posing as Rosa
Kirkman, Lotus Ames is hired
as a singer by the colorful Mlle.
Chloe Duval, owner of Gallatin
Street’s Case Duval. It is here
that Lotus expects to pick up
information for the FBI on
how dope is smuggled through
the New Orleans waterfront.
On her first appearance at the
case, she meets the attractive
Stacy Corbin and wonders just
what is behind the obvious an
tagonism between him and
Mlle. Duval.
CHAPTER 111
“I weel go weeth you,” she an
nounced.
“Hey,” the stevedore protested
heavily, “Not taking this little
lady away, Mamselle, just when
I’m gettin’ to know her!”
Chloe shot him a disarming
smile. “She’ll be back. Business
before pleasure, leetle one.”
Lotus stared at her. “Is some
thing wrong, Chloe?”
The long fingers tightened on
her shoulder. "Come,” was all
Chloe said.
They moved across the room.
“I weel tell you later, Rosa,"
Chloe explained. “I deed not
want to talk before that beeg
ox.”
As they neared the table, a
young man in a white linten suit
stood up. When he saw that
Chloe accompanied Lotus like ai
battleship accompanying a |
smart, sleek cruiser, his thin lips
quirked in amusement.
“You are taking no chances,
with this one, are you, Mamselle? j
Chloe found no humor in the j
remark. “Rosa is new to my city, I
I am anxous that her first im
pression will be a pleasant one.” !
She stressed the word my,
Lotus noticed.
The young man chuckled ap
preciatibely, evidently under
standing her emphasis. His clear
blue eyes slid over Lotus, then ’
widened in pleasure, as though
he had indeed made a valuable:
discovery.
“Since Mamselle isn’t going to
do the honors, may I introduce
myseh? Miss Kirkman I am
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Stacy Corbin.”
“I wanted to compliment you
personally,” Corbin said. "You
have a delightful voice.”
It’s my first evening here. I’m
glad I pleased you. ’
He turned to Chloe' Duval:
“Where have you been keeping
this songbird, Mamselle?”
“Where other predatory birds
cannot get at her,” she replied
with grim humor.
A moment after the brief ex
| change between herself and Sta
cy Corbin, Chloe excused herself
and wandered oif among the ta
| bles. Corbin leaned forward, his
blue eyes laughing into Lotus’.
“I was teasing Mamselle, but
seriously. Miss Kihkman, you do
not belong in a place like this.”
“But this is just my first night
and everyone has been very kind
to me,” she protested.
“I don’t want to sound con-
Iceited,” he persisted, "but I have
influence in New Orleans—l’m
sure I could get you a much bet
ter offer.”
“That’s kind of you. but . . .
well, I don’t want a prominent
place at this time. I’m . . . I'm
trying to avoid publicity.”
H.s eyes gleamed peculiarly,
Oh—been in trouble?”
“A little.”
And so a week passed.
A feeling of exasperation grew
in Lotus. In spite of all her most
pointed questions, she gathered
little information. She slept late
and spent the sultry afternoons
in the shadowy courtyard with
Chloe, who sipped sherry, smok
ed quantities of little black che
roots and told fascinating stories
of old New Orleans.
Chloe was reminiscing gaily
one day when the mulatoo girl
appeared her face an open grin,
and handed Lotus a bouquet.
"Boy say gentleman send this
to you, Miss Rosa.”
It was one of the quaint mixed
nosegays that could be pur
chased from any street vendor
in the Vieux Carre, and as Lo
tus gave a gasp of surprise and
buried her face in the fragrant
blooms, a folded note fluttered
from it to tht flagstones of the
patio.
With a sudden astonishing
agility, Chloe snatched it up.
For a moment it trembled in her
hand, then she extended it to
Lotus. She was all smiles. “Sooo,
you have an admirer already?”
Lotus looked up. Tire note had
merely said, Tomorrow at four—
St. Roch’s Chapel.” She nodded
at her companion. “It must be
one of the sailors. I wonder
which one.”
"Or Stacy Corbin—?”
“He doesn't seem like the type
to send a billet doux.”
She wondered uneasily if Chloe
had read the note and if she
had interpreted it as anything
but an admirer’s request for a
rendezvous. Later, in her room,
she burnt it carefully and from
her small balcony watched the
charred fragments drift away
towards the docks on a gentle
wind.
The following afternoon found
Lotus strolling along the ban
quettes of the old French Quar
ter. Past the once lovely homes
with their decaying walls, rust
ing ironwork and faded facades,
still retaining an air of old world
charm and mystery in spite of
their present use as stables or
warehouses.
She glanced in the windows
of small shops selling rosaries
and religious supplies and was
fascinated by others in the same
block dealing in all the mater
ials for voodoo worship—cock
feathers in little bunches, black
candles and spirit lamps.
In half an hour she was at St.
Roch’s Chapel.
As she entered the yard, a
cloud ol pigeons circled over the
statue of the saint and his loyal
dog companion as though they,
too, shared something of the
faith that had brought the blind
and crippled here for prayer.
After the humidity of the
street, the interior of the small
church was cool and refreshing.
There were several other visi
tors, but Lotus found an unoc
cupied pew' and sat staring at
the display of wooden legs,
crutches and plaster casts piled
behind the communion rail —of-
ferings from the devout to their
protectors.
Although she was mystified |
and excited at the thought of I
her coming meeting, she sensed
a great feeling of peace stealing
over her and she knelt and si
lently voiced a brief prayer that
she might have some small part
in bringing the spreaders of vice
to justice.
As she sat back she w r as star
tled to see the tall figure of a i
seaman kneeling beside her. She |
had not heard him move in next!
to her. Only his tanned neck anfi;
straight black hair were visible
beneath his cap. but there was j
I something vaguely familiar
I about the angle of his shoulders.
Then he turned and she almost
■ gasped with surprise, for she was
locking directly into the sar
donic brown eyes of Mr. Law
rence of the FBI.
He motioned for her to follow
i him and they emerged into the
quiet and comparative isolation
' o the cemetery of Campo San
! to, skirted the old headstones
with their familiar German
names and sat on an iron bench
at one end.
L.rwrence turned to Lotus then |
and shot her an amused, su-'
perior -smile. "Surprised to seel
me?”
"That's putting it mildly,” she '
j answered in a low voice. "I
thought T left you safely in
| Washington.”
There are many angles to this
case,” was his only explanation. I
"How are you doing?”
She sighed. “ I seem to be get-!
ting nowhere fast. Perhaps 1
haven’t the necessary qualities
to be a sleuth after all.”
"It all takes time,” he said pa
ternally, but he sounded trium -
' phant. "How is Mamselle Chloe?"
"She’s quite a character—there
isn’t anything about New Or
i leans past and present she ddes
not know.”
"Do you think she suspects you I
are a plant?”
She laughed ht the odd sound
of the expression. “I don’t be
lieve so. She may have seen your
note, it fell out of the bouquet,
j but if so, she hasn’t mentioned
it.”
"Well, you weren’t followed
here. I’m sure of that.”
It had never entered her head
that she might be trailed. “How
do you know?” she asked in
credulously.
“Because I followed you my
self.”
“Really!” She stared in amaze
ment. “Why this sudden anxiety
for my welfare? At our last
meeting I got the impression that
the sooner I w r ent out of your
life the better for both of us.”
Her lip curled. “ I hadn’t heard
you sing then.”
“So it’s my voice?”
THE SUMMERVILLE NEWS: SUMMERVILLE, GA.
“No, not that exactly—” he
hesitated, then his tone became
serious. “Skip it—let's get down
to business.”
She smiled at his discomfiture
“I’m afraid I have no business
to discuss, but I presume you
had some reason for meeting me
here.”
“Yes. Last night I was a pa
tron at the Case Duval.”
The remark startled her. She
thought she had observed the
customers rather closely. “That’s
how you heard me sing—”
“Yes, I think Chadwick did
you an injustice when he termed
you a crooner.” He drew some
grain from his pocket and bent
over to feed a little group of
| pigeons that had gathered.
i “I suppose that’s meant to «be
> a compliment?”
Ignoring the comment, he
threw the last of the kernels at
the strutting birds and straight
ened up, brushing his hands to
gether. “Miss Ames —or, rather,
Miss Kirkman—l’m going to put
i you on the track of something,
jit may have some significance
| —I can’t say.”
| “Any clue would help,” she
I said gratefully.
“A lormer Bundist has been
frequenting the Case Duval re
cently He’s a bad egg. Before
the war he was a member of the
German-American Bund. If you
could become acquainted with
him it might lead to something.
I’d tackle him myself, except
that we had him up for ques
tioning in Washington and he’d
probably recognize me.”
Lotus stared. “You mean he is
perfectly free to come and go as
he pleases?”
“Yes. The Bund was dissolved,
you remember. Kuhn was de
ported to Germany and a few
of the proven leaders are still
in jail, but the others have been
released.”
“Isn’t that rather risky? Won’t
they start fresh trouble?”
“Not openly. We have their
names and histories now. You
see, we have no legal means of
holding them—they all claim
they were members of an organ
ization working for the good of
the United States.”
“But that’s not true.”
"No, but they get away with
it.” His jaw tightened. "Some- ;
times I think we Americans car- 1
T. J. Espy, Jr.
ATTORNEY AT LAW
Summerville, Ga.
Office Over McGinnis
Drug Co.
I Dr. B. Lovingood ::
DENTIST J;
Lovingood Building
Summerville, Ga. I;
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25
to
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| caution: use o*i» as oiNcerca |
ry our love of freedom too far.’
“What’s this man’s name?”
“Herman Balch.”
"Herman Balch!”
His eyebrows soared quizzically
“you know of him?”
“I’ve heard his name men
tioned I think.” She went on to
describe her meeting with Stacy
Corbin. “What does Balch look
like?”
(Continued Next Week)
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