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162 lamp which swung from the porch roof. Keith strode forward quickly; a glance at his friend was enough.

"Thought you must be lost, so I came to look for you," Keith said.

"Get that paper signed," Moniz urged in a low voice, which, however, reached Keith's ears. Keith shot a glance from one to the other. It was evident that he had turned up at an opportune moment. Chester dipped the pen in he ink again.

"I—I'd go easy on signing anything, just now," Keith declared pointedly.

"What d'you mean?" Chester asked in querulous tones.

"I mean I should wait till I was sober," Keith said.

"Que diabodiablo [sic]! You mind your own business," Moniz commanded, turning to the American with a snarl.

"That settles it," snapped Keith, reaching forward and taking possession of the agreement. "Sorry to butt in, Trent, but if this man is so keen on getting your signature you must be getting a crooked deal. Anyhow, it'll keep till to-morrow."

Moniz measured Keith with his eyes, his muscles tense. Nothing would have pleased him better than to throw Keith down the steps into the compound. Suddenly, casting discretion to the winds, he leaped forward, with hands outstretched, to grip the sailor