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289
Astounding Stories of Super-Science, August 1930
·
Various
207
"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.
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