Chapter One ~ The Miami Bus

The plump little man with the frightened eyes boarded the bus at Jacksonville and selected the aisle seat next to Nellie Gray. He mumbled a quick apology, laid his black leather brief case across his knees, and immediately opened a newspaper. He spread it in front of him, effec- tively hiding his face, and did not move for an hour. Nellie knew he was only pretending to read, for he never turned the page. Twice she caught him furtively peering past her, out of the window, just as passing cars overtook the bus. Each time he did this he threw a swift glance at the car, then buried his nose in the paper once more.

When the bus stopped for refreshments at St. Augustine the plump little man did not get out with the rest of the passengers, but continued his pretense of reading. Nellie squeezed past him into the aisle and went out to the refreshment stand where she bought a hot dog and a bottle of pop. While she was eating, surrounded by the other passengers, she saw a long green convertible coupe come flashing down the road and pull to a stop. It swung into the parking space beside the bus and a man emerged from the rear. This man wore a tan sport coat and his face was long and wooden. He said something to his driver who remained at the wheel, and then he swung his dark eyes upon the passengers. He scanned them with the attitude of one who seeks a particular person. Nellie got a cold feeling when she saw his eyes. They were almost fishlike in their expression- less stare.

The man evidently did not find what he was looking for because he turned and stared at the bus for a moment. Then he stepped over to the open door and poked his head in. At the same time that he did this he put his right hand in the pocket of his coat.

Nellie Gray's glance swept to the window of the bus where she had seen the plump little man only a moment before the coupe arrived, but now he was not visible.

Nellie knew that the plump little man had not left the bus. He was still in there. But he couldn't be seen; therefore he must be crouching down behind the seat. Hiding—from what?

She experienced a distinct sense of relief when the long-faced man in the tan sport coat took his head out of the bus doorway and returned to the green coupe. She knew with the sure instinct which had made her The Avenger's right-hand "man" that the occupants of the green coupe were the hunters, and the plump little man was the quarry.

The long-faced man stepped back into the green coupe and it backed out of the parking space. Its powerful eight-cylinder motor rumbled throatily as the driver accelerated, and the coupe flashed down the road toward Miami.

With the characteristic thoroughness which The Avenger had instilled into all those who worked with him, Nellie Gray made a mental note of the license number of that green coupe—it was an Illinois plate, number TQ323. She filed that number in the back of her mind and glanced at the bus window. The plump little man was once more in evidence. He no longer had the newspaper in front of his face. He was lighting a cigarette, and Nellie thought she detected a flicker of a smile upon his lips—though she couldn't tell for sure at this distance.

The bus driver blew his whistle and called out, "All aboard." The passengers trooped back, eager to start on the last lap of the long ride. There were several vacant seats, but Nellie passed them up. Prompted by some curious motive which she could not herself analyze, she resumed the same seat, slipping past the plump little man.

He seemed to feel much better now and immediately engaged her in conversation. "Going to meet your parents in Miami?" he asked.

Nellie Gray repressed a giggle. Clad in a white blouse and a pair of navy-blue slacks, she looked as simple and unassuming as a freshly graduated high-school girl. Her traveling companion probably took her for a kid of seventeen or eighteen.

"Oh, I've traveled by myself for quite a while," she said airily. She wondered what he would have said if he learned that she was a veteran member of Justice, Inc.—that efficient fighting organization headed by The Avenger, and devoted to championing the rights of the little man against the overlords of crime in every corner of the globe. The fact was that Nellie Gray had traveled to many parts of the world which the plump man had never even heard of. But he went on, blissfully unaware of the identity of the girl at his side.

"Are you going to get a job in Miami? It must be easy to get a job these days, what with all the defense work. What do you do for a living? Waitress? Manicurist?"

Nellie lowered her eyes. "Well, I guess I could wait on tables—"

"Look here, miss," he said suddenly. "Maybe I have a job for you. What's your name?"

EIsie Jones," Nellie lied.

"Well, look here, Elsie." He lowered his voice. "I'm a lawyer. Joplin is the name. Frederick Joplin. I'm going to Miami to handle an important case for a client of mine. See this brief case? It's crammed with evidence. Evidence that will win the case for my client!"

Nellie kept her hands in her lap and let her long lashes cover her eyes. She waited for him to continue.

"Now the trouble is that my client's enemies may try to destroy this evidence. They may try to take it away from me."

Nellie opened her eyes wide. "You don't say! Do you mean they might try to do it by force?"

"Exactly!" He leaned closer to her, dropping his voice even lower. "Now see here. I can put you in the way of making a little money. Say two hundred dollars. How does that sound to you?"

"Why, that . . . that's wonderful, Mr. Joplin!"

He beamed at her. "Ah! That's fine. Now here—" He produced a roll of bills from his pocket and peeled off ten tens. "Here's a hundred dollars in advance. Take it!" He practically forced the money into her hand.

"But . . . but what do I have to do to earn this, Mr. Joplin?"

"I'll tell you." He took the brief case off his knees and laid it on her lap. "I want you to take charge of this evidence. When the bus stops at Daytona, I'm getting off. I have a bit of business in Daytona—one more bit of evidence to get. It'll take me an hour or two, but unfortunately the bus won't wait."

"I see," Nellie said demurely, fingering the money in one hand and touching the smooth leather of the brief case with the other. It was not a large brief case—just comfortable enough to carry under one arm. But it was rather heavy. And there was a small lock which kept the brass snapper shut.

"It's locked, naturally," said Mr. Joplin. "Now listen carefully, Elsie. I want you to remain on the bus when I leave you at Daytona. You go on to Miami. There, you will go to the Sunset Hotel and register. Go up to your room and wait until you hear from me. I'll be there later in the day. When I pick up the brief case I'll give you the other hundred dollars. Is that clear?"

"Yes," said Nellie. "It's clear."

If anyone had asked her she wouldn't have been able to say just why she was doing this. She certainly wasn't doing it to help the self-styled "Mr. Joplin" out of a jam, because he was lying from the word go. Nellie, herself, was on a vacation, and The Avenger had made her promise not to stick her pretty little nose into anything that didn't concern her while she was resting in Florida. But she'd never have been happy if she hadn't tried to solve this puzzle of why Mr. Joplin was being hunted by the long-faced man in the green convertible.

"Then everything is settled," Mr. Joplin was saying heartily. "It's all arranged!" He patted her arm. "Don't forget now—the Sunset Hotel!"

"But Mr. Joplin, you don't know anything about me. How can you trust me with all this evidence—"

He laughed that off with a wave of his hand. "My dear, I'm an excellent judge of human nature. I would trust you with my life! Now listen carefully, Elsie. If anyone should approach you and ask if you know me; if they should describe me—"

Nellie smiled. "I'd tell them nothing."

"Excellent, my dear girl, excellent! I see you are wise beyond your years. Perhaps I can give you a permanent job later. Do this piece of work well, and perhaps I'll make you my secretary!"

"Wouldn't that be wonderful, Mr. Joplin!" Nellie murmured, veiling her eyes.

When the bus pulled in to Daytona Beach the driver announced a ten-minute stop-over. Everybody descended. Some of the passengers trooped into the Coffee Pot next door, while others strolled across to the beach. Mr. Joplin beamed at Nellie as he helped her down from the bus. He took her arm and led her out of the bus terminal to the street.

"I'll leave you now, my dear—"

Suddenly he stopped short, sucking his breath in with an audible sound.

Nellie glanced in the direction in which he was staring, and saw the familiar green convertible, parked about fifty feet away.

"Excuse me," Mr. Joplin said hastily. "I think I'll go out the back way. It's nearer to where I have to go. Good-by, my dear. And remember—the Sunset Hotel!"

That furtive, frightened look was back in his eyes as he let go of her arm and hastily retreated toward the rear of the bus terminal.

Nellie watched him, saw him go out through a door at the rear and disappear into the alley behind the terminal.

Nellie turned and looked down the street. The green convertible was still there. But the long-faced man in the tan sport coat was nowhere in evidence. Neither was the driver of that car.

Nellie held the brief case tight under her arm and went into the Coffee Pot. She barely had time for a cup of tea before the driver announced that it was time to leave. When the bus pulled out the green convertible was gone. And Nellie Gray was alone in her seat. Mr. Joplin had not returned.