Mystery Of The Sea Horse by Lee Falk Page A

He ran an experimental laboratory at one of the most notorious concentration camps. Surely, you've heard of him?"
She shook her head. "That was three : decades ago. I. . .
"I was a boy then myself," said Anderson. "Yet I remember him. I have personal reasons for remembering Rolf Langweil well."
"And that's why you're hunting him?"
"The chief reason," answered Anderson. "My profession is the hunting of men. But this time, I am working mainly for myself."
'Why? To bring him back to some kind of trial someplace?"
Anderson chuckled. "We were employed by a militant faction of ... of one of the nations which has good reason to hate Langweil. But they decided my methods were too harsh. So now I hunt him because I remember. Remember what he did to what was once my family."
Diana couldn't keep from shivering. "But Chris Danton," she said. "He's hardly older than you are. He would have been a little boy during World War II."
"An illusion, his youth," replied Anderson. "I'm surprised someone who knows him as well as you could, apparently, be deceived. Langweil, or
Danton, as he's dubbed his more youthful-seeming persona, has had at least two long and complicated rejuvenation treatments since he vanished from Berlin during the fateful summer of 1945."
"Chris Danton, some kind of ex-Nazi? It's incredible," said Diana. "I thought you two were rivals of his, rivals in the narcotics business."
"Not at all," said Anderson. "It's interesting, by the way, that Langweil has gone from one filthy business to another over the years. And now—"
The telephone rang.
"Who could that be?" Fulmer sat up straight.
Anderson jerked a large handkerchief from his hip pocket. He spun it into a gag. "Wait till I make sure she's quiet." He tied the gag tightly over the girl's mouth.
The phone was on a flimsy table against the wall. "Hello, yes?" Fulmer's plump face held a puzzled look. "Mrs. Hugo? Oh, yes, down the street. What? No, we hadn't . . . well, I don't . . . yes, yes, of course. Thank you." He dropped the receiver.
"Well, what is it?"
"Woman down the road," explained Fulmer. "She says the word's being passed."
"Word about what?"
"Fire." Fulmer jabbed a finger at the window. "The brush fires have jumped down from up that way. We have to get out of here."
"Right now?"
"Right now, yes. Orders from the police and fire departments. Take whatever valuables you have and-"
"Stop parroting that fool woman. We have no valuables," said Anderson, still seemingly calm. "How much time do we have?"
    "Five, ten minutes." Fulmer wiped his face.
"Listen, I don't want to be cremated here. We have to—"
"There's still time," said Anderson as he leaned close to the bound-and-gagged Diana, "still time for you to tell us where Danton is."
Her eyes were wide. She shook her head negatively.
"Please, don't attempt to stall any further."
A loud pounding commenced on the front door.
"Lord, what now?" Fulmer took two steps in the direction of the door, then two back toward his partner.
"Anybody in there? This is the police!"
Diana tried to scream behind her gag*
"They're on to us," said Fulmer. "What shall we—?"
"Quiet, they're only evacuating houses because of the fire." Anderson gave the other man a shove in the direction of Diana. "Carry her out and leave her in back of the house."
"But she may—"
"We can't walk out under the eyes of the police with her. This is the best we can do," said Anderson. "The fires probably won't reach here anyway, and shell be found."
Fulmer nodded reluctantly. He strained, grunting, and picked up Diana, chair and all.
"Coming, coming." His bland associate strode to the door. He opened it a fraction.
"YouH have to get out of here, sir," said the cop on the porch.
"Yes, Officer, we know all about the fire danger. We're leaving immediately."
Fulmer's face was speckled with sweat as he lugged Diana and the chair toward the little hallway leading to the back door of the house. Everything was starting to smell like smoke. "I'm sure you'll be all