II. — THE LITTLE MAN WHO CAUSED A RIOT

It was not a pleasant task to meet Robert Weldrake’s father when he arrived in Malta.

The dead boy had been popular both with the men and his brother-officers, and some satisfaction was felt when it was known that his father was expected. McElvie voiced the general wish when he said that he hoped Mr. Weldrake, senior, was a hefty fellow handy with his fists, who was coming with the express purpose of interviewing Emil Louba.

‘And there’s no other reason why he should come,’ observed McElvie hopefully. ‘He doesn’t wear any uniform, and he can jolly well give Louba what for!’

Nevertheless, the task of greeting him and giving him details of his boy’s death was not a coveted one, and Hurley Brown undertook it with misgivings.

He looked for a tall resolute man, an old and stronger edition of Robert Weldrake, and was amazed when his gaze fell on the small shrinking figure of Mr. Weldrake. If general indignation had reigned before, it was intensified by the pathetic little man upon whom the blow had fallen. It was obvious that his boy had been his world, his death a devastating shock.

He uttered no complaints, asked for no sympathy; he was touchingly grateful for the kindness shown him, tremblingly eager for any and every story, however trivial, anyone could tell him of his son. He sat in the boy’s quarters alone for hours together, touching his belongings, reading his last note. He went to the grave every day, a small solitary figure.

Sympathy for Robert Weldrake was transferred to his father, and the very sight of the forlorn little man acted as fuel to the rage which burned against Louba.

It was da Costa who stirred the fire to a blaze. Meeting Weldrake one night, wandering aimlessly after his fashion, he stopped him, and pointed out Louba’s place.

‘That is where your son got his death-blow,’ he said. ‘That’s where many another has been ruined. That is where Emil Louba is growing rich by ruining men and driving them to suicide.’

Weldrake’s thin face turned in the direction of the red lights which illuminated the outside of the building and he nodded slowly.

Da Costa had sown the seed, and he was not surprised when Weldrake continued his quick nervous walk, going straight towards Louba’s. He had been to all the places that his son had frequented, except to Louba’s.

Da Costa knew the treatment he would receive from Louba, and ran to the barracks.

‘Your little man has gone to Louba! Likely Lo