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.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlthem, but she was not talking much."You're lucky I don't have to send you a bill that'd keep you broke for threeyears," Donohue said."Some fisherman found Marilyn drifting around Cruz Bay.She wasn't damaged much.But I'm going to be more careful the next time anyonecomes to me to borrow an artificial octopus.""The only way I can figure it, the real one must have had an unsatisfactorytussle with her," Simon said, "whether he saw her as an unwilling sweetheartor a ri-val male.Anyway, before he found out she was only a prop, he'd tornher loose from her moorings, and she floated away.The real octopus liked thelook of the spot and decided to settle down there himself.""And why he didn't grab you for breakfast as soon as you came within reach,I'll never know.""Maybe he'd just had a good breakfast and wasn't hungry.Didn't you ever gofishing and wonder why sometimes they'll bite anything and other times theyseem to be on a hunger strike? Of course when Rawl shot a spear into it, thatwas different.Even an octopus must have its pride.""And it was a break for you that it was smart enough to know who shot at it.""It's too bad your camera crew wasn't there.It was a better scene than you'llever direct."April shuddered."Please don't," she said."I know he meant it to kill us, but I'll havenightmares every time I remember that thing wooshing up at him, I never knewthey could move so fast, and his face.""Don't let that Saint name fool you," Donohue said."He's a ghoul.No, I takethat back.He's a thing ghouls won't speak to.""He is not!" she said indignantly."As soon as he'd got me up to the boat, hewent back to see if he couldn't do anything, even though all he had was aknife.But he couldn't see anything.""All right," Donohue said."He's a hero.But don't forget to count those goldbars every time he goes near them.""He can have anything he wants," April said.Jack Donohue finished his Peter Dawson and stood up."I'm expecting a call from the studio, and I've got to work on the scripttonight," he said."But before I ruin your evening by leaving you, wouldsomeone tell me why the Saint always ends up with a billion dollars and themost beautiful girl in sight?""Doesn't that go with every old treasure story?" said the Saint.HAITI:The Questing Tycoon193It was intolerably hot in Port-au-Prince; for the capital city of Haiti liesat the back of a bay, a gullet twenty miles deep beyond which the opening jawsof land ex-tend a hundred and twenty miles still farther to the west andnorthwest, walled in by steep high hills, and thus perfectly sheltered fromevery normal shift of the trade winds which temper the climate of most partsof the Antilles.The geography which made it one of the finest natural harborsin the Caribbean had doubtless ap-pealed strongly to the French buccaneers whofounded the original settlement; but three centuries later, with the wings ofPan American Airways to replace the sails of a frigate, a no less authenticpirate could be excused for being more interested in escaping from thesweltering heat pocket than in dallying to admire the anchorage.As soon as Simon Templar had completed his errands in the town, he climbedinto the jeep he had borrowed and headed back up into the hills.Knowing what to expect of Port-au-Prince at that time of year, he had passedup the ambitious new hotels of the capital in favor of the naturalair-conditioning of the Châtelet des Fleurs, an unpretentious but comfortableinn operated by an American whom he had met on a previous visit, only aboutfifteen miles out of the city but five thousand feet above the sea-level heat.Page 81ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlHe could feel it getting cooler as the road climbed, and in a surprisinglyshort time it was like being in another latitude.But the scenery did not seemto become any milder to correspond with the relief of temperature: the samebrazen sun bathed rugged brownish slopes with few trees to soften theirparched contours.Most of the houses he passed, whether a peasant's one-roomcottage or an occasional expensive château, were built of ir-regular blocks ofthe same native stone, so that they had an air of being literally carved outof the landscape; but sometimes in a sudden valley or clinging to a distanthillside there would be a palm-thatched cabin of rough raw timbers that lookedas if it had been transplanted straight from Africa
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