backs," he announced as he drew out his wallet. He could see McGlade moisten his flaccid lips. He could see the faded eyes fasten on the bills as they were counted out. He knew where the money would go, how little good it would do. But that, he knew, was not his funeral. All he wanted was Binhart.
"Binhart 's in Guayaquil," McGlade suddenly announced.
"How d' you know that?" promptly demanded Blake.
"I know the man who sneaked him out from Balboa. He got sixty dollars for it. I can take you to him. Binhart 'd picked up a medicine-chest and a bag of instruments from a broken-down doctor at Colon. He went aboard a Pacific liner as a doctor himself.
"What liner?"
"He went aboard the Trunella. He thought he 'd get down to Callao. But they tied the Trunella up at Guayaquil."
"And you say he 's there now?"
"Yes!"
"And aboard the Trunella?"
