Part 58 (2/2)
For an instant her brain reeled; she instinctively recoiled as though to fling herself out into the darkness. Then, in a second, her extended arm grew rigid, slanted upward; the pistol exploded once, twice, the third time; the lighted bombs in their sling, released by the severed rope, fell to the bed, the fuses sputtering and fizzling.
Instantly the girl fired again at the big jug of water on the bracket over the head of the bed; a deluge drenched the bed underneath; two fuses were out; one still snapped and glimmered and sent up little jets and rings of vapour; but as the water soaked into the match the cinder slowly died until the last spark fell from the charred wet end and went out on the drenched blanket.
She waited a little longer, then with an indescribable look at the helpless man below, she withdrew her head, pushed herself free, hung to the invisible rope ladder for a moment, swaying against the open port. His eyes were fastened on her where she dangled there against the darkness betwixt sky and sea, oscillating with the movement of the s.h.i.+p, her pendant figure now gilded by the light from the room, now phantom dim as she swung outward.
As the roll of the s.h.i.+p brought her head to the level of the port once more, she held up her pistol, shook it, and laughed at him:
”Now do you believe that I can shoot?” she called out. ”Answer me some time when that mocking tongue of yours is free!”
Then, climbing slowly upward into darkness, the light, falling now across her body, now athwart her skirt, gilded at last the heels of her shoes; suddenly she was gone; then stars glittered through the meshes of the shadowy, twitching ladder which still barred the open port. And finally the ladder was pulled upward out of sight.
He waited. After a little while--an interminable interval to him--he heard somebody stealthily trying the handle of the door; then came a pause, silence, followed by a metallic noise as though the lock were being explored or picked.
For a while the sc.r.a.ping, metallic sounds continued steadily, then abruptly ceased as though the unseen meddler had been interrupted.
A voice--evidently the voice of the lock-picker--pitched to a cautious key, was heard in protest as though objecting to some intentions evident in the new arrival. Whispered expostulations continued for a while, then the voices became quarrelsome and louder; and somebody suddenly rapped on the door.
Then a thick, soft voice that he recognised with a chill, grew angrily audible:
”I say to you, steward, that I forbid you to entaire that room. I forbid you to disturb thees yoong lady. Do you know who I am?”
”I don't care who you are----”
”I have authority. I shall employ it. You shall lose your berth! Thees yoong lady within thees room ees my fiancee! I forbid you to enter forcibly----”
”Haven't I knocked? Wot's spilin' you? I am doing my duty. Back away from this 'ere door, I tell you!”
”You spik thees-a-way, so impolite----”
”Get out o' my way! Blime d'you think I'll stand 'ere jawin' any longer?”
”I am membaire of Parliament----”
And the defiant voice of Jim's own little c.o.c.kney steward retorted, interrupting:
”Ahr, stow it! Don't I tell you as how a lydy telephones me just now that my young gentleman is in there? Get away from that door, you blighter, or I'll bash your beak in!”
The door trembled under a sudden and terrific kick; the wordy quarrel ceased; hurried steps retreated along the corridor; a pa.s.s key rattled in the lock, and the door was flung wide open:
”Mr. Neeland, sir--oh, my Gawd, wot ever 'ave they gone and done, sir, to find you 'ere in such a 'orrid state!”
But the little c.o.c.kney lost no time; fingers and pen-knife flew; Neeland, his arms free, tore the bandage from his mouth and spat out the wad of cloth.
”I'll do the rest,” he gasped, forcing the words from his bruised and distorted lips; ”follow that man who was outside talking to you! Find him if you can. He had been planning to blow up this s.h.i.+p!”
”_That_ man, sir!”
”Yes! Did you know him?”
<script>