Part 26 (1/2)

It was only too true. A moment's reflection satisfied me of that, and I stared blankly at my companion.

My gorgeous, if somewhat vainglorious, plan was knocked on the head.

CHAPTER XVII

THE MOMENT OF TRIUMPH

I descended from the airs.h.i.+p in silence. Danjuro followed me. Thumbwood was still on guard. The bundle that was Mr. Vargus lay upon the ground, and a face like a white wedge of venom stared up at us. There was no sign of the enemy, but I felt that we should not be left in peace much longer, and my disappointment at the discovery on board the pirate was keen.

”There is still a chance,” Danjuro whispered in my ear. ”And with your permission, Sir John, I am going to try it.”

I nodded, and he stepped up to Vargus and pulled him up into a sitting posture, propping him against the barrier.

”There is a part of the control mechanism of the airs.h.i.+p missing,”

Danjuro said, with silky politeness.

Vargus grinned suddenly, a momentary rictus that came and went, utterly horrible.

”And we want that piece of the machine,” the j.a.panese went on.

Vargus spoke, in his peculiar oily voice. ”Then you may go on wanting, you putty-faced little sp.a.w.n of a monkey.”

I cannot hope to describe the depth of poisonous hate the man put into the words. His accent was cultured and refined; the great dome of the blood-stained forehead spoke loudly of intellect, yet the voice somehow reeked of the pit. I know that it struck me cold, and I saw the rifle in Thumbwood's hands was shaking. Although this was the man who had devised an abominable death for me, I can honestly say that I felt no personal resentment. I can't account for it, but it was so.

I should have welcomed that, rather than the inward loathing, like a shudder of the soul, at something inhuman and unclean.

What Danjuro felt I don't know, but he didn't turn a hair.

”I think you will a.s.sist us,” he said.

For answer the thing below spat in his face.

I expected to see Danjuro leap upon him and strangle him where he sat. I shouldn't have raised a finger to stop it. But it was not so. The little man stepped aside and carefully wiped his face with a silk handkerchief that seemed to come from nowhere. Then he went behind Mr. Vargus and began to feel his head all over, with quick, delicate movements of his fingers.

”How can you touch him?” I cried, hardly knowing what I said, for the thing was ugly and uncanny beyond belief. Danjuro was like some sinister phrenologist in a nightmare, feeling the b.u.mps of a devil.

”I know now what I wanted to know about him,” Danjuro purred after a moment. ”I never doubted the intelligence, Sir John. It is very marked.

And there is great energy and courage of a sort. But our friend who spits has one little failing. He is afraid of physical pain.”

”You're not going to ...?”

Danjuro looked me full in the eyes, and in his I saw a stony resolution that I was in no state to combat.

”I will go and see Miss Shepherd,” I said, and turning on my heel, walked quickly to the inner end of the cavern. As I went I heard Danjuro ask Thumbwood for a box of matches....

I am quite aware that there are lots of softhearted people who will say I ought never to have allowed Danjuro to do what he did. Well, they must have their own opinion, that's all. I believe it was nothing like so bad as the cat-o'-nine-tails which is constantly administered in our prisons, and under the circ.u.mstances I think it was justifiable. Call me what names you like as you read this--you have not seen Mr. Vargus and his dogs, nor spent a small eternity in the pirates' cave.