The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories. Sapper
he remarked, "till Don Miguel come on board again. You have lovely time then."
"Get out," cried Judy, and with another glance at the automatic, he went.
After a time she relaxed, and going to one of the portholes looked out. The throb of the engine had already told her they were under way, and she saw they were going back to the south of the island. In the distance she could still see the motor-boat, with a squat figure of the dwarf on the deck: then the hill hid it from sight.
No one else came to disturb her, and she remained at the porthole watching the island listlessly. Where were Jim and Percy? It was getting almost dark: even if they were in the open it would have been impossible to see them. And at last with a feeling of utter despair in her heart she sat down at the table in the centre of the saloon.
After a while a steward came in and turned on the light, and at the same time the engine ceased. She rose and peered out again, as the rattle of the chain told her they had anchored, but it was too dark to see more than the bare outline of the land. They were lying close in, but beyond seeing that it was wooded she could make out nothing.
The door opened, and she turned round. Two men were standing there: one she had never seen before, the other was Don Miguel.
"Welcome, my dear young lady, to my yacht," said the millionaire. "And allow me to introduce Captain McIntyre."
"How is Captain Blackett?" she cried.
"As well as can be expected under the circumstances," he remarked. "I can assure you his life is in no danger. Did he prove intractable or what?"
"He was the victim of an unprovoked assault," she said angrily.
"Dear me!" he laughed. "It's lucky for him that his head is hard. So I hear Mr. Maitland is carrying out a little private exploration. I wonder if he was more fortunate than we were. We rowed all the way up the river, and all the way back again and found nothing at all, except a pool containing crocodiles."
He pressed the bell, and ordered a bottle of wine and some whisky.
"Sit down, McIntyre," he said, "and help yourself. You will join us, Miss Draycott?"
"No, thank you," she answered coldly.
"A pity. This is an excellent vintage."
His eyes were fixed on her gloatingly, and involuntarily she shivered.
"Not cold, I trust. Or perhaps a touch of fever. May I get you some quinine?"
"How long are we to be kept prisoners?" she burst out.
"What an ugly word," said the Brazilian. "Let us put it that I hope you will enjoy my hospitality for a considerable period. Let us also hope that Mr. Maitland does nothing foolish with the map. It will prolong matters if he should, and this island is not a spot that I would select as a health resort."
"It's a stinking fever-soaked hole," grunted McIntyre.
"But doubtless our lady guest will enliven the tedium of it," murmured the other.
"Will you kindly show me where my cabin is?" she said icily, and Don Miguel again rang the bell.
"Show Miss Draycott to her cabin," he ordered as the steward entered. "The large one—next to mine."
The man grinned and led the way. And in the last glimpse she had of the two men, they were shaking with silent laughter.
She bolted the door, and sat down on the bed to try and get things straight in her mind. She was afraid, desperately afraid. And the more she thought about it, the more hopeless did it seem. Even if Jim gave them the map, what guarantee was there that they would be allowed to go? And he and Percy could do nothing with the numbers they had against them. Anyway as a last resource she had her revolver, and even as she comforted herself with that reflection she remembered that she had left her bag with it inside in the saloon.
She went back at once: the two men were sitting where she had left them. Her bag was still on the table, but the instant she picked it up she realised by the weight that the revolver was no longer inside. She looked at the Brazilian: he was balancing it in his hand.
"Give my revolver back to me," she cried furiously. "How dare you touch my bag."
"Just to see that no dangerous lethal weapons were being carried, my dear young lady," he grinned. "You've no idea what a lot of damage one of these little toys can do. Captain McIntyre was terribly nervous when he saw it."
"Sure," said the sailor with mock gravity. "I told the boss I wouldn't be able to sleep a wink if I knew anyone on board had a gun."
"You cowardly brutes."
She faced them defiantly, though in truth she felt very near tears.
"You wouldn't dare do a thing like that if Mr. Maitland was here."
"But since he isn't here the point does not arise, does it," said Don Miguel softly. "And since it is more than doubtful if he ever will be here the point will never arise either."
"What do you mean?" She stared at him with dilated eyes.
"I have my own methods of dealing with people who try to double cross me," remarked the Brazilian. "I warned Mr. Maitland in Rio, and he decided not to heed my warning. I fear he may regret it."
His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.
"Whereas you, my pretty one, will I trust have no cause to regret your visit to South America."
She fought down the sick fear that was gripping her.
"If you do anything to Mr. Maitland," she said, "you won't get the map."
"In which case our stay here is likely to be much more prolonged," he remarked. "But with you on board to comfort me I shall view the prospect with equanimity."
He rose suddenly and came towards her, and she cowered back. There was something so utterly repulsive about this swarthy looking brute that she felt almost hypnotised with loathing. And the next moment he had caught her in his arms.
"Jewels shall be yours, my pretty," he whispered thickly, "and money. You shall have all your desires granted."
His face was coming closer to hers, until, making a desperate effort, she broke away from him and fled like a wild thing to her cabin. And not till the door was bolted once more did she feel safe.
She sat down panting for breath. What was she going to do? It was only a temporary respite: sooner or later she would have to eat and drink. And that would mean meeting Miguel again. What, too, about Jim? They intended treachery: the Brazilian had admitted it himself. They would get the map by means of specious promises, and then knife him or something from behind.
A knock came on the door, and the steward enquired what she would like for dinner.
"Nothing," she cried, "nothing at all," and the man went away. Eating was a physical impossibility, but after a while she rose and gulped down some water from the carafe. It was luke warm but she felt better for it. And for a time she stood staring out of the porthole.
Nine o'clock: surely Jim should be there by now. But no sound broke the stillness of the night except a gramophone which was being played by some member of the crew. And as the hours went on her anxiety increased. Why didn't he come? Had some accident happened to him on the island which had prevented him?
The gramophone ceased: the yacht grew silent. Once her door handle was softly tried, and Don Miguel's voice came from the other side. But she did not answer him, and after a while he went away and she heard the door of the next cabin shut. And at length, still sitting in the chair she fell into an uneasy doze.
A sudden sound awakened her, and she sat up with a start. The moonlight was flooding her cabin, and for a moment or two she sat trembling in her chair. And then to her horror she saw a slowly widening crack in the partition wall of the cabin. A panel was sliding back, and it had been the click as it started that had aroused her.
She watched it with dilated eyes: on the other side of it was Don Miguel's cabin.