The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories. Sapper
last they came to a decision, and the leader gave a gruff roar which was evidently an order. It was answered from the other side of the smoke, and the prisoners heard the sounds of hurried movements which quickly died away in the distance.
"Some of the brutes have gone to investigate," muttered Bill to the girl. "I wonder what is going to happen now?"
But what he wondered far more, though he did not say so, was how Jim, assuming it was him, was going to get from the yacht in time to be of any help. The sacrifice that had already taken place had not been a long affair.
"Bill, they're coming nearer."
The girl clutched his hand terrified, as the three torch bearers advanced into the centre of the circle of prisoners, their faces looking, if possible, more incredibly evil in the flickering yellow light. And then they knelt down in a row and remained motionless, their gleaming eyes fixed on the entrance of the tunnel. Something was coming along the passage towards them.
Fascinated in spite of their terror the captives stared into the darkness. What new horror was going to reveal itself? At last they saw it, dimly outlined in the smoke, moving slowly forward a step at a time. It was another of the monsters and it was carrying something in its arms. Foot by foot it advanced, and then bending forward it deposited its burden on the floor, so that the light of the torches shone on it clearly. And even Bill Blackett gasped in amazement: the burden was nothing less than the blind dwarf.
"Merciful Heavens! miss," he whispered, "they're worshipping him. They think he's some sort of god."
Over and over again the three torch bearers prostrated themselves so that their foreheads touched the ground, whilst from the darkness behind there commenced a deep chanting noise which grew in volume till they were almost deafened. Then, abruptly, it ceased: the three torch bearers straightened up: silence reigned. The only sign of movement came from the dwarf whose head was turning from side to side in a frenzy of fear.
Suddenly one of the monsters began what seemed to be an address. Sounds which were clearly meant to be words were strung together in sentences; and, whenever he paused, his companions, unseen in the smoke, answered with grunts of approval.
To Bill the whole thing was complete gibberish: he could make neither head nor tail of what the brute was saying. Once or twice he caught a word that seemed to have a Spanish ring about it, but except for that it was merely a jumble of meaningless sounds, which, coupled with the stifling fumes from the torches tended to make him half conscious. He still held Judy's hand in his, and he knew by the pressure of her head on his shoulder and her heavy breathing that it was affecting her in the same way. All the better, he reflected stupidly: pray heaven she remained in that condition till Jim Maitland came—if he ever did.
And then suddenly one of the sailors opposite burst into a wild torrent of Brazilian, to which Bill forced himself to listen. He only got the bare gist of it, but that was sufficient to make his mouth go dry, and tighten the grip of his arm round the girl's waist. Sacrifice—he'd guessed that already, but he had hoped for time. Now from what this man was screaming out, it was to be at once, unless... He listened intently: then he too began to shout.
"Shut up, you lily-livered swine," he roared furiously. "By God! if I could get at you I'd cut your throat."
The monsters had ceased as if surprised at this unexpected interruption, and Bill scrambled to his feet.
"Hi! you blind man," he cried, "I don't know your name, but you listen to me."
The dwarf turned his agonised face in Bill's direction.
"These things that have got us think you're a god. Do you get me? What you say goes. It's up to you to decide what is going to happen. Now there's a lady here—just a young slip of a girl. And somebody has got to be sacrificed to you. At once. Now we've got to gain time, do you see. There's a chance of our being rescued. And according to that spawn of Satan opposite what these monsters have been saying is that it's either got to be Miss Draycott or six of us. Now I'll be one of the six, but as there's a God above unless you say that you wish her spared, I'll get at you and kill you."
"How can I say anything," quavered the dwarf, "I don't know how to speak to them."
"Leave it to me," howled the Brazilian sailor in broken English. "I tell all right. I make understand. Why six of us—for one girl—you damned Englishman."
And then breaking into Brazilian, a torrent of words came pouring from his mouth to which Bill could only listen impotently. The three torch bearers had turned their heads and were looking at him: the one that had carried in the dwarf seemed to be listening also.
Suddenly Judy clutched Bill's arm.
"Listen," she whispered tensely. "Didn't you hear something?"
"Nothing except that damned dago," he answered. "What was it, miss?"
"There: there: again." She was shaking with excitement. "Bill: it was a voice: it was Jim's voice."
"Steady on, miss. Mr. Maitland can't have got here from the yacht yet."
"I don't care: it was his voice. Oh! Listen, Bill: listen."
The sailor craned his ears, and at that moment there came a momentary pause from the sailor opposite. And in that pause, quite distinctly from somewhere above their heads, there came a low voice:
"Worship the dwarf."
And the voice was the voice of Jim Maitland. Apparently the others had not heard it, and Bill turned to the girl, by this time as excited as she was.
"You're right, miss," he muttered. "It's Mr. Maitland. Come on: let's do what he says."
The Brazilian was off again, as Bill, taking Judy by the hand advanced into the circle of light. And then with the utmost solemnity they prostrated themselves on the ground in front of Dresler. The sailor, surprised by this new development ceased talking: the monsters watched in silence. And the dwarf, sensing that something strange was happening called out in a terrified voice.
"What is it!" he cried. "Tell me for God's sake. I'm going mad."
"Keep it going, miss," muttered Bill. "It's our only hope. Good Lord! what's happening now."
There had come a sudden stir amongst the ape-men, and out of the corner of his eye Bill saw that a beam of light was flickering round the walls. They jibbered and chattered to themselves as they watched it: then with one accord they threw themselves on their faces. It was a message from their god. At times it shone on the clouds of smoke: then finding an opening it would pierce through them and light up one of the beast faces. But always it moved on until at length it rested on the sailor who had begun speaking again. And there it remained motionless, till his voice died away and he stood there staring upwards stupidly.
There came a triumphant shout from one of the monsters, and the three torch bearers sprang on the Brazilian who screamed like a wounded hare. The one who had carried Dresler in seized the dwarf and pulled him up, and a few seconds later all the ape-men had gone. So had the Brazilian sailor. The prisoners were alone again in the darkness, with only the reeking fumes left by the torches to remind them of the incredible scene they had just witnessed.
But to Judy everything was different: Jim was there. How he had reached them: what he was going to do next: how he had done what he had done she did not stop to ask. The mere fact that he was on the spot was good enough for her: somehow or other he was going to save them.
Suddenly she realised Bill was speaking.
"I can't make it out, miss," he was saying. "There must be a hole in the roof somewhere through which he shone an electric torch. And then he worked on the superstitions of these things. But how did he get here: how did he know where we were? And how is he going to escape them now?"
From above was coming a repetition of the sounds of the former sacrifice: the Brazilian sailor was following in the steps of the Englishman. And Judy covered her ears with her hands in her endeavour not to hear the poor wretch's screams of terror. At last they ceased: the second victim had paid the penalty,