CHAPTER XXII
Sartoris sat in his chair without expressing any opinion or emotion ofany kind. There was just a faint suggestion of a smile on his face as ifhe were getting a little more pleasure than usual out of his cigarette.He glanced quite casually in the direction of the doorway, and he movedhis chair just a little. Then his left hand stole quietly to his side.
"The battle is not always to the strong," he said in quite a gentle toneof voice. "But since you will not give me your word, I must do withoutit. If you want to go, there is no reason why I should detain you anylonger. Good night, sir, and pleasant dreams to you."
Though the words were uttered in quite a simple fashion, there was aring about them that Berrington did not altogether like. He wanted toflatter himself that he had conquered this murderous ruffian by sheerforce of will, as he had done more than once with certain native tribesthat he had been sent out against.
But he could not think that he had any kind of right to the feeling.These people had really got the best of him, for they had spirited awaythat mysterious parcel, and what was more to the point, he had betrayedthe fact that he had a pretty good idea of what that parcel was. Why,then, was there this sudden change of front on the part of CarlSartoris? The thought was uppermost in Berrington's mind as he laid ahand on the door.
Then he reeled back as if struck by some stupendous unseen force. Agreat pain gripped him from head to foot, his brain seemed to be onfire. In vain he strove to release his hand on the door knob; it seemedwelded to the metal. From head to foot the shooting agony went on. Withhis teeth ripping his lower lip till the blood came, Berrington tried tofight down the yell of pain that filled his throat, but the effort wasbeyond human power. A long piteous wail of agony and entreaty came fromhim. It was only when the third or fourth cry was torn from him and hefelt the oppression of a hideous death, that the thing suddenly ceasedand Sartoris's gentle, mocking laughter took the place of the agony.
"You are not feeling very well," Sartoris called out. "If you are notaltogether in a state of physical collapse, will you kindly walk thisway. A little brandy will about fit the case."
Berrington was past protest and past flight, for the moment. He seemedto be sick to the soul. There came back to him the vivid recollection ofthe time when he had lain out in the jungle all night, with a bulletthrough his lungs, waiting wearily for death in the morning. He flunghimself exhaustedly into a chair and gasped for breath. Sartoris watchedhim as some cold-blooded scientist might have watched the flaying of alive animal.
"Your heart is not nearly so bad as you think," he said. "When thepressure goes from your lungs you will be much better. That is a littledodge of mine which is built upon a pretty full knowledge ofelectricity. Up to now I have not had an opportunity of giving it agood trial. Are you feeling any better?"
Berrington nodded. The colour was coming back to his cheeks now, thepainful feeling at his chest was abating. The brandy was going to theright place.
"You malignant little fiend," he gasped. "I should be doing the world aservice if I took you by the throat and squeezed the life out of you."
"Well, the remedy is in your hands, though I doubt whether or not ajudge and jury would take the same sanguine view of the case. But youare free to try if you like. I am only a mere miserable bag of bones,and you are a strong man. Get to work."
The cackling challenge passed unheeded. Actually there was somethingabout the strange little man to be afraid of. He took up the thread ofconversation again.
"You will find that every exit is guarded in the same way," he said. "Ihave only to set the whole machinery in motion and you are powerless.You are in my hands. If you had touched me when I asked you just now,you would have been dead at my feet. But strange as it may seem, I havea heart hidden in this crooked little body of mine somewhere. I was notalways bad, as you know. There was a time when I was another man."
"Never," Berrington said dispassionately. "The seeds of evil were alwaysthere."
"Well, let that pass, if you like. A bad man and a bad woman and adreadful accident have reduced me to what you see. What took place hereto-night is beside the mark. The fact remains that you know too much.You stand between us and a scheme that I have been plotting for years.Whether that scheme is connected with Sir Charles Darryll mattersnothing. The great point, as I said before, is that you know too much.What are you going to do?"
"Wait my chance and publish my knowledge to the world," Berringtoncried.
"And lose Mary for ever? Oh, I know that you are still in love with her,I know that you will never be happy till she is your wife. But you seemto lose sight of the fact that she is strongly attached to me. And ifharm comes to me through you, Mary will never become Mrs. Berrington.She will love you and leave you as they do in the stories."
"You cannot detain me here for any length of time," Berrington saidcoldly.
"I can keep you here till I have finished my campaign," Sartorisreplied. "I could murder you, and nobody be any the wiser."
Berrington thought of Field, and smiled. Hitherto he had not trieddiplomacy. His contempt and hatred for this man, his knowledge of hisown strength and courage, had sufficed for the present. Now it seemedtime to resort to strategy.
"You are quite correct, so far," he said. "I know much, I know a greatdeal more than you imagine. But in taking the risks I took to-night Idid not do so blindly. I had my own reasons for attending to the workprivately. But I recognized my danger and the man I had to deal with.So, indeed, I would proceed to make my retreat safe. Did you ever hearof sealed orders?"
"Naturally I have. But what have they to do with the present case?"
"Everything. When an admiral detaches a part of his fleet in war time,he sends the detached part away with sealed orders which are to beopened under certain circumstances. If those said circumstances do notarise, then the sealed orders are destroyed. As I do not desire mysecond in command to know too much, I gave him sealed orders. If I donot return by a certain time, those orders are to be opened. I shouldsay that they are being opened about now. You understand me?"
Sartoris nodded; it was quite clear that he understood perfectly well.But his dry little face did not change in the slightest.
"That was clever," he said; "but not quite clever enough. I should havegone a little further if I had been in your position. What you saymerely induces me to get rid of you altogether. But let us go into myroom and discuss the matter quietly. Kindly turn my chair around, no,not that way. Grip the handle at the back and push me----"
Berrington heard no more. As his hands came in contact with the brassrail at the back of the chair there came a tremendous blow at the baseof the brain, a cold feeling of sudden death, and the crisis was past.When Berrington came to himself again he was lying on a bed in a smallroom; there was a lamp on a table by his side. He had no feelingwhatever that he had suffered from violence of any kind, his head wasclear and bright, his limbs felt as elastic and virile as ever. He waslike a man who had suddenly awakened from a long sleep; he was just asfresh and vigorous. The bed on which he was lying completed theillusion.
"What new devil's work is this?" Berrington muttered. "Oh, I recollect."
The room was small but comfortably furnished. There was a fire readylaid in the grate; on the ceiling was a three-branch electrolier, butthe switch by the door had been removed for some reason or other.
On the table by the bed was a very liberal supper, flanked by a decanterof whisky and a syphon of soda water, also a box of cigarettes andanother of cigars. A silver match-box invited the prisoner to smoke. Hetook a cigarette.
Clearly he was a prisoner. The window was shuttered with iron, and asmall round ventilator; high up, inside the door, was another sheet ofiron. There was perhaps a little consolation in the fact that nopersonal violence was intended. For a long time Berrington reviewed thesituation. At any rate he could see no way out of the mess for thepresent. He smoked his cigarette and ate his supper, and that beingdone, a feeling of fatigue stole over
him. Looking at his watch, he sawthat it was past one o'clock in the morning, a very late hour for him.
"I'll go to bed," Berrington told himself. "Perhaps I shall be able tosee a way out in the morning. On the whole my diplomacy does not seem tohave been a success. It would have been much better if I had not hintedthat I had taken somebody else into my confidence."
Despite his danger Berrington slept soundly. Bright sunshine was pouringinto the room through the little porthole in the iron shutter as he cameto himself. By his side was a cold breakfast, with a spirit lamp for thepurpose of making coffee. Berrington had hardly finished and applied amatch to a cigarette before he was startled by the scream of a whistle.Looking around to see whence the sound came, his eyes fell upon aspeaking tube. His heart gave a great leap as it occurred to theprisoner that perhaps Mary Sartoris was calling him. He crossed over andpulled out the whistle at his end and answered promptly.
"Glad to hear that you have had a good night's rest," came the dry voiceof Sartoris. "The bed is comfortable, the sheets well aired, and I canvouch for the quality of the cigars. By the way, as I have seen nothingof your confederate I am confirmed in my previous judgment that you weretrying to bluff me. Is not that so?"
Berrington said nothing, silence giving consent. On the whole itoccurred to him it would be far better to let Sartoris conclude that hewas alone in the business.
"Very good," the dry voice went on; "you are like the curly-headed boyin the song who never--or hardly ever--told a lie. Now there is onelittle thing that I am going to ask you to do. And if you refuse I shallbe under the painful necessity of causing you a great deal of physicalsuffering. On the table by the side of your bed you will find writingpaper, pen and ink. You will be so good as to write a letter to MissBeatrice Darryll or to Mrs. Richford--whatever you prefer to styleher--asking her to call upon you at the address which is stamped on thehead of the paper. You are to tell Miss Darryll that she is not to sayanything to anybody about the visit--that she is to come at ten o'clockto-night or later. Tell her also that she is to bring the little bunchof keys that she will find in her father's dressing-case. You may takeit from me that no harm whatever is intended to the young lady. Whenthe letter is finished you will be so good as to push it under the doorof your room."
"It is an excellent programme for you," Berrington said drily. "There isonly one flaw in the little arrangement that I can see--I decline to doanything of the kind. You may do whatever you like and treat me in anyway you please, but I shall decline to write that letter. And you maywhistle up the tube all day, so far as I am concerned."
An oath came up the tube, then the voice of Sartoris, as if talking tosomebody else. The whistle was clapped on, but almost immediately it wasremoved and another voice whispered the name of Berrington. His heartgave a great leap. Mary was speaking.
"For heaven's sake, write that letter," came the agonized whisper. "Ipledge you my word----"
The voice stopped and the whistle was clapped into the tube again.
The Slave of Silence Page 22
