CHAPTER VI
An eye, red like the play of fire about a distant volcano crater,glowed a number of paces in front of him. But not a candle, of thedozens that had been burning when he last went out of this room, wasnow lighted.
The scarlet glow he took to be the illumination under the altar ofBuddha. He heard a long sigh, a vague murmur of voices.
"Light the candles," he ordered angrily.
"What is the matter?" This was Anthony's voice; it sounded very drowsy.
A tiny flame appeared as if suspended by an unseen cord and moved tothe candle rail. One wick glowed; another; then another.
"Moore--Moore----" This was again the sleepy voice of Anthony.
A garish, gray figure arose and stumbled into the candle-light. It wasAnthony. His eyes were half shut. He seemed desperately sleepy, andgibbering as if in a dream.
Peter turned savagely upon the girl. She seemed to cower away fromhim, half lifting her hands as though in fear that he would strike her.
"Romola! Damn you----"
"Peter, I--I----" Her faint voice trickled off into a sigh of anguish.
"Drugs?" he demanded.
She shook her head anxiously.
"No, no. I--I----"
"What have you done to these people? What have you----"
She lifted up her head imperiously. "You are forgetting----" she began.
He had the fingers of her left hand between his, crushing them. Shedropped her head. Her fine lips were quivering. "What am Iforgetting?"
Anthony had grasped his elbow. "It's not right, Moore; not right totalk to the princess like this. She's really noble. She's fine!"
"You're drunk, Anthony!"
"No, no, no," he babbled. "Sleepy; that's all. Oh, that wine!Perfectly fine! Makes you feel like climbing a moonbeam!"
"So it appears. Where are the girls?"
"Over here. Say--say, Moore, when does the fight start? I--I'm justitching to get at somebody!"
"You'll have your chance in a moment. And it isn't in fun.Understand?"
"Of course I understand! Isn't my gun loaded with bullets? Are we ina trap?"
"We are! And according to my calculations there's exactly one way out.I think you and the girls will have no difficulty in breaking through.Make a dash for it. Run for all you're worth!"
"Hold on there," remonstrated Anthony, as his eyes lost a trifle oftheir sleepy look. "What's to become of you? Going to make a breakfor it, too?"
Peter shook his head. "It's me they're after. I can look out formyself, Anthony; this business isn't quite a novelty in my line. Youmust get out--and get quick!"
"And leave you behind? Not Anthony! I stick!"
Anthony was flashing a length of highly polished gunmetal in his fist.
Romola with a trembling hand was applying a taper to the other candles.Peter, observing that the twins were, to all appearances, sound asleep,approached her.
She paused in her work, holding the taper above her head, so that itsgaunt rays flickered on his face. "Because you loved me so?"
Her shoulders drooped, and her head rolled backward slightly, as thoughshe were very tired. She nipped her lower lip between pearl-whiteteeth.
"Because I love you so?" she repeated dully.
"In some respects," he said bitterly, "you are like a certain snake inIndia. You can't lock those damned snakes up! They can always find atiny hole, a slit in the cage, and--out they slip!"
"Ah, Peter----" Romola dropped the taper to the bronze altar, where itflickered a moment and went out. She fondled his reluctant handbetween cold fingers. Her face became utterly miserable, and therewere sparkling tears in her eyes. "My heart is your heart. I havegiven my love to you. I would give my life for you!"
He drew away from her slowly, turning his head to avoid the anguish inher eyes.
He went on briskly: "If my death is arranged for to-night----"
He stopped to watch her. She was fumbling at her waist. A littlesilver of light appeared. The thing was a slim stiletto. Her teethwere clicking as she extended the handle toward him. Their eyes met.In hers was shining a brute command. In his slowly came shock,amazement. She placed her fingers slowly over her heart; her handslipped down and fell again at her side.
"There!" she murmured.
"Is--is my end so close?" he whispered.
She nodded slowly. "You are in great danger. This may be your finalopportunity. See? I am offering no resistance. Why--why do youhesitate?"
With the tiny blade lying like a flame of pure silver across the palmof his hand, Peter experienced a moment troubled and exceedinglyawkward. That threat, perhaps, was hardly more than the spilling outof bitterness which she had created in him.
In silence he handed the thing back to her almost furtively; and sheaccepted it without removing her shining gaze from his. Somehow sheseemed to have come out victorious in a conflict that had had nothingto do with knives, with broken promises. And with the restoration ofthe dagger the spell seemed to be swept aside.
Turning abruptly, with a slight straightening of his shoulders, hewalked away from her.
Anthony was like a guardian angel, a statue gravely symbolic ofprotection, standing over the golden heads, with the revolver danglingfrom his hand and shooting out metallic gleams. Their eyes weretightly closed; the twins were sleeping as if drugged.
They heard a low, hushed scream.
"Peter--_ni kan_!"
Peter turned quickly, searching both entrances. At first he wasconscious of no intrusion. Then a yellow face, long, narrow, with astub of purple-black hair protruding behind, and which for a moment hetook to be a part of the curtain, slowly withdrew, arisingupward--vanishing!
The phantom was not unlike the wisps of yellow smoke from a green-woodfire, despatched by a lazy dawn wind. The face of Jen, the decksteward!
Peter the Brazen: A Mystery Story of Modern China Page 42
