And Manon had the means to poison at hand. The sweat broke out on Gregory’s forehead as he remembered the ring she always wore the so-called Borgia ring the secret of which she had revealed to him in Rio. In his mind’s eye he could see her again now, sitting on the side of his bed and showing how, if pressed, a hidden spring caused the big amethyst to slide back, revealing a hollow in which there lay a cyanide of potassium pellet.
The first grey light preceding dawn had begun to lighten the scene while the fracas on the yacht was in progress. By the time Gregory was halfway to the harbour the light had increased perceptibly. Suddenly he noticed a movement in the fore part of the boat. Peering forward, he saw Lacost struggle up into a sitting position. Evidently his thick yellow hair had prevented his being put out for more than ten or twelve minutes after the blow on the head James had given him with his pistol. He was now coming round.
Gregory gave vent to the unprintable Italian oath which he used only on very rare occasions. This was hell’s own luck. At the speed the boat was going he dared not leave the wheel, even for a minute, in order to knock Lacost out again. He could only pray to all his gods that the big Frenchman would not be sufficiently recovered to attack him before they reached harbour.
While the boat roared on, bumping abruptly as it lifted over small waves, Gregory kept a wary eye on his dangerous passenger. Another five minutes passed, and he had good reason to believe that his worst fears were to be realised. Lacost lurched to his feet and, swaying slightly, stood staring at him across the cabin roof.
His anxiety on account of the Witch was now replaced by a more immediate one. What was he to do if Lacost did rush him? The automatic he had brought, anticipating that he would take part in the capture of the yacht, was in the cabin with his clothes. A swift glance round had shown him that no weapon, such as an iron bar or a marlin-spike, with which he could defend himself, was in sight. Worst handicap of all for any man in a fight, he was still stark naked.
Lacost took a shuffling step towards him. Gregory knew now that he stood no chance of rounding the mole and bringing the boat alongside the wharf, where he could have shouted for help, before the murderous Colon would be upon him. Again his thoughts flashed for a second to what might be taking place up at the Royal bure, and the urgency of getting there. But he knew that his best chance of overcoming Lacost lay in tackling him before he had recovered the full use of his wits. With agonised reluctance he pulled the boat’s gear lever over, bringing her down to half-speed.
At that moment Lacost stopped to pick up something from the deck. Gregory’s heart missed a beat, for he felt certain that his enemy had found a weapon; but as Lacost came upright again he was holding two sheets of paper. He had stumbled on the licence to salvage the treasure and its transfer to himself which James had signed while Gregory was fouling the propellers of the yacht.
Gregory swore beneath his breath. Should Lacost succeed in overcoming him that would now mean a double defeat. Not only would the Frenchman be able to get away in the motor cruiser to some other island, but, if he was ever caught, the possession of those documents could enable him to plead justification for having fired on the gendarmes.
Lacost pushed the papers into his jacket pocket and moved a step nearer. ‘It is now or never,’ Gregory decided. ‘He is just near enough for me to jump him.’ Stretching out a hand, he switched off the engine.
Guessing his intention, Lacost stepped quickly back, at the same time thrusting a hand into his trouser pocket. Next moment he had withdrawn it, holding a jack-knife. With a swift movement he flicked it open. By now there was light enough for Gregory to see his face clearly. Under his long moustache his slightly protruding teeth showed in a sardonic smile.
Although Gregory had been tensed to spring, his enemy’s quick retreat had given him pause. The flash of the knife had deterred him altogether. Naked as he was, he knew that it would now be suicidal to attack Lacost unarmed.
For the first time the Frenchman spoke. ‘Fate has favoured me, after all, Monsieur Sallust. It is you who have been the ruin of my enterprise. Temporarily at least I have lost the treasure; although later, now that I have the necessary documents, I may yet appoint nominees to put in for me a legal claim to it. But at least I’ll have the satisfaction of settling with you. When we met in Guatemala I recall you said that, should occasion arise, you would take pleasure in throwing me to the sharks. Now it is I who will throw you to the sharks. The smell of the blood that will flow after I’ve stuck my knife in your stomach will bring them racing to you.’
As he ceased speaking he made a sudden rush at Gregory. Abandoning the wheel of the now slowly-rocking boat, Gregory dodged to the port side of the cabin roof. Lacost followed, hurling blasphemies at him. Three times they sped round the roof. The tall Frenchman had the longer stride, but Gregory the greater agility and, being barefooted, a firmer purchase on the deck. The chase ended with them on either side of the low roof, panting for breath and glaring at each other.
Suddenly Lacost sprung on to the roof. A wave caused the boat to tilt a little. He staggered, but regained his balance, For a moment he stood there, huge and menacing, a towering bulky figure outlined against the pale light of the predawn sky. Then, his boots thudding on the cabin roof, in three strides he was across it.
The movement was so sudden that Gregory had no chance to jump aside and, had he turned, Lacost would have knifed him in the back. Lowering his head, he threw himself forward and butted the Frenchman in the stomach. Lacost gave a choking gasp and somersaulted over Gregory’s shoulders, but the impact of his heavy body brought them both crashing to the deck.
Winded and retching, Lacost doubled up; but he still grasped the jack-knife. Gregory struck the wrist above it a savage blow with the hard edge of his right hand. The knife tinkled against a grating and slithered away. Clutching wildly at one another, they rolled across the deck.
They brought up against the stern seat, Lacost on top. Pressed down by the Frenchman’s weight, Gregory could not wriggle from underneath him. Making a great effort, he kneed him in the groin. Lacost gave a groan, but there was not sufficient force behind the stroke to disable him. A moment later he had his hands round Gregory’s throat. In vain Gregory tried to break the hold. His chest felt as though an iron band were being screwed tight about it. There came a singing in his ears. Making the first and second fingers of his right hand rigid, he jabbed desperately with them at the Frenchman’s eyes. One finger went home. Lacost gave a scream of pain. Letting go of Gregory’s throat, he rolled off him.
Gregory staggered to his feet. Lacost lurched to his and, although half-blinded, came at him again. Seizing Gregory round the waist in a bear-like hug, he lifted him from his feet and strove to throw him overboard. Being much the weaker, Gregory knew that he was now at his enemy’s mercy. It could be only a matter of minutes before his breath would be squeezed out of his body.
Suddenly there came to him a way in which he might possibly save himself. When the fight had started, the last two long strands of wire which were left because he had not had the time to make the net fouling the port propeller more secure had still been looped round his neck with the ends hanging down his back. During his wrestle with Lacost on the deck one of them had fallen off; but as he clung to his enemy, clutching his shoulders and with their faces pressed together, he could feel the bite of the remaining wire now under his chin.
Releasing his hold on his antagonist with one hand at a time while continuing to cling to him with the other, he felt down over his shoulder until his fingers had found the wire. In turn, he pulled the ends of the wire up and jerked them forward so that they were hanging down behind Lacost’s back instead of his own. Letting go of his enemy for a moment, but still clasped round the waist by him, he got his hands behind his neck, crossed the long ends of wire and pulled them together.
Suddenly Lacost realised what was happening and made frantic efforts to thrust Gregory from him. But, with his legs now round the Frenchman’s w
aist and his hands behind his head, Gregory succeeded in clinging to him. As the garotte tightened, Lacost gasped. His eyes started to bulge. Ceasing his attempts to throw Gregory overboard, he staggered round, lurched forward and attempted to crush him against the cabin roof. But he could no longer draw breath. The strength was seeping from his great limbs. Gregory gave a savage jerk on the two ends of the wire, so that their loop cut into Lacost’s throat, then twisted them over one another. He began to make a horrible gurgling noise. Only seconds later his grasp of Gregory relaxed. His arms fell to his sides, he heeled over and slumped on to the deck, bringing Gregory down with him.
Gregory was underneath, his muscles aching intolerably and sobbing for breath. It was minutes before he had regained sufficient strength to push Lacost off and stagger to his feet. In the dawn light the Frenchman’s face was going purple. Gregory did not want him to die there, but to stand trial for his crimes and go to the guillotine. As he could always tighten the garotte again before Lacost was in any condition to renew the fight, he eased it a little; just enough for the Frenchman to draw painful breaths.
The struggle had ended near the stern of the boat. As Gregory moved to switch on the engine, his glance fell on the other length of wire. Picking it up, he used it to secure Lacost’s hands behind his back. Then he eased the garotte a little more and firmly tied the ends of the wire that formed it to a cleat. Without the use of his hands Lacost could not free himself from the garotte, and should he attempt to get to his feet it would strangle him.
Within another two minutes the fact that he had so recently been fighting for his life had passed from Gregory’s mind. As the boat again surged through the water, now not far from the extremity of the mole, his mind had once more become obsessed by the question of what Manon had done, or might do, to the Witch, up in the Royal bure.
Rounding the mole he brought the boat alongside the wharf and hastily tied her up. Lacost, blood seeping from his neck where the wire had cut into it, lay unmoving. The only people about were a few early-rising longshoremen and none of them was near; but if he could manage to shout for help, that might bring one of them to the boat. Anyone finding him would be sure to fall for a story that he had been set upon by robbers, and would release him. To prevent such a happening, greatly as Gregory grudged the time, he spent a few minutes taking precautions against it.
While retrieving the papers from Lacost’s pocket, he found a handkerchief in it and used that to gag him. Then, lest the gag in addition to the wire should cause him, after all, to die from suffocation, he again eased the wire until it was quite loose, but would still tighten if Lacost tried to sit up. Lastly, to conceal him from any passer-by, Gregory flung over him a tarpaulin that was normally used to cover the stern end of the boat when she was not in use.
Satisfied that the unscrupulous brute who had brought death and pain to many people would, in due course, meet his just deserts, Gregory dived into the cabin, remained there only to put on his trousers and shoes, scrambled ashore and set off at a run through the town.
Even had he been forty years younger he could not have run the whole way from the harbour up the long slope to the bure but, at a quick walk for most of the way, with bursts of running now and then, he flogged himself into the utmost speed he could manage.
When he reached the bure his breath was coming in sobs and the sweat was streaming down his naked torso. As he burst into the big room Manon, who was standing at one end of it, gave a cry of fright. In his haggard state, for a moment she had failed to recognise him. When she did, she exclaimed:
‘Gregory! Whatever has happened? You look absolutely ghastly. And why are you only half-dressed?’
For a full minute he stood there panting as he stared at her. Then, still fighting to get back his wind, he wheezed out. ‘The Witch? Is … is she all right? Where … is she?’
‘She’s better,’ Manon replied. ‘I gave her the mustard and hot water, as you said, and she was sick. After a while she came round. That is, not enough to talk; but she began to moan and move her limbs feebly. So I put her to bed in our room.’
‘Thank God!’ Gregory murmured. ‘Oh, thank God!’
Manon gave him a puzzled look and said, ‘You seem to have worked yourself up into a frightful state. Why are you so concerned about her.’
‘Because …’ Gregory replied slowly. ‘Because she is rather a special person.’
‘D’you mean you still need her help to induce the natives to fight? I thought you’d found her out to be a fraud only a sort of puppet, used by Roboumo to scare people with threats that she would curse them. But I suppose the natives are not yet aware of that; so now she is on our side, when she is well enough, she would be willing to frighten them into fighting the Colons for you.’
‘No; it’s not that.’ Gregory shook his head. ‘The fighting is over and the Colons are finished. James and his men captured the Boa Viagem three-quarters of an hour ago. Olinda is safe and I’ve got Lacost down at the harbour. He did his damnedest to kill me, but I half killed him and left him trussed up like a chicken.’
Manon was silent for a moment. Then she smiled. ‘So at last this terrible business is over. What a wonderful relief. I’ve been so worried that you would get yourself killed, darling; then all my dreams would have been shattered and I’d be miserable ever after.’
‘What dreams?’ he asked, looking at her curiously.
‘Why, that you would make an honest woman of me. We are already living here as man and wife, and you know how I adore you. If you have ever doubted that, I proved it last night. I took a great risk in leaving that note for you saying I felt sure that Lacost would not harm me. He very well might have, but I preferred to chance it rather than let you risk your life by going on board the Pigalle.’
Gregory had noticed that on a small table beside Manon there was a bottle of champagne and two glasses, one of which was full of wine. Walking forward he gave a twisted smile and said:
‘I suppose you thought that if I got the better of Lacost my triumphant return would be just the moment to ask me to become engaged to you; and you raided James’s cellar for this bottle, with a view to celebrating.’ As he spoke, he stretched out a hand to take the full glass of wine.
‘No! … No!’ Her eyes widened and she quickly pushed his hand aside. ‘I hadn’t counted my chickens that far. I got up and opened this bottle only for medicinal purposes. But don’t take that glass. Fill the other, and I’ll get another for myself.’
‘What’s wrong with the full one? he asked, eyeing her intently.
Manon shrugged. ‘As I’ve told you, I fetched it from James’ cellar only to serve as a medicine; although I’ll admit I meant to have a glass myself. I was just about to take the full one to the Witch and leave it by her bedside, so that when she rouses and becomes fully conscious she’ll drink it. I’ve put a couple of sleeping pills in it and sleep is what the poor woman needs.’
Taking a step forward, Gregory seized Manon’s wrist. The thumb and first finger of his other hand closed upon the big Borgia ring. He pressed the secret spring. The jewel slid back. The cavity that it normally concealed was empty.
Giving a scream of rage and fear, she wrenched her arm away from him.
He was smiling. But it was so grim a smile that it filled her with terror. His voice was hard, cold, scathing, as he lashed her with his tongue.
‘Murderess! Liar! Whore! Did you think you could fool a man like me indefinitely? I’ve been on to you for a long time. But you are a gay companion and marvellous to go to bed with. So, cynic that I am, I decided to let you continue to play your treacherous game. I got quite a lot of fun out of watching you at it and speculating how you would manage to wriggle out of tight corners.’
With a harsh laugh, he went on, ‘I learned that Pierre Lacost was your lover months ago—back in Antigua. You will recall that, on our first night there, he paid me a midnight visit. The following night I decided to pay him one, in order to find out a bit more about him.
When I reached the door of his room I could hear that he had a woman with him. I felt that it might prove useful to find out who she was, so I concealed myself nearby and waited very patiently. I was well rewarded, for it was you who came out of his room.’
The blood had drained from Manon’s cheeks. In a hoarse voice she whispered, ‘I admit that I knew him. But … but …’
Ignoring her, Gregory went on, ‘After I had given the matter a little thought the pieces began to fall into place. The old Macumba priest had said that you were about to take on a new lover. Myself, of course. He also said that you had one already, with whom you were involved in a financial venture. Him I discovered while in Antigua to be Lacost. Far from making a secret of it, he informed me of his intention to salvage the gold from the Reina Maria Amalia and threatened me with dire consequences should I attempt to contend with him in that venture.
‘Nothing could have rung a louder bell for me, as far as you were concerned. The same threat aimed at freezing out competition over the same major project had been made to de Carvalho—and by a woman. His description of the woman who had threatened him was somewhat vague, but not too vague to fit you. And, seeing that you had no friends in Rio, nor the money to travel so far from Fiji only for a holiday, what reason could there have been for your going there other than as a partner of Lacost’s, to protect the interests you had in common?’
‘It’s not true! It’s not true!’ Manon protested.
‘Had I needed further confirmation of my theory, you gave it to me yourself,’ Gregory retorted. ‘You did your damnedest to convince me that the treasure was not worth going after and, time and again, endeavoured to persuade me to accompany you instead to your island and remain there with you, lotus-eating.
The White Witch of the South Seas Page 40
