The Pagan Madonna - Page 46/141

"That's foolish," he remonstrated.

"Of course it is. But it's the sort of foolishness I've been aching for

all my life. I knew something was going to happen. I broke my hand mirror

night before last. Two times seven years' bad luck. Now he has me, I'll

wager he's half frightened out of his wits. But what made you think of the

yacht?"

"We forced the door of your room, and I found the note. Has he told you

what makes those infernal beads so precious?"

"No. I can't figure that out."

"No more can I. Did he threaten you?"

"Yes. Would I enter the launch peacefully, or would he have to carry me? I

didn't want my gown spoiled--it's the only decent one I have. I'm not

afraid. It isn't as though he were a stranger. Being your father, he would

never stoop to any indignity. But he'll find he has caught a tartar. I

had an idea you'd find me."

"Well, I have. But you won't get to Hong-Kong. The minute he liberates me

I'll sneak into the wireless room and bring the destroyers. I didn't

notify the police from a bit of foolish sentiment. I didn't quite want you

mixed up in the story. I had your things conveyed to the consulate."

"My story--which few men would believe. I've thought of that. Are you

smoking?"

"Smoking, with my hands tied behind my back? Not so you'd notice it."

"I smell tobacco smoke--a good cigar, too."

"Then someone is in the passage listening."

Silence. Anthony Cleigh eyed his perfecto rather ruefully and tiptoed back

to the salon. Hoist by his own petard. He was beginning to wonder. Cleigh

was a man who rarely regretted an act, but in the clear light of day he

was beginning to have his doubts regarding this one. A mere feather on the

wrong side of the scale, and the British destroyers would be atop of him

like a flock of kites. Abduction! Cut down to bedrock, he had laid himself

open to that. He ran his fingers through his cowlicks. But drat the woman!

why had she accepted the situation so docilely? Since midnight not a sound

out of her, not a wail, not a sob. Now he had her, he couldn't let her

go. She was right there.

There was one man in the crew Cleigh had begun to dislike intensely, and

he had been manoeuvring ever since Honolulu to find a legitimate excuse to

give the man his papers. Something about the fellow suggested covert

insolence; he had the air of a beachcomber who had unexpectedly fallen

into a soft berth, and it had gone to his head. He had been standing watch

at the ladder head, and against positive orders he had permitted a visitor

to pass him. To Cleigh this was the handle he had been hunting for. He

summoned the man.