chapter forty-first
“I SAW THE SUN”
SILENCE.
That guttural, imperious voice had ceased.
“No lights—yet!” came harshly from Nayland Smith. “He has paid the debt. He won’t pay twice!”
And in that clammy darkness I stood waiting—and listening.
Sir Denis began speaking again, close to my ear, in a low voice.
“Where did you place him?”
“Almost directly opposite to where we stand—”
“But higher up?”
“Yes.”
“I agree. There’s some gallery there. We must move warily. I gather that you are a powerful swimmer?”
My heart sank. Keyed up though I was to the supreme object—escape, contemplation of plunging into that still, cavernous water appalled me.
“Fairly good—but I’m rather below par at the moment!”
“That is understood, Sterling. Only vital issues at stake could demand such an effort. As a matter of fact, I believe this pool to be no more than fifty or sixty yards from side to side. My own powers as a swimmer being limited, I trust I am right. I might manage once across!”
“What’s your plan, Sir Denis?”
“This: If we show ourselves again we may be shot down; but this we can test: I suggest that we place a light on the edge of the wharf, as a beacon, and that you slip quietly into the water. There’s a ladder near to where we stand. Getting your direction from the light, swim across.”
“I’m game. What next?”
“Find out if there is any way of climbing up.”
“In this utter darkness?”
“Palpably impossible! But you have probably swum across a river before now, carrying your valuables under your hat?”
“I have seen it done.”
“My rubber tobacco pouch, which is unusually large, will comfortably accommodate the automatic which I am now slipping into it, and also one of the Hash lamps....Pass yours to me.”
Silently, I groped in the blackness, found Sir Denis’s outstretched hand, and transferred my lamp to him.
“I am tying up the pouch in a silk handkerchief,” he murmured....“here we are—come nearer....”
As I moved cautiously forward, I felt his grasp on my shoulder; some of the man’s amazing vitality was imparted to me:
I warmed to the ordeal.
“Tie the loose ends under your chin,” he directed.
And as I endeavoured to the best of my ability to carry out his directions, he went on, speaking in a low voice but urgently:
“If you can get ashore, use the light to find a way up. Keep the gun in your other hand. If you can make no landing, swim back. Is it clear—and can you do it?”
“It’s clear. Sir Denis; and failing interference I think I can do it.”
“Good man! Now, grab my arm, and when I move back move with me!”
I felt him stoop...then suddenly a light sprang up at my feet!
“Back,” he muttered.
He drew me back three paces, and, watching, I saw the light move—it moved slowly towards us...became stationary...moved again!
“I tied a piece of string to it,” he murmured in my ear.
The silence, save for those low-spoken words, remained unbroken, until:
“No snipers!” rapped Sir Denis. “Dr. Fu Manchu retains his one noble heritage. His word is his bond. Get busy, now Sterling! I’ll place the light....”
Of that swim across the cavern I prefer not to think; therefore I shall not attempt to describe it. The temperature of the water was much lower than in the open sea.
At a point which I estimated to be not more than fifty yards from the wharf, I touched a rock bottom. I experimented, cautiously; found a foothold; and began to grope forward.
Shelves of rock met my questing fingers. I managed to scramble out of the water. Then, half sitting on a ledge, I unfastened my curious headdress and, gripping the tobacco pouch between my teeth, extracted the lamp. I continued to hold it so, the automatic still inside, while I directed a ray of light upward.
It was no easy climb, but I saw that there was a shelf of rock ten or twelve feet up. It sloped at an easy gradient to what looked like a small cave in the wall of the cavern.
I turned, looking back.
The faint beam of light from the lamp, gleaming on that still pool, pointed almost directly towards me.
I began to climb.
There were fewer difficulties than I had looked for. Without very great exertion, I gained the shelf and started for the gap in the rock. When I reached it, I hesitated for a moment. It was much higher and wider than I had thought it to be from below.
Taking the tobacco pouch from between my teeth, I grasped Nayland Smith’s automatic—and went forward.
I found myself in a rock passage not unlike that which we had negotiated on the other side of the pool, except that it was not boarded and that it sloped steeply downward.
Shining my light ahead, I followed this passage.
Its temperature was bitingly low for a naked man: but a tang of the sea came to my nostrils which drew me on.
The passage wound and twisted intricately, growing ever lower and narrower. I pushed on.
There was nothing to show that it was used: it looked like untouched handiwork of Nature; untravelled, undiscovered. The gradient grew so steep as to resemble a crude stair. I stumbled to the foot of it....
And I saw the sun rising over the Mediterranean!
I shouted, exultantly! I was a sun worshipper!
I stood in a tiny pebbled bay, locked in by huge cliffs. The sea lay before me, but neither to right nor to left could I obtain a glimpse of any coastline.
There was some hint of a path leading steeply upward on one side. I examined it closely. Yes! at
Five paces up, I found a burned match!
I turned back, running in my eagerness. And, in a fraction of the time taken by my outward journey, I found myself at the mouth of the passage, staring across the pool to where that feeble beacon beckoned.
“Sir Denis!” I cried, and waved my flashlight—”swim across!
chapter forty-second
THE RAID
I looked out across the sea, shimmering under a cloudless morning sky, then turned and stared at my companion. He was hatless, but his crisp grey hair in which were silver streaks was of that kind which defies rough usage and persistently remains well groomed.
His tanned skin, upon which in that keen light many little lines showed, and the fact that he was unshaven added to the gauntness of his features. He wore a grey flannel suit and rubber-soled shoes. The suit was terribly wrinkled, and his tie, which I had watched him knotting, was not strictly in place; but nevertheless I felt that Sir Denis Nayland Smith presented a better front to the world than I did at that moment.
In that keen profile I read something of the force which lies behind a successful career; and looking down at the dirty white overalls in which I was arrayed, a wave of admiration swept over me—admiration for the alert
