and a panel behind Digby’s head splintered into a thousand pieces.
He glared at the revolver in the Brazilian’s hand, unable to realize what had happened.
“I could have shot you just as easily,” said the Brazilian calmly, “but I preferred to send the little bullet near your ear. Will you come on deck, please?”
Digby Groat obeyed.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
WHITE and breathless he leant against the bulwark glowering at the Brazilian, who had come between him and the woman whose rum he had planned.
“Now,” he said, “you will tell me what you mean by this, you swine!”
“I will tell you many things that you will not like to hear,” said the captain.
A light dawned upon Digby.
“Did you give the girl that revolver?”
The Brazilian nodded.
“I desired to save you from yourself, my friend,” he said. “In an hour the gentleman Steele will be within sight of us; I can tell where he is within a few miles. Do you wish that he should come on board and discover that you have added something to murder that is worse than murder?”
“That is my business,” said Digby Groat, breathing so quickly that he felt he would suffocate unless the pent-up rage in him found some vent.
“And mine,” said the captain, tapping him on the chest. “I tell you, my fine fellow, that that is my business also, for I do not intend to live within an English gaol. It is too cold in England and I would not survive one winter. No, my fine fellow, there is only one thing to do. It is to run due west in the hope that we escape the observation of the airship man; if we do not, then we are—” He snapped his fingers.
“Do as you like,” said Digby, and turning abruptly walked down to his cabin.
He was beaten, and the end was near. He took from a drawer a small bottle of colourless liquid, and emptied its contents into a glass. This he placed in a rack conveniently to his hand. The effect would not be violent. One gulp, and he would pass to sleep and there the matter would end for him. That was a comforting thought to Digby Groat.
If they escaped—! His mind turned to Eunice. She could wait; perhaps they would dodge through all these guards that the police had put, and they would reach that land for which he yearned. He could not expect the captain, after receiving the wireless messages of warning, to take the risks. He was playing for safety, thought Digby, and did not wholly disapprove of the man’s attitude.
When they were on the high seas away from the ocean traffic, the little Brazilian would change his attitude, and then—Digby nodded. The captain was wise; it would have been madness on his part to force the issue so soon.
Eunice could not get away; they were moving in the same direction to a common destination, and there were weeks, hot and sunny weeks, when they could sit under the awning on this beautiful yacht and talk. He would be rational and drop that cave-man method of wooing. A week’s proximity and freedom from restraint might make all the difference in the world, if—There was a big if, he recognized. Steele would not rest until he had found him, but by that time Eunice might be a complacent partner.
He felt a little more cheerful, locked away the glass and its contents in a cupboard, and strolled up to the deck. He saw the ship now for the first time in daylight, and it was a model of what a yacht should be. The deck was snowy white; every piece of brass-work glittered, the coiled sheets looked to have been dipped in chalk, and under that identical awning great basket chairs awaited him invitingly.
He glanced round the horizon; there was no ship in sight. The sea sparkled in the rays of the sun, and over the white wake of the steamer lay a deep black pall of smoke, for the Pealigo was racing forward at twenty-two knots an hour. The captain, at any rate, was not playing him false. He was heading west, judged Digby.
Far away on the right was an irregular purple strip, the line of the Irish coast; the only traffic they would meet now, he considered, was the western-bound steamers on the New York route. But the only sign of a steamer was a blob of smoke on the far-off eastern horizon.
The chairs invited him, and he sat down and stretched his legs luxuriously.
Yes, this was a better plan, he thought, and as his mind turned again to Eunice, she appeared at the head of the companion-way. At first she did not see him, and walking to the rail, seemed to be breathing in the beauties of the morning.
How exquisite she looked! He did not remember seeing a woman who held herself as she did. The virginal purity of her face, the glory of her colouring, the svelte woman figure of her—they were worth waiting for, he told himself again.
She turned her head and saw him and made a movement as though she were going back to her cabin, but he beckoned to her, and to his surprise, she walked slowly toward him.
“Don’t get up,” she said coldly. “I can find a chair myself. I want to speak to you, Mr. Groat.”
“You want to speak to me,” he said in amazement, and she nodded.
“I have been thinking that perhaps I can induce you to turn this yacht about and land me in England.”
“Oh, you have, have you?” he said sharply. “What inducement can you offer other than your gracious self?”
“Money,” she answered. “I do not know by what miracle it has happened, but I believe I am an heiress, and worth”—she hesitated—“a great deal of money. If that is the case, Mr. Groat, you are poor.”
“I’m not exactly a pauper,” he said, apparently amused. “What are you offering me?”
“I’m offering you half my fortune to take me back to England,” she said.
“And what would you do with the other half of your fortune?” he mocked her. “Save me from the gallows? No, no, my young friend, I have committed myself too deeply to make your plan even feasible. I’m not going to bother you again, and I promise you I will wait until we have reached our destination before I ask you to share my lot. I appreciate your offer and I dare say it is an honest one,” he went on, “but I have gone too far literally and figuratively to turn back. You hate me now, but that feeling will change.”
“It will never change,” she said as she rose. “But I see that I am wasting my time with you,” and with a little nod, she would have gone had he not caught her hand and drawn her back.
“You love somebody else, I suppose?”
“That is an impertinence,” she said. “You have no right to question me.”
“I am not questioning you, I am merely making a statement which is beyond dispute. You love somebody else, and that somebody is Jim Steele.” He leant forward. “You can make up your mind for this, that sooner than give you to Jim Steele, I will kill you. Is that plain?”
“It is the kindest thing you have said,” she smiled contemptuously as she rose.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
A LITTLE smudge of smoke far away to the south, sent Jim Steele racing away on a fool’s errand, for the ship proved to be nothing more interesting than a fruit-boat which had ignored his wireless inquiry because the only man who operated the instrument was asleep in his bunk. Jim saw the character of the ship when he was within two miles of it, and banked over, cutting a diagonal course north-west.
Once or twice he glanced back at his “passenger,” but Inspector Maynard was thoroughly at home and apparently comfortable.
Jim was growing anxious. At the longest he could not keep in the air for more than four hours, and two of those precious hours were already gone. He must leave himself sufficient “juice” to make the land and this new zigzag must not occupy more than half an hour.
He had purposely taken the machine to a great height to enlarge his field of vision, and that meant a still further burden upon his limited supply of petrol.
He was almost despairing when he saw in the far distance a tiny white arrow of foam—the ship whose wake it was he could not see. His hand strayed to the key of his little wireless and he sent a message quivering through the ether. There was no response. He waited a minute and again the key clattered and clicked. Again a silence and he flashed an angry message. Then through his ear-pieces he heard a shrill wail of sound—the steamer was responding.
“What ship is that?”
He waited, never doubting that he would learn it was some small merchant vessel. There was a whine, and
