She had reached the last door upon the right now, and
as she pushed it open she was seized from within by a powerful,
dark-visaged man, and drawn hastily into the stuffy, ill-smelling
interior.
The sudden shock of fright which the unexpected attack had upon
her drew a single piercing scream from her throat; then the man
clapped a hand roughly over the mouth.
"Not until we are farther from land, my dear," he said. "Then
you may yell your pretty head off."
Lady Greystoke turned to look into the leering, bearded face so
close to hers. The man relaxed the pressure of his fingers upon
her lips, and with a little moan of terror as she recognized him
the girl shrank away from her captor.
"Nikolas Rokoff! M. Thuran!" she exclaimed.
"Your devoted admirer," replied the Russian, with a low bow.
"My little boy," she said next, ignoring the terms of endearment--"where
is he? Let me have him. How could you be so cruel--even as you--Nikolas
Rokoff--cannot be entirely devoid of mercy and compassion? Tell
me where he is. Is he aboard this ship? Oh, please, if such a
thing as a heart beats within your breast, take me to my baby!"
"If you do as you are bid no harm will befall him," replied Rokoff.
"But remember that it is your own fault that you are here. You
came aboard voluntarily, and you may take the consequences.
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