"You
might have overlooked some trifling thing that won't be of no use
to you in the jungle, but that'll come in mighty handy to a poor
sailorman in London. Ah! just as I feared," he ejaculated an instant
later as he withdrew a roll of bank-notes from Paulvitch's inside
coat pocket.
The Russian scowled, muttering an imprecation; but nothing could
be gained by argument, and so he did his best to reconcile himself
to his loss in the knowledge that the sailor would never reach
London to enjoy the fruits of his thievery.
It was with difficulty that Paulvitch restrained a consuming desire
to taunt the man with a suggestion of the fate that would presently
overtake him and the other members of the Kincaid's company; but
fearing to arouse the fellow's suspicions, he crossed the deck and
lowered himself in silence into his canoe.
A minute or two later he was paddling toward the shore to be
swallowed up in the darkness of the jungle night, and the terrors
of a hideous existence from which, could he have had even a slight
foreknowledge of what awaited him in the long years to come, he
would have fled to the certain death of the open sea rather than
endure it.
The sailor, having made sure that Paulvitch had departed, returned
to the forecastle, where he hid away his booty and turned into his
bunk, while in the cabin that had belonged to the Russian there
ticked on and on through the silences of the night the little
mechanism in the small black box which held for the unconscious
sleepers upon the ill-starred Kincaid the coming vengeance of the
thwarted Russian.
Pages:
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242