“I tied a piece of string to it,” he murmured in my ear.
The silence, save for those low-spoken words, remained unbroken, unticlass="underline"
“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 some time it had been traversed!
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! We’re out!”
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 intelligence of my companion in this strange adventure. Who but Sir Denis would have thought of bundling our scanty possessions into a small packing case, and towing it behind him on that same piece of string which had served in his test to unmask a possible sniper?
He was examining the match upon the rock path which alone had given me a clue to the fact that escape from this secret spot was possible. Then I spoke:
“Sir Denis,” I said, it’s a great privilege to have helped you in any way. You are a very remarkable man.”
He turned and smiled; his smile was thirty years his junior.
“I suppose you must be right. Sterling,” he replied, “otherwise, I shouldn’t have survived. But——”
He stopped.
And blotting out the triumph of our escape from the cavern which Dr. Fu Manchu had thought to be a Bastille came reality—memories—sorrow.
Petrie had gone to join the ranks of those living dead men.
Fleurette!
Fleurette was lost to me forever! No doubt my change of mood was reflected on my face; for:
“I know what you’re thinking, Sterling,” Sir Denis added, “but don’t despair—yet. There’s still hope.”
“What!”
“That this path leads somewhere and does not just lose itself among the rocks, I have little doubt. My own impression is that it leads to the beach of Ste Claire. But this is not the chief point of interest.”
To me, it seems to be.”
“What do you regard as the most curious features of our recent experience?”
I considered for a moment, then:
“The mystery of Dr. Fu Manchu’s motive in remaining behind,” I replied, “and the greater mystery of how and when he joined his submersible yacht—whatever a submersible yacht may be.”
Nayland Smith nodded rapidly.
“You are getting near to it,” he rapped. “I am satisfied that the opening above the water cave at the top of the rocks was the place from which he spoke to us. And I think we are unanimous on the point that there is no other means of exit but his. Therefore, I have been asking myself for the last ten minutes: why did he come by this roundabout route when he could have boarded his craft at the wharf, as no doubt the other members of his household did. It’s rather a hazardous guess, but one I like to make.”
“What is it, Sir Denis?”
“I don’t think he joined the submarine at all.”
“What!”
“Whatever the construction of that craft may be, it would offer serious obstacles to the transporting of a sick man.”
“Good heavens! You think——”
“It is just possible that Petrie has been taken another way, under the personal care of the doctor.”
“But,” I protested, “that climb up the rocks?”
“Could easily be performed by native bearers carrying a stretcher or litter, and descent to this point is easy.”
“But—” I pointed along the faintly pencilled track.
Nayland Smith shook his head.
“Not that way, Sterling,” he admitted. “A motorboat has been lying here. Look—there are still traces of oil at the margin of the water, and the beach slopes away very sharply.”
“You think Dr. Fu Manchu has been taken to some landing • place farther along the coast, where a car awaited him?”
“That is the point we have to settle. Only one of two roads could serve—the Great Corniche or the Middle. All cars using them are being challenged and searched.”
“Then, by heaven! we may have him yet!”
“Knowing him better than you do, I look upon that as almost too much to hope for, Sterling. However, suppose we begin our climb.”
We set out.
A wild eleventh-hour hope was mine, that not only Petrie but Fleurette might be with Dr. Fu Manchu, and that this delay might prove to be his undoing. I did not know how far to take his words literally—but I remembered that he had said, “Dr. Petrie is with me.” Yes, there was still a ghost of a chance that all was not lost yet.