Yvonne Yale had sat in silence during that mad rush through the City. Once in a frenzy of terror she had half risen to throw herself from the car. Instantly Soo’s hand grasped her.
“When I tell you I will kill you, I mean it,” he said quickly. “Be quiet, and no harm will come to you. I tell you this, that I am merely holding you as a hostage for the recovery of the bangle. If I know your friend, he will not hesitate when he knows a woman is in danger.”
His words reassured her somewhat. She had hardly dared to put her fears into words.
The car swung round Tower Hill and slowed at the very spot where Tillizinni was destined to stop ten minutes later; but it did not go eastward, as Tillizinni had thought, but crossed the bridge, sped down the slope into Tooley Street, turned again, and followed the Deptford Road.
It continued until it came to a street which ran parallel with the north bank of the Surrey Canal, and into this it turned. It was a street made up of wharf entrances, of old and dilapidated warehouses and stables.
The car stopped before a low-roofed old building that in its prosperous days had been part of the wharfage of a stone merchant. As the car stopped, a door in the wall opened, and Soo flung away the cigarette which he had smoked during the latter part of the journey, stepped quickly to the ground, and half dragged and half carried the fainting girl into the building. Instantly the car moved on, and the door closed behind her.
They were in complete darkness. There was a musty, unwholesome smell. The atmosphere of the place filled her with cold terror.
“This way!” said Soo.
He led her unerringly across the ramshackle shed. At the far end there was a door which opened and revealed a room lit by two swinging oil lamps.
It was poorly furnished, with a table and a couple of chairs, and a fire blazed in a broken grate in one corner. Some attempt had been made to produce a sense of comfort--the square of carpet on the floor, and the plain table-cover had evidently been newly purchased and still showed their shop creases.
The room was untenanted, and Soo and the girl entered alone. He closed the door behind him.
She saw now a man in the garb of a Westerner, whose face was hidden from her by a curious contrivance. This was no less than a waxen mask, which fitted the upper portion of the face down to the mouth. So skilfully and cunningly had the colours been blended, that it was difficult to see where the real ended and the artificial began. It gave the man a European appearance, and made him tolerably good-looking.
He locked the door, then turned and faced her.
“You stay here, Miss Yale,” he said, “until I secure satisfaction from your friend. This,” he explained, waving his hand round the apartment, “was once the manager’s quarters. It is fitted with some luxury.”
He opened a little door.
“There is a bathroom here,” he said, “and you will find everything you may desire.”
“How long do you intend to keep me?” she asked.
It was the first coherent question she had put to him.
He shrugged his shoulders.
“That depends entirely upon the willingness of your friend to give me what I wish,” he answered.
“You know you are committing a very grave crime,” she said, “and that you will be punished for this?”
She saw a smile gather on the thin lips.
“I have a much more extensive knowledge of the criminal law of England than you can be expected to have,” he said coolly. “I am well aware of all the risks I take; but since I am prepared to take the additional, and to you, perhaps, unthinkable, risk of losing my life, the minor perils need not be counted.”
Without another word he left her. She waited until the sound of his footsteps had died away; then she made a quick examination of the two rooms.
From the sitting-room a door opened into a tiny bedroom. It was scrupulously clean; the sheets were of the finest linen, pillow of down, and what other furniture occupied the room was in good taste.
There was one small window, heavily barred, and screened from the street by an opaque pane of toughened glass. She was to learn that this looked upon a small wharf, and that no help might be expected from that direction. There was a little window in the bathroom which also looked out upon another corner of the wharf.
The sitting-room depended entirely upon artificial light. So she thought until she looked up and saw a big skylight in the room.
She returned to the little bedroom and found, with considerable satisfaction, that a much needed brush and comb had been provided. She dressed her hair and washed her face in the little bathroom.
There was no question of sleeping that night. It encouraged her, and removed some of her apprehension to find how thoroughly her abductor had prepared for her arrival. There was a bookshelf, well stocked with the latest novels, and if the selection had been a hasty one, it was also a wise one.
She came back to the fire and drew up a chair, for she felt cold. “What would be the end?” She shivered, and dare not supply an answer. She got up and walked to the door and listened. There was no sound outside. It came on to rain, and the pitter-patter of the drops as they fell upon the tiled roof gave her a sense of companionship with the outside world.
She wondered when her mother would discover her absence. She was unlikely to make her discovery before nine o’clock in the morning.
What would she do? Would she call in the police? Would that extraordinary man, Tillizinni, endeavour to fathom the mystery of her disappearance? She prayed that he would. And Talham?
She found herself thinking more of Talham than she could have thought possible. He liked her--she was sure of it. She was afraid that the impecunious Captain of Irregular Horse was in love with her.
She shook her head a little impatiently at the thought. Why could not the friendship exist about which the philosopher wrote? Why could not a woman possess a man friend without the disagreeable element coming into it?
Talham was responsible for her present plight; yet she did not blame him, which was a curious circumstance for a woman untouched by love. She was satisfied at least that of all the people who would be affected by the news of her disappearance, he would feel his responsibility most poignantly.
She walked up and down the little room. It must have been half an hour after Soo departed that he came back again.
He opened the door quietly and stepped inside, locking it again after him, and laid on the table a letter. It was typed, she noticed, and was addressed to Captain Talham.
“You will sign this,” said Soo briefly. He read it over. It was short and to the point. It ran:
“Dear Captain Talham,--I am at present in the hands of some people who desire you to restore the jade bracelet, which, as you know, you took from me.
“Unless you do this within forty-eight hours either I shall be killed or worse will happen to me. I implore you, therefore, to hand the bracelet to a messenger who will meet you to-night at six o’clock in Whitcombe Court, Coventry Street.”
She read the letter through, and looked up at the man.
“What guarantee have I,” she asked, “if I sign this letter, and if Captain Talham is in a position to restore the bracelet, that you will keep your part of the bargain, and will release me?”
“You have no guarantee at all,” he said coolly, “except my word. But I am in this position, that you must accept my word without any proof of my bona-fides.”
She hesitated before she took the fountain-pen which he offered her. She read the letter through again.
There was no harm in signing it. She would be no better off by refusing, and she might easily be worse. She was cool-headed now.
She signed her name at the foot of the sheet, and handed it to him.
He took it from her with a little bow.
“Perhaps you would like to write some letters,” he said. “You will find paper in the drawer of the table, and if by any chance you have any correspondence you would like to clear off in this uncomfortable period of waiting, this will be an excellent opportunity.”
His tone was polite, he was not even mildly sarcastic. He wished to convey to her the fact that her detention was a temporary business, a regrettable expedient which need occasion her no alarm.
“Suppose Captain Talham refuses to give this up,” she said, “as he may very well do; or suppose he has parted with it and is not in a position to hand it to you, what happens to me?”
She asked the question calmly, and the man shrugged his shoulders.
“I will accept no excuses,” he said. “Whatever happens, subsequent to his refusal, will be most regrettable.” With which sinister remark he left her.
She stood near the door. She thought she heard voices outside. Quick voices speaking in low tones excitedly, and she wondered who was the masked man’s companion.
She was soon to learn, for the door opened, and Soo came in, followed by four Chinamen.
“Get your coat on!” he said roughly. “We have got to get out of here at once.”
“What is the matter?” she asked.
“Get your coat on!” he said, ignoring her question. “I haven’t a moment to spare.”
All his polish had dropped away.
She had known him for a Chinaman despite his mask, and she knew there was nothing to be gained by opposing one of the race which places women on the level of domestic animals. She went into the bedroom and put on her cloak, again pinned on her hat, and came out to where the men were waiting.
They were talking eagerly together in Chinese.
“I am going to take you for a little journey by water,” said Soo.
He extinguished the light in the room, and led the way noiselessly across the empty warehouse to a big door which led out on to the wharf. It was a sliding door, which moved noiselessly upon its greased guides.
Soo stepped out first, and the girl followed. Ahead of her she saw a patch of untidy wharf and the dull gleam of water. He piloted her to the edge of the wharf and peered down into the canal; but there was no sign of a boat.
He turned and hissed a savage enquiry to one of his companions.
The girl’s heart beat high, instinct told her that help was on the way, and the absence of the boat was at least a respite.
“Quick!” said Soo. “Come!”
He caught her by the arm, and she half ran and half walked back to the building, through the barn-like warehouse, and to the door through which they had first entered.
“Remember,” he said, “that any sound you make will bring upon you consequences which you will have very little time for regretting.”
He pulled back the bolt, and the door swung open noiselessly. He had his hand upon the girl’s arm, and his foot was raised to step across the threshold when a flood of white light struck him, and he staggered back.
