Again Liane's whisper: "What shall we do?"

Lanyard considered: "We can't keep them out . . . may as well let them

in."

"But you said you wouldn't give yourself up--"

"No more do I mean to."

The knuckles of authority drummed on for a moment. When they ceased

Lanyard was hailed right cheerily: "I say, Mr. Duchemin wake up, let me

in! It's I, Dr. Bright. Don't you hear me?"

"But Michael!" the whisper implored him--"you can't stand off the whole

ship!"

"Why did you bring me that pistol, then?"

"Not in anticipation of anything like this--"

"Don't worry: I shan't use it. I've a better plan. I count on you: stand

by to draw the bolt when I give the word."

Lanyard watched the dim shape of Liane fall back to the door. Bright was

yapping with a Judas tongue, bidding him open in the sacred name of

fellowship. With the thick enunciation of one just wakened from the deep

sweet sleep of an innocent Lanyard responded: "Half a minute! What's the

row?" Then more quietly--"Ready, Liane?"

"Yes, but--"

"Fall back behind the door when you open it."

No time-wasting preparations to make, only a dressing gown to shrug out

of: he stood in shirt and trousers, shoeless.

"Now!"

As the bolt grated, Lanyard set a foot upon the transom, a hand to the

sill of the window-port, and lifted himself nimbly through that narrow

outlet, dropping to the deck on feet as furtive as a cat's.

For an instant he stood glancing alertly forward, aft, and over the

rail. The deck was deserted, a solitary coast light abeam blinked

forlornly, a minute spark lost beyond a measureless waste of grim black

water. Dubiously Lanyard considered it: a pull to daunt the heart of the

boldest swimmer . . .

The dark port behind him turned into a square of staring amber. Through

it broke a din of voices blasphemous in anger and disappointment.

Lanyard darted aft.

The watch on the afterdeck witnessed the plunge of a dark body from the

rail of the promenade deck down over the side. A man who appeared at the

same rail an instant later lifted up a voice of authentic seafaring

whine:

"_Man oo-verboard!_"

The watch took up the cry.

The Lone Wolf Returns · 第 38 / 103 题