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"I SAY, Jim, oughtn't we to have come to that junction of the paths by now?"

They had been walking rapidly for over a quarter of an hour, and so far there had been no sign of anything following them. Whatever it was that Percy had seen, apparently it had not seen them. And as the significance of the question sank into his mind Jim cursed himself for a fool. He had followed his cousin blindly out of the clearing, his mind preoccupied with other things, and he realised now that Percy had taken the wrong path. They should have reached the junction long since.

"You're right, Percy," he said. "We're on a different track."

"I'm damned sorry, old boy," said his cousin apologetically. "I was so flustered by that thing I saw that I forgot what I was doing."

"My fault as much as yours," cried Jim. "However we can't go back, so we must go on. It will probably lead us into the open somewhere. The devil of it is that we haven't got much more daylight."

They pushed on faster, and after a while Jim began to grow uneasy. For the track kept turning right handed, and the ground was becoming appreciably softer.

"We're getting near the river, Percy," he said. "And that's about the last spot we want. Unless we find a path going away to the left we're in the soup."

Suddenly the track forked, and Percy paused.

"Which one, Jim?"

"Left, of course, but where on earth is this foul stench of musk coming from?"

They went on a few yards and soon discovered. The track had forked in order to pass on each side of a large, stagnant pool. Rotting vegetation hung in festoons round the banks, but by craning forward carefully they could see the water. And floating motionless in it, their evil-looking snouts just above the surface, were scores of crocodiles. Others were lying on the slimy ooze round the banks, and one huge one occupied the post of honour on a half-submerged tree trunk.

"Repulsive looking brutes," said Jim. "We must be nearer the river than I thought."

And a further few paces brought them to it. Their path turned abruptly left-handed following the bank, and they were just turning along it when from the distance there came a steady creaking noise and they paused listening.

"The rowlocks of a boat," remarked Jim. "Now we may find out something."

Only a thin screen of undergrowth separated them from the water, and with infinite caution they peered through. In front of them was the river; to their right the stinking crocodile pool. And by leaning forward a little they could see down stream for about fifty yards.

Suddenly a boat hove in sight, and in the stern sat Don Miguel. By his side was a bloated looking red-faced man who held the tiller ropes, and Jim put his lips to his cousin's ear.

"Bully McIntyre," he whispered. "So it was the yacht."

He was evidently having some argument with Don Miguel and at length the latter shrugged his shoulders. The sailor gave an order, the men ceased rowing, and McIntyre ran the nose of the boat into the bank.

"Get ashore, Mr. Murdoch," he ordered, "and see what it's like."

An officer who had been sitting in the bows seized some overhanging branches and hoisted himself out. He was on the opposite side of the pool to Jim and Percy, but they could see the glint of his white ducks through the undergrowth.

"There's a regular path here," he sang out, "which seems to lead into the forest. Shall I go along and explore it a bit?"

"Yes—but don't get lost."

And even as McIntyre spoke a scream of fear rang out. They had a fleeting glimpse of a white-clad figure falling through the air, followed by a splash. And the motionless logs were motionless no longer. The water in the pool swirled angrily, and before their eyes the wretched man was torn to pieces.

"What's the matter?" shouted McIntyre, as the boat moved away from the bank, and came upstream a few strokes till it was abreast of the pool.

"Good God!" he went on, "he fell in that damned pool and the crocs have got him. You filthy brutes," he roared picking up a rifle and taking aim at the big one on the tree. He shot it through the eye, and with its tail lashing furiously the great reptile rolled over and sank in the water.

"I guess we'll come back to-morrow morning," said Don Miguel, "when we've got the day in front of us." And the other nodded assent.

The boat went about, and after a while the noise of the oars died away in the distance.

"Why did that poor devil scream, Percy?" said Jim with a queer look in his eyes.

"Dash it all, old lad, most people would give tongue if they found themselves in a crocodile pool."

"Yes—but not until they found themselves there. He yelled before he knew there were any crocodiles."

Percy stared at Jim.

"You mean..."

"I mean that he never fell in: he was thrown or pushed in. And it was what he saw in that fleeting second that terrified him, and nothing to do with the crocodiles. Didn't you see the undergrowth moving on the other side of the river as something went through it, keeping pace with the boat? Well, there was something this side as well."

"Following Miguel's party."

"Exactly. And for that reason, at any rate, we can be thankful the yacht has arrived earlier than we expected. It's distracted the attention of these brutes away from us. Otherwise, I don't mind telling you that I think our chances of getting through alive were pretty minute."

"I'd like to have seen that thing you shot."

"So would I. And in due course you shall—or one like it. But not this trip, Percy."

"You are coming back?"

"Of course. Once Judy is safely on her way back to England I return here."

"And what about the other bunch?"

"They haven't got the map, and if we can get away to-night we've got 'em stung. Moreover, seeing that almost all the crew are dagos, one or two more regrettable incidents such as we've just witnessed are going to shake 'em badly. Let's get a move on."

They turned along the track going up stream, and found that it soon left the bank and turned back into the forest. And now time was vital: at the most half an hour of daylight remained to them. The track jinked, then jinked again, and Jim gave a sigh of relief as he glanced at his compass: they were heading for the open. But there was still at least two miles to cover, and the going was getting worse. Evidently the track they were on was not much used: tendrils of vegetation met across the clearing through which they had to force their way. And dusk was beginning to fall when the first faint reek of the swamp came to their nostrils.

At last they saw it in front of them, and Jim's face was grave. A thin white vapour was already rising, and only too well did he realise the danger that that portended. In the walk that lay before them a single false step might mean death in the green bog, and to have mist as well as darkness to contend against would double their difficulty. And he was just debating in his mind whether it would not be better to spend the night where they were and wait for the dawn, when they saw stealing out from behind the hill that stood outlined against the darkening sky, the lights of a ship.

"Don Miguel's yacht," he muttered. "What the deuce has she been doing there? I don't like it, Percy. When we heard her siren she was away south of us. What has taken her round to the north of the island?"

"Probably looking for us," said his cousin.

"Exactly," remarked Jim. "And they couldn't avoid finding us."

"I don't see that they can do any harm," said Percy. "They are probably peeved over the map, but as you've got that in your pocket it doesn't matter much."

"Damn the map: they can have that for shaving paper. It's Judy I'm thinking of."

"Surely they wouldn't touch her."

"That swine of a dwarf would murder his mother for sixpence," grunted Jim. "Still, Bill was there. Anyway, that settles it: we must push on. I suppose one party went away to explore the river, while Dresler went round in the yacht to find us. Hullo! what's that?"

Clear and distinct through the still air had come the sharp crack of a rifle. They paused instinctively, and the next moment even Jim felt the hair on his head begin to rise. Yell after yell of frenzied terror rang out: then sudden, abrupt silence.

They peered ahead, but could see nothing in the fading light.

"Heaven send it wasn't Bill coming to find us," cried Jim.

"What was it, Jim?" muttered his cousin.

"It was a man," he answered grimly. "I wouldn't like to say what it is now."

"Somebody fallen into the bog perhaps."

"Possibly. But you don't let off your gun at a bog. And as I say, Heaven send it wasn't Bill."

"He'd never have left Judy."

"I agree. But supposing Judy left him."

He pointed at the yacht which was now abreast of them.

"That's what I'm afraid of, Percy."

"You mean they may have kidnapped her."

"Exactly. As a lever to make us give up the map. And then Bill came along to meet us."

"He'd never have let them take her."

"How could he prevent them? He would have shot anything he saw coming off from the shore, but he couldn't shoot a boat-load of men coming from a yacht. Damn it! if it isn't Bill who can it be?"

"And you think one of the things got him?"

"I do," said Jim gravely. "The poor old lad fired and missed. And what we've got to watch out for is that we don't do the same. It may have been a chance encounter, or they may post sentinels out at night."

They pressed on as fast as they dared. Luckily the mist was getting no denser, but the light had almost gone. And it was about five minutes after they had heard the shot that Jim rounded a projecting bush and stopped abruptly with his hand held up in warning to his cousin.

"Look at that," he muttered as Percy joined him. "It was here that it happened."

The undergrowth was trampled and beaten down, showing every sign of a desperate struggle. But of the combatants there was no trace. They listened intently: nothing stirred in the forest. And at length Jim crept cautiously forward.

Suddenly his foot met something hard, and he stooped and picked it up. And the next moment he cursed savagely.

"My gun, Percy," he said. "The one I gave Bill."

A spasm of rage shook him.

"By God!" he cried, "these things—whatever they are—will regret this. Once I've got Judy safely away, I'll come back here with a proper expedition and exterminate the lot. What's the matter?"

His cousin had bent forward excitedly, and was staring at something on the ground.

"It's a hat, Jim," he cried. "And it's not Bill's."

"What's that? Let me see it."

He picked up the hat: it was wet and sticky. And glancing at his fingers he saw they were red. He looked inside the hat, and then with a feeling of uncontrollable repulsion he flung it far out into the swamp. For its late owner's head had been literally battered to pieces.

"Poor devil," he muttered. "You're sure it's not Bill's, Percy?"

"Absolutely certain."

"Then how did my gun get here?"

But his cousin did not answer: he was standing by a big tree that grew on one side of the beaten-down patch.

"Jim," he cried shakily, "this tree is all wet."

It was true, and for a moment Jim stared at it incredulously. At first he had assumed that the deed had been done with a club or even possibly the butt of the gun. But the blood on the tree told a different tale, and one that was well-nigh inconceivable. For it proved that the man had been killed by having his head bashed against the trunk, and the strength necessary to do such a thing was unbelievable. And in his imagination he visualised the scene. The shot, fired in a panic at the monstrous thing that had suddenly appeared out of the dusk: the brief hopeless struggle when the bullet missed, and then the ghastly ending with the lifeless body flung into the bog.

But who was it? Surely Bill would not have handed over the only long range weapon they had with them to somebody else, unless he had been compelled to. At the best of times he was a very bad shot with a revolver, so it was hard to believe that he would have lent the rifle to anyone willingly. And if that was so what had happened on board the motor-boat?

The forest was silent as they started off again. Twice during the next hour they heard from far off that strange grunting roar answered from three or four different places which showed that the denizens were on the prowl. But their luck held good: the track along the edge of the swamp was deserted. And at last they were clear of it, and able to increase their pace as they began to climb the hill.

They reached the top: the lagoon below them was in darkness. No light came from the place where the boat had been anchored. And sick with anxiety they half ran, half slid down towards the beach. The dinghy was still where they had left her, and it was while they were getting her afloat that a large stone came bounding down the hill and crashed into the water a few yards away.

For a moment Jim paused, staring up at the sky line behind them. Was it they who had loosened it as they came down, or had something else started it? But he could see nothing, and jumping into the dinghy they pulled feverishly for the boat.

"Bill," he shouted. "Ahoy! there, Bill."

There was no answer, and leaving Percy to make the dinghy fast, he scrambled on board.

"Bill," he cried again. "Judy. Where are you?"

He dashed into the little saloon, and this time there was an answer.

"Good evening, my dear Mr. Maitland," came a well-known voice. "You are, if I may say so, a little later than I expected."

He lit the lamp: seated at the table was the dwarf with a malignant smile on his lips.

"You little devil," roared Jim. "What have you done with Miss Draycott?"

The blind man held up a deprecating hand.

"Really, Mr. Maitland," he protested, "the space here is very confined. Would it be too much if I asked you to moderate your voice?"

"Where is Miss Draycott, Dresler?" said Jim controlling himself with an immense effort. "Because I warn you quite quietly that I am not in a mood to be trifled with to-night, and if anything has happened to her I shall blow out your brains without the smallest compunction."

"It is extraordinary," remarked the other, "with what unerring accuracy I have read your character. I actually said to Monty—you remember Sir Montague Barnet, of course—when he went ashore that I was sure you would say something bright and original like that."

Jim glanced at Percy who had come into the saloon.

"So Barnet went ashore, did he? From here?"

"Yes. I thought perhaps you might meet him, but in the darkness you must have missed one another. However he is sure to be back soon."

"May I ask if he was wearing a Homburg hat?"

"My dear sir, you know my affliction. I'm afraid I didn't ask him. But if you saw a man with a Homburg hat it must have been Monty."

"I didn't," said Jim tersely. "I only saw the hat."

"You speak in riddles," murmured the dwarf.

"You'll get the solution soon," remarked Jim. "To return to Miss Draycott. I assume she is on board the yacht."

"Correct. And with her is the admirable guardian you left whose name I fear I do not know. He was most abusive, and had to be hit over the head with a belaying-pin, but I don't think his condition is dangerous."

"And your object in this abduction?"

"My dear fellow, you pain me. You know as well as I do. Now where is the correct map?"

"In my pocket," said Jim.

"Excellent. By the way I congratulate you on the idea, Mr. Maitland. It appealed to me immensely when I gathered from Monty's blasphemy what had happened."

"Cut it out," remarked Jim curtly. "I assume that you want it."

"That is the notion. And fearing you might prove difficult about it, I took the precaution of removing the lady. She is quite safe at present, and her quarters are far more comfortable. But I do not need to remind you, do I, that my friend Don Miguel has a keen eye for a pretty girl, and that his reputation is not perhaps all that it should be. And so I earnestly advise you not to play any more tricks this time, either over the map, or with me. Because if you do I cannot guarantee Miss Draycott's continued safety."

"And what is your proposal?" said Jim.

"A simple one. As soon as Monty returns, you will start up the motor and take your boat round to the other side of the island where the yacht is now anchored. We will all go on board her, and then when you have satisfied us that the map is what we want—well, my dear Maitland, as far as I am concerned you can go to the devil."

"Very interesting," said Jim with a laugh. "Extraordinary what bloomers you always seem to make in your schemes Dresler, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" remarked the blind man softly.

"I mean that if we wait here till Barnet returns we shall wait a considerable time. It was very unwise of him to go ashore alone."

"Have you killed him?" said the dwarf even more softly.

"No: but he's dead. This island is a funny place, my friend, and if you take my advice you'll do what I'm going to do—leave it."

"How did Barnet die?"

"His brains were bashed out against a tree, if you want to know."

"Who by?"

"I think what by would be a better way of putting it."

"I don't believe you," snarled the other. "You murdered him because he'd found the treasure. He told me he thought he might be able to."

"With the map he'd got?"

"Yes. You may be clever, Mr. Maitland, but other people aren't fools. You'd altered the position of the hill and the tree, but the writing at the bottom remained."

"Except for the little bit that was missing in the left-hand corner," said Jim.

"That either had to be east or west," sneered the dwarf.

"It was west to be exact. I found it that night we had our little chat in your house at Hampstead. I fear Barnet may have thought it was east: that might account for us finding his hat where we did."

"His hat! Where was Barnet himself?"

"His body had evidently been flung into the bog. There was no trace of it."

"A likely story, Mr. Maitland. You tell me that a man of Barnet's size and weight had his brains bashed out against a tree and expect me to believe it!"

"It's a matter of complete indifference to me whether you believe it or whether you don't," drawled Jim. "I'm sorry the poor devil met the end he did, but he wasn't a gentleman whose habits I liked, and I'm not going into mourning for him."

"Don't be too sure about that," said the other thickly. "I would point out that there are some forty of us against you two. And justice can be summary."

"Do you suggest making Percy and me walk the plank," laughed Jim. "Come, come, Dresler—I don't think the old brain is working very well. Do you seriously imagine that I am going to barge straight into the lion's den, and deliver myself bound hand and foot to a bunch of damned stiffs like you?"

"And if you don't what about Miss Draycott?"

"Go a little further, my friend: what about you? You seem to forget that it is fifty-fifty. Until Miss Draycott and Bill Blackett are delivered over to me safe and sound, you stay on board here. You can't catch me in a row boat, and if your pal Don Miguel tries any monkey tricks like ramming me with the yacht I'll hang you over the side to act as a fender."

For a while the dwarf was silent: then he shrugged his shoulders.

"There is no reason why we should lose our tempers, Mr. Maitland, is there? I feel sure that matters can be settled amicably."

"Then go on feeling sure," remarked Jim. "It may help. But all I'm sure about is that if a hair of Miss Draycott's head has been injured you'll pray for death before I'm through with you. And you'd better make them understand the fact on board the yacht, when we get there to-morrow morning."

"Why to-morrow morning? Why not to-night?"

"Your second error, Dresler. The passage through the reef here is bad enough even when it's light. To do it in the darkness would be literally impossible."

"You know best," said the dwarf uneasily. "I would have preferred to reach the yacht to-night."

Jim stared at him grimly.

"You don't suppose that I want to remain here, do you, you rotten little sweep? But when I say it is impossible, I mean it's impossible. There would not be one chance in a thousand of our getting through without stoving in our bottom. And though I have not the slightest objection to your drowning, I have the very gravest to losing the boat and being compelled to leave Miss Draycott on board the yacht."

Once again the dwarf shrugged his shoulders.

"Very good, Mr. Maitland. As I said before, you know best. Might I ask what the time is now?"

"Ten o'clock," said Jim curtly. "Eight hours before we can start."

He began pacing up and down the tiny saloon, his mind on the rack with anxiety. The thought of Judy alone in the yacht, with Bill possibly still unconscious, drove him almost insane. But there was nothing to be done: to attempt to navigate the entrance would be the act of a madman. For a while he even thought of the possibility of trying to make his way on foot over the island, but even if he succeeded there would be no way of getting on board the yacht save by swimming. And the chances of a swimmer in those shark infested waters were negligible. As far as he himself was concerned he would have been prepared to risk it, but the vital consideration was Judy. And if anything happened to him what was going to become of her?

"Well since there is all that time before us," remarked the dwarf cutting into his thoughts, "it might be interesting to exchange views on the matter that has brought us both here. Have you had any luck in locating this hypothetical treasure, Mr. Maitland?"

"I have not," said Jim tersely. "The only luck that my cousin and I have had to-day is getting off the island alive!"

"Are you really serious?" said the other with an incredulous smile.

"I have already told you what happened to Barnet," answered Jim. "And as you yourself remarked he was a big heavy man."

The smile became more incredulous.

"I quite appreciate, of course, your natural wish to keep the pitch for yourself," said the dwarf gently. "But I fear you will have to get a rather better one than that, Mr. Maitland."

"Look here, Dresler," remarked Jim wearily, "I'm getting a little tired of you. What do you imagine can be my object in telling a lie over a thing that can easily be proved or disproved? Anyway you can now go along to Blackett's cabin, and I'll pull you out in the morning. I want a respite from your face. Show him the way, Percy."

The dwarf got down off his chair, and stood for a moment or two in the centre of the saloon. Jim was rummaging in a cupboard for the whisky: Percy was lighting a cigarette. And so there was no one to notice a head that suddenly appeared in the fan-light, with a pair of bestial eyes fixed on the short misshapen figure of the blind man. Amazement followed incredulity in their expression: gloating anticipation followed amazement. Then as Jim straightened up the head was abruptly withdrawn.

"Good night," said the dwarf as Percy took him by the arm.

"Between half-past five and six," grunted Jim.

"I shall be ready," remarked the other.

"It's the devil, Percy," said Jim when his cousin returned. "I tried to bluff it out in front of that little swine, but they've got six to four the better of us. And anyone who is not bughouse can see they have."

"You don't think they'll hurt Judy, do you?"

"No," said Jim thoughtfully. "At any rate not to-night. Their only idea is to get the correct map. And they're not going to do anything which would jeopardise their chances of obtaining it. But the fact remains that we shall have to give it to them. We must get Judy off that yacht, and they won't let her come without it. It's a pity, but it can't be helped."

"You meant to come back here?"

"Of course I did. Once we'd got Judy safe in Rio, we could have fitted out a properly armed expedition. And even if we'd found no treasure we should have had a lot of fun. But now that swab Miguel will know as much as we do. He may or may not decide to carry on now, when he finds the island is not uninhabited. And if he doesn't the same idea will strike him—go back and refit. Which is where he will score. He's got a yacht ready to hand: we haven't."

He rose and stretched himself.

"Ah! well. Absolutely nothing matters beyond getting Judy safely out of it. Hullo! what the devil do you want?"

He swung round and stared at the dwarf who was standing in the entrance white faced and shaking.

"Was it either of you," he quavered, "who passed his hand over my face?"

"It was not. What happened?"

"A hand—a huge hairy hand—touched me. I could feel the fingers pressing on me gently."

"Stay here," snapped Jim. "Percy, get your gun, and come with me."

He picked up his own revolver, and started along the corridor out of which the cabins led.

"Is there a light inside?" he muttered.

"No," said Percy. "I didn't bother as he's blind."

"Go back and get my electric torch. It's in the small locker." And suddenly his voice rose to a shout. "God! look at that."

They had left the dwarf standing in the centre of the saloon. He was still there, but just above his head were two great brown hands, that, even as they watched, shot down and clutched him by the throat. Then, before their eyes, he was drawn up, screaming like a pig, and disappeared.

For a moment or two they stood motionless, rooted to the spot: then simultaneously they dashed back into the saloon. The fan-light was wide open: he had been lifted through it. They could still hear him screaming, but as they darted up on deck there came a heavy splash, and silence.

"The dinghy," roared Jim. "Pull it alongside, while I get the rifle."

They jumped into the little boat, and rowed feverishly for the shore. And having beached her they stood listening. Not a sound could they hear, save the monotonous roar of the breakers on the reef. And then from some way off the piteous shrieks of the dwarf began again. They raced along the beach, but the cries grew fainter and fainter. Some stones came rattling down beside them: the thing was climbing the hill. And after a while silence settled once again.

They made their way slowly back to the dinghy: any idea of pursuit was impossible. By day Jim would not have hesitated to fire, trusting to his marvellous eye not to hit Dresler. But in the darkness he was helpless.

"This is getting beyond a joke," he said quietly, as they rowed back. "Not that I care a damn what happens to that little brute, but it's going to make it the devil for us."

"In what way?" cried his cousin.

"He was our guarantee for Judy. And now to-morrow morning we've got to tackle the yacht with neither him nor Barnet. Of course they won't believe us. Damn it! Percy, I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

They tied up the boat, and went on board. And at that moment the moon rose from behind the hill. Silhouetted on the sky line was an enormous figure, and instinctively Jim threw up his rifle. Then he lowered it again.

"Too long a range," he said regretfully. "But look at the size of the thing."

A bellowing roar of defiance, twice repeated, came across the water: then the sky line was clear once more.

"I hold no brief for Dresler," he went on gravely, "but he's going to pay for his sins this night. Look at the marks of the brute on the deck."

In the brilliant light of the tropical moon the wet footprints showed up clearly: marks just like those they had seen in the mud that afternoon.

"Probably the same one that took the wretched Lopez," muttered Jim. "Gad! Percy, I'll be glad to get Judy out of this."

"Why don't we push off now?" said his cousin. "This light is almost as bright as day."

"You're right, old lad. We will. I'd forgotten about the moon when I said to-morrow morning. Go and get the engines started."

Percy went below, and Jim sat down on a coil of rope thinking. How to get Judy off the yacht—that was the problem. He had no idea which her cabin would be, and even if he could find out it would be impossible to approach the yacht unseen in the moonlight. There was certain to be some form of watch kept, however slack discipline might be. And then there was Bill too: it was out of the question to leave him behind. Still it was a good idea to go now: anything was better than this enforced idleness. And he would feel easier in his mind if he was on board the yacht himself.

He glanced at the opening in the rocks with anxious eyes. If only Bill had been still with them it would have made it so much easier. They wanted someone in the bows badly, to help con the boat.

"All ready when you are," shouted Percy, and he rose to his feet. The sooner they were through the better, and if they were going to pile up there was no good putting it off. But their luck was in. Twice did a wet jagged pinnacle of rock show out of the swell within a foot of them: once quite distinctly they felt her graze. And then came Jim's cheerful shout of "Full speed ahead"; they were through, and steering for the open sea.

"What did you make of that thing, Jim?" said his cousin, joining him at the wheel. "Have you ever seen anything like it before?"

"No, I haven't," answered the other thoughtfully. "But we've seen what happened to Lopez. And there is no doubt at all in my mind that he never went ashore of his own free will. They got him just as they got Dresler. Which shows pretty conclusively that they do not remain merely on the defensive, but are prepared to be the aggressors. Incredible though it may seem, Percy, my own belief is that very few people have ever got away from this island—that what Bill told us was true. And it's that, far more than any harm Judy may come to from Don Miguel, that is making me so desperately uneasy."

"You think they may attack the yacht?"

"I think it is a certainty. But my hope is that they may wait till a party goes ashore, as they did in the case of the Paquinetta. They evidently possess a certain low cunning, and then they may hesitate to board the yacht when she is fully manned. In which case it will be to-morrow night, because they won't land anyone till they've got the map. That's what I'm banking on."

He paused abruptly, staring ahead. They were steering parallel with the edge of the swamp, over which the mist now lay like a blanket of cotton wool.

"Listen," he cried. "My God! there's another. Race her, Percy: take the bottom out of her. There is firing going on in front of us."

His cousin sprang below, and the next moment the boat was quivering from bow to stern like a mad thing. But even above the sound of the engine came the ominous crack, crack, of firearms, followed after a time by an even more ominous silence. And sick with anxiety Jim stood at the wheel staring over the glittering silver water ahead. Did that abrupt cessation of firing mean that the things had been repulsed, or did it mean...? Not even to himself could he complete the alternative.

They rounded the point, and saw the yacht lying at anchor a mile away. Lights were shining through some of the portholes, but they could see no sign of any movement, though in the moonlight the deck and bridge were clearly visible. She was about a quarter of a mile from the shore, and the first thing they noticed as they drew alongside was that the steps of the gangway were sopping wet.

They made fast, and dashed up on deck. And the sight that confronted them was so incredible that for a moment or two they stood there unable to move. The yacht was a shambles. Just in front of them lay Bully McIntyre, a blood-spattered crowbar still gripped in his hands. His head was bent back, and round his throat were great red weals. His neck had been broken from behind. Others of the crew lay about with their heads battered in: the sickly smell of blood was everywhere. It was a ghastly scene in the cold white light at any time, but one that was calculated to make them numb with horror when they thought of Judy.

They rushed below; all the cabins were open. And inside the first one they entered they came on what was left of Don Miguel. But it was not on the crushed remnants that Jim's eyes were fixed, but on the chair that stood by the bed. On it lay a little revolver, and he picked it up.

"Judy's," he muttered hoarsely. "The one I gave her. Oh! my God."

"Jim: come here."

A hoarse shaking voice which he dimly recognised as Percy's came from outside, and like a man walking in his sleep he joined him in the corridor.

"Look at that."

The door of the next cabin had been splintered to match wood, and on the bed lay Judy's hat. For a while they stood looking at it, not daring to meet one another's eyes. The situation was beyond speech: beyond thought. Judy was in the hands of these monstrous horrors, without even a revolver to protect herself with.

"What are we going to do, Jim: what can we do?"

"Do," answered the other tensely, "do. Go after her, of course. And if there's no other way out—shoot her. But there's going to be another way out, Percy."

His voice rose to a savage shout. "We'll beat the brutes yet."