..."
"Mr. Smith!" came the agonized cry ... "Nayland Smith, help! for God's
sake...."
"Quick, Smith!" I cried, "quick, man! It's Van Roon--he's been dragged
out ... they are murdering him...."
Nayland Smith held me in a vice-like grip, silent, unmoved!
Louder and more agonized came the cry for aid, and I felt more than
ever certain that it was poor Van Roon who uttered it.
"Mr. Smith! Dr. Petrie! for God's sake come ... or ... it will be ...
too ... late...."
"Smith!" I said, turning furiously upon my friend, "if you are going
to remain here whilst murder is done, _I_ am not!"
My blood boiled now with hot resentment. It was incredible, inhuman,
that we should remain there inert whilst a fellow-man, and our host to
boot, was being done to death out there in the darkness. I exerted all
my strength to break away; but although my efforts told upon him, as
his loud breathing revealed, Nayland Smith clung to me tenaciously.
Had my hands been free, in my fury I could have struck him; for the
pitiable cries, growing fainter now, told their own tale. Then Smith
spoke--shortly and angrily--breathing hard between the words.
"Be quiet, you fool!" he snapped. "It's little less than an insult,
Petrie, to think me capable of refusing help where help is needed!"
Like, a cold douche his words acted; in that instant I knew myself a
fool.
"You remember the Call of Siva?" he said, thrusting me away
irritably,"--two years ago--and what it meant to those who obeyed it?"
"You might have told me.
Pages:
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205