The man, who carried with him a pair of crutches, but who did not
appear to require their aid, hastily set the dinner-tray and
camp-table outside in the corridor, then closed and bolted the door.
Already the nurse was down on her knees beside the fallen man, trying
to loosen his grasp on the box. Then her face blanched.
"It's like the rigor of death itself," she whispered fearfully over
her shoulder. "Could I have given him enough to kill him?"
"He took only half a cup and a swallow of water. No."
"I can't get his hand free----"
"Wait! I try!" He pulled a big, horn-handled clasp-knife from his
pocket and deliberately opened the eight-inch blade.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, seizing his wrist. "Don't do
that!"
The man with the golden beard hesitated, then shrugged, pocketed his
knife, and seized Neeland's rigidly clenched hand.
"You are right. It makes too much muss!" tugging savagely at the
clenched and unconscious hand. "Sacreminton! What for a death-grip is
this Kerls? If I cut his hand off so iss there blood and gossip
right away already. No--too much muss. Wait! I try another way----"
Neeland groaned.
"Oh, don't! Don't!" faltered the girl. "You're breaking his
wrist----"
"Ugh!" grunted her companion; "I try; I can it not accomplish. See
once if the box opens!"
"It is locked."
"Search this pig-dog for the key!"
She began a hurried search of Neeland's clothing; presently discovered
her own handkerchief; thrust it into her apron pocket, and continued
rummaging while the bearded man turned his attention to the automatic
pistol. This he finally succeeded in disengaging, and he laid it on
the wash basin.
"Here are his keys," whispered the nurse feverishly, holding them up
against the dim circle of evening sky framed by the open port. "You
had better light the stateroom; I can't see. Hurry! I think he is
beginning to recover."
When the bearded man had switched on the electric light he returned to
kneel once more beside the inert body on the floor, and began to pull
and haul and tug at the box and attempt to insert the key in the lock.
But the stiffened clutch of the drugged man made it impossible either
to release the box or get at the keyhole.
"Ach, was! Verflüchtete' schwein-hund----!" He seized the rigid hand
and, exerting all the strength of a brutally inflamed fury, fairly
ripped loose the fingers.
"Also!" he panted, seizing the stiffened body from the floor and
lifting it. "Hold you him by the long and Yankee legs once, und I
push him out----"
"Out of the port?"
"Gewiss! Otherwise he recovers to raise some hell!"
"It is not necessary. How shall this man know?"
"You left your handkerchief. He iss no fool. He makes a noise. No, it
iss safer we push him overboard."