CHAPTER XVIIINIP AND TUCK
BeforeDick, half stunned by his fall, could get upon his feet, the four masked men threw themselves upon him, and, despite his struggles, bound him hand and foot. They cleared away the débris made by him in his unlucky fall, and placed him in the cleared space.
“Do you speak Italian?” asked the leader in fairly good English, as the men, after reconnoitering outside, returned and grouped themselves about their prisoner.
“No,” lied Dick, calmly.
“That is not so,” spoke up one of the men next the leader. “He is a good linguist and speaks our language fluently.”
Dick recognized the voice despite the mask.
“Clark! You renegade!” he shouted with sudden fury.
Clark made a hasty move in his direction, but the leader checked him.
“What matter,” he said, indifferently. “It will not be long in his power to injure us by any information he may have picked up to-night.”
The finality of his tone sent a cold shiver up and down Dick’s spine. Apparently his doom was sealed. Only a game of bluff might pull him out of his ghastly predicament.
“Don’t be too certain of that,” he said, coolly. “Clark, there, can add to the information he has already given you of me by saying that I am a representative of theWashington Star, one of the most influential newspapers in the country. You know the power of the press in America.”
His words made a visible impression on the three men. They glanced uneasily at each other. The leader spoke hastily and sternly.
“It does not matter who is at your back. You are in our power and cannot escape the fate of a spy.”
Dick’s heart sank, but he refused to give up.He was fighting for time. Something must intervene.
“I was sent over to follow that man,” pointing to Clark. “Do you think my disappearance will not be noticed if I don’t turn up safe and sound? Well, you are wrong. By noon to-morrow you will all be in custody; your precious plans for murdering the Grand Duke will then be nipped in the bud. Thus, instead of carrying out the orders of the Camorra you will be preparing to swing for my death.”
“Your arguments are all very fine, my friend,” returned the leader composedly, “provided everything happens as you say. But no one will know of your disappearance. It is an easy matter to secure a specimen of your handwriting, forge a letter from New York to your employers saying you were called there suddenly. One of the Brotherhood will impersonate you on a voyage to Europe. We never fail in our plans. Months will elapse before your disappearance will be noticed. You will never be traced.”
“Sounds well,” commented Dick. “Youforget I have a very substantial body which is apt to betray your best laid schemes.”
“It will not be found.”
“Pooh! Murder will out!”
“Not in this instance.” The leader rose and stepped over into a corner and picked up a satchel, which he opened. He took out a hypodermic syringe and a small black leather box such as surgeons carry. “We have plenty of disguises with us,” he continued. “You will be dressed in one of them. Your body will be found, but it will never be recognized as yours. In this little vial,” taking it out of the leather case, “there is a deadly poison. Under its influence your body becomes bloated and your features unrecognizable. It will be necessary to bury you at once, as decomposition follows fast. Therefore, no lengthy examination can be made.”
A terrible fear was upon Dick, brave fellow that he was. He could have faced death by dagger or revolver without flinching, but this creeping horror shook his nerve. Despairingly he glanced about the room; there was nohelp there. His eyes traveled back to the leader, and, fascinated, he watched him fit on the hypodermic needle and fill the syringe. His back and forehead were bathed in a cold perspiration, and his throat was parched and dry. He thought of Peggy, his dear, dear love, and involuntarily a groan escaped him.
“Tut!” said the Italian. “Just a pin prick. A few twists of your limbs and all will be over.”
At his signal two of the men tore off Dick’s left cuff and bared his arm. As the hand holding the needle hovered above Dick’s wrist, a shot rang out, and the leader crumpled up and fell forward over him, the syringe flying across the room.
“Throw up your hands!” commanded a stern voice from the broken skylight. The amazed men looked up into the barrels of four revolvers, while Dick fainted away.
A few minutes later Dick recovered consciousness. Dazed and bewildered he looked at the tall man bending over him, and put out his hand to push the brandy flask away.
“De Smirnoff!” he gasped. “How in h—l did you get here?”
“Gently, gently, my friend; drink this cognac,” and, as Dick complied with his request, he added, “I am a member of the Russian Secret Police. It is my special duty to guard the person of his Imperial Highness, the Grand Duke Sergius.”