“Sure, anything for a pal,” the captain replied sarcastically.
Mr. Livingston fumbled with the cigarette which the seaman gave him, and then asked for a match. Captain Carter offered him the cigarette lighter. As he lit the fag, Jack suddenly moved forward as if to attack the captain.
“Oh, no you don’t!” the officer snarled, whipping out his automatic again. “No tricks, I warned you!”
“Jumpy, aren’t you?” Jack taunted. “I wasn’t even starting your way.”
“No? Well, remember what I told you, or it will be the worse for you all.” His gaze upon the grinning Scout, Captain Carter reached out to snatch the cigarette lighter from Mr. Livingston’s fingers.
Then, his automatic still trained upon the group, he backed slowly toward the tunnel.
“You’re all invited to the ceremony at dawn,” he called in parting. “I advise you though, to watch from a distance. If I catch a glimpse of you, I’ll sick my natives onto you. Furthermore, once I’ve finished off old Mud-in-the-Mouth, I may find it expedient to purge the Forbidden City of strangers.”
After the captain had gone, the Scouts, Mr. Livingston and Mr. Monahan, put in uncomfortable hours by the lake. Though they discussed any number of plans, none of them seemed feasible.
Captain Carter, they knew, was quite capable of carrying out his threat. Aware of their hostility, he would be more than ever on the alert.
“If we show ourselves in the city, he’ll finish us off,” Mr. Monahan asserted. “My advice is to wait here until dawn. Even then, I don’t know what we can do. If we try to overpower Carter, the natives will turn on us.”