Korak laughed.
“Who are you?” he repeated.
“I’m an Englishman by the name of Baynes; but who the devil are you?” asked the Hon. Morison.
“They call me The Killer,” replied Korak, giving the English translation of the name that Akut had given him. And then after a pause during which the Hon. Morison attempted to pierce the darkness and catch a glimpse of the features of the strange being into whose hands he had fallen, “You are the same whom I saw kissing the girl at the edge of the great plain to the East, that time that the lion charged you?”
“Yes,” replied Baynes.
“What are you doing here?”
“The girl was stolen—I am trying to rescue her.”
“Stolen!” The word was shot out like a bullet from a gun. “Who stole her?”
“The Swede trader, Hanson,” replied Baynes.
“Where is he?”