For a long time he saw, stricken to inactivity by the news, and then he sent his engines into reverse and began circling round.
“There is one refuge for us, young miss,” he said. “Soon we shall see it. Now I will tell you something. I desire so much to live. Do you also?”
She did not answer.
“If you cry out, if you will make noises, I will kill you—that is all,” he said; and the very simplicity of his words, the lack of all emphasis behind the deadly earnestness, told her that he would keep his word.
| Chapter XXXII | The Search |
“ ’WARE man-traps,” said Gonsalez.
The white beam of his lamp had detected the ugly thing. He struck at it with his stick, and with a vicious snap it closed.
“Here’s one that’s been sprung,” he said, and examined the teeth. “And, what’s more, it has made a catch! There’s blood here.”
Manfred and Digby were searching the ground cautiously. Then Manfred heard the quick intake of his breath, and he stooped again, picked up a strip of braided cloth.
“A man’s,” he said, and his relief betrayed his fear. “Somebody in evening dress, and quite recent.” He looked at his finger. “The blood is still wet.”