"The princess is convinced of that?"
"Absolutely. She is certain that I, Sergius Tchigorsky, have gone over to the great majority. Besides, I have placed proofs of my alleged crime in her hand—the Garuda stone all the fuss was about. It is a clever imitation, but that is beside the question."
"So you have been taken into her confidence?"
"Well, not exactly that. But every new scheme is relegated so far as details are concerned to some of us, and therefore I am in a position to discount the future. In ordinary circumstances I should simply have warned you against going fishing to-day, and thus checkmated the foe again; but that would have been inartistic.
"Besides, I wanted the princess to regard you as another victim, hence the whole of this rather cheap dramatic business. You will come to life again in a few hours—when we shall have to be guided by events."
"Who was it who tampered with the boat?"
"You will learn in good time. Let us meanwhile assume that it was the work of one of my dusky companions. For the present you and I remain where we are—till dark probably—when it will be possible to smuggle you up to your uncle's room. I have not been regardless of your creature comforts. Here are cold meat and a bottle of champagne. We dine together."
Geoffrey accepted his portion with resignation. And Tchigorsky was an entertaining companion. There was no dullness in his presence.
"Very well," Geoffrey said as he lighted a cigarette. "We are safe here. Now's the time for a further recital of your thrilling adventures in Lassa."
"Agreed," Tchigorsky cried. "Where did I leave off?"