"Not a bit of it," the Russian responded. "Unfortunately for me the priests of Lassa have discovered that I am deeply versed in their secrets. Not that they believe for a moment that Tchigorsky and the Russian who walked the valley of the Red Death are one and the same. They deem me to be the recipient of that unhappy man's early discoveries. But your identity remains a secret. The cleverest eyes in the world could never penetrate your disguise."
"It comforts me to hear that," Ralph replied. "Everything depends upon my identity being concealed. Once it is discovered, every Ravenspur is doomed. But I cannot understand why you escape recognition at the hands of the foe."
A bitter smile came over Tchigorsky's face.
"Can you not?" he said. "If you had your eyes you would understand. Man, I have been actually in the company of those who flung me into the valley of the Red Death and they have not known me. After that I stood in the presence of my own mother, and she asked who I was.
"The marks on my face? Well, there are plenty of explorers who have been victims to the wire helmet and have never dreamt of entering Lassa. I am a broken, decrepit wreck, I who was once so proud of my inches. The horrors of that one day have changed me beyond recognition. But you know."
Ralph shuddered from head to foot. A cold moisture stood on his forehead.
"Don't," he whispered. "Don't speak of it. When the recollection comes over me I have to hold on to my senses as a shipwrecked sailor clings to a plank. Never mind the past—the future has peril and danger enough. You know why I am here?"
"To save your house from the curse upon it. To bring the East and West together, and tell of the vilest conspiracy the world has ever seen. Do you know who the guilty creature is, whose hand is actually striking the blow?"
"I think so; in fact I am sure of it. But who would believe my accusation?"
"Who, indeed! But we shall be in a position to prove our case, now that the secrets of the prison-house lie before us. We have three to fear."