I leapt out of bed and began to bellow orders for pursuit—until I saw Johnson's terrified face again, and knew that I had not heard all.
"... They got down to the water somehow, sir. They must have climbed down the lift rails. And they swam to the ship...."
"Good God! What ship?"
"Their own ship, Sir John. Somehow or other they managed to get on board; we've just heard...."
"Where are they?"
"They did for the two men on board, and must have managed to start the engines—the ship's gone. The searchlights are all over the pool, and there's no trace of her. They were seen, Sir John, I ..."
He broke off short, the words drying up in his mouth. All the other men shrank together in a frightened group as Danjuro came slowly into the room.
I have never seen a figure so awe-inspiring, or terrible.
In moments of supreme emotion a European grows chalk-white, an Asiatic grey.
The Japanese was livid grey now, and his face seemed carved with fantastic gashes—grey rubber slashed with a knife. He was like a man who had slept a thousand years and wakened to find himself old, and in hell.