"Stop!" she almost screamed. "I'll tell—I'll take you there; but not that!"
"Good," grunted the Saxon, watching her malevolently. Jenson, bound and writhing impotently, was laid on the ground, and he took the whip from the seaman.
"Get up, Jenson." A stroke of the whip and Jenson rose; what with the whip and his arm, the man was in agony, and Hammer almost pitied him.
A few orders from Krausz, and Solomon was bidden go where he willed—on the landward side of camp; two askaris forced Jenson and Hammer along, two more followed, and with Krausz and Sara Helmuth walking side by side the party proceeded up the hill toward the jungle and the ruins beyond, while John Solomon looked after them for an instant and then incontinently took to his heels.
CHAPTER XVI
THE PLACE OF SKULLS
Cyrus Hammer, as he was forced along beside Jenson, was aware that the crisis had come in the twinkling of an eye and that he had proven wanting. Sara Helmuth had met it in his place—and Krausz had proven victor.
On the surface, at least. But, as he heard Sara Helmuth telling the scientist the tale of the real fort, Hammer smiled to himself. She might reveal the secret of the fort and treasure and all else—for Krausz had done the very thing which Hammer had never for an instant dreamed that he would do in releasing John Solomon.
The American recollected that, to Krausz, Solomon was no more than a mere pudgy little man who had shoved himself into the affairs of others, and for whom a day of wandering in the jungle would be veritable torture.
Krausz had woven his own net, for the only man there able to warn him against Solomon was Jenson, and from Jenson he would receive no warning. Moreover, Hammer saw that vengeance was like to be taken from his hands, since Jenson's punishment was slowly but surely drawing in upon him.