“Have you lost your tongue?”
Still no reply.
Stolburst put his hand to his head. He found a lump there, and he suffered great pain. Upon placing his fingers upon the spot where he had been struck, he discovered the Abyssinian had been doctoring him. Everything about him, even to the lounge upon which he found himself stretched, and the sweet, aromatic odor that pervaded the atmosphere, suggested the Orient.
“Deth, why the devil don’t you speak?” he cried, assuming a sitting position.
A cruel smile played across the Abyssinian’s dark features, and he clapped his hands three times in rapid succession. The curtains at one side of the room parted. Ajeeb appeared.
“Go!”
Deth obeyed his master’s command. A fiercely triumphant expression appeared in Ajeeb’s eyes as he steadily regarded his prisoner.
“You spoke about police protection,” he said. “The police were not able to protect you. Base vandal, I, Ajeeb, never make idle threats.
“You are in my power, and beyond the reach of help. In a few hours Ajeeb will rack your body. Give up the green diamond, and be saved from torture.”
Stolburst looked steadfastly at his companion.