“All right I will,” Sard said. “I was to see him in a few hours’ time, but I will go to him at once instead. Only look here, Mr. Kingsborough, I have seen this Dictator. Since I have landed I have seen both himself and his police service. It is hardly credible or possible that Miss Kingsborough could have been brought here without the fact coming to his knowledge.”
“That is what I am saying,” Hilary said, “he is in it, with the gang, and so I’ll tell him to his face.”
“Mr. Kingsborough, he is not that kind of man. Be assured, he is one who will help you in every way.”
“He will,” Hilary said. “Why did his filthy press print that lie, that she is found? He is in this rum-smuggling business, as everybody knows. He is in the smugglers’ power; he has to let them do what they please. My sister may be in that house: very likely is! Well, I am going in, to see.”
“Wait just for one minute, Mr. Kingsborough,” Sard said. “You’ve been shot, you say; you are still ill. We have a Minister here who will have that house laid bare for us almost within the hour. We will find a cab and drive to the Embassy and have the house searched in the proper manner.”
“The proper manner,” Hilary said. “I don’t know of any proper manner with blackguards of this sort. Why should you try to keep me from saving my sister, you might be one of the gang yourself.”
Sard was about to answer soothingly, seeing the young man’s distress and nervous exhaustion, but as he opened his lips there came the cry of a woman from within the central house. It was the cry of one in despair. It rang out clearly and fully for an instant, then was stopped suddenly as by a blow or a gag.
“You heard that?” Hilary said. “That was my sister’s voice. She is inside there.”
“Listen a moment,” Sard said, “wait.”
“I’m not going to wait,” Hilary answered. “Wait for what? Till they’ve killed her?” He was half-way to the door, when Sard stopped him.