“Did you hear anything, Sam?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Was it a cry for help?”
“That, or a woman’s scream, Duncan.”
“Come with me,” he said, and I followed him to the door of Ilalah’s cabin.
Two or three loud knockings failed to arouse any response. I turned the handle, found the door unlocked, and threw it open.
The room was empty.
I turned my flickering candle in every direction, lighting up the smallest cranny, as if the girl could be hidden in a rat-hole. The window stood wide open, and the cool night breeze came through it.
I turned toward Duncan, who stood in the middle of the room staring at the floor. As my gaze followed his I saw several of the blue beads Ilalah had worn scattered over the carpet.
“It is Nalig-Nad,” he muttered. “The San Blas have stolen my princess!”