“She tells you to go,” said Stephan wearily, “because we would have to kill you otherwise.”
“But why? Why?” demanded Cunningham desperately.
Stephan rose from his seat and spread out his hands.
“Because no woman can ever keep a secret from the man she loves,” he said wearily. “Some day she would tell you who we are. And then you would hate her and hate us. You would turn from her in horror, and you would denounce us. And we would die, swiftly. I am not happy, my son. Maria is my daughter and I would see her happy. But some day she would tell you who we are——”
Cunningham found himself being crowded gently away from Maria. He thrust himself fiercely against the pressure.
“But who are you?” he cried savagely. “Dammit, I don’t care who you are! You’re making her cry! Let me pass! Let me get——”
Stephan made a gesture. With the quickness of lightning Cunningham was seized by a hundred hands. He fought like a fiend against the innumerable grips that clasped his hands, his arms, his feet. But they were too many. He stopped his struggling, panting, and stared raging at Stephan.
“We give you a gift,” said Stephan quietly. “Gold, my son. Much gold. Because if Vladimir tells our secrets we will all be killed, and he threatens to tell.”
“I don’t want your money,” panted Cunningham savagely. “I want this silly mystery ended! I want Maria! I want——”
“Go in peace,” said Stephan drearily.