"Symonds, sir; the man must have suddenly gone off his head. We had to secure and gag him."
"Thank goodness it isn't any worse," murmured Ranworth. "I thought the Russians had cut up rough about something."
"They did," rejoined Leslie. "Luckily for us they saved the situation."
The cabin of the Bird of Freedom presented a picture of utter disorder. In several places the interior panelling was smashed, fragments of cabin furniture lay scattered in all directions. On the floor bound hand and foot, and with a gag securely fixed in his mouth, was the seaman Symonds.
Leslie's surmise was correct. The man had suddenly gone mad. Under the delusion that the lump of platinum was his personal property, he had hurled himself upon one of the two Russians who unwittingly had touched the metal with his foot.
Although the Russian was a powerfully built fellow, he was weakened by the privations he had undergone, and was in consequence no match for the infuriated seaman.
His compatriot, coming to his aid, was threatened with a rifle which the madman had torn from the arms rack. Fortunately O'Donovan gave the weapon a sharp upward knock just as Symonds pressed the trigger, and the bullet went completely through the roof and mushroomed against the metal eye-bolt without.
Then ensued a fierce hand-to-hand struggle as O'Donovan and the Russians strove to overpower their unfortunate comrade. It was not until one of the Russians succeeded in slipping a running noose round the maniac's legs, that Symonds was capsized and bound hand and foot.
"Get her going, Leslie," said Ranworth, quietly. "We've lost enough time already."
During the last few minutes the blizzard had burst with all its fury upon the narrow valley. Although the wind was right aft, the whirling masses of snow made it impossible to see more than a few yards ahead.