"To one who wears the mark of the scorpion on his hand, my answer would be superfluous."
"Then follow my directions and your wish shall be granted."
His eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"So that was the meaning of this open entry and non-resistance," he said slowly. "Does the dope which dilates your eyeballs so warp your mind that you think to lead me into ambush?"
I pressed my hands against my temples. Time was racing and every moment was precious—how could I convince this man of my honesty?
"Listen; my name is Stephen Costigan of America. I was a frequenter of Yun Shatu's dive and a hashish addict—as you have guessed, but just now a slave of stronger dope. By virtue of this slavery, the man you know as a false leper, whom Yun Shatu and his friends call 'Master,' gained dominance over me and sent me here to murder Sir Haldred—why, God only knows. But I have gained a space of respite by coming into possession of some of this dope which I must have in order to live, and I fear and hate this Master. Listen to me and I swear, by all things holy and unholy, that before the sun rises the false leper shall be in your power!"
I could tell that Gordon was impressed in spite of himself.
"Speak fast!" he rapped.
Still I could sense his disbelief and a wave of futility swept over me.
"If you will not act with me," I said, "let me go and somehow I'll find a way to get to the Master and kill him. My time is short—my hours are numbered and my vengeance is yet to be realized."