“You prove true, don’t you?” he said coolly. “—True to your trade of story-telling, Scheherazade!”
“I knew—nothing—of this!” she stammered.
But Neeland only laughed disagreeably.
Then the door opened again softly, and Golden Beard came in without his crutches.
CHAPTER XXI
METHOD AND FORESIGHT
Without a word—with merely a careless glance at Neeland, who remained seated under the level threat of Ali Baba’s pistol, the big, handsome German removed his overcoat. Under it was another coat. He threw this off in a brisk, businesslike manner, unbuckled a brace of pistols, laid them aside, unwound from his body a long silk rope ladder which dropped to the floor at Ilse Dumont’s feet.
The girl had turned very pale. She stooped, picked up the silk ladder, and, holding it in both hands, looked hard at Golden Beard.