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.Before the cry which the man might have uttered could gain outlet it waschoked back into his gullet by the merciless clutch of those steel fingers,and before he could tear the fingers away the Saint's weight had droppedsilently on his shoulders and borne him down to the deck.Staring up withshocked and dilated eyes as he fought, the man saw the cold flash of aPage 100 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlknife-blade in the dim light; and then the point of the knife pricked himunder the chin.The Saint's fierce whisper sizzled in his ear."Wenn du einen Laut von dir gibst, schneide ich dir den Kopf ab."The man made no sound, having no wish to feel the hot bite of that viciousblade searing through his neck.He lay still; and the Saint slowly releasedthe grip on his throat and used his freed hand to take the automatic from theman's hip pocket.Then he took his knee out of the man's chest."Get up."The man worked himself slowly to his feet, with the muzzle of the gun grindinginto his breastbone and the knife still under his eyes."Do you want to live to a ripe old age, Fritz?" asked the Saint gently.The man nodded dumbly, licking his lips.And the Saint's white teeth flashedin a brief and cheerless smile."Then you'd better listen carefully to what I'm saying.You're not going totake all of that message to Ivaloff.You're going to take me along, and tellhim that Vogel says I'm to go down.That's all.You won't see this gun anymore, because it'll be in my pocket; but it'll be quite close enough to hityou.And if you make the slightest attempt to give me away, or speak one wordout of your turn, I'll blow the front out of your stomach and let your dinnerout for some air.Do you get my drift or shall I say it again?"2As they moved on, Simon amplified his instructions.He re-placed his knife inits sheath and put it inside his shirt; the gun he slipped into his trouserpocket, turning it up so that he could fire fairly easily across his body.Hewas still building up his plan while he was giving his orders.Crazy? Ofcourse he was.But any man who was going to win a fight like that had to becrazy any-how.And now he could fill in the steps of reasoning which the wild leap of hisinspiration had ignored.The sight of those cases of bullion stacked aroundthe after deck had started it; the grab not yet dismantled and lashed down hadhelped.Vogel's talk about unloading the gold had fitted in.And then, when hehad heard Vogel speak about "going down" again, and gathered that Vogelhimself was going to accompany Ivaloff, the complete and incontestableexplanation had opened up in his mind like an exploding bomb.Loretta had toldhim- -how many hundred years ago? that Vogel must have some fabuloustreasure-house some-where, where much of the proceeds of his astounding careerof piracy might still be found, which Ingerbeck's had been seeking for fiveyears.And now the Saint knew where that treasury was.He knew it as certainlyas if he could have seen down through the thirty feet of stygian water overthe side.Where else could it have been? Where else, in the name of all thesublime and extrav-agant gods of piracy, could Kurt Vogel, taking his lootfrom the trackless abysses of the sea, have found a more appropriate andinviolable depository for it than down there in the same vast lockers of DavyJones from which it had been stolen?And the Saint was going down there to find it.Vogel was going down with himto show him the last secret.And down there, in the heavy silence of thatultimate underworld, where no other soul could interfere, their duel would befought out to its finish.As they came to the companion, Simon was ripping off his tie and threading itthrough the trigger-guard of his automatic.He steadied the helmsman as theyreached the lower deck."Hold my arm."The man looked at him and obeyed.The Saint's blue eyes held him with a wintrydominance that would not even allow the idea of disobedience to come to life."And don't forget," added that smouldering undertone, which left no room fordoubt in its audience that every threat it made would be unhesitatinglyfulfilled."If they even begin to suspect anything, you'll never live to seethem make up their minds.Move on."They moved on.The helmsman stopped at a door a little fur-ther up thePage 101 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlalleyway and on the opposite side from the cabin in which Simon had beenlocked up, and opened it.Ivaloff and the two men who had dressed the Saintbefore were there, and they looked up in dour interrogation.Simon held his breath.His forefinger took up the first pressure on thetrigger, and every muscle in bis body was keyed up in terrible suspense.Thesecond which he waited for the helmsman to speak was the longest he couldremember
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