The Flaming JewelChambers, Robert W. (Robert William)
General
The Flaming Jewel
Chambers, Robert W. (Robert William)
Jewel thieves -- Fiction
Behind her as she climbed she heard the slopping, panting tread of men;
her wind was better than theirs; she climbed lithely upward, setting a
pace which finally resulted in a violent jerk backward,--a savage,
wordless admonition to go more slowly.
As she climbed she wondered whether she should have fired an alarm shot
on the chance of the State Trooper, Stormont, hearing it.
But she had thought only of the packet at the moment of surprise. And
now she wondered whether, when freed, she could ever again find that
rotting log.
Up, up, always up along the wet gully, deep with silt and
frost-splintered rock, she toiled, the heavy gasping of men behind her.
Twice she was jerked to a halt while her escort rested.
Once, without turning, she said unsteadily: "Who are you? What have I
done to you?"
There was no reply.
"What are you going to do to me----" she began again, and was shaken by
the shoulder until silent.
At last the vast arch of the eastern sky sprang out ahead, where stunted
spruces stood out against the sunshine and the intense heat of midday
fell upon a bare table-land of rock and moss and fern.
As she came out upon the level, the man behind her took both her arms
and pulled them back and somebody bandaged her eyes. Then a hand closed
on her left arm and, so guided, she stumbled and crept forward across
the rocks for a few moments until her guide halted her and forced her
into a sitting position on a smooth, flat boulder.
She heard the crunching of heavy feet all around her, whispering made
hoarse by breath exhausted, movement across rock and scrub, retreating
steps.
For an interminable time she sat there alone in the hot sun, drenched to
the skin in sweat, listening, thinking, striving to find a reason for
this lawless outrage.
After a long while she heard somebody coming across the rocks, stiffened
as she listened with some vague presentiment of evil.
Somebody had halted beside her. After a pause she was aware of nimble
fingers busy with the bandage over her eyes.
At first, when freed, the light blinded her. By degrees she was able to
distinguish the rocky crest of Star Peak, with the tops of tall trees
appearing level with the rocks from depths below.
Then she turned, slowly, and looked at the man who had seated himself
beside her.
He wore a white mask over a delicate, smoothly shaven face.
His soft hat and sporting clothes were dark grey, evidently new. And she
noticed his hands--long, elegantly made, smooth, restless, playing with
a pencil and some sheets of paper on his knees.
As she met his brilliant eyes behind the mask, his delicate, thin lips
grew tense in what seemed to be a smile--or a soundless sort of laugh.
"Veree happee," he said, "to make the acquaintance. Pardon my
unceremony, miss, but onlee necissitee compels. Are you, perhaps, a
little rested?"
"Yes."
"Ah! Then, if you permit, we proceed with affairs of moment. You will be
sufficiently kind to write down what I say. Yes?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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