A little farther, they stopped in front of a large tarpaulin, still soaked with water, which covered one of those frames on which the passengers' bags and trunks are stacked. He lifted the tarpaulin and slipped under it, beckoning to Simon to lie down beside him. "Look," he said. The frame contained a skylight protected by stout bars, through which they saw down into the long gangway skirting the cabins immediately below the deck. In this gangway a man was seated with two women beside him. When Simon's eyes had become accustomed to the semidarkness which showed objects somewhat vaguely, he distinguished the man's features and recognized Lord Bakefield, bound to a chair and guarded by the two viragoes whom Rolleston had placed in charge of Isabel. One of these women held in her heavy hand, which pressed on Lord Bakefield's throat, the two ends of a cord passed round his neck. It was clear that a sudden twist of this hand would be enough to strangle the unfortunate nobleman in the space of a few seconds. CHAPTER VII THE FIGHT FOR THE GOLD "Silence!" whispered Antonio, who divined Simon's feeling of revolt. "Why?" asked Simon. "They can't hear." "They can. Most of the panes are missing." Simon continued, in the same low tone: "But where's Miss Bakefield?" "This morning I saw her, from here, on that other chair, bound like her father." "And now?" "I don't know. But I suppose Rolleston has taken her into his cabin." "Where's that?" "He's occupying three or four, those over there." "Oh," gasped Simon, "it's horrible! And there's no other way out?" "None." "Still, we can't. . . ." "The least sound would be Miss Bakefield's undoing," Antonio declared. "But why?" "I am sure of it. . . . All this is thought out. . . . That threat of death to her father; it's blackmail. Besides. . . ." One of the women moved to a cabin door, listened and returned, sniggering: "The chit's defending herself. The chief will have to employ strong measures. You're resolved to go through with it, are you?" "Of course!" said the other, nodding in the direction of her hand. "Twenty quid extra for each of us: it's worth it! On the word of command, pop! And there you are!" The old man's face remained impassive. His eyes were closed; he appeared to be asleep. Simon was distracted: "Did you hear? Isabel and Rolleston: she's struggling with him. . . ." "Miss Bakefield will hold out. The sentence of death has not been issued," said Antonio. One of the men keeping watch at the entrance to the gangway now came along on his rounds, walking slowly and listening. Antonio recognized him: "He's one of the original accomplices. Rolleston had all his Hastings stalwarts with him." The man shook his head: "Rolleston is wrong. A leader doesn't concern himself like that with trifles." "He's in love with the girl." "A funny way of being in love! . . . He has been persecuting her now for four days."