"If I were you I would try and learn the Englishman's laws before you
appeal to them. The first question that will be asked will be why you
have refrained from telling so long, for he who shelters a criminal by
silence is regarded as an aider and an abettor of that criminal. Then,
man, this case will be sifted to the bottom. That pond will be pumped
dry, and every outlet examined. Besides, what about the booking-clerk
that issued a ticket to Kaffar two hours after you and Mr. Temple found
me?"
"It's a lie!" he cried; "Kaffar was never seen."
"Well, then, if you are so sure, give me in charge. It will not be very
much opposed to my wishes, for by so doing you will set the whole
machinery of the law of England on Kaffar's trail, and I promise you it
will find him. English law is hard on murderers, but all evidence is put
through a very fine sieve in an English court of justice. Kaffar is not
an ordinary-looking man, and from Scotland Yard our police authorities
hold communication with all other police authorities in the civilized
world. I tell you, man, your trumped-up story would be torn to pieces in
five minutes, and in the end you would be safely lodged down at Dartmoor
for fourteen years."
He sat silent a minute, as if in deep thought; then he said slowly, "Mr.
Justin Blake, you think you have outwitted Herod Voltaire! Continue to
think so. I shall not give you in charge--not because I believe in
your paltry story, but because I should lose Miss Forrest by so doing,
and I cannot afford to do that, if for nothing else than to spite you.
You think you are free from me. Wait. You think Kaffar is to be
found--well, wait. But, I tell you, you shall repent all this. I will
marry the woman you love, and then I will lead you such a life as you
never conceived. You shall pray to die, and death shall not come. You
shall suffer as never man suffered. The condition of the Christians whom
Nero used as torches shall be heaven to what yours shall be.
Meanwhile--"
All this time he kept looking at me, and his words were uttered with a
nervous force and intensity that was terrible. I felt a strange chilling
sensation creep over me, and involuntarily I sat down. No sooner had I
done so than he gave a savage, exultant yell.
"You are mine again!" he cried.
It was a terrible struggle. His will and mine fought for the
mastery--his strengthened by a knowledge of laws of which I was
ignorant, and constant exertion of it; mine, by a new life which I had
but lately begun to live, by a strength given me through communion with
my Maker.
For a minute I was chained to the seat. My senses were numbed, and, all
the while his terrible glittering eyes rested on mine. Then my strength
began to return, and I again stood up, and in a few seconds I was master
of myself.
"Coward," I said, "you sought to take me unawares. You have done your
utmost, and I am your master, even now. Now go, and bear this in mind,
that the right and the truth shall be triumphant."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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