"
The moody face of the secretary brightened up.
"Really, sir? Well, I am quite content to be on these terms--I mean as
long as you don't get bored. It wouldn't do, sir."
For coolness, Ricardo had thrown open his shirt and rolled up his
sleeves. He moved stealthily across the room, bare-footed, towards the
candle, the shadow of his head and shoulders growing bigger behind him
on the opposite wall, to which the face of plain Mr. Jones was turned.
With a feline movement, Ricardo glanced over his shoulder at the thin
back of the spectre reposing on the bed, and then blew out the candle.
"In fact, I am rather amused, Martin," Mr. Jones said in the dark.
He heard the sound of a slapped thigh and the jubilant exclamation of
his henchman:
"Good! That's the way to talk, sir!"
PART FOUR
CHAPTER ONE
Ricardo advanced prudently by short darts from one tree-trunk to
another, more in the manner of a squirrel than a cat. The sun had
risen some time before. Already the sparkle of open sea was encroaching
rapidly on the dark, cool, early-morning blue of Diamond Bay; but the
deep dusk lingered yet under the mighty pillars of the forest, between
which the secretary dodged.
He was watching Number One's bungalow with an animal-like patience, if
with a very human complexity of purpose. This was the second morning
of such watching.
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