*.
 
 MON.CA,
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 ' Terence,' she said, ' I think I am very 
 weary. Take me home ' " (Page 350) Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 " His dominant emotion of the moment, an intense 
 and pitiful solicitude for the dying man, 
 threw him off his guard" (Page 250) . 106 
 
 " She was visibly armed and prepared against 
 danger in whatever form she might have to 
 encounter it " 254 
 
 " Grinning with anguish, the man . . . stag- 
 gered and, throwing back his arm, flung the 
 Pool of Flame from him with all his might " 
 (Page 261) . , , . ,., . . . . . 312 
 
 999r 
 
 f^tf^if^si *j* ^J
 
 CHAPTER 
 ONE 
 
 A STILL and sultry dusk had fallen, closing an op- 
 pressive, wearing day: one of those days whose sole 
 function seems to reside in rendering us irritably con- 
 scious of our too-close casings of too-solid flesh ; 
 whose humid and inert atmosphere, sodden with 
 tepid moisture, clings palpably to the body, causing 
 men to feel as if they crawled, half-suffocated, at 
 the bottom of a sea of rarefied water. 
 
 The hour may have been eight ; it may have been 
 not quite that, but it was almost dark. The windows 
 were oblongs black as night in the yellow walls of 
 O'Rourke's bedchamber in the Hotel d'Orient, Monte 
 Carlo. 
 
 I have the honour to make known to you the 
 O'Rourke of Castle O'Rourke in the county of Gal- 
 way, Ireland; otherwise and more widely known as 
 Colonel Terence O'Rourke; a chevalier of the 
 Legion of Honour of France; sometime an 
 officer in the Foreign Legion in Algiers ; a wan- 
 derer, spendthrift, free-lance, cosmopolite a gen- 
 tleman-adventurer, he's been termed. 
 
 He was dressing for dinner. The glare of half a
 
 3 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 dozen electric bulbs discovered him all but ready for 
 public appearance not, however, quite ready. In 
 his shirt sleeves he faced a cheval-glass, pluckily (if 
 with the haggard eye of exasperation) endeavouring 
 to outmaneuvre a demon of inanimate perversity 
 which had entered into his dress tie, inciting it to 
 refuse to assume, for all his coaxing and his strata- 
 gems, that affect of nonchalant perfection so much 
 sought after, so seldom achieved. 
 
 Patently was the thing possessed by a devil; 
 O'Rourke made no manner of doubt of that. 
 Though for minutes at a time he fjumbled, fidgeted, 
 fumed, it was without avail. Between whiles and 
 sometimes for as long as sixty seconds he had 
 recourse to guile and, ostensibly giving over the un- 
 equal contest, would thrust both hands in his trouser- 
 pockets and wander aimlessly round the room, en- 
 deavouring to deceive the damned thing by assuming 
 the expression of an insouciant saint thoroughly im- 
 pregnated with imperturbable patience. A subter- 
 fuge so transparent that, of course, it proved de- 
 servedly profitless. 
 
 His room itself was in a state of considerable dis- 
 order something due mainly to O'Rourke's char- 
 acteristic efforts to find just what he might happen 
 to desire at any given time without troubling to 
 think where it ought properly to be. From a coat- 
 hanger hooked to the chandelier hung a dressing- 
 gown, giddily beflowered. Upon the bed, in the
 
 CHAPTER ONE 3 
 
 centre of an immaculate spread, a pair of boots, 
 spurred and dusty, reposed with an air of fatigued 
 abandon. Their trees stood upon a mantel, with a 
 rakish air of masquerading as vases without much 
 caring whether or not the disguise were successful. 
 From out a shallow, curtained alcove, intended for 
 use as a clothes-closet, coats of all imaginable cuts 
 and materials had flown wildly to every point 
 of the compass in a singularly successful endeavour 
 to escape association with their respective waist- 
 coats and trousers. Surrounded by a miniature ava- 
 lanche of shirts, an open trunk in the corner con- 
 veyed a vivid impression of having recently been in 
 violent eruption. A surprising assortment of col- 
 lars, together with neckties in rainbow-hued multi- 
 tudes, had cascaded from the open drawers of a 
 bureau. A battalion of boots and shoes cluttered 
 the floor, wearing a guilty look as of having been 
 arrested in the act of a simultaneous stampede for 
 freedom. 
 
 Something of this confusion, mirrored in the glass, 
 was likewise reflected in O'Rourke's eyes, what time 
 he paused for breath and profanity. " Faith, 'tis 
 worse than a daw's nest, the place," he admitted, 
 scandalised. " How ever did I one lone man do 
 all that, will ye be telling me? " He flung out two 
 helpless baffled hands, and let them fall. After a 
 meditative pause he added : " Damn that Alsatian ! " 
 with reference to his latest and least competent
 
 4 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 valet, who had but recently been discharged with a 
 flea in his ear and a month's unearned wage in his 
 pocket. " For knowing me ways," sighed O'Rourke, 
 " there was never anyone the like of Danny." 
 
 For as many as three livelong days this man had 
 been reduced to the necessity of dressing himself 
 with his own fair hands and that at least thrice 
 daily, who did nothing by halves. And, somehow, 
 mysteriously, his discarded garments had for the 
 most part remained where he had thrown them, 
 despite the earnest efforts of the femme de chambre 
 to restore something resembling order from this 
 man-made chaos. For servants all liked well the 
 O'Rourke, improvident soul that he was, freehanded 
 to a fault. 
 
 You are invited to picture to yourself O'Rourke 
 as invariably he was in one of his not infrequent but 
 ever transient phases of affluence: that is, a very 
 magnificent figure indeed. Standing a bit over six 
 feet, deep of chest and lean of flank, with his long, 
 straight legs he looked what he had been meant to 
 be, a man of arms and action. His head was shapely, 
 its dark hair curling the least in the world ; and, in- 
 eradicably stained a transparent brown, his features 
 were lean, eager, and rendered very attractive by 
 quick boyish eyes in whose warm blue-grey depths 
 humour twinkled more often than not though those 
 same eyes were not seldom thoughtful, a trace wist- 
 ful, perhaps, with the look of one who recalls dear
 
 CHAPTER ONE 5 
 
 memories, old friends and .sweethearts loved and lost. 
 For he had begun to live early in life and 
 had much to look back upon, though for all that it's 
 doubtful if he were more than thirty at the time he 
 became involved in the fortunes of the Pool of Flame. 
 For the rest of him, barring the refractory tie the 
 man was strikingly well-groomed, while his sur- 
 roundings spoke for comfortable circumstances. On 
 the authority of the absent and regretted Danny, 
 who had long served the O'Rourke in the intimate 
 capacities of body-servant, confidant and chancellor 
 of the exchequer (this last, of course, whenever there 
 happened to be any exchequer to require a chancel- 
 lor), there was never anyone at all who could spend 
 money or wear clothes like himself, meaning the 
 master. And at this time O'Rourke was ostensibly 
 in funds and consequently (as the saying runs) cut- 
 ting a wide swath. Heaven and himself only knew 
 the limits of his resources ; but his manner a Monte 
 Cristo might have aped to advantage. His play 
 was a wonder of the Casino ; for the matter of that, 
 his high-handed and extravagant ways had made 
 the entire Principality of Monaco conscious of his 
 presence in the land. And you fail in the least to 
 understand the nature of the man if you think for a 
 moment that it irked him to be admired, pointed 
 out, courted, pursued. He was, indeed, never so 
 splendid as when aware that he occupied the public 
 eye. In short, he was just an Irishman. . . . So,
 
 6 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 then, it's nothing wonderful that he should seem a 
 thought finical about the set of his tie. 
 
 Now as he stood scowling at his image, and wish- 
 ing from the bottom of his heart he had never been 
 fool enough to let Danny leave him, and calling 
 fervent blessings down upon the head of the fiend 
 who first designed modern evening-dress for men 
 he found himself suddenly with a mind divested of 
 any care whatever and attentive alone to a sound 
 which came to him faintly, borne upon the heavy 
 wings of the sluggish evening air. It was nothing 
 more nor less than a woman singing softly to her- 
 self (humming would probably be the more accurate 
 term), and it was merely the tune that caught 
 his fancy ; a bit of an old song he himself had 
 once been wont to sing, upon a time when he had 
 been a happier man. It seemed strange to hear it 
 there, stranger still that the woman's voice, indis- 
 tinct as it was, should have such a familiar ring in 
 his memory. He frowned in wonder and shook his 
 head. " The age of miracles is past," he muttered ; 
 " 'twould never be herself. I've had me chance and 
 forfeited it. 'Twill not come to me a second 
 time. . . ." 
 
 The singing ceased. Of a sudden O'Rourke swore 
 with needless heat, and, plucking away the offending 
 tie, cast it savagely from him. " The divvle fly away 
 with ye ! " he cried. " Is it bent on driving me mad 
 ye are? I'd give me fortune to have Danny back!
 
 CHAPTER ONE 7 
 
 . . . Me fortune faith ! " He laughed the word 
 to bitterest scorn. " "Tis meself that never had the 
 least of anything like that without 'twas feminine * 
 with a ' mis-' tacked onto the front of it ! " And 
 he strode away to the window to cool off. 
 
 It was like him to forget his exasperation in the 
 twinkling of an eye; another mood entirely swayed 
 him by the time he found himself gazing out into the 
 vague, velvety dusk that momentarily was closing 
 down upon the fairy-like panorama of terraced gar- 
 dens and sullen, silken sea. His thoughts had 
 winged back to that dear woman of whom that frag- 
 ment of melody had put him in mind; and he was 
 sighing and heavy of heart with longing for the 
 sight of her and the touch of her hand. 
 
 Even as he watched, stark night fell, black as a 
 pocket beneath a portentous pall of cloud. . . . 
 Far out upon the swelling bosom of the Mediter- 
 ranean a cluster of dim lights betrayed a stealthy 
 coasting steamer, making westwards. Nearer, in 
 the harbour, a fleet of pleasure craft, riding at an- 
 chor on the still, dark tide, was revealed in many 
 faint, wraith-like shapes of grey, all studded with 
 yellow stars. Ashore, endless festoons of coloured 
 lamps draped the gloom of the terraces ; the f a9ade 
 of the Casino stood out lurid against the darkness; 
 the hotels shone with reflected brilliance, the palace 
 of the Prince de Monaco loomed high upon the 
 peninsula, its elevations picked out with lines of soft
 
 8 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 fire. . . . Voices of men with the gay discreet 
 laughter of women drifted up to him, blended with 
 syncopated strains from invisible orchestras. And 
 in the night air, saturated with the heavy perfume 
 of exotic blooms, there was the warning of rain be- 
 fore dawn. . . . 
 
 The O'Rourke shook his head, condemning it all. 
 "'Tis beautiful," he said; "faith, yes! 'tis all of 
 that. But I'm thinking 'tis too beautiful to be good 
 for one like some women I've known in me time. 
 'Tis not good for Terence that's sure; 'tis the 
 O'Rourke that's going stale and soft with all this 
 easy living. . . . Me that has more than many 
 another to live for and hope for and strive for! 
 . And I'm lingering here in the very lap of 
 luxury, stuffing meself with rare food, befuddling 
 meself with rarer wines me that has fought a day 
 and a night and half a day atop of that on nothing 
 and a glass of muddy water! risking me money as 
 if there was no end to it, throwing it away in scan- 
 dalous tips like any drunken sailor! And all for the 
 (scant satisfaction of behaving like a fool of an Irish- 
 man. . . . 'Tis sickening disgusting; naught 
 less. . . . I'm thinking this night ends it, 
 though; come the morning I'll be pulling up stakes 
 and striking out for a healthier, simpler place, where 
 there's something afoot a man can take an interest in 
 without losing his self-respect. . . . I'll do just 
 that, I will!"
 
 CHAPTER ONE 9 
 
 This he meant, firmly, and was glad of it, with a 
 heart immeasurably lightened by the strength of his 
 good resolution. He began to hum the old tune that 
 the unknown woman's voice had set buzzing in his 
 brain, and broke off to snap his fingers defiantly at 
 the Casino. " That for ye 1 " he flouted it" sit- 
 ting there with your painted smile and your cold 
 eyes, like the brazen huzzy ye are Goddess of 
 Chance, indeed! thinking ye have but to bide your 
 time for all men to come and render up their souls 
 to ye ! Here's once that ye lose, madam ; after this 
 night I'm done with ye; not a sou of mine will ever 
 again cross your tables. I'll have ye to understand 
 the O'Rourke's a reformed character from the morn- 
 ing on ! " 
 
 He laughed softly, in high feather with his con- 
 ceit; and, thinking cheerfully of the days of move- 
 ment and change that were to follow, the song in 
 his heart shaped itself in words upon his lips. 
 
 "I'm Paddy Whack 
 From Ballyhack, 
 Not long ago turned soldier O 
 At grand attack, 
 Or storm or sack, 
 None than I will prove bolder O!" 
 
 His voice was by way of being a tenor of toler- 
 able quality and volume, but untrained nothing 
 wonderful. It was just the way he trolled out the
 
 10 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 rollicking stanza that rendered it infectious, irre- 
 sistible. For as he paused the voice of the woman 
 that had reminded him of the song capped the verse 
 neatly. 
 
 " An' whin we get the route 
 Wid a shout, 
 How they pout! 
 Wid a ready right-about 
 
 Goes the bould soldier-boy!" 
 
 O'Rourke caught his breath, startled, stunned. 
 
 " It can't be ! " he whispered. For if at first 
 
 her voice, subdued in distance, had stirred his mem- 
 ory with a touch as vague and thrilling as the caress 
 of a woman's hand in darkness, now that he heard 
 the full strength of that soprano, bell-clear and spir- 
 ited, he was sure he knew the singer. He told him- 
 self that there could be no two women in the world 
 with voices just like that; not another than her he 
 knew could have rendered the words with so true a 
 spirit, so rare a brogue tinged as that had been 
 with the faintest, quaintest exotic inflection imag- 
 inable. 
 
 But she had stopped with the verse half sung. 
 His pulses quickening, O'Rourke leaned forth from 
 the window and carried it on : 
 
 " O, 'tis thin the ladies fair 
 In despair 
 Tear their hair! 
 
 But "Tis divvle a bit I care!' 
 Cries the bould soldier-boy ! "
 
 CHAPTER ONE 11 
 
 There fell a pause. He listened with his heart in 
 his mouth, but heard nothing. And it seemed impos- 
 sible to surmise whence, from which of all the rooms 
 with windows opening upon that side of the hotel, 
 had come the voice of the woman. She might as 
 well have been above as below him, or on either side : 
 he could not guess. But he was determined. 
 
 Now there was beneath his window a balcony with, 
 a floor of wood and a rail of iron-filigree a long 
 balcony, extending from one corner of the hotel to 
 the other. At intervals it was splashed with light 
 from the windows of chambers still occupied by 
 guests belatedly busy, like himself, with the task of 
 dressing for the evening. The window to his left 
 was alight ; that on his right, dark. With half his 
 body on the balcony, his legs dangling within the 
 room, O'Rourke watched the opening on his left with 
 jealous, breathless expectancy. Not a sound came 
 therefrom. He hesitated. 
 
 " If that weren't her room, I'd hear somebody 
 moving about," he reasoned. " 'Tis frightened she 
 is not suspecting 'tis me. . . . But how do I 
 know 'tis herself? . . . Faith! could me ears de- 
 ceive me? " 
 
 With that he took heart of hope and broke man- 
 fully into the chorus, singing directly to the lighted 
 window, singing the first line with ardour and fer- 
 vour, with confidence and with hope, singing persua- 
 sively, pleadingly, anxiously, insistently.
 
 IS THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " For the worrld is all befo^ore us " 
 
 lie sang, then paused. He heard no echo. And 
 again he essayed, with that in his tone to melt a 
 heart of ice: 
 
 " For the worrld is all befo-ore us " 
 
 And now he triumphed and was lifted out of him- 
 self with sheer delight; for from the adjoining room 
 came the next line : 
 
 " And landladies ado-ore us " 
 
 Unable to contain himself, he chimed in, and in 
 duet they sang it out to the rousing finale : 
 
 "They ne'er rayfuse to sco-ore us, 
 But chalk us up wid joy! 
 
 We taste her tap, we tear her cap 
 
 * O, that's the chap 
 
 For me,' cries she 
 
 ' Whir oo I 
 Isn't he the darlint, the bould soldier-boy ! ' " 
 
 As the last note rang out and died, the next win- 
 dow was darkened; the woman had switched off the 
 lights. He heard a faint rustle of silken ruffles. 
 ' 'Tis herself," he declared in an agony of antici- 
 pation "herself and none other! And I'm think- 
 ing she'll be coming to the window now " 
 
 He was right. Abruptly he discovered her by
 
 CHAPTER ONE 13- 
 
 the reflected glow from the illumination behind him. 
 He was conscious of the pallid oval of her face, of 
 a sleek white sheen of arms and shoulders, of a 
 dark mass of hair, but more than all else of the 
 glamour of eyes that shone into his softly, like limpid 
 pools of darkness touched by dim starlight. 
 
 Inflamed, he leaned toward her. " Whist, darl- 
 ing ! " he stammered. " Whist ! 'Tis myself 'tis 
 Terence " 
 
 But she was gone. A low, stifled laugh was all 
 his answer that and the silken whisper of her 
 skirts as she scurried from the window. He flushed 
 crimson, waited an instant, then flung discretion to 
 the winds, and found himself scrambling out upon 
 the balcony. Heaven only knows to what lengths 
 the man would have gone had not the slam of a 
 door brought him up standing; she had left her 
 room! 
 
 So she thought to escape him so easily ! He swore 
 between his teeth with excitement and tumbled back 
 whence he had come. Regardless of the fact that he 
 was still in his shirt-sleeves he rushed madly for the 
 door. On the way a shooting- j acket on the floor, 
 perhaps in revenge for neglect and ill-treatment, 
 maliciously wound itself round his feet and all but 
 threw him headlong; only a frantic clutch at the 
 footrail of the bed saved him. Kicking the thing 
 savagely off he flung himself upon the door and 
 threw it open. His jaw dropped.
 
 14 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 The lift shaft was directly opposite. Before it, 
 in more or less patient waiting, stood a very young 
 and beautiful woman in a gown whose extreme can- 
 dour was surpassed only by the perfection of its de- 
 sign and appointment both blatant of the Rue de 
 la Paix; a type as common to the cognoscenti of 
 Monte Carlo as the Swiss hotel porters. But 
 O'Rourke did not know her from Eve. 
 
 " The divvle ! " said he beneath his breath. 
 
 He was mistaken ; but the young woman, at first 
 startled by his unceremonious appearance, on in- 
 stantaneous second thought decided to permit him to 
 discover that twin imps, at least, resided in her 
 eyes. And when his disappointment prevented him 
 from recognising them, her dawning smile was swiftly 
 erased and her ascending eyebrows spoke eloquently 
 enough of her haughty displeasure. Synchronously 
 the lift hesitated at that landing and the gate 
 clanged wide; the young woman wound her skirts 
 about her and showed him a back which at any other 
 time would have evoked his unstinted admiration. 
 Then the gate shot to with a rattle and bang, and 
 the lift dropped out of sight, leaving the man with 
 mouth agape and eyes as wide. 
 
 A beaming but elderly femme de chambre on duty 
 in the corridor, remarking O'Rourke's pause of 
 stupefied chagrin, hoped and believed he needed her 
 services. She bore down upon him, accordingly. 
 
 "M'sieu' is desirous of ?"
 
 CHAPTER ONE 15 
 
 He came out of his trance. " Nothing," he told 
 her with acid brevity. " But, yes," he reconsidered 
 with haste. " That lady who but this moment took 
 the lift her name? " 
 
 " Her name, m'sieu' ? Ma'm'selle Voltaire." 
 
 " Impossible ! " he told himself aloud, utterly un- 
 able to forge any connecting link between the lady 
 in the lift and her whose voice had bewitched him. 
 
 " But assuredly, m'sieu'. Do I not know I who 
 have waited upon her hand and foot these three days 
 and to whom she has not given as much as that." 
 The woman ticked a fingernail against her strong 
 white teeth. " Ma'm'selle Victorine Voltaire," she 
 asserted stubbornly. 
 
 " Of the Folies, I daresay," he suggested, ab- 
 stracted. 
 
 "Or Maxim's, m'sieu' or of where? Who 
 knows ? " A shrug as expressive as its accompany- 
 ing moue deprecated the social standing of the lady 
 in question so absolutely that, forthwith, she had less 
 than none. 
 
 " Oh, well plague take 'em both ! " O'Rourke 
 fumbled in his pocket and found a golden ten-franc 
 piece, surrendering it to the woman as heedlessly as 
 though it had been as many centimes. " I'll be leav- 
 ing me room in five minutes, now. And do ye, for 
 the love of Heaven, me dear, try to set me things 
 the least trifle to rights. Will ye now, like the best 
 little girl in the world? "
 
 16 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 The best little girl in the world, who was forty- 
 five if a day, promised miracles with a bob of a 
 courtesy. But so disgruntled was O'Rourke that 
 he shut his door in her face. 
 
 " 'Tis meself that's the fool," he said, savagely 
 enough, " to think for a moment that ever again I'd 
 set me eyes on her pretty face God bless it, wher- 
 ever she may be ! . . . For why should I deserve 
 to I, the penniless adventurer? "
 
 CHAPTER 
 TWO 
 
 AFTER that bitter disappointment his interest in 
 his personal appearance dwindled to the negligible. 
 In a black temper with himself (whom alone he 
 blamed for the deception to which he had fallen too 
 facile a victim) he searched blindly for a fresh tie, 
 found it somehow, and knotted it round his collar 
 in the most haphazard fashion imaginable. Then 
 he shrugged a dress coat upon his shoulders and 
 marched forth to dine. 
 
 Because he held the cuisine of the Hotel d'Orient 
 in abomination, he elected to make his meal nowhere 
 else, thus proving to himself conclusively that he 
 didn't care what happened to him now. Who was 
 he, anyhow the rough soldier of fortune to be 
 finding fault with the food that was set before him, 
 or, for the matter of that, the drink either so long 
 as there was enough of both? 
 
 In this humour he propelled himself with deter- 
 mination into the public restaurant of the establish- 
 ment and, oblivious to the allure of many a pair of 
 bright eyes that brightened all too readily to chal- 
 lenge his, insisted upon a table all to himself and 
 
 17
 
 18 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 dined in solitary grandeur, comporting himself 
 openly as a morose and misunderstood person, and 
 to his waiter with a manner so nearly rude that the 
 latter began almost to respect him. 
 
 After some time he was disgusted to discover that 
 he felt better. An impulse toward analysis led him 
 to probe the psychology of the change, with the re- 
 sult that he laid the blame for it at the door or 
 the neck of a half-bottle of excellent burgundy. 
 So he ordered another and, resolutely dismissing 
 from his mind the woman who had no right whatever 
 to be able to sing a certain song the way she had, 
 set his wits to work on the riddle of To-morrow. 
 
 To a man whose trade was fighting, the world 
 just then was a most distressful place, too peaceful 
 entirely. In no quarter of it to which his mind 
 turned in longing and hopeful inquiry, in no land 
 however remote or the contrary, savage or tame, 
 could he detect symptoms of anything resembling a 
 rumpus worthy his attention, his ambition, or his 
 recognised abilities. South America he pondered 
 only briefly, dismissing it with a contemptuous 
 shake of the head. While as for the Balkans pouff 
 the Balkans never burgeoned with the black flower 
 of their grim promise; a man who waited for the 
 Balkans to get down to business would grow as 
 rusty and stiff as a condemned magazine-gun. 
 Africa? It was true, according to rumour at least, 
 that the French were enjoying their annual differ-
 
 CHAPTER TWO 19 
 
 ence of opinion with the Touaregg, somewhere south 
 of Biskra ; but that could be nothing more than an 
 insignificant border war, in which an honest mer- 
 cenary would profit scantily if at all. Indeed, it 
 was the opinion of the O'Rourke, who knew the 
 Touaregg of old, that the French got small change 
 from them ; though the converse was likewise true ; 
 the desert people were chiefly useful in that they 
 provided excellent training for the conscripts of 
 France. In Asia only India rumbled ; and O'Rourke 
 perhaps fatuously held with the English that 
 the foreboded eruption, however inevitable, would be 
 long in coming. . . . Alack! where might a man 
 turn to find honourable fighting, honest loot? 
 
 Over his coffee the adventurer nodded in despair 
 and frowned in disgust ; then rousing, he summoned 
 the waiter and paid his reckoning with a secret grin 
 at himself, a fifty-franc note and a gesture which 
 splendidly obliterated altogether every trace of sus- 
 picion that he intended to take back any part of 
 the change due him. 
 
 Trimming and lighting a cigar, he reviewed the 
 restaurant with a listless eye which discovered no 
 one of his acquaintance; therefore, with neither 
 haste nor waste of time, he rose and betook himself 
 to the Casino that is, to the one place where one 
 may feel certain of encountering, sooner or later, 
 everybody who is anybody within the bounds of the 
 principality.
 
 20 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 In the lobby he was passed with effusion by at- 
 tendants to whom he was but too well known. As 
 has been remarked, O'Rourke never cut a modest 
 figure; and he had now been for ten consecutive 
 nights conspicuous at the tables in the salles de jeu, 
 where his luck was popularly deemed phenomenal. 
 For he had played like a prince or a prodigal, with 
 so easy a hand and a demeanour so carefree, that 
 gossip credited him with one of three diverse dis- 
 tinctions: he was either a prince incognito, a de- 
 faulting bank president, or the titled husband of 
 an American girl. Indeed it's probable that the 
 ease with which he manipulated his money blinded 
 the envious to the fact that he lost as much, if not 
 as frequently, as he won ; so that only to himself, to 
 those astute accountants the croupiers and those 
 aloof financiers who skulk behind the nom de guerre 
 of the S octet e Anonyme des Bains de Mer et du 
 Cercle des Etrangers & Monaco was it known that 
 he had been lucky mainly in not losing all that he 
 possessed. 
 
 This night, more particularly than on any pre- 
 ceding it, now that he had made up his mind 
 to seek betterment of his fortunes elsewhere, he played 
 heedlessly, little concerned with the fate of what 
 money he had about him. He had set aside a re- 
 serve fund sufficient to settle his hotel bill and carry 
 him a considerable distance into the unknown which 
 he was resolved to beard, and was resigned to lose
 
 CHAPTER TWO 21 
 
 the remainder. It was a tenet of his creed of fatalism 
 that chance seldom favoured him when he had money 
 in his pockets ; the tide of his affairs must be at 
 its lowest ebb ere it turned. His policy then was 
 obvious childishly plain : he must fling to the winds 
 all that which he had. 
 
 In so far as he thought of the matter at all, this 
 was the man's humour of the moment. No apology 
 or explanation is attempted; to essay aught in ex- 
 tenuation of his frequent follies were bootless. It 
 has already been insisted upon that he was an Irish- 
 man. 
 
 Now never was there a man who played to lose 
 who didn't win his point. Colonel O'Rourke's case 
 can be cited as no exception to this rule. Elbow to 
 elbow on one side with an artless old lady from Terre 
 Haute, who risked her minimums with the ferocious 
 jealousy of a miser making an unsecured loan, on 
 the other with an intent little Austrian gambler ab- 
 sorbed in the workings of his "system," the adven- 
 turer scattered gold upon the numbered and illu- 
 minated gridiron as unconcernedly as though he 
 had been matching shillings, and ^saw the coins 
 gathered in by the greedy rake as often as the little 
 ivory ball ceased to chatter on the wheel. 
 
 For the better part of an hour this continued. 
 And the little group of sycophants which had gath- 
 ered behind his chair to watch his play insensibly 
 dissipated. A whisper ran through the ranks of the
 
 22 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 habitues that the luck of the mad Irishman had 
 turned; and forthwith he ceased to be an object of 
 interest. Only the little Austrian, having risked 
 the number of stakes prescribed by his system for 
 one evening's play, put away his note-book and pen- 
 cil and, surrendering his place to another, lingered 
 behind O'Rourke's chair, unable to resist the fas- 
 cination of watching a man who could at once lose 
 money and retain his composure. 
 
 At length, inexpressibly bored and too impatient 
 to defer the inevitable by niggardly wagers, 
 O'Rourke ransacked his pockets and placed the pro- 
 ceeds several hundred francs I am as ignorant of 
 the amount as he was indifferent to it upon the red. 
 
 There fell a lull, the croupier holding the wheel to 
 permit an unbaked cub of Chicago millions to cover 
 the cloth with stakes too numerous for his half- 
 developed intelligence to keep count of ; and the ad- 
 venturer shifted in his seat, reviewing the assem- 
 blage. For some moments, through the mysterious 
 working of that sixth sense which men are pleased 
 vaguely to denominate intuition, he had been sub- 
 consciously aware of being the object of some per- 
 son's fixed regard, that somebody was not only 
 watching but weighing him. He sought the source 
 of this sensation and, for a little time, sought it un- 
 successfully. Annoyed, he persisted. He heard the 
 croupier's mechanical " Rein ne va plus," followed 
 by the whirring of the wheel, but cared so little that
 
 CHAPTER TWO 23 
 
 he would not turn to watch the outcome. Only an 
 exclamation of the Austrian's apprised him of the 
 fact that red had won. He glanced listlessly round 
 to see the money doubled, and let it rest, turning 
 back to his survey of the throng. A moment later 
 his attention became fixed upon two men who stood 
 in the doorway, looking toward him. Again the 
 wheel buzzed, the ball clattered and was still. The 
 word rouge among others in the announcement told 
 him that again he had won; this time, however, he 
 did not turn, but, frowning in speculation, stared 
 back at the two. 
 
 Stared? Indeed and he did just that. If it was 
 impertinent, sure and were they not staring at him? 
 And who should gainsay an O'Rourke the right to 
 stare at anybody, be he king or commoner? Fur- 
 thermore, who might these men be, and what their 
 interest in himself? 
 
 The one was tall, slender, saturnine; an elegant, 
 owing as much to the art of his tailor and uphol- 
 sterer as to his own, indisputable, native distinction ; 
 a Frenchman at least of a type unquestionably 
 Gallic. His face was very pale, his fine, pointed 
 moustache very precise, jaw square, forehead high, 
 eyes deep and dark beneath brows heavy, level and 
 black, manner marked by a repose almost threaten- 
 ing in its impassivity. 
 
 His companion was shorter of stature, a younger 
 man by at least ten years, rather stout and very
 
 24i THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 nervous, with a fresh red face marred by hallmarks 
 of dissipation ; British, every inch of him. 
 
 " That, I'm thinking," mused O'Rourke, "will be 
 the Honourable Bertie Glynn. Faith, he looks the 
 part, at least; 'tis just that kind inbred, under- 
 bred, without brains or real stamina that would 
 run through a half-million sterling inside a year." 
 
 But the other? 
 
 "Monsieur," the little Austrian stammered ex- 
 citedly in his ear, " for you the red has doubled a 
 fourth time." 
 
 " Thank ye," replied O'Rourke without moving. 
 " 'Twill turn up seven, this run." 
 
 The system-gambler subsided, petrified. 
 
 But the other? O'Rourke continued to probe his 
 memory. Something in the man's personality was 
 curiously reminiscent. ... Of a sudden he re- 
 membered. The Frenchman had been pointed out 
 to him, years ago, in Paris, as a principal in a 
 Boulevard scandal which had terminated in a duel 
 a real duel, in which he had been victorious. He was 
 accustomed to anticipate such an outcome of his 
 affairs of honour, however ; that was why he had been 
 named to O'Rourke; Des Trebes (that was the 
 name; the Vicomte des Trebes) was a duellist of in- 
 ternational disrepute. 
 
 " Monsieur," the agitated voice fluttered in his 
 ear, " you have won yet again for the sixth time ! " 
 
 " Let it stand for the seventh, mon ami."
 
 CHAPTER TWO 25 
 
 Why should Des Trebes be watching him so 
 openly, so pointedly? As he watched he became 
 aware that these two, the Frenchman and the Eng- 
 lishman, were not alone ; detached though their atti- 
 tude was, they were evidently of a party of ladies 
 and gentlemen whose gay, chattering group formed 
 their background. 
 
 " Monsieur, the seventh turn ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes." 
 
 ** Rein ne va plus," croaked the croupier. 
 
 One of the ladies turned to speak to the Honour- 
 able Mr. Glynn. Smiling, he nodded, and offered 
 her an arm. She lingered, addressing Des Trebes. 
 The latter bowed, lifted his shoulders and laughed 
 lightly, plainly excusing himself. A general move- 
 ment took place in the party; it began to disinte- 
 grate, men and women pairing off, all moving at 
 leisure toward the lobby. Des Trebes alone re- 
 mained. O'Rourke could see that the personnel of 
 the gathering was largely British. He recognised 
 Lady Plinlimmon, whose yacht (he had heard cas- 
 ually) had arrived in the harbour that morning. 
 Evidently this was her party. Another woman's 
 figure caught his attention; her back was turned, 
 but she had an air, a graceful set of the shoulders, 
 an individual pride and spirit in the poise of her 
 head, that O'Rourke could have sworn he knew. 
 He was conscious that he flushed suddenly, that his 
 heart was pounding. He made as if to rise and fol-
 
 26 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 low, but was prevented, almost forced back by a 
 hand which the Austrian in his feverish interest had 
 unconsciously placed on the Irishman's shoulder. 
 
 " Monsieur, monsieur ! " he gasped, his eyes, pro- 
 truding, fixed upon the wheel. Beads of sweat glis- 
 tened on his forehead. He trembled as though his 
 own fortunes hung on the change. 
 
 Impressed, O'Rourke could not forbear to linger., 
 to cast a reluctant glance at the table. 
 
 The size of his pile of gold and notes on the red 
 was a somewhat startling sight to him. His breath 
 stopped in his throat. The ivory sphere was rattling 
 over the compartments to its predestined place. 
 What if he were to win? O'Rourke began to cal- 
 culate mentally how much he had at stake, how 
 much he might win if his careless prediction that red 
 would turn up the seventh time should come true 
 lost his bearings in a maze of intricate computation 
 and was on the point of abandoning the problem, 
 when black was called. 
 
 " Great God ! " panted the Austrian, withdrawing 
 his hand. 
 
 O'Rourke rose. " The fortunes of war, me 
 friend," said he with a laugh so unforced that it 
 sounded unnatural. He strode away hastily, search- 
 ing the throng in the lobby for her with whom his 
 mind was occupied to the exclusion of all else. 
 
 The system-gambler followed him with a stare of 
 incredulous amazement. " What a man ! " said he
 
 CHAPTER TWO 27 
 
 to himself, if half aloud. A second later he added: 
 " What admirable acting ! " 
 
 But he was mistaken. There was nothing assumed 
 in O'Rourke's air of apathy. He was actually quite 
 indifferent and already preoccupied with his new in- 
 terest the pursuit of the woman whose unexpected 
 appearance in Monte Carlo seemed likely to upset 
 all his calculations. The sails of the barque of his 
 fortunes had all his life long been trimmed to the 
 winds of Chance; he was well accustomed to seeing 
 them fall flat and flapping, empty, just when a ven- 
 ture seemed most propitious. The loss of money 
 was nothing: the initial amount had been little 
 enough in all conscience, though the major part of 
 all that he possessed; but to him the woman was 
 everything the world and all. 
 
 And now she was gone, had disappeared with her 
 companions ! In that instant in which he had turned 
 from her to the table, she had made her escape. 
 
 He cursed roundly the weakness that had lost her 
 to him, and passing rapidly through the lobby, left 
 the Casino, pausing before the entrance to look right 
 and left. 
 
 There was no sign of what he sought ; the party 
 had vanished. And who should say whither? 
 
 " Damnation ! " he grumbled. 
 
 " Monsieur," a voice intruded at his side. 
 
 He turned with a start, annoyed. "Well?" he 
 ^demanded curtly, recognising Des Trebes.
 
 28 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 The Frenchman bowed. " I have the honour to 
 address Monsieur le Colonel O'Rourke? " 
 
 Reflecting that the man might afford him the in- 
 formation he sought, O'Rourke unbent. " I am he, 
 Monsieur des Trebes." 
 
 Surprised, the latter lifted his eyebrows, showing 
 even white teeth in a deprecatory smile. " You know 
 me, monsieur? " 
 
 " By sight and reputation only, monsieur." 
 
 " I am honoured." 
 
 " No more than meself, if it comes to that." 
 
 The vicomte laughed. " Then I may presume to 
 ask the favour of a word with you? " 
 
 "Are ye not having it, monsieur?" 
 
 "True . . . But in private? " 
 
 " One moment. Ye can do me a favour, if ye will. 
 Afterwards " 
 
 " I am charmed." 
 
 " 'Tis not much I'll be asking ye merely a ques- 
 tion or two. Now that gentleman ye were talking 
 with a while back: isn't he the Honourable Bertie 
 Glynn?" 
 
 " The same, monsieur." 
 
 " And the lady who spoke to him ? " 
 
 " Madame Smyth-Herriott, I believe ; I know her 
 only slightly." 
 
 " Then ye are not of their party? " 
 
 " Party ? " Des Trebes appeared perplexed. 
 "What party?"
 
 CHAPTER TWO 29 
 
 " Why, Lady Plinlimmon's, of course." 
 
 "I have not the honour of that lady's acquaint- 
 ance, monsieur." 
 
 "Oh, ye have not? But Mr. Glynn? " 
 
 " Is here with me, monsieur a flying trip. We 
 ran down from Paris but yesterday. Our meeting 
 with Madame Smyth-Herriott was quite accidental." 
 
 " Oh, the divvle ! " said O'Rourke beneath his 
 breath. Plainly he might expect nothing more help- 
 ful from this man; he had jumped prematurely at 
 a baseless conclusion, it seemed. And by now it was 
 much too late to think of further pursuit. " That is 
 all I wished to know, monsieur," he admitted lamely. 
 " There was a lady in the group whom I thought I 
 recognised. I wished to find her and fancied ye 
 might perhaps direct me. Ye didn't by any chance 
 happen to hear Mrs. Smyth-Herriott say where she 
 was going with Mr. Glynn ? " 
 
 " Unhappily no, monsieur." 
 
 " Very well then. What can I have the happiness 
 to serve ye in ? " 
 
 The Frenchman hesitated briefly. "This is a 
 trifle public," he suggested. " Will you not be kind 
 enough to walk with me a little distance, while we 
 converse? " 
 
 " Gladly, monsieur." 
 
 Des Trebes produced a cigarette case, and to- 
 gether, smoking, the two turned their backs upon the 
 Casino and wandered off along the paths of the
 
 30 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 terraced gardens. Ever descending, they came at 
 length to the secluded, little lighted and less fre- 
 quented portions of the grounds which border the 
 waterfront, and presently sat side by side upon a 
 bench, looking out over the harbour. Then and then 
 only did Des Trebes approach his subject some- 
 thing which he had until now studiously avoided, 
 distracting the not over-patient Irishman by a fall- 
 ing fire of banalities. 
 
 " I dare say, Colonel O'Rourke," he suggested, 
 abandoning his mother tongue for excellent English 
 " I dare say you are wondering " 
 
 " I am that." 
 
 " I feared so. But it was essential that we should 
 speak in privacy." 
 
 " Yes ? " 
 
 " But before I proceed, may I put you a ques- 
 tion or two bordering, perhaps, upon impertinence, 
 yet not so conceived? " 
 
 " What a long-winded beggar ! " O'Rourke com- 
 mented mentally. " As for that," said he aloud, 
 " 'tis impossible for me to calculate the imperti- 
 nence until 'tis put to me. Eh ? " 
 
 " Believe me, sir, I am anxious only to avoid in- 
 discretion. It is the question of your identity alone. 
 I desire only to be assured that you are the Colonel 
 O'Rourke I take you to be." 
 
 " My faith ! And who else would I be, now? " 
 
 " There's the bare possibility that two of the same 
 name might exist."
 
 CHAPTER TWO 31 
 
 " 'Tis so bare that 'tis fairly indecent," chuckled 
 the Irishman. " But fire away." 
 
 " I am not mistaken then in assuming that I ad- 
 dress the Colonel Terence O'Rourke who was at one 
 time a party to le petit Lemercier's mad Empire 
 du Sahara project and who later married Lemer- 
 cier's widow, Madame la Princesse de Grandlieu? " 
 
 O'Rourke took a long breath and looked his 
 questioner up and down. " Ye have a very pretty 
 taste in the matter of impertinences," he said 
 gravely. "However, let that pass. I'm the same 
 man." 
 
 " A thousand pardons. Caution in matters such 
 
 as this " A shrug completed the thought most 
 
 eloquently. " You can give me proofs of your 
 identity, then ? " 
 
 "Proofs!" O'Rourke got to his feet. "Believe 
 me, monsieur, ye have all the proof I'm willing to 
 give ye, and that's me last word. If yet find it in- 
 sufficient, why, then " 
 
 " Pardon ! " Des Trebes interrupted, rising. " I 
 am myself more than content. But the Government 
 of France " 
 
 "The Government of France !" O'Rourke 
 
 whistled. 
 
 " Is more exacting than I. It knows a certain 
 Colonel O'Rourke and him alone does it need." 
 
 " The divvle it does ! And what will it be wanting 
 with me ? " 
 
 " I can say at present no more than that I rep-
 
 32 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 resent Government in an affair demanding secrecy 
 and despatch. I have a certain diplomatic mission 
 to discharge, and shall have need, monsieur, of a 
 man strong, bold, venturesome, willing to undertake 
 a long and perhaps perilous journey." Had Des 
 Trebes been inspired he could have formulated no 
 speech better calculated to intrigue the Irishman; 
 the merest echo of its import would have fired his 
 hearer's fancy. He added: "And I am authorised 
 to retain for that purpose, should I be fortunate 
 enough to find him unengaged, a certain Colonel 
 Terence O'Rourke." 
 
 " Say no more, monsieur. 'Tis enough. * Secrecy 
 despatch a long and perilous journey'! Faith, 
 I'm just your man ! " 
 
 " You have no other business of the moment? '* 
 
 " None whatever." 
 
 " Then I am indeed fortunate. And now, I pre- 
 sume, you will no longer object to satisfying me 
 as to your identity." 
 
 " Not in the least. Although, to be candid, 
 monsieur, I'm not in the habit of carrying me Ber- 
 tillion record about me. But if ye'll have the good- 
 ness to accompany me to the Orient, over there, 
 I'll put your mind at ease before ye can say knife." 
 
 Des Trebes nodded. " I should be delighted, but 
 unfortunately " he snapped the case of his watch 
 " I have an appointment with a confrere. May 
 we fix a time in half an hour, say when it will be 
 convenient for you to have me call at the Orient ? "
 
 CHAPTER TWO 33 
 
 "In half an hour? I'll await ye then, monsieur." 
 
 " Pardon, then, my haste. I am late. I must be 
 off." 
 
 The man's hand touched O'Rourke's in the most 
 brief of clasps, singularly firm and cold. The Irish- 
 man pondered the sensation for some moments after 
 Des Trebes* hurrying figure had vanished in 
 shadows. 
 
 " I don't like it," he averred ; " 'tis a bad sign 
 a hand that's naturally cold. I never yet touched 
 one like it that belonged to a man ye could trust. 
 I misdoubt he's sound at the core, Des Trebes. 
 . . . But then, what's the odds? Can I not 
 take care of meself? And since 'tis the Government 
 of France I'm treating with, and himself only the 
 medium that puts altogether a different com- 
 plexion on the matter." 
 
 He spent the ensuing half-hour loitering in the 
 more populous portions of the grounds, smoking as 
 he strolled, his eyes keen to scrutinise each woman 
 who came his way. But he discovered none resem- 
 bling her whom he had seen in the Casino. 
 
 " Of all things the most improbable," he admitted 
 at length. " Me ears deceived me this evening : is 
 it any less likely that me eyes should play me false? 
 Faith, for the matter of that, 'tis me heart that's 
 doing it all ; 'tis sick it is with longing for her, and 
 within another twenty-four hours 'twill be making 
 me think every woman I see is herself! .... 
 Bless her sweet face, the darling ! "
 
 CHAPTER 
 THREE 
 
 As he stepped out of the lift Colonel O'Rourke re- 
 marked a light in his room, visible through the 
 transom over the door. 
 
 " The femme de chambre, " he thought. " Sure 
 and the poor thing's still busy trying to clear 
 up. ..." 
 
 To the contrary, he found the door fast. " 'Tis 
 careless she was to leave the light on, " he observed^ 
 fitting his key to the lock. 
 
 If thoughtless in that one way, the woman had 
 fulfilled the letter of her word in the other. It was 
 with comprehensible delight and relief (since he 
 anticipated a caller) that he found the room once 
 again presentable. His multitudinous belongings had 
 disappeared, as if magically they had been stowed 
 away; the curtains of the alcove, decently drawn, 
 concealed the most part of them. The furnishings 
 had been put in place, the bed turned down ready 
 for him to slip into it, the window curtains caught 
 aside to admit whatever air might be stirring a 
 work of supererogation on that night, O'Rourke 
 considered, noting how straight and still they 
 hung. . . . 
 
 34
 
 CHAPTER THREE 35 
 
 But one thing surprised him ; and more surprising 
 still was the fact that his ordinarily indifferent eye 
 should have detected it at the first glance. He had 
 indeed hardly entered before he became aware of a 
 square of white paper tucked in the corner of the 
 bureau mirror. 
 
 "The divvle, now!" he greeted it. "That's 
 curious. . . . Could one of me many admir- 
 ers have bribed the femme de chambre to bring a 
 note to me? " He chuckled, holding to the light a 
 much-soiled envelope, grimy with the marks of many 
 fingers, liberally plastered with stamps and black 
 with postmarks and substitute addresses, having 
 evidently been forwarded over half the world before 
 it reached the addressee: who was, in a bold hand, 
 " Colonel Terence O'Rourke." 
 
 He whistled low over this, examining it intently, 
 infinitely less concerned with its contents than with 
 the manner by which it had reached him. The first 
 postmark seemed to be that of Rangoon, the orig- 
 inal address, the Cercle Militaire, his club in Paris. 
 Thence, apparently, it had sought him in Galway, 
 Ireland, Dublin, Paris again, and finally after 
 half a dozen other addresses '* C/. Mme. O'Rourke. 
 Hotel Carlton, London." The London postmark 
 was indecipherable. 
 
 He found himself trembling violently. By one 
 hand alone could this have reached him, since the 
 post had not brought it to Monte Carlo. . . ..
 
 36 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 He recalled that woman's voice which had so stirred 
 him, the woman of the Casino whose bearing had 
 seemed to him so familiar. . . . 
 
 Someone tapped on the door; he smothered a 
 curse of annoyance, and went to answer, thrusting 
 the letter into his pocket. 
 
 A page announced Monsieur le Vicomte des 
 Trebes. 
 
 " Show the gentleman up, " snapped O'Rourke. 
 He was about to add, " in five minutes, " when Des 
 Trebes himself appeared. 
 
 " Anticipating that message, monsieur," he said, 
 moving into view from one side of the door, " I took 
 the liberty of accompanying this boy. I am late, 
 I fear." 
 
 O'Rourke forced a nod and smile of welcome. 
 " Not to my knowledge, " said he. 
 
 The Frenchman consulted his watch. " Ten 
 minutes late, monsieur; it is ten minutes past mid- 
 night." 
 
 " Then, " said O'Rourke, " the top o' the morn- 
 ing to ye. Enter, monsieur." He stood aside, clos- 
 ing the door behind his guest. " 'Tis no matter ; if 
 I thought ye punctual, 'tis so ye are to all intents 
 and purposes. ... A chair, monsieur." He 
 established Des Trebes by a window. " And a ciga- 
 rette ? . . . A drop to drink ? ... As ye will. 
 . . . And since 'tis to talk secret business that 
 we're here would ye like the door locked ? "
 
 CHAPTER THREE 37 
 
 " That is hardly essential." Des Trebes reviewed 
 his surroundings with swift, searching glances. " We 
 are at least secure from interruption ; one could ask 
 little more." 
 
 " True for ye, " laughed O'Rourke. He moved 
 toward the alcove. " Now first of all I'm to submit 
 proofs of me identity, I believe," he added, intending 
 to dig out of his trunk a despatch-box containing 
 his passports and other papers of a private nature. 
 
 But Des Trebes had changed his mind. " That 
 is unnecessary, monsieur. Your very willingness 
 is sufficient proof. I have your word and am con- 
 tent." 
 
 " That's the way of doing business that I like, " 
 assented ORourke heartily, warming a little to the 
 man as he turned back a chair facing the vicomte. 
 " Besides, I quarrel with no man's right to be rea- 
 sonable. . . . And now I'm at your service, 
 monsieur." 
 
 Des Trebes, lounging back, knees crossed, thin 
 white fingers interlacing, black eyes narrowing, re- 
 garded the Irishman thoughtfully for a moment. 
 Abruptly he sat up and removed from an inner 
 pocket a long thin white envelope, thrice sealed with 
 red wax and innocent of any superscription whatever. 
 
 " Are you prepared, monsieur," he demanded inci- 
 sively, " to play blindman's buff? " 
 
 "Am I what?" asked O'Rourke, startled. Then 
 he smiled. " Pardon ; perhaps I fail to follow ye."
 
 38 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " I mean," explained the vicomte patiently, " that 
 I have to offer you a commission to act under sealed 
 orders " he tapped the envelope " the orders con- 
 tained herein." 
 
 " And when would I be free to open that ? " 
 
 " As soon as you are at sea away from France, 
 monsieur." 
 
 O'Rourke considered the envelope doubtfully. 
 ** From you, monsieur from the Government of 
 France, which you represent," he said at length, 
 " yes ; I will accept such a commission. France," he 
 averred simply, " knows me ; it wouldn't be asking 
 me to do anything a gentleman shouldn't." 
 
 " You may feel assured of that, 1 " agreed Des 
 Trebes gravely. " Indeed I venture to assert you will 
 find this let us say adventure much to your lik- 
 ing. . . . Then you accept? " 
 
 " One moment a dozen questions, by your leave. 
 . . . When must I start? " 
 
 " To-morrow morning, by the Cote d'Azur Rapide, 
 at ten minutes to eight." 
 
 " And where will I be going? " 
 
 " First to Paris ; thence to Havre ; thence, by the 
 first available steamer, to New York ; finally, it may 
 be, to Venezuela, monsieur." 
 
 "Expenses?" 
 
 " I will myself furnish you with funds sufficient 
 to finance you as far as New York. There our 
 consul-general will provide you with what more you
 
 CHAPTER THREE 39 
 
 may require. It is essential that your connection 
 with this affair shall be kept secret ; should you draw- 
 on the government in this country, it would expose 
 you to grave suspicion, perhaps to danger." 
 
 " I understand that," assented the Irishman. 
 "But to obviate all danger of mistake, would it not 
 be well to have one of your trusted agents meet me 
 on the steamer and provide me with whatever ye 
 figure I might require? 'Tis barely possible your 
 consul-general might not recognise me in New York. 
 Why should he? I never heard his name, even." 
 
 Des Trebes meditated this briefly. " It shall be as 
 you desire, monsieur. It shall be arranged as you 
 suggest." 
 
 " Finally, then, what is to be my recompense ? " 
 
 " That must depend. I am authorised to assure 
 you that in no case will you receive less than twenty- 
 five thousand francs ; in event of a successful ter- 
 mination to your mission, the reward will be doubled." 
 
 "'Tis enough," said O'Rourke with a sigh; "I 
 accept." 
 
 The Frenchman rose, offering him the envelope. 
 " You pledge yourself, monsieur, not to break these 
 seals until you are at sea ? " 
 
 " Absolutely of course." O'Rourke took the 
 packet, weighed it curiously in his hand and scruti- 
 nised the seals. He remarked that they were yet 
 soft and fresh ; the wax had been hot within the half- 
 hour.
 
 40 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " I will do myself the honour of meeting you at 
 the train to see you off, monsieur," said Des Trebes. 
 " At that time, also, will I provide you with the 
 funds you require." 
 
 " Thank ye." 
 
 Their hands met. 
 
 " Good night, Monsieur O'Rourke." 
 
 " Good night . . ." 
 
 Half way to the door, Des Trebes paused. " Oh, 
 by the way," he exclaimed carelessly, " I believe 
 you are a friend of my old school-fellow, Chambret 
 mon cher Adolph? " 
 
 " 'Tis so," assented the Irishman warmly. " The 
 best of men Chambret ! " 
 
 " Odd," commented the vicomte ; " only this af- 
 ternoon I was thinking of him, wondering what had 
 become of the man." 
 
 " The last I heard of him, he was in Algeria, mon- 
 sieur with some French force in the desert." 
 
 " Thank you . . ." On the point of leaving, 
 the vicomte snapped his teeth on a second " Good 
 night," and swore beneath his breath. 
 
 O'Rourke, surprised, stared. The Frenchman 
 was standing stiffly at attention, as if alarmed. His 
 pallor was, if possible, increased, livid his closely- 
 shaven beard showing blue-black on his heavy jowls 
 and prominent chin. His eyes blazed, shifting from 
 the alcove to O'Rourke. 
 
 " Monsieur," he demanded harshly, " what does 
 this insult mean ? "
 
 CHAPTER THREE 41 
 
 "Mean?" iterated O'Rourke. "Insult? Faith, 
 ye have me there." 
 
 Speechless with rage, Des Trebes gestured vio- 
 lently toward the alcove; and O'Rourke became 
 aware that the curtains there were shaking waver- 
 ing as though a draught stirred them. But there 
 was no draught. And beneath their edge he saw 
 two feet two small, bewitching feet in the daintiest 
 and most absurd of evening slippers, with an inch 
 or so of silken stocking showing above each. 
 
 Des Trebes' eyes, filled with an expression un- 
 speakably offensive, met the Irishman's blank, won- 
 dering gaze. " It is, no doubt," the Frenchman 
 stammered, " sanctioned by your code to have me 
 spied upon by the partner of your liasons." 
 
 " But, monsieur " 
 
 " I compliment the lady upon the smallness of her 
 feet, as well as upon ankles so charming that I can- 
 not bring myself to leave without a glimpse of their 
 mistress's features." 
 
 Des Trebes moved toward the alcove. Thunder- 
 struck, O'Rourke rapped out a stupefied oath, then 
 in a stride forestalled the man. With him it was as 
 if suddenly a circuit had closed in his intelli- 
 gence, establishing a definite connection between 
 the three now four most mystifying incidents of 
 the evening. 
 
 " Less haste, monsieur," he counselled in a voice 
 of ice. His hand fell with almost paralysing force 
 upon the other's wrist as he sought to grasp the
 
 42 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 curtain, and swung him roughly back. " Yourself 
 will never know who's there whoever the lady may 
 be. ... Ah, but no, monsieur ! " 
 
 Maddened beyond prudence, Des Trebes had 
 struck at his face. O'Rourke warded off the blow 
 and in what seemed the same movement whirled the 
 man round by his captive wrist and caught the other 
 arm from the back. The briefest of struggles en- 
 sued. The Frenchman, taken at a complete disad- 
 vantage, was for all his resistance hustled to the 
 door and thrown through it before he fairly com- 
 prehended what was happening. 
 
 Free at length, if on all fours, he scrambled to 
 his feet to find O'Rourke with a shut door behind 
 him, calmly awaiting the next move. 
 
 " Haven't ye had enough? " demanded the Irish- 
 man as the vicomte, blinded by passion, seemed 
 about to renew the attack. " Or are ye wishful to 
 be going downstairs in the same fashion?" 
 
 Des Trebes drew back, snarling. " You dog ! " 
 he cried. Then abruptly, by an admirable effort, he 
 calmed himself surprisingly, drawing himself up 
 with considerable dignity and throttling his tem- 
 per as he quietly adjusted the disorder of his cloth- 
 ing. Only in his eyes, black as sloes and small, did 
 there remain any traces of his malignant and un- 
 quenchable hatred. 
 
 " I am unfortunately," he sneered, " incapable 
 of participating in such brawls as you prefer, 
 Colonel O'Rourke. But I am not content. I warn
 
 CHAPTER THREE 43 
 
 you . . . My rank prevents me from punishing 
 you personally; I am obliged to fight gentlemen 
 only." 
 
 O'Rourke laughed openly. 
 
 " But I advise you to leave Monte Carlo before 
 morning. Should you remain, or should you come 
 within my neighbourhood another time at what- 
 ever time I will kill you as I would a rabid cur or 
 cause you to be shot." 
 
 " There's always the coward's alternative," re- 
 turned the Irishman. " But ye mustn't forget ye've 
 only the one leg to stand upon in society your no- 
 toriety as a duellist. And I shall take steps to see 
 that ye fight me before another sunset. Else shall 
 all Europe know ye for a coward." 
 
 Behind the vicomte the lift shot up, paused, and 
 discharged a single passenger. As swiftly the cage 
 disappeared. 
 
 Out of the corner of his eye, O'Rourke recognised 
 the newcomer as an old acquaintance, and his heart 
 swelled with gratitude while a smile of rare pleasure 
 shaped itself upon his lips. He had now the French- 
 man absolutely at his mercy. 
 
 " Captain von Einem," he said quickly, " by your 
 leave, a moment of your time." 
 
 The man paused stiffly, with the square-set and 
 erect poise of an officer of the German army. " At 
 your service, Colonel O'Rourke," he said in impec- 
 cable French. 
 
 But the Irishman had returned undivided atten-
 
 44 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 tion to Des Trebes. " Monsieur," he announced, 
 " your nose annoys me." And with that he shot 
 out a hand and seized the offensive member between 
 a strong and capable thumb and forefinger. " It 
 has annoyed me," he explained in parentheses, " ever 
 since I first clapped me two eyes upon ye, scum of 
 the earth that ye are." 
 
 And he tweaked the nose of Monsieur le Vicomte 
 des Trebes, tweaked it with a will and great pleas- 
 ure, tweaked it for glory and the Saints ; carefully, 
 methodically, even painstakingly, he kneaded and 
 pulled and twisted it from side to side, ere releas- 
 ing it. 
 
 Then stepping back and wiping his fingers upon 
 a handkerchief, he cocked his head to one side and 
 admired the result of his handiwork. " 'Tis an 
 amazingly happy effect," he observed critically 
 " the crimson blotch it makes against the chalky com- 
 plexion ye affect, Monsieur des Trebes. . . . And 
 now I fancy ye'll fight. Your friendp may call 
 upon mine here Captain von Einem, with your 
 permission." 
 
 " Most happy, Colonel O'Rourke," assented the 
 German, blue eyes sparkling in an immobile counte- 
 nance. " I shall await the seconds of Monsieur des 
 Trebes in my rooms." 
 
 The Frenchman essayed to speak, choked with 
 passion, and turning abruptly, somewhat unstead- 
 ily descended the staircase.
 
 CHAPTER THREE 45 
 
 O'Rourke laughed briefly, offering the German 
 his hand. " 'Twas wonderfully opportune, your 
 appearance, captain dear," said he. " Thank ye 
 from the bottom of me heart. . . . And now will 
 ye forgive me excusing meself until I hear from ye 
 about the affair of the morning? I've a friend wait- 
 ing in me room here. . . . Pardon the rude- 
 ness."
 
 CHAPTER 
 FOUR 
 
 IT would be difficult to designate precisely just what 
 O'Rourke thought to discover when, after a punctil- 
 ious return of Captain von Einem's salute, he re- 
 opened his door and, closing it quickly as he entered, 
 turned the key in the lock. 
 
 His mood was exalted, his imagination excited; 
 the swift succession of events which had made 
 memorable the night, culminating with his open in- 
 vitation to a challenge from the most desperate 
 duellist in Europe, had inspired a volatile vivacity 
 such as not even the excitement of the Casino had 
 been potent to create in him. Of all mad con- 
 jectures imaginable the maddest was not too weird 
 for him to credit in his humour of that hour. Elim- 
 inating all else that had happened, in the course of 
 that short evening his heart had been stirred, his 
 emotions played upon by a recrudescence of a pas- 
 sion which he had striven with all his strength to put 
 behind him for a time ; he had first heard the voice 
 of the one woman to whom his love and faith and 
 honour were irretrievably pledged, he had then seen 
 her (or another who remarkably resembled her) for 
 the scantiest of instants ; and finally he had myster- 
 
 46
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 47 
 
 iously received a letter which could, he believed, have 
 been conveyed to him by no hand but hers. And 
 now he was persuaded beyond a doubt that the 
 person of the alcove, the eavesdropper for whose fair 
 repute he had chosen to risk his life, was nobody in 
 the world but that same one woman. 
 
 But more than all else, perhaps, he expected and 
 feared to find the room deserted; for the balcony 
 outside the windows afforded a means of escape too 
 facile to be neglected by one who wished not to be 
 discovered. . . . 
 
 His first definite impression was of consternation 
 and despair; for the lights had been shut off in his 
 absence. Then quickly he discerned, with eyes dazed 
 by the change from the lighted hallway to the light- 
 less chamber, the shadowy shape of a woman, motion- 
 less between him and the windows, waiting. . . . 
 
 An electric switch was at his elbow. With a 
 single motion he could have drenched the place with 
 light. For an instant tempted, some strange scru- 
 ple of delicacy, abetted it may be by his native love 
 of romantic mystery, stayed his hand. 
 
 " Madame," said he, " or mademoiselle, whichever 
 ye may be the windows are open, meself's not detain- 
 ing ye. If ye choose, ye may go ; but ye'd favour me 
 by going quickly. ... I give ye," he con- 
 tinued, seeing that she neither moved nor replied, 
 " this one chance. In thirty seconds I turn on the 
 lights."
 
 48 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 The woman did not stir; but he thought he could 
 detect in the stillness her quickened breathing. 
 
 "What ye've taken," he amended, "I'd thank 
 ye to leave as ye go if ye came to steal. 'Tis little 
 I have to lose. . . . " 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 He touched the switch with an impatient hand, 
 stepped forward a single pace, caught himself up 
 and stopped short, now pale and trembling who had 
 a moment gone been flushed but calm. 
 
 " Beatrix ! " he cried thickly. 
 
 Dumbly his wife lifted her arms and offered her- 
 self to him, unutterably lovely, unspeakably radi- 
 ant. . . . 
 
 It were worse than a waste of time to attempt 
 a portrait of her as she seemed to him. Seen through 
 her husband's eyes, her beauty was incomparable, 
 immaculate, too rare and fine, too delicate a thing 
 to be bodied forth in words, dependent upon the 
 perfection of no single feature. Not in her hair, fair 
 as sunlight on the sea, not in her eyes of autumnal 
 brown, not in the wonderful fineness of her skin 
 or in the daintiness of her features, not in the gra- 
 ciousness of her body, did he find the beauty of 
 her that surpassed expression, but in the love she 
 bore him, in the sweetness of her inviolate soul, in 
 the steadfastness of her impregnable heart. . . . 
 
 But it's doubtful if ever he had analysed his pas- 
 sion for her so minutely. Mostly, I think, at that
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 49 
 
 moment of her abrupt disclosure to him, he longed 
 unutterably for her lips and the proffered wreath 
 round his neck of her slim, round, white arms. 
 
 Yet he would not. Trembling though he was, 
 with every instinct and every fibre of his being 
 straining toward her, with the hunger for her a 
 keen pain in his heart, he held himself back; or his 
 conception of honour held him back. That which he 
 had voluntarily forfeited and put away from him 
 for his honour's sake, he would not take back though 
 it were offered freely to him. 
 
 " So," he said, after a bit, shakily ; then pulled 
 himself together and controlled his voice " So 'twas 
 yourself after all, Beatrix! Me heart told me no 
 other woman could have sung that song as ye 
 did " 
 
 The woman dropped her arms. " Your heart, 
 Terence? " she asked a little bitterly. 
 
 " What else? Do ye doubt it? " 
 
 She shook her head sadly, wistfully. " How do 
 I know? How can I tell? Surely, dear, no two peo- 
 ple were ever happier than we yet within a year 
 from our wedding you . . . you left me, ran 
 away from me. . . . Why ? " 
 
 "Well ye know why, dearest, and well ye know 
 'twas love of ye alone that drove me from ye. 
 Could I let it be said ye had a husband who was 
 incapable of supporting ye? Could I let it be said 
 that your husband lived like a leech upon your
 
 50 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 fortunes? Faith, didn't I have to go for your 
 sake?" 
 
 " No," she dissented with a second weary shake 
 of her pretty head ; " I think it was love of yourself, 
 a little, Terence that and your pride. . . . 
 Why should any of our world have guessed you 
 were not the rich man you fancied yourself wheii 
 we were married? Who would have told them that 
 your landed heritage in Ireland had turned out 
 profitless? Not I, my dear." 
 
 " I know that," he contended stubbornly, " but 
 I know too that sooner or later it would have come 
 out, and they would have said : ' There she goes with 
 her fortune-hunter, the adventurer who married her 
 for her money ' * 
 
 " And if so ? What earthly difference could it 
 make to us, sweetheart? What can gossip matter 
 to us if you love me? " 
 
 "If!" he cried, almost angrily. "If! . . . 
 Ah, but no, darling! 'tis yourself knows there is no 
 * if ' about it, that I'm sick with love of ye this very 
 minute sick and mad for ye . . ." 
 
 " Then," she pleaded, with a desperate little break 
 in her incomparable voice; and again held out her 
 arms to him " then have pity on me, O my dear- 
 est one have pity on me if only for a little while." 
 
 And suddenly he had caught her to him and she 
 lay in his arms, her young strong body moulded to 
 his, her lips to his lips, her eyes half-veiled, the sweet
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 51 
 
 fragrance of her too well remembered intoxicat- 
 ing him: lay supine in his embrace, yet held him 
 strongly to her, and trembled in sympathy with the 
 deep, hurried pounding of his heart. . . . 
 
 In the south the horizon flamed livid to the zenith, 
 revealing a great, black wall of cloud that had stolen 
 up out of Africa; beneath it the sea shone momen- 
 tarily with a sickly silken lustre. Then the dense 
 blackness of the night reigned again, as profound as 
 though impenetrable, eternal. 
 
 Later a dull growl of thunder rolled in across the 
 waste. With it came the first fitful warnings of the 
 impending wind storm. 
 
 
 
 " 'Twas ye who sang to me, dearest?" 
 " Who else, you great silly boy ? . . . And 
 when you followed me to the door, making as much 
 noise as a young elephant, Terence I was minded 
 to punish you a little, a very little, my dear. So I 
 merely opened mine and closed it sharply." 
 
 " There was a woman in the hall " 
 
 "I saw her, dear, and laughed, thinking how 
 puzzled you would be. ... Was I cruel, my 
 heart? But I did not mean to be. I'd planned this 
 surprise, you know, from the minute I found our 
 rooms adjoined." 
 
 "And this letter" O'Rourke fumbled in his 
 pocket and got it out " ye brought it to me? "
 
 52 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " It came to me in London, dear, two weeks ago ; 
 we were together Clara Plinlimmon and I at the 
 Carlton, waiting for her yacht to be put into com- 
 mission. Meanwhile she was making up the party 
 for this Mediterranean trip. ... I had no 
 idea where to send you the letter. Have you read 
 it?" 
 
 " Have I had time, sweetheart of mine ? " 
 
 There was an interlude. 
 
 In the distance the thunder rolled and rumbled. 
 
 Resolutely the young woman disengaged herself 
 and withdrew to a little distance. Flushed and al- 
 together adorable, she stood poised as if for flight, 
 smiling provokingly down upon the man in the 
 chair, her slender arms upraised while she rearranged 
 her coiffure. 
 
 "Read, monsieur," she insisted, peremptorily. 
 
 " I've better things to do, me dear," he retorted 
 with composure. 
 
 " You'll find it interesting." 
 
 " I find me wife more interesting than How 
 
 d'ye know I will?" 
 
 " Perhaps I have read it." 
 
 O'Rourke turned the letter over in his hand and 
 noted what had theretofore escaped his attention 
 the fact that the envelope, badly frayed on the 
 edges through much handling, was open at the 
 top. 
 
 " So ye may," he admitted.
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 53 
 
 " It was that way when I received it. And I 
 had to read it. How could I help it ? " 
 
 " Then ye've saved me the bother." He prepared 
 to rise and capture her. 
 
 She retreated briskly. " Read ! *' she commanded. 
 "Read about the Pool of Flame!" 
 
 He stopped short, thunderstruck. " The Pool of 
 Flame? " he iterated slowly. " What d'ye know 
 about that?" 
 
 " What the letter tells me no more. What has 
 become of it ? " 
 
 But he had already withdrawn the enclosure and 
 tossed the envelope aside, and was reading ab- 
 sorbed, excited, oblivious to all save that conveyed 
 to his intelligence by the writing beneath his 
 eyes. 
 
 It was a singularly curt, dry and business-like 
 document for one that was destined to mould the 
 romance of his life strangely terse and tritely 
 phrased for one that was to exert so far-reaching 
 an influence over the lives of so many men and 
 women. Upon a single sheet of paper bearing their 
 letterhead, Messrs. Secretan and Sypher, solicitors, 
 of Rangoon, Burmah, had caused to be typed a com- 
 munication to Colonel Terence O'Rourke, informing 
 him that on behalf of a client who preferred to pre- 
 serve his incognito they were prepared to offer a 
 reward of one hundred thousand pounds sterling for 
 the return, intact and unmarred, of the ruby known
 
 54 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 as the Pool of Flame. The said ruby was, when 
 last heard of, in the possession of the said Colonel 
 O'Rourke, who would receive the reward upon the 
 delivery of the said stone to the undersigned at their 
 offices in Rangoon within six months from date. Said 
 delivery might be made either in person or by proxy. 
 With which Messrs. Secretan and Sypher begged 
 to remain respectfully his. 
 
 The Irishman read it once and again, memorising 
 its import ; then deliberately shredded it into minute 
 particles. 
 
 " So it's come," he said heavily, " just as the 
 O'Mahoney foretold it would ! " 
 
 He sank back in his chair, and his wife went to 
 him and perched herself upon the arm of it, im- 
 prisoning his head with her arms and laying her 
 cheek against his. 
 
 " What has come, my heart ? " 
 
 " One hundred thousand pounds," he said. . . . 
 " Treble its worth, double what the O'Mahoney ex- 
 pected. . . ." 
 
 "Who is the O'Mahoney, dear?" 
 
 He roused. " An old friend, Beatrix an old com- 
 rade. He died some years back, on the banks of 
 the Tugela, fighting with a Boer commando. He 
 was a lonely man, without kith or kin or many 
 friends beside meself. That, I presume, is how he 
 came to leave the Pool of Flame with me." He 
 wound an arm round her and held her close.
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 55 
 
 " Hearken, dear, and I'll be telling ye the story of 
 it." 
 
 Behind them the infernal glare lit up the porten- 
 tous skies. Thunder echoed between clouds and sea 
 like heavy cannonading. The wife shrank close to 
 her beloved. " I am not at all afraid," she de- 
 clared, when her voice could be heard "with you* 
 . . . Tell me about the Pool of Flame." 
 
 " The O'Mahoney left it with me when he went to 
 South Africa," explained O'Rourke. " 'Twas a 
 pasteboard box the size of me fist, wrapped in brown 
 paper and tied with a bit of string, that he brought 
 me one evening, saying he was about to leave, and 
 would I care for it in his absence. I knew no more 
 of it than that 'twas something he valued highly, 
 but I put it away in a safe-deposit vault which 
 he might 've done himself if he hadn't been a scat- 
 terbrain an Irishman. 
 
 " Then he wrote me a letter I got it weeks after 
 his death saying he felt he was about to go out, 
 and that the Pool of Flame was mine. He went on 
 to explain that the box contained a monstrous big 
 ruby and gave me its history, as far as he knew 
 it. ... 
 
 " It seems that there's a certain highly respectable 
 temple in one of the Shan States of Burmah ('tis 
 meself forgets the name of it) and in that temple 
 there's an idol, a Buddha of pure gold, 'tis said. It 
 would be a perfectly good Buddha, only that it lacks
 
 56 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 an eye; there's an empty socket in its forehead, 
 and 'tis there the Pool of Flame belongs or came 
 from. In the old days the natives called this stone 
 the Luck of the State, and maybe they were right; 
 for when it disappeared the state became a British 
 possession. 
 
 " In the war of 'eighty-five, says the O'Mahoney, 
 a small detachment of British troops out of touch 
 with their command happened upon this temple we're 
 speaking of and took it, dispossessing priests and 
 populace without so much as a day's notice. The 
 officer in command happened to see this eye in the 
 Buddha's forehead, pried it out and put it in his 
 pocket. In less than an hour the natives surrounded 
 the temple and attacked in force. The British stood 
 them off for three days and then were relieved; but 
 in the meantime the officer had been killed and the 
 Pool of Flame had vanished. . . . For .several 
 years it stayed quiet, so far as is known. Then the 
 curse in the thing began to work, and it came to the 
 surface in a drunken brawl in the slums of Port Said. 
 The police, breaking into some dive to stop a row, 
 found nobody in the place but a dead Greek; they 
 say 'twas a shambles. One of the police found the 
 big ruby in the dead man's fist and before his com- 
 rades guessed what was up slipped away with the 
 stone. . . . He was murdered some months 
 later in a Genoese bagnio, by a French girl who got 
 away with it somehow. . . . The O'Mahoney
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 57 
 
 came across the thing in Algeria, when he was serv- 
 ing with the Foreign Legion. He was in Sidi Bel 
 Abbas one night, off duty and wandering about, 
 when he heard a man cry out for help in one of the 
 narrow black alleys of the place. He thought he 
 recognised a comrade's voice, and surely enough, 
 when he ran down to aid him, he found a Dutchman, 
 a man of his own regiment, fighting with half a 
 dozen natives. He was about done for, the Dutch- 
 man, when the O'Mahoney came up, and so were 
 three of the Arabs. The O'Mahoney took care of 
 the rest of them, and left seven dead men behind him 
 when he went away the six natives and the Dutch- 
 man, who had died in his arms and given him the Pool 
 of Flame with his last whisper. 
 
 " That's how it came to me," said O'Rourke. 
 
 " And where is it now ? " 
 
 " Back in Algeria, if I'm not mistaken. . . . 
 Ye remember Chambret he was with us in the des- 
 ert and wanted ye to marry him afterwards? He 
 has it the dear man ; I love him like a brother. 
 He sickened of Europe when he found his 
 case with you was hopeless, and went to Algiers, 
 joining the Foreign Legion." 
 
 "But how ?" 
 
 "Well, we were fond of one another, Chambret 
 and I. I helped him out of some tight corners and 
 he helped me along when me money ran short as 
 it always did, and will, I'm thinking. After a while
 
 58 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 I got to wondering how much I owed the man and 
 figured it up ; the sum total frightened the life out 
 of me, and I made him take the ruby by way of se- 
 curity and never was able to redeem it, for 'twas 
 only a little after that that I came into me enormous 
 patrimony and squandered it riotously getting mar- 
 ried to the most beautiful woman living." 
 
 Thunder intervened with resonant reverberations, 
 as though some Titan hand had smitten mightily 
 the sonorous brazen gong of the heavens. 
 
 " He warned me to hold the stone," O'Rourke 
 resumed, " the O'Mahoney did, saying that the time 
 would come when some native prince would offer to 
 redeem the Luck of the State as an act of piety and 
 patriotism. He prophesied a reward of at least 
 fifty thousand pounds. And now it's come twice 
 over ! " 
 
 " And now what can you do ? " 
 
 "Do?" cried O'Rourke. "Faith, what would I 
 be doing? D'ye realise what this means to me, dear 
 heart? It means you independence, a little for- 
 tune, the right to claim my wife ! " He drew her 
 to him. " Do ? Sure, and by the first train and 
 boat I'll go to Algeria, find Chambret, get him to 
 give me the stone, take it to Rangoon, claim the 
 reward, repay Chambret and " 
 
 " And what, my paladin? " 
 
 " Dare ye ask me that, madame? . . . Say, 
 ye wait for me? "
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 59 
 
 She laughed softly. " Have I not waited, 
 
 Ulysses ? " 
 
 " Tell me," he demanded, " have ye talked with 
 anyone about this letter? " 
 
 "Only to Clara Plinlimmon ! " 
 
 " Good Lord ! " groaned the Irishman. " Only 
 to her! Could ye not have printed broadsides, the 
 better to make the matter public ? " 
 
 "Did I do wrong?" 
 
 " 'Twas indiscreet and that's putting it mildly, 
 me dear. D'ye not know the woman's a walking 
 newspaper? How much did ye tell her? Did ye 
 show her the letter? " 
 
 " No." She answered his last question first. 
 " And I told her very little only about this reward 
 for a ruby I didn't know you owned. We were won- 
 dering where to find you." 
 
 " And she told no one or who do you think ? " 
 
 The woman looked a little frightened. " She told 
 she must have told that man Monsieur des 
 Trebes." 
 
 " That blackguard ! " 
 
 " He was with us on the yacht, one of Clara's 
 guests." 
 
 " She has a pretty taste for company my word! 
 How d'ye know she told him? He asked you about 
 it?" 
 
 " The letter? Yes. He wanted to know the name
 
 60 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 of the solicitors and their address. I wouldn't tell 
 him. I I disliked him." 
 
 " Had ye told Lady Plinlimmon? " 
 
 "No . . ." 
 
 "Praises be for that!" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because . . ." O'Rourke paused, vague 
 suspicions taking shape in his mind. "Why did 
 he ask about Chambret ? " he demanded. " How 
 could he have learned that the jewel was with him? " 
 
 He jumped up and began to pace the floor. 
 
 His wife rose, grave with consternation. " What,*' 
 she faltered " what makes you think, suspect ? " 
 
 " Because the fellow lied to me about you this 
 very night. Ye were with Lady Plinlimmon in the 
 Casino, were ye not? Faith, and didn't I see ye? I 
 was in chase of ye when the man stopped me with 
 his rigamarole about representing the French Gov- 
 ernment and having a secret commission for me. 
 Ye heard him just now. . . . And when I 
 asked him was he of your party, he denied knowing 
 Lady Plinlimmon. . . . He made a later ap- 
 pointment with me here, to talk things over. I'm 
 thinking he only wanted time to think up a scheme 
 for getting me out of the way. Also, he wanted to 
 find out where Chambret was. D'ye not see through 
 his little game? To get me away from Monte Carlo 
 by the first morning train, that we might not meet; 
 to get me on the first Atlantic liner, that I might
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 61 
 
 not interfere with his plot against Chambret. For 
 what other reason would he give me sealed orders? 
 Sealed orders ! " O'Rourke laughed curtly, taking the 
 long envelope from his pocket and tearing it open. 
 " Behold his sealed orders, if ye please ! " 
 
 He shuffled rapidly through his fingers six sheets 
 of folded letter-paper, guiltless of a single pen- 
 scratch, crumpled them into a wad and threw it 
 from him. 
 
 " What more do I need to prove that he's con- 
 spiring to steal the Pool of Flame and claim for 
 himself the reward? ... A bankrupt, discred- 
 ited, with nothing but his title and his fame as a 
 duellist to give him standing: is it wonderful that 
 he's grasping at any chance to recoup his fortunes ? " 
 He took a swift stride toward the door, halted, 
 turned. " And young Glynn? " he demanded. " Was 
 he with you, and was he thick with this precious 
 rogue of a vicomte? " 
 
 " They were much together." 
 
 " Faith, then, it's clear as window-glass that the 
 two of them, both broke and desperate, have figured 
 out this thing between them. . . . Well and 
 good! I want no more than a hint of warn- 
 ing. . . . 
 
 He was interrupted by a knocking. With a start 
 and a muttered exclamation he remembered Von 
 Einem, and stepped to the door and out into the cor- 
 ridor, shutting the woman in.
 
 62 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 She remained where he had left her, pretty brows 
 knitted with thought, for a time abstractedly con- 
 scious of the murmur of voices in the hallway. These 
 presently ceased as the speakers moved away. She 
 turned to one of the windows, leaning against its 
 frame and staring at the ominous flicker and flare 
 of sheet-lightning which lent the night a ghastly 
 luminosity, making plain the progress of the storm, 
 rendering tawdry and garish and mean the innu- 
 merable lights of the gardens. 
 
 A cool breeze sprang up, bellying the curtains. 
 The woman expanded to it, reviving in its fresh 
 breath from the enervating influence of the evening's 
 still heat. Her intuitive faculties began to work more 
 vivaciously ; she began to divine that which had been 
 mysterious to her ere now. . . . 
 
 Far out upon the bosom of the Mediterranean a 
 long line of white water cut the density of the black, 
 spreading, widening, sweeping in toward the land. 
 The lightning grew more intense and incessant, the 
 thunder beating the long roll of the charge. A 
 heavy gust of air chill as death made her shiver. 
 She shrank away from the windows, a little awed, 
 wishing for O'Rourke's return, wondering what had 
 made him leave her so abruptly. 
 
 Then suddenly she knew. . . . She could 
 have screamed with horror. 
 
 Almost simultaneously the door slammed : her hus- 
 band had returned. With a little cry .she flung her- 
 self upon him, clinging to him, panting, sobbing.
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 63 
 
 " Tell me," she demanded, " what you intend to 
 do ? Do you mean to fight him Des Trebes ? " 
 
 " In the morning," he answered lightly, holding 
 her tight and comforting her. " 'Tis unavoidable ; 
 I provoked his challenge. He was obliged to fight. 
 But don't let that worry ye " 
 
 " Oh, my dear, my dear ! " She sobbed convul- 
 sively upon his breast. 
 
 "'Twill be nothing hardly that; an annoyance 
 no more. Believe me, dear." 
 
 " What can you mean ? " 
 
 " That the man will never consent to weapons 
 worthy the name. He values his precious hide too 
 highly, and he's not going to put himself in the 
 way of being injured when he has the Pool of 
 Flame to steal. Be easy on that score, darling 
 and have faith in me a little. I'll not let him harm 
 me by so much as a scratch." 
 
 "Ah, but how can I tell? . . . Dearest, my 
 dearest, why not give it up not the duel alone, but 
 all this life of roaming and adventure that keeps us 
 apart? Am I not worth a little sacrifice? Is my 
 love not recompense enough for the loss of your 
 absolute independence? Listen, dear, I have thought 
 of something; I will make you independent, I will 
 settle upon you all that I possess. I " 
 
 " Faith, and I know ye don't for an instant think 
 I'd dream of accepting that!" 
 
 " But give it up. What is the world's esteem 
 when you have me to love and honour you?
 
 Come to me, Terence. I need you I need you des- 
 perately. I need the protection of your arm as 
 well as of your name. I need I need my husband ! *' 
 
 " I will," he said gently ; " sweetheart, I promise 
 ye I will in ninety days. Give me that respite, 
 give me that time in which to make or break my 
 fortunes. Give me a chance to take the Pool of 
 Flame to Rangoon nay, meet me there in ninety 
 days. I will be there, and if I have won, I will 
 come to you as one who has the right to claim his 
 wife; but if I have lost, still will I come to you, a 
 broken man but your faithful lover come to you to 
 be healed and comforted. . . . Dear heart of 
 me, give me this last chance ! " 
 
 With an eldritch shriek and a mighty rushing 
 wind the storm broke over the mainland and a roar- 
 ing rain came down. The lightning became as one 
 livid glare broken by intervals of darkness as negli- 
 gible as the shadows on a cinemetograph display. 
 Crash upon crash of terrific violence drowned their 
 voices. 
 
 Impulsively the Irishman turned off the lights, 
 and, lifting his wife in his arms bore her to an arm- 
 chair by the window. 
 
 The storm waned in fury, passed, died in dull 
 distant mutterings. Still she rested in his embrace, 
 her flushed face, wet with tears, pillowed to his cheek, 
 her mouth seeking his. . . . 
 
 Vague murmurings sounded in the stillness, 
 sighs.
 
 CHAPTER 
 FIVE 
 
 AT five in the morning a heavy motor-car of the most 
 advanced type stole in sinister silence out of the 
 courtyard of the Hotel d'Orient, at the same sedate 
 pace and with the same surreptitious air skulked 
 through the town, and finally swung eastwards upon 
 the Route de la Corniche, suddenly discarding all 
 pretence of docility and swooping onward with a 
 windy roar, its powerful motor purring like some 
 gigantic tiger-cat. 
 
 It carried four: at the wheel a goggled and en- 
 nuied operator in shapeless and hideous garments; 
 in the tonneau its owner, a middle-aged French 
 manufacturer with pouched eyes, a liver, lank jaws 
 clean-scraped, and an expression of high-minded 
 devotion to duty; Captain von Einem in uniform; 
 and Colonel O'Rourke. 
 
 As befitted his importance as a principal in an 
 affair of honour, the Irishman had the middle seat, 
 flanked on either hand by his seconds. He sat erect, 
 arms folded, a shadowy smile upon his lips and in 
 the eyes that watched the dawn-tinted waters of the 
 Mediterranean. Now and again he darted sidelong, 
 
 65
 
 66 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 whimsical glances at his companions and found them 
 equally hopeless, imperturbable with their look of 
 sanctified solemnity. For no right-minded Euro- 
 pean, be he either French or German, would be 
 guilty of a sense of humour when about to partici- 
 pate in a duel by the code. O'Rourke's despair of 
 them both was betrayed in the quizzical droop of his 
 mobile lips and the faint knitting of his brows. He 
 could have enjoyed the situation immensely if only 
 there had been someone handy to meet him half- 
 way. But the shadow of Monsieur le Vicomte des 
 Trebes' fame as a professional duellist lay stark and 
 dark upon their imaginations. And O'Rourke 
 would have been bored beyond expression had not 
 God sent a dawn of glory to gild the day and dwarf 
 to farcical insignificance the grimly silly combat that 
 had been arranged. 
 
 As the car raced on the Irishman's attention 
 ranged the distances and his heart welled with grati- 
 tude for a world so beautiful. The sky was like a 
 turquoise cup empty save for a filmy froth of 
 cloud like a tissue of rose petals in the south. The 
 sea lay on his right, a flawless sheet of malachite 
 edged with frost along the shores. Northwards 
 the hills loomed with brooding heads, a meditative 
 brotherhood cowled in purple shadows. The road 
 swung and dipped along the lip of the world, pass- 
 ing orange groves of green and gold, thickets and 
 tangles of subtropical verdure a bank of bougaia-
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 67 
 
 villea blazing against a wall of green like imperial 
 jade, clusters and avenues of palms. . . . And 
 the rain-washed air was as clean as truth, as heady 
 as youth. 
 
 For a single moment the adventurer's happiness 
 was clouded with mutinous impatience with the situ- 
 ation. He was young; he loved and was beloved; 
 the world was gracious, life joyous; he had but to 
 stretch forth his hand to pluck the apple of his for- 
 tunes. Why must he risk all this, that men might 
 continue to respect him? Why had he forced him- 
 self into this scrape, brought upon himself the ne- 
 cessity of duelling with a dishonoured and honour- 
 less rogue? To satisfy his sense of justice, to pun- 
 ish wrongdoers or to feed his vanity, pamper his 
 temper, sate his craving for excitement? 
 
 Perilously on the verge of seeing through himself, 
 he abruptly desisted from introspection, regaining 
 the pinnacle of his optimism without an effort: 
 that is to say, with Celtic ease. The gym- 
 nastic feats of his emotions sometimes surprised 
 even himself. . . . Thenceforward he denied 
 care and responsibility. The matutinal event was 
 permitted to disturb his equilibrium not in the least ; 
 a passing annoyance, a vexing hindrance, yet a 
 necessary ceremony, it would soon be over and done 
 with. No apprehensions as to its outcome troubled 
 him; he continued in his magnificent self-esteem in- 
 rulnerable, impregnable, master of his fate, captain
 
 68 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 of his soul. With regard to fatalism he was a sub- 
 lime agnostic ; and his self-confidence was prepos- 
 terous. . . . 
 
 At the end of an hour's run, disturbed by one or 
 two absurdly grave conferences between the seconds, 
 in appropriate monotones, the mechanician put on 
 the brakes and slowed down the car, then deftly 
 swung it into a narrow lane, a leafy tunnel through 
 which it crawled for a minute or two ere debouching 
 into a broad and sunlit meadow, walled in by wood- 
 land, conspicuously secluded. 
 
 The car stopped. Von Einem and Juilliard de- 
 scended. The operator doffed his goggles, pushed 
 back his cap, and lit a cheerful cigarette. O'Rourke 
 remained in the tonneau, decently reserved but mo- 
 mentarily in danger of spraining the etiquette of 
 the situation by betraying too vivid an interest in 
 the proceedings. 
 
 To one side and at a little distance a second 
 motor-car stood at rest; its operator had removed 
 the hood and was tinkering with the motor in a 
 most matter-of-fact manner. In the body of the 
 machine Monsieur le Vicomte des Trebes, ostenta- 
 tiously unaware of the advent of the second party, 
 sat twisting rapier-points to his moustaches and 
 concentrating his gaze on infinity. O'Rourke ob- 
 served with malicious delight the nose of the duellist, 
 much inflamed. 
 
 Advancing from his antagonist's position three
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 69 
 
 preternaturally serious gentlemen of France in black 
 frock coats and straight-brimmed silk hats waded 
 ankle deep in dripping grass to meet O'Rourke's 
 representatives. Half-way to them Monsieur Juil- 
 liard O'Rourke's Frenchman remembered himself 
 and came hastily back to discard his motor-cap and 
 assume a stove-pipe hat which he unearthed from a 
 trunk in the rear of the machine. Then he rejoined 
 Von Einem, leaving his principal hugely comforted. 
 O'Rourke, indeed, felt at the moment that nothing 
 on earth could have induced him to go forth to be 
 shot without at least one silk hat to lend respecta- 
 bility to his demise. 
 
 The two parties met, saluted one another with 
 immense reserve, and retired to a suitable distance 
 to confer; something which they did wordily, with 
 enthusiasm and many picturesque gestures. At first 
 strangely amicable, the proceedings soon struck a 
 snag. A serious difference of opinion arose. 
 O'Rourke divined that the conference had gone into 
 executive session upon the question of weapons. He 
 treated himself to a secret grin, having anticipated 
 this trouble. 
 
 The choice of weapons being his, as the challenged, 
 he had modestly selected revolvers and had brought 
 with him a brace of Webleys, burly pieces of pocket 
 ordnance with short barrels and cylinders chambered 
 to hold half a dozen .45 cartridges. They were not 
 pretty, for they had seen service in their owner's
 
 70 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 hands for a number of years, but they were undeni- 
 ably built for business. And at sight of them the 
 friends of the vicomte recoiled in horror. The sur- 
 geon detached himself from the group and strolled 
 off, regarding high Heaven and shaking his head. 
 Von Einem stood to one side, disgusted, wrinkling 
 a scornful nose. The three remaining Frenchmen 
 chattered madly, as noisy as a congress of rooks. 
 
 Eventually a compromise was arrived at. Mon- 
 sieur Juilliard stepped back, saluted, and with Von 
 Einem returned to his principal, his face a mask of 
 disappointment. As for himself, he told O'Rourke, 
 he was desolated, but the seconds of Monsieur des 
 Trebes had positively refused to consent to turning 
 a meeting of honour into a massacre. They pro- 
 posed to substitute regulation French duelling pis- 
 tols as sanctioned by the Code. Such as that which 
 Monsieur le Colonel O'Rourke might observe in Mon- 
 sieur Juilliard's hand. 
 
 O'Rourke blinked and sniffed at it. " Sure," he 
 contended, " 'tis a magnifying glass I need to make 
 it visible to me undressed eye. What the divvle 
 does it carry a dried pea? What d'they think 
 we're here for, if not to slay one another with due 
 ceremony? Ask them that. Am I to salve the 
 vicomte's wounded honour by smiting him with a 
 spit-ball? I grant ye, 'tis magnificent, but 'tis not 
 a pistol." 
 
 Grumbling, he allowed himself to be persuaded. 
 As he had foreseen and prophesied, so had it come
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 71 
 
 to pass. Yet he had to grumble, partly because he 
 was the O'Rourke, partly for effect. Faith! himself 
 had not got out of bed at that unholy hour to play 
 children's games. Thankful he was that he had not 
 named swords for the combat, else the squeamish- 
 ness of the vicomte's seconds would have put him to 
 the stern necessity of prodding that gentleman with 
 a knitting-needle. . . . And more to the same 
 effect. 
 
 None the less, he consented, and in the highest 
 spirits left the car and ploughed through the lush 
 wet grass to the spot selected for the encounter, in 
 the shadow of the trees near the eastern border of 
 the meadow. Here, the seconds having tossed for 
 sides, he took a stand at one end of a sixty-foot 
 stretch and, still indecorously amused, received a 
 loaded pistol from Von Einem. 
 
 Pes Trebes confronted him, white with rage, re- 
 gretting already (O'Rourke made no doubt) that he 
 had not accepted the Webleys. The Irishman's open 
 ccntempt maddened the man. 
 
 But everybody else was very, very hugely dis- 
 tressed. Such lack of respect for his adversary, such 
 unseemly hilarity on the part of a principal, was 
 extraordinarily painful to them all with the single 
 exception of Captain von Einem, whose attitude 
 branded the affair as neither amusing nor worthy of 
 serious consideration. Juilliard, on the other hand, 
 seemed to be fluttering on the verge of apology. 
 
 The surgeon opened his case of instruments and
 
 72 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 made a show of bandages. The seconds retired to 
 a perfectly safe distance, Von Einem holding the 
 watch, one of Des Trebes' seconds a handkerchief. 
 The chauffeurs threw away their cigarettes and sat 
 up, for the first time roused out of their professional 
 air of blase indifference. 
 
 " One," cried the German clearly. 
 
 Des Trebes raised his arm and levelled his pistol 
 at O'Rourke's head. A faint flush coloured his 
 face, but his eye was cold and hard behind the sight 
 and the hand that held the weapon was as steady as 
 if supported by an invisible rest. 
 
 " Two," said Von Einem. 
 
 O'Rourke measured the distance with his eye and 
 raised his arm from the elbow only, holding the 
 pistol with a loose grip. 
 
 "Three," said Von Einem. 
 
 The handkerchief fell. 
 
 The Irishman fired without moving. Des Trebes' 
 weapon was discharged almost .simultaneously, but 
 with a ruined aim ; its bullet went nowhere in par- 
 ticular. The Frenchman dropped the weapon and, 
 wincing, examined solicitously a knuckle from which 
 O'Rourke's shot had struck a tiny particle of skin. 
 His seconds rushed to him with cries, preceded by 
 the surgeon with bandages. O'Rourke gracefully 
 surrendered his artillery to Juilliard, laughed at the 
 vicomte again, and strolled back to the motor-car. 
 
 Juilliard and Von Einem presently joined him, the
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 73 
 
 former insistently anxious to have O'Rourke descend 
 and clasp the hand of fraternal friendship with the 
 vicomte. But the Irishman refused. 
 
 " Faith, no ! " he laughed. " Niver ! I'm too tim- 
 orous a man to dare it. Sure and hasn't he hugged 
 both his seconds and the surgeon too, already? For 
 me own part I've no mind to be kissed. Let's hurry 
 away before he celebrates further by imprinting a 
 chaste salute upon the cheek of our chauffeur. 
 . . . Besides, I've a train to catch."
 
 CHAPTER 
 SIX 
 
 EVENTS marched to schedule; what O'Rourke 
 planned came serenely to pass. He experienced a 
 day as replete with emotions as the night that pre- 
 ceded it and more marked by activity. Nothing hin- 
 dering, he left the battle-scarred Vicomte des Trebes 
 upon the field of honour at half-past six; at seven 
 forty-five he settled himself in a coach of the Cote 
 d'Azur Rapide, en route for Marseilles a happy 
 man, for he was not alone. . . . At a quarter 
 to one in the afternoon of the same day he boarded 
 the little steamer Tabarka of the Mediterranean 
 ferry service ; and half an hour later stood by the 
 after-rail of its promenade-deck, watching the dis- 
 tances widen between him and all that he held be- 
 loved. 
 
 The port of Marseilles the harjbour with its 
 clustered shipping, its acres of blunt iron masts 
 and stumpy funnels, its clumps of soaring wooden 
 spars and labyrinthine webs of rigging, with the 
 city that rose behind all bright and glittering in the 
 sunshine contracted; outlines blurred, ran into 
 one another; it became as a shadow beneath a 
 
 74
 
 CHAPTER SIX 75 
 
 shadow. France itself receded, dwindled, dropped 
 away over the lip of the world until it showed 
 vaguely as a reef of cloud low upon the watery 
 horizon. There remained only the miraculously blue 
 disc of the sea over-arched by the dense blue hemi- 
 sphere of the skies, the weltering white wake, 
 slowly drifting clouds, gulls wheeling and veering, 
 the Tabarka surging southwards, all a-tremble with 
 the vibration of its engines; and the memory of his 
 wife as he had last seen her, only a few minutes 
 before his embarkation eyes divinely moist and 
 shining, lips divinely warm and quivering, her whole 
 being radiating the passion of her devotion to the 
 man who carried with him the promise of her con- 
 stancy. 
 
 "In ninety days, dear boy. . . . Ah, Ter- 
 ence, Terence, if you should fail me ... ! *' 
 
 " I shall not fail. . . . Rangoon in ninety 
 days. Dear heart, I will be there. . . ." 
 
 As if to feed the hunger of his heart he strained 
 his vision to see the last of the land that held her. 
 At length it disappeared, and then for the first time 
 he consciously moved drew a hand across his eyes, 
 sighed and turned away. 
 
 Picking his way through the cosmopolitan throng 
 of passengers, he went below, found his stateroom, 
 and subsided into the berth for a sorely-needed nap ; 
 instead of indulging in which, however, he lay star- 
 ing wide-eyed at his problem. He had much to ae-
 
 76 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 complish, much to guard against. Des Trebes 
 bulked large in the background of perils he must 
 anticipate; O'Rourke was by no means disposed to 
 flatter himself that he had scotched the schemes of 
 the vicomte. He was almost painfully alive to the 
 fact that the Frenchman had stipulated on that far- 
 cical exchange of toy bullets, not because he wished 
 to spare his antagonist, not because he would not 
 cheerfully have blown him to eternity, but because 
 he was in a word afraid. The Irishman himself 
 had some slight reputation as a man of ready ad- 
 dress with all manner of weapons, while the French- 
 man was admittedly an indifferent shot; a majority 
 of his victories had been won with the rapier, and 
 while fortuitously he might have slain O'Rourke in 
 a meeting with firearms of sufficient weight, he would 
 have run a greater chance of being killed outright, 
 if not disabled to an extent which would incapacitate 
 himself from further attention to the Pool of Flame. 
 If O'Rourke had not had the foresight to declare 
 for pistols, there might very well have been an- 
 other ending to that chapter. 
 
 Further, the adventurer shrewdly surmised that 
 the bankrupt Vicomte des Trebes had a second string 
 to his bow : should he fail by any mischance to accom- 
 plish what he designed with regard to the Pool of 
 Flame, a sovereign salve to his chagrin might well 
 be found in the fortune of Madame O'Rourke, 
 Princesse de Grandlieu. And it would seriously
 
 CHAPTER SIX 37 
 
 complicate his wooing if the object thereof happened 
 to be the widow of a man he had killed in personal 
 combat. On the other hand, nothing would be easier 
 than to allow O'Rourke to proceed joyously upon his 
 chosen way until he could be ambushed by a hired 
 assassin at some convenient dark corner of Africa 
 or Asia ambushed and eliminated, leaving the field 
 clear in two directions. 
 
 O'Rourke laughed at this, however sincerely he 
 considered it a possibility. "Let 'em try it," he 
 said aloud. And suddenly, despairing of sleep in 
 his stuffy cabin and rather excited humour, he rolled 
 out of his berth and went on deck. 
 
 But this did next occur until several hours had 
 elapsed. He made his second public appearance 
 on the Tabarka at the hour of sunset; and in the 
 act of making it, turned a corner and ran plump 
 into the arms of a young person in tweeds and a 
 steamer cap a stoutish young Englishman with a 
 yivid complexion and a bulldog pipe, nervousness 
 tempering his native home-brewed insolence, the 
 blank vacuity of his eyes hopelessly betraying the 
 calibre of his intellect. 
 
 A sudden gust of anger swept O'Rourke off his 
 figurative feet. He stopped short, blocking the 
 gangway and the young man's progress. So this 
 was what had been set to spy upon him ! 
 
 " Good evening to ye," he said coldly, fixing the 
 Honourable Mr. Glynn with an interrogative eye
 
 78 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 that served to deepen his embarrassment and con- 
 sternation. " I trust I didn't hurt ye, Mr. Glynn." 
 
 " Oh no not at all," stammered the Englishman. 
 " Not in the least. No." He looked right and left 
 of O'Rourke for a way round him, found himself 
 with no choice but to retreat, and lost his presence 
 of mind completely. " I I say," he continued des- 
 perately, " I say, have you a match? " 
 
 " Possibly," conceded O'Rourke. " But I've yet 
 to meet him. Of this ye may feel sure, however: 
 if I have, 'tis neither yourself nor Des Trebes. Now 
 run along and figure it out for yourself what I'm 
 meaning. Good night." 
 
 He brushed past the man, leaving him astare 
 in sudden pallor, and went his way, more than a 
 little disgusted with himself for his lack of dis- 
 cretion. As matters turned out, however, he had 
 little to reproach himself with; for his outbreak 
 served to keep young Glynn at a respectful distance 
 throughout the remainder of the voyage. They met 
 but once more, and on that occasion the English- 
 man behaved himself admirably according to the 
 tenets of his caste met O'Rourke's challenging gaze 
 without a flicker of recognition, looked him up and 
 down calmly with the deadly ennuied air peculiar to 
 the underdone British youth of family and social 
 position, and wandered calmly away. 
 
 O'Rourke watched him out of sight, a smile of 
 Appreciation curving his lips and tempering the per-
 
 CHAPTER SIX 79 
 
 turbed and dangerous light in his eyes. " There's 
 stuff in the lad, after all," he conceded without a 
 grudge, " if he can carry a situation off like that. 
 I'm doubting not at all that something might be 
 whipped out of him, if he weren't what he's made 
 himself a slave to whiskey." 
 
 For all of which appreciation, however, he soon 
 wearied of Mr. Glynn. During the first day ashore 
 it was not so bad; there was something amusing 
 in being so openly dogged by a well-set-up young 
 Englishman who had quite ceased to disguise his in- 
 terest. But after that his shadowy surveillance 
 proved somewhat distracting to a man busy with 
 important affairs. And toward evening of the sec- 
 ond day O'Rourke lost patience. 
 
 All day long in the sun, without respite, he had 
 knocked about from pillar to post of Algiers, seek- 
 ing news of Chambret ; and not until at the eleventh 
 hour had he secured the information he needed. 
 Then, hurrying back to his hotel, he made arrange- 
 ments to have his luggage cared for during an ab- 
 sence of indeterminate duration, hastily crammed a 
 few indispensables into a kit-box, and having de- 
 spatched that to the railway terminal, sought the 
 restaurant for an early meal. 
 
 In the act of consuming his soup he became aware 
 that the Honourable Bertie, in a dinner-coat and a 
 state of fidgets, had wandered down the outer corri- 
 dor, paused at the restaurant door and espied his
 
 80 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 quarry. The fact that O'Rourke was dining with 
 one eye on the clock and in a dust-proof, dust-col- 
 oured suit of drill, was enough to disturb seriously 
 the poise of the Englishman. O'Rourke saw him 
 call a waiter, give him some guarded instructions, 
 and send him scurrying off. Then, seating himself 
 at a table which O'Rourke would have to pass in 
 order to leave, Glynn desired an absinthe drip of a 
 second waiter, and sat contentedly consuming it, his 
 attention divided between the Irishman and the door. 
 
 Exasperation stirred in O'Rourke. He eyed the 
 young man rather morosely throughout the balance 
 of his meal, a purpose forming in his mind and at- 
 taining the stature of a definite plan of action with- 
 out opposition from the dictates of prudence. And 
 at length, swallowing his coffee and feeing his servi- 
 tor, he rose, crossed the room with a firm tread, 
 and came to a full stop at the Honourable Mr. 
 Glynn's table. 
 
 Momentarily he held his tongue, staring down 
 at the young man while drumming on the marble 
 with the fingers of one hand. Then Glynn, glanc- 
 ing up in a state of somewhat panic-stricken in- 
 quiry which strove vainly to seem insouciant, met the 
 level stare of the adventurer and noticed the tense 
 lines of his lips. 
 
 " I I say," he floundered, " what's the matter 
 with you, anyway? Can't you leave me a alone? " 
 
 " I've been thinking," said O'Rourke crisply, dis-
 
 CHAPTER SIX 81 
 
 regarding the other's remark entirely, " that it might 
 be of interest to ye and save ye a bit of botheration 
 to know that I'm going up to Biskra by to-night's 
 train. It leaves in ten minutes, so I'll have to forego 
 the pleasure of your society on the trip." 
 
 Glynn got a grip on himself and pulled together 
 the elements of his manhood. He managed to infuse 
 blank insolence into his stare, and said "Ow?" 
 with that singularly maddening inflection of which 
 the Englishman alone is master; as who should 
 say, " Why the dooce d'you annoy me with your 
 bally plans ? " 
 
 " Don't believe I know you, do I? " he drawled. 
 
 " I don't believe ye do, me lad." 
 
 " Can't say I wish to very badly, either." 
 
 " I believe that," O'Rourke chuckled grimly. 
 
 The meaning in his tone sent the blood into the 
 young man's face, a fiery flood of resentment. 
 
 " Oh, I'm not afraid of you, y'know," he said, 
 bristling. " Of course you're not going to Biskra, 
 or you wouldn't tell me so. But if you do, I shall 
 make it my business to find out and follow by the 
 next train bringing Des Trebes with me." 
 
 "Ah, will ye so? Ye mean to warn me he's in 
 Algeria too ? " 
 
 " His boat's due now ; I'm expecting him at any 
 moment, if you wish to know." O'Rourke's smiling 
 contempt was angering the young man and render- 
 ing him reckless. "You'll be glad to know you've
 
 88 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 made a dem' ass of yourself if you really are going 
 to Biskra." 
 
 "Praise from Sir Hubert " 
 
 " Oh, don't you think I mind giving you a twelve- 
 hour start; you won't gain anything by it. Y'see 
 I know where you're going, and I know it's not 
 there. If you'll take a fool's advice, you'll turn back 
 now. You'll come back empty-handed anyway. I 
 don't mind telling you that we mean to have that 
 ruby, Des Trebes and I, and we know where it is. 
 You're only taking needless trouble by interfering." 
 
 Truth was speaking from the bottom of the 
 absinthe tumbler. O'Rourke's brows went up and 
 he whistled noiselessly, for he realised that at least 
 Glynn believed what he was admitting. " So that's 
 the way of it, eh ? I admire your candour, me boy ; 
 but be careful and not go too far with it. 'Twill 
 likely prove disastrous to ye, I'm fearing. . . . 
 But tit for tat; ye've made me a handsome present 
 according to your lights, of what ye most aptly 
 term a fool's advice, and 'tis meself who'll not be out- 
 done at that game. For yourself, then, take warn- 
 ing from the experience of one who's seen a bit more 
 of this side of the earth than most men have, and 
 don't let Des Trebes know ye've talked so freely. 
 He's a bad-tempered sort and . . . But I'm 
 obliged to ye and I bid ye a good evening."
 
 CHAPTER 
 SEVEN 
 
 SOUTH of Biskra there is always trouble to be had 
 for the seeking ; south of Biskra there is never peace. 
 A guerilla warfare is waged perennially between the 
 lords of the desert, the Touaregg on the one hand, 
 and the advance agents of civilisation, as person- 
 ified by the reckless French Condemned Corps and 
 the Foreign Legion on the other. Year after year 
 military expeditions set out from the oasis of Biskra 
 to penetrate the wilderness, either by caravan route 
 to Timbuctoo or along the proposed route of the 
 Trans-Saharan Railway to Lake Tchad; and their 
 lines of march are traced in red upon the land. 
 
 Toward this debatable land O'Rourke set his 
 face with a will, gladly; for he loved it. He had 
 fought over it of old; in his memory its sands were 
 sanctified with the blood of comrades, men by whose 
 side he had been proud to fight, men of his own 
 stamp whose friendship he had been proud to own. 
 Many a time and oft, since he had resigned his 
 commission in the Foreign Legion to become a 
 wanderer in strange trails, seeking the guerdon of 
 successful adventure, his heart had turned back to 
 the desert in longing. 
 
 83
 
 84 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 Now, he went in the flesh more willingly since he 
 scented in the journey a spice of danger. Behind 
 him Des Trebes and Glynn skulked, shadowy figures 
 whose capacity for mischief he could not yet esti- 
 mate, yet whose malign purpose bulked self-evident 
 to his understanding. Before him the desert waited, 
 alive with perils, cloaked with mystery beneath 
 its pitiless sun-glare. And, somewhere afar in the 
 desert Chambret moved and had his being, a unit 
 of the Legion, a component part of a punitive ex- 
 pedition only recently despatched from Biskra 
 against the Touaregg, bearing with him, if not that 
 priceless jewel itself, at least the secret of the Pool 
 of Flame. 
 
 Mentally serene, then, if physically the reverse of 
 comfortable, O'Rourke dozed through the intermin- 
 able twelve hours of the journey to El-Guerrah; 
 arriving at which place after eight the following 
 morning, he transferred himself and his hand-bags 
 (for now he was indeed travelling light) to the con- 
 necting train on the Biskra branch. The latter, 
 scheduled to reach the oasis at four-thirty in the 
 afternoon, loafed casually up the line, arriving at 
 the terminus after dark. 
 
 The Irishman, thoroughly fagged but complacent 
 in the knowledge that he had left both vicomte and 
 honourable a day behind him, kept himself from 
 bed by main will-power for half the night, while 
 he made the rounds of cafes and dance-halls, in
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 85 
 
 search of a trustworthy and competent guide no 
 easy thing to find. 
 
 The French force by then was three days out from 
 the oasis, and no doubt, since it was technically a 
 " flying column," calculated to move briskly from 
 point to point in imitation of Touaregg tactics, 
 hourly putting a greater distance between itself and 
 its starting point. Moreover, the pursuit contem- 
 plated by the adventurer was one attended by no in- 
 considerable perils. If the Touaregg were indeed 
 " up," no living man outside their number might 
 say where they might not be at any given time, 
 whether before, behind, flanking, or five-hundred 
 miles distant from the French expedition. And a 
 small caravan of two or three dromedaries and but 
 two men, such as O'Rourke's must be, could offer no 
 resistance to an attack from the hereditary lords 
 of the land. 
 
 Under such conditions the Arab guides to be 
 found in the oasis were nothing keen to risk their 
 lives ; yet before midnight, by dint of indomitable 
 persistence, unflagging good-nature and such in- 
 fluence as he could bring personally to bear upon the 
 authorities, O'Rourke got what he desired a com- 
 petent guide and two racing camels, or mehera, with 
 a pack animal that would serve their purpose. 
 
 By dawn they were ready to start ; and so, in the 
 level rays of a sun that seemed a dazzling sphere of 
 intolerable light, poising itself on the eastern rim
 
 86 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 of the world as if undecided whether or no to take 
 up its flight across the firmament, the little caravan 
 rocked out into the fastnesses of the desert, the 
 Irishman in the van sitting a blooded mehari as one 
 to the wilderness born. 
 
 For the first day or two barring untoward de- 
 velopments he would need no guide; the caravan 
 route to Timbuctoo was plain and broadly beaten 
 upon the face of the earth and well he remembered 
 it! His eyes kindled and unconsciously he threw 
 back his shoulders and drank in the rare dry air, as 
 he looked about and grasped the sweep and vastness 
 of the desert and felt the enchantment of it penetrate 
 his senses. He who has known the desert never quite 
 forgets it; the lure of it is potent even after many 
 years, and men return to it from ordered ways of 
 life, drawn irresistibly by the desire for it the long- 
 ing for the heat, the keen hot atmosphere, the 
 silence and the sense of space, the high inscrutable 
 skies. . . . 
 
 So with O'Rourke. He rode on mazed in memories, 
 dreamily content, all but forgetful, while the white 
 days sped and the black clear nights fell and fol- 
 lowed swiftly into the oblivion of the beckoning 
 West. 
 
 On the seventh night they bivouacked hard on the 
 heels of the flying column, having for seven days 
 pursued it this way and that, zigzagging into the 
 heart of the parched land, getting their bearings
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 87 
 
 and their news of the column from other wayfarers 
 of the caravan routes, whom they raised and hailed 
 as ships raise one another and exchange greetings in 
 far desolate seas. 
 
 Now, when they were come within six hours of 
 their goal, reluctantly, long after nightfall, 
 O'Rourke gave consent to halt, conceding the 
 necessity; for weariness weighed upon their shoul- 
 ders a great burden, and the camels had become un- 
 usually sullen and evil-tempered; if rest were denied 
 them presently they would become obstinate and re- 
 fuse the road. 
 
 They paused, then, in the centre of a vast level 
 place filled utterly with darkness as a cup is filled 
 with water, fell rather than alighted from their over- 
 driven beats, ate a scanty meal cooked over a 
 wretched fire of dry camel-dung, and rolled them- 
 selves in blankets for a four-hour sleep. There would 
 be a moon in the early morning hours, and with its 
 coming they were to rise again and push their jour- 
 ney to its end. 
 
 O'Rourke closed his eyes and lost consciousness 
 with a sensation of falling headlong into a great 
 pit of oblivion, bottomless, eternal. Yet it seemed 
 no more than a moment ere he was sitting up and 
 rubbing sight into his eyes, shaken out of slumber 
 by his guide. 
 
 He stumbled to his feet and lurched toward the 
 camels, still but half awake. When his senses cleared
 
 88 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 irritation possessed him. His guide had been over- 
 zealous. He turned upon the man and seized him 
 roughly by the arm. 
 
 " What the divvle ! " he grumbled angrily, between 
 a yawn and a chatter of teeth for the air was bitter 
 cold. " The moon's not yet up ! " 
 
 " Hush, Sidi ! " Something in the guide's tone 
 stilled his wrath. " The Touaregg are all about 
 us. They have been passing us throughout the 
 night " 
 
 " How did ye know? " 
 
 "I have not slept, Sidi," said the man quietly; 
 66 1 had feared this. The moon will be up in half an 
 hour; with that grace and in this darkness we may 
 slip away." 
 
 " Ye knew this and did not wake me ? " 
 
 " There was no need ; we could ,not have moved 
 ere this without detection. Now, they are all a-stir, 
 and we in the night, may pass for them until 
 moon-up." 
 
 The guide turned away to rouse the mehara, prod- 
 ding them up, mutinous, snarling and ugly. In 
 another five minutes they were again moving for- 
 ward, O'Rourke riding close beside his guide; 
 otherwise he ran the risk of losing the man in that 
 black hour. They proceeded at a maddening slow 
 pace, the dromedaries pitching and rolling, grumb- 
 ling and trying to bite the legs of their riders. It 
 seemed hours rather than minutes before the east
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 89 
 
 glowed pallid behind the wave-like line of the horizon. 
 The Arab bent forward, urging his camel to speed; 
 his employer did likewise. Presently, the light 
 growing brighter, both abandoned the ways of 
 stealth and gentleness and openly lashed the ani- 
 mals. By the time the silver rim of the moon peered 
 over the edge of the east they were pelting on at full 
 speed, as yet, apparently, undetected by the Tou- 
 aregg. 
 
 An hour passed, and the chill in the air became 
 more intense; dawn was at hand. A sense of se- 
 curity, of dangers left behind, came to the Irishman ; 
 he began to breathe more freely, though still the pol- 
 ished butt of a repeating rifle swinging from the 
 saddle remained a comfort to his palm. He grew 
 more confident, mentally at ease, seeing the desert 
 take shape in the moonlight and show itself desolate 
 on every hand. 
 
 Even as he gained assurance from this thought, 
 the guide turned in his saddle and cried a warn- 
 ing : " The Touaregg ! " From that moment on 
 both wielded merciless whips ; the mehara sagged 
 lower to the earth, racked over it more swiftly than 
 ever, long necks stretched at length. The pack 
 camel dropped to the rear, unheeded. For out 
 of the moonlit wastes behind them had shrilled a 
 voice, cruel and wild, announcing discovery and the 
 inception of the chase. The fugitives had need of 
 no sharper spur.
 
 90 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 A rifle shot rang sharp on the echoes of that cry, 
 but the bullet must have fallen far short. And 
 when O'Rourke found occasion to glance over his 
 shoulder, it seemed to him that the desert teemed 
 with pursuing, phantom Touaregg, unreal and un- 
 substantial-seeming in the illusion of the light. 
 
 But they were far behind, and he took heart of 
 this heart that he lost the next moment, remember- 
 ing that his camels were over-worked, while those of 
 the pursuers would undoubtedly prove fresh and un- 
 wearied. Nor was there anything he could do save 
 maintain the pace, flee on into the unknown and 
 brave its hidden perils in preference to the naked 
 death that rode behind. 
 
 The minutes dragged. When he looked again he 
 fancied that the pursuit had drawn perceptibly 
 nearer. For a time he contemplated the advisa- 
 bility of halting, dimounting, forcing the mehara to 
 kneel, and with their bodies as a shield attempting 
 to stand death off for a little time with the rifles. 
 He relinquished the project with some regret. It 
 was a man's death at worst, if suicidal. 
 
 He looked again. This time he could not doubt 
 that the Touaregg had lessened the distance. A 
 moment later, indeed, they opened a brisk, scatter- 
 ing fire naturally ineffectual, though the bullets 
 dropping right and left in the sand proved that the 
 chase had got within range. 
 
 Even with that warning, the end was nearer than
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 91 
 
 he had dreamed or hoped. It came in a twinkling 
 and as unexpectedly as a bolt out of a clear sky: a 
 flash of fire ahead, a spiteful snap and pttt! 
 the song of a bullet speeding past his head. 
 
 The guide pulled up with a jerk. O'Rourke, rein- 
 ing in desperately, swung his camel wide to avert the 
 threatened collision. Simultaneously the sharp 
 " Qui vive? " of a French sentry rang out, loud and 
 sweet to hear. 
 
 " Thank God ! " said the adventurer in his heart. 
 And aloud, " Friends ! " he cried, driving past the 
 sentry in a cloud of dust. 
 
 By a blessed miracle the man was quick of wit, and 
 swift to grasp the situation of which, however, he 
 must have had some warning from the rattle of fir- 
 ings He screamed something in O'Rourke's ear as 
 the latter passed, and turning threw himself flat 
 and began to pump the trigger of his carbine, emp- 
 tying the magazine at the on-sweeping line of Tou- 
 aregg. 
 
 The alarm was hardly needed; O'Rourke and the 
 guide swept on over the lip of a depression in the 
 desert and halted in the midst of a camp already 
 quickened and alive with shadowy figures running 
 methodically to their posts, carbines and accoutre- 
 ments gleaming in the moonlight: men of the camel 
 corps, hardened to and familiar with their work. 
 They buckled down to it in a business-like way that 
 thrilled the heart of O'Rourke. In a trice they were
 
 $2 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 doubling out past lines of tethered mehara, past the 
 white hillocks of the officers' shelter-tents and, like 
 the sentry, throwing themselves down upon the 
 ground to take shelter of whatever inequalities the 
 face of the desert offered ; and their firing ringed the 
 bivouac with a fringe of flame. 
 
 O'Rourke slipped from his camel and turned to 
 watch the skirmish. 
 
 Massed, the Touaregg, in strength greater than 
 the adventurer had believed something like two 
 hundred mounted men, in all charged down upon 
 the camp as if to over-run and stampede it. A gal- 
 lant show, horses and camels ventre-a-terre, rifles 
 spitting, burnooses streaming transparent and arms 
 glittering in the blue unearthly light, they came 
 in a mad rush, with an impetus so great as to seem 
 irresistible. 
 
 Yet at the critical moment, when it seemed that of 
 a, surety there was no stopping them, they divided 
 and swung round the camp in two wide circles, scat- 
 tering into open order and firing as they scattered. 
 Here and there a horse fell, a rider threw out his 
 hands and toppled from his saddle, a camel seemed 
 to buckle at full tilt like a faulty piece of machinery ; 
 and so gaps appeared in the flying wings. 
 
 For the men of the flying column were picked 
 shots. They had need to be, who had such tasks as 
 this to cope with. 
 
 Nor for that matter were the Touaregg the
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 9S 
 
 only sufferers. Here and there in the camp a man 
 plunged forward in mid-stride, and on the firing line 
 beyond the tents now and again a sharpshooter 
 shuddered and lay still upon his arms. Even at 
 O'Rourke's side an officer was shot as he ran to the 
 front, and would have fallen had not the Irishman 
 caught him with ready arms and let him easily to 
 the earth. As he did so the stricken man rolled an 
 agonised eye upward. 
 
 " O'Rourke ! " he said between a groan and a sigh. 
 
 And O'Rourke, kneeling at his side and peering- 
 into his face, gave a bitter cry. For he had found 
 Chambret.
 
 CHAPTER 
 EIGHT 
 
 PEEPAEATIONS for breakfast were toward; an aroma 
 of coffee and bacon hung in the still, crisp air. The 
 troopers were bustling about as if nothing had hap- 
 pened, laughing and joking, cleaning rifles, feed- 
 ing the mehara, striking tents, drawing water from 
 the palm-ringed well round which the camp had been 
 made. 
 
 Out of sight beyond the edge of the sunken oasis 
 a detachment was digging shallow trenches for the 
 dead, the thud and scrape of their spades a sinister 
 under-note to the chatter of those who had been 
 spared and were whole. Dull and continuous, the 
 sound struck upon the ear singularly like the tolling 
 of a knell. 
 
 A glory of crimson and gold shimmered in the 
 eastern vault of the skies ; in the west the grey and 
 purple shades were rolling away almost visibly across 
 the face of the desert; dawn was imminent. 
 
 In the open Chambret lay dying, a stark grim fig- 
 ure in the growing light. O'Rourke sat by his side, 
 near the head of the improvised litter, elbow on knee, 
 chin in hand, eyes fixed on the face of his friend. 
 
 94
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 95 
 
 To his saddened vision, the man's features seemed 
 curiously pinched and shrunken, but little indicative 
 of the strength and comeliness that once had been 
 his. A strong, dark man he figured in O'Rourke's 
 memory, alert and ready, a friend to cherish, stead- 
 fast and loyal. 
 
 Now ... It was hard to see him as he was. 
 There were deep hollows beneath the closed eyes, 
 and the lean, brown cheeks had fallen in pitifully; 
 the stern lines of suffering about the mouth and 
 chin and the cold, beaded sweat on the man's brow 
 and temples wrung the heart of the adventurer, 
 though he had seen many men die many of whom 
 he had cared for more than a little. 
 
 Perhaps, however, he was now more intensely 
 moved because this man Chambret, whose passing 
 he was watching, a solitary mourner, had been more 
 to him than a friend, more than an enemy. . . . 
 Inevitably he recalled the unnumbered incidents and 
 episodes which went to prove how strangely inter- 
 woven had been the threads of their individual des- 
 tinies. Chambret it was through whom he had first 
 met Beatrix, Princesse de Grandlieu, Chambret whom 
 first he had been forced to recognise as his most for- 
 midable rival for her affection; his first duel had 
 been fought with Chambret his second also; with 
 Chambret by his side he had fought the fights that 
 stood out most prominently in his memory ; he had 
 saved his life, been saved through his intervention;
 
 96 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 they had served one another in many a various way. 
 Even when he had married the woman Chambret 
 loved, Chambret had stood by his side. The strength 
 of their friendship had prevailed against even that 
 ordeal. . . . And now the man lay dying, dying 
 needlessly, a virtual suicide who to forget his love 
 for the woman O'Rourke had married had courted 
 death by enlisting as a soldier of France's Foreign 
 Legion in the Soudan : that graveyard of many an- 
 other brilliant career. . . . 
 
 Just before sunrise the man on the litter stirred, 
 moaned, opened his eyes and turned his head to see 
 O'Rourke. He smiled wanly. '* Mon ami," he said 
 in tones faint yet thick. 
 
 The Irishman rose. " Don't talk," said he. " I'll 
 be calling the surgeon." 
 
 But Chambret stayed him with a gesture. " Has 
 he not told you, dear friend? " he asked. 
 
 O'Rourke hesitated. "Told me what?" 
 
 " That my wound was fatal mortal? . . . 
 Surely he must have told you. It is so. Presently I 
 die . . . content. . . . Let him be this 
 surgeon: I am beyond his aid. Attend to me, in 
 my last moments, O'Rourke, my friend." 
 
 The adventurer vacillated, torn by an agony of 
 compassion. " I must do something for ye," he said 
 miserably. ..." I must do something. . . . 
 What can I do?" 
 
 " Comfort me." The dying man closed his eyes
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 97 
 
 and lay still for a little. " You are not gone, 
 O'Rourke?" he asked presently. 
 
 " I'm here, be your side, mon ami." 
 
 " Tell me ... of madame . . . your wife. 
 She is well?" 
 
 " She is very well, Chambret." 
 
 " You have seen her recently ? " 
 
 " Within ten days." 
 
 " You have . . . returned to her ? " 
 
 " No and yes. 'Twas not for lack of love for 
 her that I gave her up " 
 
 " Yes," said Chambret impatiently. " That I un- 
 derstand. ... I comprehend utterly your feel- 
 ing. . . . But you owe her happiness, though you 
 sacrifice your own everything to give it her. She 
 loves you ... as she might have loved even 
 me, had you not come into her life." 
 
 "True. . . ." 
 
 " You are about to pocket your scruples that she 
 may have her due portion of happiness? " 
 
 " I've promised, Chambret." 
 
 " I am glad." 
 
 The wounded man panted heavily for a moment, 
 then lay very still. It seemed a long time before he 
 spoke again. 
 
 "O'Rourke. . . ." 
 
 "Dear friend. . . ," 
 
 " It's true, then. . . . I'd wondered. . . . 
 For a little I thought myself dreaming you were by
 
 98 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 my side in this hour. . . . O'Rourke I've not 
 long to live now your hand." 
 
 His strong fingers closed greedily upon the Irish- 
 man's. 
 
 " She is well, happy ... I am glad. . . . 
 Do you speak of me together?" 
 
 " Very often." 
 
 " But she doesn't know. . . . That is best. 
 . I should sleep uneasy with the burden of 
 the thought that she knew why . . . why death 
 found me in this spot, this land of devils." 
 
 " I think she doesn't even dream " 
 
 " So much the better. . . . But you what 
 has brought you hither? " 
 
 " I I wished to see ye." 
 
 But the dying are oftentimes and strangely en- 
 dowed with curious insight into matters beyond their 
 ken. Without perceptible hesitation Chambret made 
 this apparent. 
 
 " You have come for the ruby," he said with con- 
 viction. 
 
 " How did ye know? " 
 
 " It is true, then ? . . . I fancied so ; I knew 
 that some day you would come to claim it. You re- 
 call telling me the story of the stone? I have not 
 forgotten. ... So I have kept it all prepared 
 for you to claim. Not only have I designated it your 
 property in my will, but . . . perhaps foreseeing 
 this thing that has happened, I have placed it in a
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 99 
 
 safe hand to be delivered to you alone upon re- 
 quest." 
 
 The voice dropped until it was no more than a 
 feeble whisper and the strong dark hands began to 
 twitch spasmodically one tightening cruelly about 
 O'Rourke's. The Irishman seemed to see death's 
 hallmark stamped plain upon the face of his friend. 
 
 " Chambret," he said huskily. 
 
 " Let me finish. I have but little time left to me. 
 
 This skirmish must have happened earlier 
 
 than I had thought ; for it is still dark, my friend ; I 
 
 cannot see your face. . . . What is the hour ? " 
 
 " 'Tis hard upon the dawn. . . ." 
 
 " It is sunset for me. By daylight I shall be 
 . . . No matter. Listen to me, O'Rourke." 
 
 " I'm here, Chambret." 
 
 " Is there anyone besides yourself to hear? " 
 
 "None. . . ." 
 
 " Bend nearer to me. . . . The Pool of Flame 
 is in the keeping of my good friend, the Governor- 
 General of Algeria. It is all arranged. When I 
 am gone, take my signet ring, tell him your name, and 
 demand the package a small morocco-leather box, 
 wrapped in plain brown paper and superscribed with 
 my name and yours. He knows nothing of its value, 
 save that it is great, and will deliver it to you and 
 only you without question. . . . That is all." 
 
 The hand that clasped O'Rourke's was like 
 ice.
 
 100 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " Chambret ! " 
 
 "Beatrix. . . ." 
 
 The cold fingers relaxed. Gently O'Rourke dis- 
 engaged his hand and put it to the pitiful, torn 
 bosom of the man who had died with his wife's name 
 upon his lips. 
 
 There was no motion, not a flutter of breath nor 
 a throb of the heart, in Chambret's body. 
 
 O'Rourke rose and stood above the litter, with 
 sorrowing eyes staring blankly out across the empty, 
 barren, desert waste. 
 
 With a bound the sun cleared the horizon, and an- 
 other day crashed across the firmament.
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 NINE 
 
 SHORTLY before midnight the tri-weekly train from 
 Constantine to Algiers pulled up over an hour late 
 at the town of El-Guerrah. It took up a single pas- 
 senger, discharged none, and presently thundered on 
 westwards, rocking and jarring over a road-bed cer- 
 tainly no better than it should have been. Such, 
 at least, was the passenger's criticism, as, groaning 
 in anticipation of the long night of discomfort ahead 
 of him, he disposed himself and his belongings about 
 the cushions of the first-class compartment which he 
 occupied in solitary grandeur. 
 
 O'Rourke had no intention of leaving anything 
 undone that might tend to mitigate the terrors of 
 the journey. Removing his coat, he rolled and 
 pounded it into a passable pillow, which he placed 
 at one end of the rear seat. Then, opening his hand- 
 bag, he exchanged shoes for worn slippers, produced 
 a flask, a pipe, a fat tobacco-pouch and matches, 
 and, stretching himself at length upon the cushions, 
 commended his soul to fortitude and his mind to 
 thought. 
 
 Five days had elapsed since that morning in the 
 oasis. In the interval he had again dared the dan- 
 
 101
 
 102 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 gers of the desert, returning to Biskra alone by a 
 route more direct than that which had brought him 
 up with the flying column. Discharging the guide 
 with a gratuity larger than his ebbing means war- 
 ranted, he had proceeded to El-Guerrah by the first 
 daily train, and so now found himself on the direct 
 line of communication with Algiers and the Governor- 
 General. 
 
 He was weary, fagged by the unmitigated strain 
 of the desert sortie, but mentally fairly content. 
 The five days lapsed had taken the keen edge off his 
 mourning; O'Rourke had seen too much of death in 
 battle to remain for long forcibly impressed by it, 
 even when it touched him so nearly as now. The sad 
 memory of Chambret he served as he served habitu- 
 ally all irreparable matters, thrusting it into the 
 storehouse of his reminiscences, out of his immediate 
 thoughts. His chiefest concern now lay with the 
 future and the Pool of Flame; both bulked large 
 upon the horizon and were at once the architects 
 and the nuclei of a thousand different plans of 
 action. 
 
 So far, the affair had worked smoothly ; he antici- 
 pated little trouble. Des Trebes and the Honour- 
 able Mr. Glynn he disregarded entirely, eliminating 
 them as real factors in his schemes. He had seen 
 nothing of either at Biskra, and very naturally held 
 that they having failed to intercept him before he 
 could reach Chambret, had abandoned their conspir-
 
 CHAPTER NINE 103 
 
 acy, or, at worst, turned their attention from him- 
 self to the man of whose death they remained in 
 ignorance. 
 
 It was now become the Irishman's part to return 
 to Algiers as inconspicuously as possible, secure 
 an interview with the Governor-General, and take 
 leave of the land at the earliest practicable moment. 
 
 So thinking he drowsed, and in the course of time 
 lulled by the hammering of a flat-wheel at the for- 
 ward end of the coach, fell asleep. In common with 
 most men who are hardened to the open, he had the 
 happy faculty of sleeping when and where he would, 
 of obtaining the greatest possible amount of rest 
 under the least favourable auspices. By habit, like- 
 wise, he slept lightly and could awaken himself at 
 any given hour, by prearrangement with his sub- 
 consciousness. But this night he wakened suddenly 
 and without design after a nap of some two hours 
 or so, to a confusion of impressions : that the train 
 had stopped; that someone had invaded his com- 
 partment; that a cold blast was blowing across his 
 wrists. Bewildered and not half master of his senses, 
 he started up and fell back with a thud, assisted to 
 resume a recumbent position by a heavy blow upon 
 his chest, delivered by some person for the moment 
 unknown. Simultaneously he was aware of a click- 
 ing sound, followed by the sensation of being unable 
 to move his feet ; and then, the clouds clearing from 
 his understanding, he realised that the cold upon his
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 wrists was that of steel. With handcuffs also on 
 his ankles, he lay helpless, unable even to protest 
 because of a cloth wadded tightly into his mouth 
 and a firm hand that prevented its ejection. 
 
 Other hands were rifling his pockets, swiftly but 
 after a bungling fashion. The train, having paused 
 briefly at Setif (he afterwards located the station by 
 conjecture), began to move again, was presently in 
 full thundering flight. Abruptly the examination 
 of his person which was so thorough that it in- 
 cluded the opening of his shirt to assure the thieves 
 that he carried nothing in the shape of a money- 
 belt was concluded and the adventurer was roughly 
 jerked into a sitting position. At the same time his 
 gag was removed. 
 
 He gasped, blinked, coughed, and rolled a resent- 
 ful eye around the compartment. " Be the powers ! " 
 he said huskily; and no more. At first glance it 
 became apparent that he had miscalculated the au- 
 dacity and resource of the vicomte and Mr. Glynn. 
 They had literally caught him napping. 
 
 The Honourable Bertie, O'Rourke discovered kneel- 
 ing in the act of turning the adventurer's travelling 
 gear inside out ; at least, he seemed to be trying to 
 do so. Monsieur le Vicomte des Trebes on the con- 
 trary was seated at ease, facing O'Rourke, a revolver 
 on the cushion beside him, his interest concentrated, 
 not upon his captive, but upon his collaborator. 
 O'Rourke remarked an expression on the French-
 
 CHAPTER NINE 105 
 
 man's face, a curious compound of eagerness, tri- 
 umph and apprehension. 
 
 Without noting the Irishman's ejaculation, he ad- 
 dressed Glynn: "Find it?" 
 
 " No worse luck ! " grumbled the Englishman, 
 rising and kicking the hand-bag savagely. " There 
 isn't so much as a scrap of paper anywhere about 
 him." 
 
 The vicomte favoured O'Rourke with a vicious 
 glance, muttering something about a thousand 
 devils. The Irishman, quick to grasp the situation 
 and inwardly exulting, acknowledged Des Trebes' 
 attention with a winning smile. 
 
 " Good evening," he said, and nodded amiably. 
 
 " Oh, shut up ! " snapped the Honourable Bertie, 
 unhandsomely. " Where's that letter ? " 
 
 O'Rourke chuckled. " Ye're a hard loser, me 
 bright young friend," he commented. "I thought 
 Englishmen always played the game as it laid." 
 
 Glynn grunted and flushed, shamefaced, but the 
 Frenchman cut short the retort on his lips by a curt 
 repetition of Glynn's own question: 
 
 "Where's that letter, monsieur?" 
 
 O'Rourke glanced at him languidly, yawned, and 
 smiled an exasperating, strictly personal smile. 
 Then significantly he clinked the handcuffs until 
 they rang on wrist and ankle. 
 
 " Answer me ! " snarled the vicomte, picking uj> 
 his revolver.
 
 106 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " Divvle a word," observed O'Rourke, " will ye get 
 from me if ye shoot me dead, monsieur le vicomte. 
 Put down your pistol and be sensible." 
 
 Des Trebes' face darkened, suffused with the blood 
 of his rage. Yet the man asserted that admirable 
 control of self which he was able to employ when it 
 suited his purposes. Evidently, too, he recognised 
 the cold common-sense of the wanderer's remark. 
 At all events he put aside the weapon. 
 
 "Where's the letter?" he demanded again, more 
 pacifically. 
 
 Again O'Rourke yawned with malice prepense, 
 yawned deliberately and exhaustively and dispas- 
 sionately. " Not a word," he volunteered at length, 
 " until ye loose me hands and feet. Which," he 
 added, " ye need not hesitate to do, for I'll not strike 
 back unless ye crowd me." 
 
 The vicomte scowled darkly for a moment, plainly 
 dubious. Then presumably upon the consideration 
 that he could trust O'Rourke's word and that most 
 assuredly he would learn nothing from him until his 
 request was complied with, he growled an order to 
 Glynn to unlock and remove the handcuffs. The 
 Englishman obeyed. 
 
 Free, O'Rourke stretched himself, rubbed his wrists, 
 and observed a collection of his pocket hardware ly- 
 ing upon the seat by him, thrown aside by Glynn 
 in his disgust at not finding what he sought. 
 
 '* Ye'll not be wanting to deprive me of these few
 
 His dominant emotion of the moment, an intense 
 and pitiful solicitude for the dying man, 
 
 threw him off his guard " (Page 250)
 
 CHAPTER NINE 107 
 
 trifles, me gay highwaymen, I'm thinking? " he in- 
 quired placidly of the pair. " If ye've no objection 
 I'll make so free as to take back me own." 
 
 " Take what you want," returned Des Trebes in 
 an ugly tone. " But I give you three minutes to 
 tell me where you have put that letter." 
 
 " Indeed ? Your courtesy overpowers me." The 
 Irishman took up his watch and calmly made a note 
 of the hour hard upon three in the morning; then, 
 with easy nonchalance stowed it away with the rest 
 of the miscellaneous collection the knives, coins 
 and keys, his wallet, tickets and so forth. 
 
 " Your time," the voice of the vicomte interrupted 
 this occupation, " is up." He fingered his re- 
 volver. " Where is that letter? I am losing 
 patience." 
 
 " Where rust nor moth cannot corrupt nor thieves 
 break in to steal," O'Rourke misquoted solemnly. 
 " Steady. Don't call names or I'll forget meself. 
 I mean that the letter is in fragments, scattered to 
 the four winds of heaven, destroyed. There ye have 
 your answer. Ye fools, did ye think I would carry it 
 about me? " 
 
 "By God!" said Glynn tensely. "No don't 
 shoot him, Des Trebes ! He's telling the truth. 
 Make him tell what was in the letter." 
 
 " I am afraid 'tis useless," O'Rourke mocked them. 
 " I have forgotten the contents. What use to me to 
 remember? " he demanded, inspired. " What made
 
 108 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 ye think I would have it at all? Sure, and the letter 
 was properly Chambcet's. Why would I not turn it 
 over to him ? " 
 
 " Oh, cut it ! " Glynn interrupted impatiently. 
 " We know he's dead. The news was heliographed in 
 from the column day before yesterday." 
 
 " Quite so. Yet, if ye know so much, if as I 
 gather ye suspect that Chambret turned over this 
 precious jewel to me, why do ye not demand it as 
 well as the letter? Not that I have either." 
 
 " Because we jolly well know you haven't got the 
 ruby," blurted the Englishman. 
 
 " Be quiet ! " snapped the vicomte. 
 
 " Quite right," echoed O'Rourke with assumed in- 
 dignation. " Be silent, Bertie. Children should be 
 seen and not heard. Mind your uncle." And, 
 " Oho ! " he commented to himself. "And they knew 
 I didn't have the Pool of Flame! Let me think. 
 . . . Oh, faith, 'tis just bluffing they are!" 
 
 " You say," the vicomte continued slowly and 
 evenly, "you've destroyed the letter." 
 
 O'Rourke took up pipe and tobacco. " I told ye," 
 he replied, filling the bowl, " that the letter was non- 
 existent. Now, me man," he continued, with an im- 
 perceptible change of tone, " drop the bluff. Turn 
 that pistol away from me. Well I know that ye 
 won't shoot, for if ye did ye would put beyond your 
 reach forever the information that would win ye the 
 reward always providing ye had got possession of
 
 CHAPTER NINE 109 
 
 the ruby, be hook or crook. 'Twould be crooks, I'm 
 thinking." 
 
 He lit a match and applied the flame to the to- 
 bacco. " There's me last word on the subject," he 
 added indistinctly, puffing and eyeing the pair 
 through the cloud of smoke. 
 
 The revolver wavered in the vicomte's hand; he 
 was livid with passion and disappointment, yet 
 amenable to reason. Glynn bent and whispered 
 briefly in his ear, and the Frenchman, nodding ac- 
 quiescence, laid aside his weapon. The Honourable 
 Bertie continued to advise with him in whispers until 
 O'Rourke, though quite at loss to understand this 
 phase of the affair, saw that their attention was mo- 
 mentarily diverted and, with a swift movement, leaned 
 over, snatched up the revolver and, with a flirt of 
 his hand, flung it out the window. 
 
 Glynn started back with an oath, his hand going 
 toward his pocket; but O'Rourke promptly closed 
 with him. A breath later a second pistol was 
 ejected from the carriage and the Englishman 
 was sprawling over the knees of the vicomte. 
 
 They disengaged themselves and, mad with rage, 
 started up to fall upon and exterminate the wan- 
 derer. I think it must have been the very imperti- 
 nence of his attitude that made them pause in doubt, 
 for he had resumed his seat as calmly as though 
 nothing at all had happened and was pulling soberly 
 at his pipe. As they hesitated he removed the latter
 
 110 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 from his lips and gestured airily with the stem. 
 " Sit ye down," he invited them, " and take it easy, 
 me dear friends. The michief's done, and naught 
 that ye can do will repair it. Faith, I said I'd not 
 strike back unless ye crowded me. I remember me 
 words to the letter. Well, your guns made a crowd 
 out of this happy reunion. I've merely dispensed 
 with them; I call ye both to witness that ye have 
 neither of ye suffered. Sure, I'm as peaceable as any 
 lamb. Sit down, sit ye down and take it like little 
 men. The situation's unchanged, save that I've 
 put temptation out of your reach." 
 
 And as they wavered, plainly of two minds, 
 O'Rourke clinched the argument of his attitude. " I 
 beg to call your attention," he remarked, " to the 
 fact that ye have left me own brace of revolvers here 
 at me feet, when ye so joyously turned me bag inside 
 out. I'm not touching them, mind ye, but mind ye 
 further: I'll brook no nonsense. If ye make a move 
 as if to attack me, I'll . . . There! That's 
 much better. Wise lads ye are, both of ye : graceful 
 in defeat. Let me see: We've a long ride together, 
 though ye did come uninvited. I trust ye will help 
 me beguile the tedium with society chatter, me 
 friend," with a twinkle at the discomfited vicomte. 
 " I'm in danger of forgetting me manners. Par- 
 don me, I pray, but but I trust your nose is con- 
 valescing? " 
 
 In high feather with himself, O'Rourke entertained
 
 CHAPTER NINE 111 
 
 his companions with a running fire of pleasantries 
 for the balance of the darkened hours. And he 
 touched both more than once with the rapier-point of 
 his wit and irony, and had the pleasure of seeing 
 both squirm in impotent rage. They cut wretched 
 figures, two against one, yet failures, while he taunted 
 them in one breath, with the next declared himself 
 their captive. Toward the end the reserve which the 
 vicomte imposed upon the Honourable Bertie was 
 worn down: the Englishman turned with raw nerves 
 upon his tormentor. 
 
 " You damned ass ! " he stammered, all but in- 
 coherent. " You sit there and and gloat, damn you ! 
 When all the time we've got the upper hand ! " 
 
 " Be quiet ! " interposed the vicomte. 
 
 " I won't ! " raged the honourable. " He thinks 
 himself so infernally clever! What 'dyou say, you 
 Irish braggart, if I told you you'd never see the Pool 
 of Flame again? " 
 
 " I'd say," returned O'Rourke, " that you were 
 either lying or a fool. In either case a fool. If, as 
 ye seem to be trying to make me believe which I 
 don't for one instant ye have succeeded in steal- 
 ing the Pool of Flame, I'll hunt the pair of ye to 
 the ends of the earth, if need be." 
 
 He eyed them reflectively during a moment or two 
 made interesting by Glynn's desperate attempts to 
 blurt out indiscretions against the prohibition of 
 the vicomte : something which the older man enforced
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 crudely by clapping his hand across the English- 
 man's mouth, as well as by whispering savagely in 
 his ear. 
 
 " But there'll be no need," continued the Irishman, 
 when Glynn was calm. " Let's consider the mat- 
 ter dispassionately, presupposing that ye have 
 the stone. Well, what then? Ye dare not attempt 
 to sell it 'twould result in instant detection. It 
 would not pay ye to have it secretly cut up 
 into smaller stones the loss in value would be stu- 
 pendous, the whole not worth your while, as I say. 
 Ye cannot take the Pool of Flame (don't get excited: 
 I'm not going to tell ye where) to claim the reward, 
 for ye don't know where to go. 'Tis a white elephant 
 it would be on your hands." 
 
 " It does not seem to strike monsieur that there 
 are other ways of finding out who offers the re- 
 ward," the vicomte suggested icily. 
 
 "I can see ye wandering around asking some- 
 body please to relieve ye of the Pool of Flame 
 and pay ye a commission. I wonder how long ye 
 think ye'd last. But 'tis no use trying to hoodwink 
 me: I don't believe one word ye say. I'll wait until 
 I find out the truth before I bother meself with ye." 
 
 There fell a silence then, O'Rourke wrapped in 
 thought if watchful, the Honourable Bertie sulky, 
 Des Trebes imperturbable. Shortly afterwards the 
 train stopped at Beni-Mancour, and here the two 
 offered to leave. O'Rourke interposed no objection:
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 
 he was glad enough to be rid of them, to have a 
 chance to sit and smoke and think it out. 
 
 Their persistence in hinting that they had gained 
 possession of the ruby perplexed and discomfited 
 him. He did not believe it; 'twas inconceiv- 
 able : yet he had known stranger things to happen. 
 Still, without a clue, to have stumbled upon the 
 secret, to have made off with it from under the very 
 
 nose of the Governor-General ! No ; it was not 
 
 reasonable to ask him to believe all that. 
 
 Nevertheless, when he arrived at Algiers, his anx- 
 iety had grown so overpowering that, waiting only 
 to assure himself that at Beni-Mancour Des Trebes 
 and Glynn had merely moved to the compartment be- 
 hind, he called a cab and desired to be conveyed post- 
 haste to the Place de la Government.
 
 CHAPTER 
 TEN 
 
 IT was high noon when O'Rourke drove up before the 
 Palace of the Governor-General. Weary, dusty and 
 travel-stained as he was, he hesitated no instant 
 about sending in his name and requesting an inter- 
 view with the representative of France's sovereign 
 power. 
 
 Disappointment awaited him at the very outset: 
 disappointment in the shape of word that his excel- 
 lency was away. But the name of O'Rourke was one 
 well and favourably known in the province, and se- 
 cured him an invitation to ascend to the Governor's 
 office and state his business if he cared to do so 
 to the gubernatorial secretary. 
 
 Upon consideration he accepted, and a little later 
 was seated in a broad, low, cool room in the old 
 Moorish palace, the affable secretary a young, 
 lively and engaging Frenchman solicitously sound- 
 ing him as to his errand. 
 
 It was obviously the office of a man of great af- 
 fairs, presenting an eminently business-like look for 
 all its Oriental setting. To one side, set in the solid 
 masonry of the wall, was a massive safe with doors 
 ajar, exposing a cavity well stocked with documents. 
 
 114
 
 CHAPTER TEN 115 
 
 It occurred to the,adventurer that such a safe might 
 easily have been the place of security selected by the 
 Governor-General for anything he held in trust. He 
 built upon it a theory whilst he listened nor lost 
 a point and replied to the secretary. 
 
 The latter regretted excessively that his excel- 
 lency was absent: his excellency would undoubtedly 
 be desolated when he returned and found he had 
 missed Colonel O'Rourke. 
 
 "He'll be back soon, monsieur?" 
 
 " Alas, no ! " with a shrug. " He is en route for 
 Paris possibly arrived by this moment on mat- 
 ters of state." 
 
 "And he left?" 
 
 " Several days since, monsieur." 
 
 "You know nothing of this package, indorsed 
 "with the name of Monsieur Chambret? " 
 
 To the contrary: the secretary knew it very well. 
 He could place his hand upon it at any moment- 
 monsieur would appreciate that he durst not sur- 
 render it without the Governor's authority. 
 
 O'Rourke drew a long sigh of relief and was 
 abruptly conscious of fatigue and a desire to get 
 away and rest. 
 
 " I'm obliged to ye," he said slowly, rising. " I'll 
 have to wait until the Governor returns, I presume. 
 By the way, are ye be any chance ac- 
 quainted with Monsieur le Vicomte des Trebes ? " 
 
 But certainly; the vicomte was a great friend of
 
 116 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 his excellency's. He had dined with his excellency 
 something over a week since, just prior to the latter's 
 (departure. 
 
 "And I take it ye have seen nothing of the gen- 
 tleman since ? " 
 
 " On the contrary, monsieur : the vicomte called 
 here but two days ago." It appeared that he had 
 desired some trifling information, with which the 
 secretary had obliged him. 
 
 " Ye didn't happen to leave him alone in this 
 room? " 
 
 The secretary, plainly much perplexed by this odd 
 catechism, admitted that such had been the case ; the 
 pursuit of the desired data had necessitated his ab- 
 sence from the Governor's room for a matter of some 
 ten minutes. 
 
 " But ye say ye can put your hand on this pack- 
 age?" 
 
 " But certainly, monsieur." 
 
 " Would ye mind making sure 'tis safe? 'Twould 
 save me a deal of waiting, perhaps " 
 
 With alacrity and a smile that deprecated his 
 visitor's anxiety over so trifling a matter, the secre- 
 tary rose, went to the safe and confidently enough 
 thrust a hand into one of the pigeon-holes. The hand 
 came forth empty. A frown of bewilderment clouded 
 the secretary's face. " It must be here," he an- 
 nounced with conviction. " It was in plain sight 
 and labelled with the name of Monsieur Cham-
 
 CHAPTER TEN 117 
 
 bret . . ." He turned. " If Monsieur le Colonel 
 will but return in half an hour, I undertake then to 
 show him the packet itself. I shall by then have 
 found it but assuredly ! " 
 
 "Ye are very courteous, monsieur. I will re- 
 turn." 
 
 This he did in two hours. The packet had not 
 been found; the secretary, in a flutter of nerves, 
 confessed that through some culpable negligence, it 
 must have been misplaced. An extended search was 
 even then in progress. It would surely come to light 
 before evening. 
 
 " Thank ye ; I shan't be back," returned O'Rourke 
 grimly; and went away, downcast for the first time 
 since the inception of the adventure. " Faith ! and 
 to think I would not believe the truth when they 
 slapped me face with it! And all the time, belike, 
 'twas in the vicomte's own pocket! . . ." But 
 he had no vocabulary adequate to the task of ex- 
 pressing his self-contempt. 
 
 Disconsolate, conceiving that he had proven him- 
 self a blind, egregious fool, he plodded with heavy 
 steps and a hanging head back to his hotel; where 
 the crowning stroke of the day was presented to him 
 in the shape of a note, by the hand of a black Biskri 
 porter. 
 
 " Monsieur le Colonel Terence O'Rourke. Be 
 hand," he conned the address. " Faith, and what's 
 this?"
 
 118 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 If Monsieur le Colonel O'Rourke will do Monsieur des 
 Tresbes the honour of dining with him, at seven for seven- 
 thirty this evening, at the Villa d'Orleans, St. Eugene, an 
 arrangement satisfactory to both himself and Monsieur le 
 Vicomte may be consummated. 
 
 R. S. V. P. The bearer waits. 
 
 A trap ? A subterfuge ? A trick to throw him off 
 the scent whilst the two blackguards escaped with 
 their booty? The adventurer frowned darkly over 
 it, dubious. Then, in a flush of recklessness, he 
 seized a sheet of paper from a near-by desk, scrawled 
 a formal acceptance of the strange invitation, and 
 handed it to the Biskri boy. " All to gain, naught 
 to lose," he summed up the state of mind which had 
 dictated his response; and at six-thirty, with brow 
 and eye serene, he left the hotel in a carriage bound 
 for the suburb of St. Eugene and heaven knew 
 where besides !
 
 C H AP T E R 
 ELEVEN 
 
 THE Villa d'Orleans proved to be a handsome house 
 of white stone, situated in extensive and well-groomed 
 grounds, on a height outside the town, overlooking 
 the Mediterranean. So complete and elegant seemed 
 the establishment, indeed, viewed from without or 
 within, that O'Rourke's suspicions were stimulated 
 and his certainty that he was being played with re- 
 solved into a pretty definite conviction, as he waited 
 in the broad hallway. It was inconceivable that a 
 man like Des Trebes, so reduced as to be under the 
 necessity of stealing even of stealing so consider- 
 able a sum as a hundred thousand pounds could 
 maintain so imposing an establishment. 
 
 His uneasy conjectures were interrupted when the 
 vicomte appeared to welcome his guest. Suave, 
 dressed properly for the occasion, showing traces 
 neither of fatigue nor of his antipathy for O'Rourke, 
 blandly ignoring the peculiarities of the situation 
 which his own inexplicable invitation had created, 
 he presented himself in the guise of a gracious 
 host. Nature had fitted him to play such a role 
 with unquestionable aplomb, when he cared to ; only 
 119
 
 120 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 now and then in his speech could be detected the 
 strain of antagonism and nervousness underlying 
 tis flowery periods. 
 
 " Monsieur," he declared, bowing to O'Rourke 
 (but with a care not to offer his hand), " overpowers 
 me with his condescension and punctuality. I can 
 only regret " with a significant glance at the 
 bulge of the adventurer's coat " that he thought it 
 wise to come armed." 
 
 " 'Tis a habit I find it hard to break meself of." 
 O'Rourke offered the inadequate explanation in a 
 dry and coolish tone. He was not in the humour 
 for such play-acting as the vicomte's ; it suited his 
 mood best to be blunt, pending the disclosure of 
 Des Trebes' intentions. 
 
 " It was unnecessary, I assure monsieur." 
 " Faith, I'm convinced 'twill prove so." 
 Tactfully the vicomte digressed from the unpleas- 
 ant topic. " I have asked you here, monsieur," he 
 said with an air of deprecation, " to confer with me 
 on business after we have dined. I trust the arrange- 
 ment suits your convenience." 
 "I'm content, monsieur." 
 
 " I regret that circumstances prevent me from re- 
 ceiving you under my own roof-tree. The Villa 
 d'Orleans is the property of a dear friend, merely 
 loaned me during my stay in Algiers." 
 
 "' Ye're fortunate in your choice of friends." 
 Over his next remark Des Trebes faltered a trifle,
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 121 
 
 with a curious smile that O'Rourke failed to fathom. 
 " Monsieur Glynn," he said, " is ah a trifle in- 
 disposed the sun. Nevertheless, I believe he will 
 join us during dinner, if you will be so kind as to 
 excuse him ? " 
 
 " I could do very well without him." 
 
 The vicomte caught the eye of a servant, and, 
 " Dinner is announced," he said. " Do me the hon- 
 our to accompany me to the table." 
 
 It was a strange meal: the strangest, O'Rourke 
 thought, he had ever sat through, and he had dined 
 in many a various, curious way in his time. The 
 food was perfection, the service excellent, the wines a 
 delight. Over across the gleaming cloth the vicomte 
 sat, accomplished, imperturbable, a moderately fas- 
 cinating conversationalist, his ready wits and 
 tongue illuminating every topic that they touched 
 upon. Yet now and again his eye darkened 
 as it flitted across the Irishman's face, now and 
 again the momentous nature of his scheme scratched 
 the polished surface of the man of the world, betray- 
 ing the malignant and ruthless nature beneath. 
 
 In the course of time, as the vicomte had pre- 
 dicted, the Honourable Bertie joined them; and on 
 sight O'Rourke diagnosed the " indisposition " as 
 plain intoxication. The Englishman was deep in his 
 cups, far too deep to ape the urbanity of his host. 
 He favoured O'Rourke with a curt nod and a surly 
 look, then slumped limply into a chair and called for
 
 18S THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 champagne, which he drank greedily and with a sul- 
 len air, avoiding the vicomte's eye. Before dessert 
 was served he passed into a black humour, and sat 
 mutely glowering at his glass (what time he was not 
 unsteadily filling it) without regard for either of his 
 companions. 
 
 When the cloth was cleared and the servants had 
 withdrawn, Des Trebes definitely cast aside pretence. 
 A cigarette between his lips, he lounged in his chair, 
 eyelids drooping over eyes that never left his guest's 
 while either spoke. A cynical smile prefaced his 
 first words. 
 
 " So," he said, " the farce is over. Some regard 
 for the conventions was necessary before the serv- 
 ants of my friend, the owner of this villa. Now, we 
 can be natural, Monsieur le Colonel." 
 
 " Be all means ; I cannot say I found the play 
 diverting, despite the skill of your friend's chef. I 
 gather ye wish to get to business ? Well I'm wait- 
 ing." O'Rourke pulled at a cigar, honouring the 
 man with cat-like attention. He had no longer to 
 watch the honourable; the latter had wilfully re- 
 lieved him of the necessity. 
 
 " You have been, then," pursued the vicomte, 
 without further circumlocution, " to the palace of 
 Monsieur le Gouverneur-Generale ? " 
 
 " I have unfortunately a few days too late, it 
 seems." 
 
 " You are satisfied ? "
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 " I'm satisfied that the Pool of Flame has been 
 stolen." 
 
 " Then you will probably believe me when I de- 
 clare myself the malefactor. It was an easy mat- 
 ter: I purposely brought up. the name of Chambret 
 in conversation with the Governor and by him was 
 informed of the existence of the packet which, of 
 course, I had already surmised. Afterwards . . . 
 the secretary was absent, the safe open, the name 
 on the packet stared me in the face. What could 
 I do?" 
 
 " Precisely. I'm convinced that, being what ye 
 are, ye did only what ye could." 
 
 The vicomte bowed, amusement flickering in his 
 glance. " Touched," he admitted. ..." Well 
 . . . I have the jewel, you the information." 
 
 " And ye have to propose ? " 
 
 " A plan after your own heart : I do your courage 
 the credit to believe it, monsieur. With another man, 
 whom I had studied less exhaustively, I should pro- 
 pose a combination of forces, a division of profits." 
 O'Rourke made an impatient gesture. " But with 
 you, Colonel O'Rourke, no. I esteem your address 
 and determination too highly and pardon me if 
 I speak plainly I despise and hate you too utterly 
 to become willingly your partner." 
 
 "Go on I begin to like ye better. Ye grow in- 
 teresting." 
 
 " That does not interest me. . The situa-
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 tion, then, is simplified. Essentially it involves two 
 propositions: first, we cannot combine; second, di- 
 vided we both fail. While both of us live, mon 
 colonel, the Pool of Flame will never earn its value." 
 
 " 'Tis meself takes exception to that. Let me once 
 get me hands on the stone, monsieur, and I'll back 
 meself against a dozen vicomtes and honourables." 
 
 " While I live," the Frenchman stated, unruffled, 
 " you will not touch the Pool of Flame ; while you 
 live, I cannot dispose of it to the best advantage. It 
 would seem that one or the other of us must die." 
 
 " I am armed," remarked O'Rourke slowly, " if ye 
 mean ye've brought me here to murder me " 
 
 " Monsieur speaks pardon crudely. I asked 
 you, you came of your own will to fight for the 
 Pool of Flame." O'Rourke started; a glint of un- 
 derstanding danced in his eager eyes. " I see you 
 catch my meaning. What I have to propose is this : 
 you will take pen and paper and write the name of 
 the person who offers the reward, with his address. 
 This you will enclose in an envelope, seal, and place 
 in your pocket. The Pool of Flame you see I 
 trust you is here." 
 
 O'Rourke got upon his feet with an exclamation ; 
 the vicomte was playing a bold hand. Before the 
 Irishman had grasped his intention he had thrown 
 upon the table a ruby as large, or larger, than an 
 egg; an exquisite jewel, superbly cut and polished. 
 Like a blood-red pool of living flame indeed it lay
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 125 
 
 between them, palpitating with strange and sinister 
 fire upon the polished mahogany, flanked by the pale 
 lustre of cut-glass decanters and tumblers. 
 
 Fascinated, O'Rourke remembered himself and sat 
 down. Momentarily temptation had been strong 
 upon him to make an end of the vicomte and have 
 done with him altogether; yet, thief though he held 
 the man, his concept of honour restrained him. 
 
 " You see." The vicomte's cold incisive tones cut 
 the silence. Slowly he extended a hand and took 
 up the great ruby, replacing it in his pocket. 
 
 " There is," he said evenly, " a level stretch of 
 grass beyond the verandah. The night, I admit, is 
 dark, but the light from these long windows should 
 be sufficient for us. If you slay me, take the ruby 
 and go in peace : this sot " with a contemptuous 
 glance at the unconscious honourable " will never 
 hinder you. If you die, I take the note from your 
 pocket. The issue is fair. Will you fight, Irish- 
 man? " 
 
 O'Rourke's fist crashed upon the table as he rose. 
 " Fight ! " he cried. " Faith, I did not think ye had 
 this in ye. Pistols, shall it be ? " 
 
 " Thank you," said the vicomte, with a courtly 
 bow, " but I am an indifferent shot. Had you 
 chosen rapiers- at Monte Carlo one of us would 
 never have left the field alive." 
 
 He went to a side table, returning with a sheet of 
 paper, an envelope, pen and ink. And when O'Rourke
 
 126 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 had slipped the paper into his pocket he saw the 
 vicomte waiting for him by one of the windows, two 
 naked rapiers, slender and gleaming and long, be- 
 neath his arm. As the Irishman came up, with a 
 bow, the Frenchman presented the hilts of both 
 weapons for his choice. 
 
 Together and in silence they left the dining-room, 
 strode across the verandah and down, a short step, to 
 the lawn. The vicomte stood aside quickly, bring- 
 ing his feet together and saluting in the full glare 
 of light. 
 
 O'Rourke whipped hilt to chin with consummate 
 grace, his heart singing. Work such as this he 
 loved. The night was pitchy black, the windows 
 barred it with radiance. In the dark spaces between 
 a man might easily blunder and run upon his death. 
 . . . Somewhere in the shadowy shrubbery a night- 
 bird was singing as though its heart would break. 
 There was a sweet smell in the air. 
 
 His blade touched the vicomte's with a shivering 
 crash, musical as glass.
 
 CHAPTER 
 TWELVE 
 
 EARLY in the dull hot dawn a clatter of winches and 
 a bustle of shadowy figures on the deck of a small 
 trading vessel, which had spent the night between 
 the moles of the harbour of Algiers, announced that 
 the anchor was being weighed. Later, canvas was 
 shaken out to catch the first faint breath of the 
 morning breeze. 
 
 While this was taking place a small harbour boat, 
 manned by two native watermen and carrying a 
 single passenger, put out from the steamship quay, 
 the oarsmen rowing with a will that hinted at a 
 premium having been placed upon their speed. The 
 coaster was barely under way, moving slowly in the 
 water, when the boat ran alongside. A line was 
 thrown from the ship and caught by one of the 
 watermen, the boat hauled close in, and its passenger 
 taken on deck. 
 
 He approached the captain with a confident and 
 business-like air. The negotiations were brief and de- 
 cisive. No questions were asked by the captain, no 
 explanation offered by the would-be passenger. A 
 price was named and agreed to, the destination fixed, 
 
 127
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 the passenger's luggage taken aboard, the small boat 
 cast off. 
 
 An hour later, a pipe between his teeth, O'Rourke 
 stood by the helmsman, staring back over the heav- 
 ing expanse, swiftly widening, that lay between the 
 coaster and the Algerian littoral. The world be- 
 hind was grey and wan, but the skies ahead were 
 golden. " A fair omen ! " breathed the adventurer 
 hopefully. 
 
 The bulk of the great ruby in his pocket 
 brought his thoughts back in a wide swing to the 
 girl who would be waiting for him at Rangoon. 
 " Faith, and I must be getting below and making 
 a dab at writing a letter to her. . . . That was 
 nothing." 
 
 He nodded with meaning towards the bold profile 
 of Algiers ; the town tumbled down the hillside to the 
 sea like an avalanche of broken snow, relieved here 
 and there by the swelling, bubble-like dome of a 
 mosque, rose pink in the morning glow. 
 
 Then, suddenly, a window, far up on the heights 
 of St. Eugene, caught the first far-flung ray of the 
 rising sun and glowed with a sullen, sanguinary 
 crimson like . . . 
 
 With a sobered visage O'Rourke turned his back 
 and looked ahead, into the promise of the brooding 
 East.
 
 CHAPTER 
 THIRTEEN 
 
 AN ill wind it was that blew Colonel O'Rourke into 
 Athens. ... It has blown itself out and been 
 forgotten this many a day, praises be! but that, 
 once it had whisked him thither, immediately it sub- 
 sided and stubbornly it refused to lift again and 
 waft him forth upon his wanderings, in the course of 
 time came to be a matter of grievous concern to the 
 Irishman. 
 
 All of which is equivalent to saying that the drop- 
 ping breeze of his finances died altogether upon his 
 arrival in the capital of Greece. Travelling by 
 little-known routes and turning and twisting and 
 doubling upon one's trail in order to throw off pur- 
 suit, is a business more or less expensive and gen- 
 erally more. O'Rourke had found it so, at least. 
 He who had started forth upon his quest with little 
 enough, in all conscience, trusting to favourable 
 chance to replenish his purse when the need arose, 
 found now tardily that his trust had been misplaced. 
 He disembarked from a coasting steamer in the 
 harbour of the Piraeus encumbered with a hundred 
 francs or so, an invincible optimism, a trunk and a 
 
 129
 
 130 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 kit-box, and a king's ransom on his person in the 
 shape of the Pool of Flame ; which latter was hardly 
 to be esteemed a negotiable asset. Thereafter fol- 
 lowed days of inaction, while his money ebbed, his 
 hopes diminished; and he began to recognise the 
 great truth that underlies one of the most admirable 
 parodies, that: 
 
 " There is a tide in the aff airs of men, 
 Which, taken any way you please, is bad, 
 And strands them in forsaken guts and creeks 
 No decent soul would think of visiting. . . ." 
 
 Thus Kipling; to whom O'Rourke, musing upon 
 these lines one vacant hour, gave credit for a most 
 penetrating comprehension in the matter of man's 
 misfortunes. He felt that the verse might have been 
 penned especially to fit his case felt himself a bit 
 of driftwood, flotsam idle in a backwater of ill for- 
 tunes. 
 
 *Twas indeed the divvle's own luck, to his way of 
 thinking, and a most misfortunate matter entirely. 
 He who was not the most patient soul in the world, 
 resented it enormously; and, brooding over this sad 
 outcome of mischance, fell into a temper sullen and 
 black a humour rare enough with the man to be 
 notable. 
 
 Nearly two months had elapsed since he had 
 promised two people himself and one infinitely more 
 dear to him to be in Rangoon in ninety days. In
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 131 
 
 little more than a month she'd be waiting for him 
 there. . . . And where would he be? Still was 
 he far by many a long and weary mile from the first 
 gateway to the East Suez; and still he lacked 
 many an aloof and distant dollar the funds to finance 
 him thither. 
 
 If only he could contrive to get to Alexandria ! 
 Danny was there Danny Mahone, he of the red, red 
 head and the ready fists; Danny, who held the 
 O'Rourke as only second to the Pope in dignity and 
 importance; who had been O'Rourke's valet in a 
 happier time and of late in his humbler way an ad- 
 venturer like his master. He was there, in Alexan- 
 dria, half partner in a tobacco importing house, by 
 virtue of money borrowed from O'Rourke long since, 
 at a time when money was to be had of the man for 
 the asking. . . . And Danny would help. . . . 
 
 You must see O'Rourke revolving in his mind this 
 unhappy predicament of his, on the last of the 
 many afternoons that he spent in Greece. Draw 
 down the corners of his wide, mobile mouth, stir up 
 the devils in his eyes until they flicker and flash their 
 resentment, place a pucker between the brows of his 
 habitually serene and unwrinkled forehead; and 
 there you have him who sat beside the little table in 
 the purple shadow of the Zappeion, with a head bared 
 to the cool of the evening breeze, alternately puffing 
 at a mediocre cigar and sipping black coffee from 
 the demi-tasse at his elbow.
 
 132 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 Now and again desisting from these diversions, 
 the Irishman would sit for minutes at a time quite 
 motionless, his gaze wandering longingly towards the 
 empurpled reaches of the sea, glowing soft beyond 
 the Attic plain, where JEgina dimly loomed, allur- 
 ing the fancy, as if offering itself as the first step- 
 ping-stone from those hated shores to a fairer, 
 stranger land. . . . 
 
 Now just as the sun was sinking behind the moun- 
 tains and Hymettus was clothing its long slopes in 
 vague violet light of mystery and enchantment 
 (for this view alone O'Rourke took himself to the 
 Zappeion daily) the Irishman's sombre meditations 
 were interrupted. 
 
 " Phew ! 'Otter'n the seven brass 'inges of 'ell ! " 
 remarked a cheerful voice, not two feet from his 
 ear. 
 
 O'Rourke turned with an imperceptible start he 
 was not easily startled. " True for ye," he assented, 
 taking stock of him who, with his weather-wise re- 
 mark for an introduction, calmly possessed himself 
 of the vacant chair at the other side of the table and 
 grinned a rubicund grin across it. 
 
 He showed himself a man in stature no whit in- 
 ferior to the Irishman, as to height ; and perhaps he 
 was a stone the heavier of the two. He lacked, other- 
 wise, O'Rourke's alert habit, was of a slower, more 
 stolid and beefy build. The eyes that met 
 O'Rourke's were grey and bright and hard, and set
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 133 
 
 in a countenance flaming red a colour partly nat- 
 ural and partly the result of his stroll through 
 Athens' heated streets. 
 
 His dress was rough, and there was this and that 
 about him to tell O'Rourke more plainly than words 
 that his profession was something nautical; he was 
 most probably a captain, from a certain air of de- 
 termination and command that lurked beneath his 
 free-and-easy manner. 
 
 Therefore, having summed the stranger up in a 
 glance, "And when did ye get in, captain?" in- 
 quired O'Rourke. 
 
 The man jumped with surprise and shot a fright- 
 ened at least a questioning glance at O'Rourke. 
 Then, seeing that he was smiling in a friendly 
 fashion, calmed and continued to cool his face and 
 heat his blood by fanning himself vigorously with a 
 straw hat. 
 
 " 'Ow the dooce do you know I'm a captain ? " 
 he demanded, with a slightly aggrieved manner. 
 
 " It shouldn't take a man an hour to guess that, 
 captain any more than it would to pick ye out for 
 an Englishman." 
 
 The captain stared, grey eyes widening. " An' 
 perhaps you'll tell me my nyme next ? " he suggested 
 rather truculently. 
 
 " Diwle a bit. 'Tis no clairvoyant I am," 
 laughed O'Rourke. " But I can tell ye me own. 
 'Tis O'Rourke, and 'tis delighted I am to meet a
 
 134. THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 white man in this heathen country. Sir, your 
 hand!" 
 
 He put his own across the table and gripped the 
 captain's heartily. 
 
 "Mine's 'Ole," the latter informed him. 
 
 " Ole? " queried O'Rourke. " Ole what? " 
 
 " Not Ole nothing," said the captain with some 
 pardonable asperity. "I didn't s'y 'Ole, I s'yd 
 'Ole." 
 
 " Of course," O'Rourke assented gravely. " I'm 
 stupid, Captain Hole, and a bit deaf in me off ear." 
 This, however, was a polite lie. 
 
 " That explyns it," agreed the mollified man. 
 " It's 'Ole, plyn Will'm 'Ole, master of the Pelican, 
 fryghter, just in from Malta." 
 
 A light of interest kindled in O'Rourke's eyes. 
 He reviewed the man with more respect, as due to one 
 
 who might prove useful. "And bound ?" he 
 
 insinuated craftily. 
 
 " Alexandria. ... I just dropped in for a d'y 
 or two to pick up a bit of cargo from a chap down 
 at Piraeus. It's dev'lish 'ot and I thought as 
 'ow I'd tyke a run up and see the city 'aving a bit 
 of time free, y'know." 
 
 " Surely," sighed O'Rourke, a far-away look in his 
 eyes. "For Alexandria, eh? Faith, I'd like to be 
 sailing with ye." 
 
 Again the captain eyed O'Rourke askance. " Wot 
 for? " he demanded directly. " The Pelican's a slow
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 135 
 
 old tramp. You can pick up a swifter passage on 
 'arf-a-dozen boats a day." 
 
 ' 'Tis meself that knows that, sure," assented the 
 Irishman. " 'Tis but a trifling difficulty about ready 
 money that detains me," he pursued boldly, with a 
 confidential jerk of his head. " There's a bit of 
 stuff no matter what that I don't want to pass 
 through the Custom House at Alexandria. I'm not 
 saying a word, captain, but if I could smuggle it 
 into Egypt, the profit would be great enough to pay 
 me passage-money a dozen times over. I'm saying 
 this to ye in strict confidence, for, being an English- 
 man, ye won't let on." 
 
 " Never fear," Hole asserted stoutly. *' Umm. 
 . . . Er I don't mind telling you, Mr. O'Rourke, 
 I sometimes do a little in that line myself. Being 
 a casual tramp and sometimes lyd by for weeks at a 
 stretch for want of consignment " 
 
 " Not another word, captain. I understand per- 
 fectly. Will ye be having a bit of a drink, 
 now?" 
 
 Captain Hole would. " It won't 'urt to talk this 
 over," he remarked. " Per'aps we might myke some 
 sort of a dicker." 
 
 " Faith, 'tis meself that's agreeable," laughed the 
 Irishman lightly. 
 
 And when, at midnight that night, he parted from 
 a moist and sentimental sailor-man, whose capacity 
 for liquor even including the indescribable native
 
 136 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 retsinato and masticha had proved enormous, the 
 arrangement had been arrived at, signed, sealed and 
 delivered by a clasping of hands. And it was 
 O'Rourke who was the happy man. 
 
 " 'Tis Danny who'll be giving me the welcome," he 
 assured himself, sitting on the edge of his bed and 
 staring thoughtfully into the dishevelled depths of 
 the battered steel kit-box that housed everything 
 he owned in the world for he was packing to join 
 the Pelican at noon. 
 
 " I hope to hiven he has five pounds," announced 
 O'Rourke later, frowning dubiously. 
 
 Five pounds happened to be the sum he had agreed 
 to pay Captain Hole for the accommodation, it be- 
 ing further conditioned that the latter was to ac- 
 company the adventurer ashore at Alexandria and 
 not part from him till the money was forthcoming: 
 something which irked the Irishman's soul. " Why 
 could he not take me word for it ? " he demanded of 
 midnight darkness tempered by feeble lamplight. 
 " But, faith, I forget what I'm dealing with. Be- 
 sides, 'tis sure I am to find Danny." 
 
 He arose and resumed his packing, blowing an 
 inaudible little air through his puckered lips. " Div- 
 vilish awkward if I don't ... By the Gods ! I'd 
 all but misremembered . . ." 
 
 He failed to state exactly what he had misremem- 
 bered, but stood motionless, with troubled eyes star-
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 137 
 
 ing at the lamp flame, for a full five minutes. 
 Then 
 
 " I'll have to chance it," he said slowly. " 'Tisn't 
 as if it were mine." 
 
 He unbuttoned the front of his shirt and thrust a 
 hand between his undershirt and his skin, fumbling 
 about under his left armpit, his brows still gathered 
 thoughtfully. Presently he gave a little jerk and 
 removed his hand. It contained a chamois-skin bag 
 about the size of a duck's egg, from which dangled 
 the stout cord by which he had slung it about his 
 neck. 
 
 Holding this gingerly, as if he feared it would 
 explode, O'Rourke glanced at the window, drew 
 the blind tight, and tiptoed to the door, where he 
 turned the key in the lock. Then, returning to his 
 bed and making sure that he was out of range of the 
 keyhole, he cautiously loosened the drawstring at 
 the mouth of the bag. 
 
 Something tumbled out into his palm and lay 
 there like a ball of red-fire, brilliant and coruscant. 
 The smoky rays of light from the lamp seemed to 
 leap into the heart of the thing and set it all aquiver 
 with dancing flame, deep and liquid. As the man's 
 hand trembled slightly, shafts of incredibly brilliant 
 light radiated from its lucent core and seemed to 
 illuminate all the room with a lurid and unearthly 
 glamour.
 
 138 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 O'Rourke caught at his breath sharply; his very 
 voice had an ominous ring in its timbre when he 
 spoke at length. 
 
 " Blood," he said slowly, " blood. . . . I doubt 
 not that rivers of blood have flowed for the sake of 
 ye. Belike ye were fashioned of blood in the begin- 
 ning, for 'tis that's your colour, and the story of 
 ye as I've heard it is all told when I've said that one 
 word blood! . . . 
 
 " And 'tis meself that's to take ye to far Burmah, 
 is it? 'Tis meself that's to make an everlasting for- 
 tune out of the return of ye to him who once owned 
 ye, eh? I don't know why 'tis not like O'Rourke 
 to be timorous but I begin to believe that, fair as 
 the future seems, I'll never do it. The odds are too 
 great, I'm thinking, even for the O'Rourke." 
 
 He laughed shortly, and guardedly. " And the 
 O'Rourke with this on his person will be pawning his 
 guns and swords to-morrow for the wherewithal to 
 settle his hotel bill ! " And, after a bit, " I'd best 
 put it away, I'm thinking. 'Twouldn't be safe to 
 carry it that way any longer. If something should 
 catch in me shirt on board, and rip it, and Hole 
 happened to see it why, me life wouldn't be worth 
 a moment's purchase. I'll hide it in me box there; 
 they'll niver suspect. . . . Why would a man 
 with a jewel like this be reduced to begging a pas- 
 sage to Alexandria? Faith, I hope the captain
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 139 
 
 doesn't get too curious about what I want to smug- 
 gle into Egypt ! " 
 
 And with that he thrust the Pool of Flame back 
 into the leather bag, and the bag into the depths of 
 the kit-box ; which he presently locked and noiselessly 
 moved beneath his bed. After all of which he lay 
 down and with another sigh slept tranquilly.
 
 SOME time in the golden afternoon of the following 
 day, the Pelican weighed anchor and slouched with a 
 loaferish air out of the harbour of the Piraeus. A 
 thick-set, stodgy boat she was, with a rakish list to 
 port, a rusty freeboard from which the paint was 
 peeling in strips, and a generally truculent, you-be- 
 damned swagger (when the screw began to kick up 
 a welter of foam under her stern) that reminded one 
 for all the world of Captain Hole himself in his work- 
 ing clothes. 
 
 " Plyn Bill 'Ole," the latter said he preferred to 
 be called. And " Plain Bill Hole ! " mused the Irish- 
 man, leaning over the forward rail and sucking at a 
 short black pipe. " Faith, not only plain, but even 
 a trifle homely," he amended judgmatically. 
 " You'd never be taking any prizes for personal pul- 
 chritude, captain dear unless, to be sure, 'twas a 
 bench show, where I'm thinking ye'd do fine! 
 
 " As for meself," he concluded later, " Pm no 
 siren in this rig." And he lifted his eyebrows, pro- 
 truding his lower lip, as he glanced down over his 
 attire. 
 
 140
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 141 
 
 It was a strange rig for the O'Rourke to be in : an 
 engineer's blue jumper, much the worse for wear, 
 and a pair of trousers whose seat, O'Rourke main- 
 tained, was only held together by its coating of dirt 
 and grease. The latter, moreover, had been built for 
 a shorter man than the adventurer, and in conse- 
 quence exposed at their lower extremities an immod- 
 est exhibit of Irish ankle a disconcerting sight in- 
 deed to one of O'Rourke's native diffidence. His feet 
 were thrust into heelless slippers also conspicuously 
 lacking at the toes, his undershirt was of blue flannel 
 whose primal hue was fast merging into spots of 
 drab and black from exposure to weather and con- 
 tact with grease; and the belt that held the whole 
 together was nothing more nor less than a spare 
 end of rope. 
 
 O'Rourke eyed this get-up with disdain. '* For- 
 tunately," he comforted himself, "'twon't be for- 
 ever I'll be wearing it." 
 
 In the present instance, the disguise was held an 
 advisable thing, since O'Rourke was officially regis- 
 tered on the ship's books as assistant engineer. The 
 Pelican carried no license for passengers, and in 
 view of his avowed purpose it was deemed unwise 
 for the Irishman to risk detection by appearing " too 
 tony" (an expression culled from the captain's 
 vocabulary). 
 
 Otherwise, it was understood that his duties were 
 to consist of the pursuit of his own sweet will, that he
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 was to occupy a stateroom aft, and that he was to 
 mess at the captain's table. 
 
 With this arrangement he was content. Not for 
 an instant would he have consented to herd with the 
 crew, though Hole had tried to insist upon the ad- 
 visability of such a course. But there are limits to 
 all things, and O'Rourke drew a line at association 
 with a nondescript company recruited from the slums 
 of Genoa, Brindisi, Constantinople and Alexandria: 
 Greek, Italians, a French thug or two and as many 
 " Sou'wegians." The engineer was a Tyneside man 
 who had lost his license in the wine-cup, and with 
 the second officer, a lanky Scot, who chose to be 
 called Dennison, rounded out a complement carefully 
 to be avoided, either as a body or individually, espe- 
 cially on dark nights. 
 
 O'Rourke held himself aloof from t"hem, with the 
 exception of the three officers mentioned, not be- 
 cause he feared them in the least, but because he was 
 not accustomed to mixing with such cattle. Conse- 
 quently he had a rather lonely passage; for Hole 
 was drunk every night and up to noon of every day 
 in a villainous temper, quite naturally ; Burch, the 
 engineer, had his hands full making the engines hold 
 together and hammer out their nine or ten knots ; 
 and Dennison was uncompanionable a surly brute 
 who loved trouble for its own dear sake and was 
 never so happy as when (in his favourite phrase)
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 143 
 
 hammering the fear o' God into this or that hapless 
 member of the crew. 
 
 So O'Rourke lounged about the deck, smoking his 
 cutty and loafing with a right good will, communing 
 with the stars, his memories and the blue, glimmer- 
 ing tide of the JEgean Sea. 
 
 The weather held bland and warm, each day com- 
 ing up faultless out of an untroubled sea; and the 
 Pelican seemed bound for anywhere at all save Alex- 
 andria. For the six days succeeding her departure 
 from the Piraeus, figuratively she hiked up her slat- 
 ternly skirts, stuck her nose in the air, and lurched 
 casually from isle to isle of the Grecian Archipelago, 
 with no apparant purpose. Her course, picked out 
 on the tattered and torn chart (years out of date) 
 resembled as much as anything else a diagram of a 
 sot's progress along a street plentifully studded with 
 publics. 
 
 But if the reason for this leisurely sauntering 
 hither and yon were puzzling to the uninitiated, it 
 was occult to them only. If Captain Hole made no 
 open reference to his business, he was careless about 
 concealing it. The fact alone that the Pelican gen- 
 erally laid up for the night in some little-known 
 island harbour was significant; as, for that matter, 
 was the additional fact that the captain, accom- 
 panied by Dennison, invariably went ashore in a 
 boat pulled by stupid Sou'wegians, to return to-
 
 144 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 wards midnight laden with mysterious parcels, all of 
 which were carted into the captain's stateroom and 
 there secreted. 
 
 O'Rourke, who had been where he had been, who 
 had seen what he had seen, and who knew what he 
 knew, observed these matters with an indifferent eye ; 
 and if he took the trouble to put two and two to- 
 gether in his mind, he was at some pains to keep the 
 sum total to himself. 
 
 At length, however, their island itinerary seemed 
 to come to a natural close; the Pelican's nose was 
 turned southeast and a course shaped direct for 
 Alexandria. 
 
 On an evening, then, some nine or ten days after 
 he had left Athens, O'Rourke at the forward rail saw 
 the long, low profile of Egypt edge up out of the 
 waters, saw it take colour and form, made out palms 
 and the windmills, the light-house and Pompey's 
 pillar; and knew that he was close upon his journey's 
 end. 
 
 The news presumably was conveyed to Burch, and 
 he, with the prospect of an orgy ashore that night 
 in his mind's eye, accomplished the all-but-miracu- 
 lous with the engines. The Pelican shuddered and 
 stiffened up with a jerk; then, gathering her be- 
 draggled skirts about her and picking up her heels, 
 made all of eleven knots and possibly a shade more. 
 
 The sun was just setting as she swung impudently 
 into the Western Harbour, with a gleam in her eye
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 145 
 
 and a leer for her more reputable sisters, steaming 
 to an anchorage in the lee of the great breakwater, 
 amongst a throng composed variously of Egyptian 
 coasters, canal-boats, lateen-sailed feluccas, a P. 
 & O. liner and one or two beetling men-o'-war, to say 
 nothing of lesser fry of the Mediterranean trade. 
 
 Her winches rattled cheerfully as she dropped an- 
 chor, but O'Rourke did not move. There would be 
 no going ashore, he knew, until Hole was ready, and 
 that would be when the customs officials had paid 
 him a call and the usual courtesies had been ex- 
 changed. The Irishman had no need to be in haste 
 to change from his present garb to one that better 
 suited him. So he lolled upon the rail and regarded 
 with a kindling eye the harbour views. 
 
 To the east the Mohammedan quarter of the city, 
 set upon the peninsula that separates the harbours, 
 glowed in rainbow hues, lifted out of squalor and 
 glorified by the setting sun. The light of Pharos 
 hung a silver star against a sky draped in purple 
 hangings. Westwards an angry sun was sinking in 
 a welter of threatening clouds, painting the troubled 
 waters a thousand shades of red and gold. Broad 
 banners of scarlet and crimson and saffron flaunted 
 from the horizon to a zenith rapidly darkening, 
 shading from pure sapphire to a soft and warm blu- 
 ish black in the east. And to the south again loomed 
 the bulk of the city, huge and dark, humming with 
 mystery and writhing in hopeless torment beneath the
 
 146 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 lash of the khamsin, that hot and bitter wind that 
 sweeps down to the coast from the seething deserts 
 and, once started, gives no respite for forty days 
 and nights. 
 
 But even the khamsin with its furnace breath had 
 not power to make O'Rourke disapprove. It was all 
 good, all desirable and inviting, in his eyes. 
 
 And he mopped his brow, simply (as befitted one 
 of his apparent station in life) with the back of a 
 hand, and stood erect, exulting in the scent, the in- 
 describable, impalpable, insistent odour of the East 
 that is forgotten of none who had ever known it. 
 The hot wind drove it gustily in his face, and 
 he sniffed and drew great lungfuls and was glad. 
 
 " 'Tis good ! " he said simply. And, a bit later, 
 while on the short-line the brazen arcs were begin- 
 ning to pop out silently : " There's the customs boat. 
 I'm thinking I'll slip below." 
 
 As he turned and sauntered aft to the companion- 
 way, he exchanged a nod with Burch, who was mop- 
 ping his brow in the entrance to the engine-room; 
 and remarked that Captain Hole was with Dennison. 
 at the side, awaitiog the custom launch. 
 
 No lamps had yet been lighted below, but 
 O'Rourke knew the way to his room. He entered and 
 shut the door. The afterglow of the sunset, entering 
 through the port-hole, rendered the little coop of a 
 room light enough for his purpose. Dropping to
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 147 
 
 his knees, the Irishman pulled his kit-box from be- 
 neath the bunk. 
 
 The lid came up freely as he touched it. For a 
 full minute he did not breathe. Then, in ominous 
 silence, he bent and examined the lock. It became 
 immediately evident that his memory had not tricked 
 him ; the trunk was locked, as he had left it that 
 morning. But the clasp had yielded to a cold chisel. 
 
 It was hardly worth the trouble, still O'Rourke 
 rummaged through the contents of the box, assur- 
 ing himself that the chamois-bag was gone. So far 
 as he could determine then, nothing else had been 
 taken. 
 
 He shut down the lid and sat down to think it out, 
 eyes hard, face grimly expressionless, only an inter- 
 mittent nervous clenching and opening of his hands 
 betraying his gathering rage and excitement. At 
 length he arose, determination in his port. 
 
 One phrase alone escaped him : " And not a gun to 
 me name!" 
 
 He went on deck. Already the tropic night had 
 closed down upon the harbour, but it was easy 
 enough to locate the captain and first officer, still 
 waiting at the gangway. From overside arose the 
 splutter of a launch a raucous sound, yet one that 
 barely rippled the surface of O'Rourke's conscious- 
 ness. He stepped quickly to the captain's side and 
 touched him gently on the arm.
 
 148 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " Captain," he said quickly, " I'll be asking the 
 favour of a word with ye in private." 
 
 The captain swung around with an oath, whether 
 of simulated or real surprise it would be hard to say ; 
 O'Rourke's approach had been noiseless because of 
 his slippers, and it is barely possible that neither of 
 the officers had remarked his descent to the saloon. 
 
 Hole caught the gleam of the Irishman's eye in 
 the lamplight and stepped back a pace. 
 
 " Get forrard," he said curtly. " Carn't you see 
 the customs officer comin* aboard? I'll see you 
 later." 
 
 "Ye will not. Ye'll hear me now, captain " 
 
 Hole backed further away. " Wot ! " he barked 
 hoarsely, raising his voice. *' Wot ! I'll show you 
 'oo's master aboard this ship. Get forrard to your 
 quarters ! S'help-me-gawd ! " he exploded violently. 
 " >Oo ever 'eard the like of it? " 
 
 O'Rourke stepped nearer, his fists closing. " Drop 
 that tone, ye scut ! " he cried. " D'ye want me to 
 spoil your little game? " 
 
 The shot went home. The captain gasped, and in 
 the darkness O'Rourke fancied he lost a shade or 
 two of his ruddy colour. 
 
 " Wotcher mean ? " he demanded,, lowering his 
 tone. 
 
 " I mean," replied O'Rourke in a quick whisper. 
 " that the Egyptian customs officer is at the side. 
 Return what ye've stolen from me this day, or I'll
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 149 
 
 tell the whole harbour what ye've been up to ! And, 
 if ye want me to be more explicit, perhaps the word 
 * hashish ' will refresh your memory ! " 
 
 " I'll talk to you later " 
 
 " Ye'll give me back me property this minute 
 or " 
 
 O'Rourke was at the rail in a stride. " Shall I 
 tell him? " he demanded. 
 
 A swift step sounded beside him. He turned an 
 instant too late, who had reckoned without Denni- 
 son. As he moved to protect himself the first offi- 
 cer's fist caught the Irishman just under the ear. 
 And one hundred and seventy-five pounds of man 
 and malice were behind it. O'Rourke shot into the 
 scuppers as though kicked by a mule, struck his 
 head against a piece of iron work and lay still, half 
 stunned, shutting his teeth savagely upon a moan. 
 
 Hole and the first mate stood over him, and the 
 captain's voice, guarded but clear enough, came to 
 his ear: 
 
 " You'll lie there, me man, and not so much as 
 whimper till I give you leave. Take 'eed wot I says. 
 Mr. Dennison 'ere is goin' to clean 'is revolver." 
 
 O'Rourke lay silent, save for his quick breathing. 
 The first officer, grinning malevolently, sat down near 
 at hand, keeping a basilisk eye upon the prostrate 
 man the while he fondled an able-bodied, hammerless 
 Webley. 
 
 Hole moved off towards the gangway, whence his
 
 150 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 voice arose, an instant later, greeting his visitor. 
 The latter put a hurried question, which O'Rourke 
 did not catch, but the captain's reply was quick 
 enough : 
 
 " Only a mutinous dorg of a deck-'and. Wanted 
 shore-leave and refused to go forrard when or- 
 dered. 'E ain't 'urted none. Mr. Dennison 'ere 
 just gyve J im a tap to keep him quiet." 
 
 The Irishman swore beneath his breath and 
 watched the first officer. The light from the lantern 
 at the gangway glanced dully upon the polished bar- 
 rel of the revolver, and the gleaming line was steadily 
 directed towards O'Rourke's head. Upon reconsider- 
 ation he concluded to lie still, to wait and watch his 
 opportunity ; for the present, at least, he was indis- 
 posed to question Dennison's willingness to use the 
 weapon. O'Rourke was to be kept quiet at all haz- 
 ards, and he knew it full well; for once he conceded 
 discretion the better part of valor, and was patient.
 
 CHAPTER 
 FIFTEEN 
 
 IN the face of the fact that the importation of 
 hashish into Egypt has been declared illegal by 
 Khedival legislation, the drug is always to be ob- 
 tained in the lower dives of Alexandria, Cairo and 
 Port Said if one only knows where to go and how 
 to ask for it. Manufactured in certain islands of 
 the Grecian Archipelago, it is mysteriously exported 
 under the very noses of complaisant authorities and, 
 eluding the rigour of Egyptian customs, as well 
 as the vigilance of Egyptian spies, finds its way 
 to the fellaheen among other avid consumers ; 
 speaking baldly, is smuggled into the land. All of 
 which is, of course, very annoying to the authorities,, 
 besides being excessively sinful. The vitality of this 
 lawless trade is really shocking, and very unpleasant 
 penalties have been provided for those caught in the 
 act of engaging in it. Customs inspections, fur- 
 thermore, are as severe as might be expected by 
 anyone acquainted with the country and its inhabi- 
 tants as was O'Rourke. 
 
 He felt, then, no sort of surprise at the brevity of 
 the official visitation. The minutes might well have 
 
 151
 
 153 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 seemed long to him who lay there, motionless, hardly 
 daring to breathe, in momentary danger of assassina- 
 tion, and with a splitting headache into the bargain ; 
 but they dragged by no means as tediously as they 
 might, for, heedless to his pain and a swelling the 
 size of an egg which was becoming prominent just 
 behind his ear, he was contemplating vengeance, 
 actively formulating schemes involving reprisals. So 
 it seemed to him that not ten minutes elapsed be- 
 tween the arrival of the customs inspector and the 
 time of his departure over the side. Separating the 
 two events there was a hurried visit to the saloon, 
 where the lamps were lighted and from which the 
 clinking of glasses could be heard, together with an- 
 other clinking which O'Rourke shrewdly surmised to 
 be caused by the contact of coined gold with coined 
 gold. Emerging, the inspector, accompanied by an 
 excessively urbane and suave Captain Hole, con- 
 scientiously but briefly glanced into the hold, asked a 
 few questions which would have been pertinent had 
 they not been entirely perfunctory, and took his 
 leave. 
 
 From the gangway the captain turned back di- 
 rectly to his first officer and the latter's charge. 
 Hearing his approaching footsteps, O'Rourke gath- 
 ered himself together and summoned all his faculties 
 to his aid. 
 
 " Troublesome ? " demanded Hole, pausing. 
 
 "Not a syllable," said the mate. " Th' mon's
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 153 
 
 sensible. I ha'e me doubts but he's too canny alte- 
 gither." 
 
 " Peaceful as a byby, eh? Well," savagely, " Vll 
 learn wot for. Get up, you Irish " 
 
 O'Rourke lay passive under the storm of Hole's 
 profanity. He had all but closed his eyes and was 
 watching the pair from beneath his lashes. 
 
 Failing to elicit any response, " 'Asn't *e moved? " 
 demanded the captain. 
 
 " Not a muscle " 
 
 " Shammin' ! 'Ere, I'll show im." 
 
 O'Rourke gritted his teeth and suppressed a groan 
 as the toe of Hole's heavy boot crashed into his ribs. 
 He fancied that a rib snapped; he knew better, but 
 the pain was exquisite. But he made no sound. It 
 was his only hope, to deceive and throw them off 
 their guard by feigning unconsciousness. 
 
 " Th' mon's nae shamming," Dennison declared. 
 " He's fair fainted." 
 
 " Fainted hell ! " countered the captain rudely. 
 " Give 'is arm a twist, Dennison." 
 
 The mate calmly disobeyed. The arm-twist de- 
 sired by the captain requires the use of the twister's 
 two hands, and stoutly as he defended his opinion, 
 the first officer was by no means ready to put up his 
 revolver. 
 
 He advanced and bent over the Irishman, who 
 lay motionless, his upper lip rolled back to show his 
 clenched teeth. " Heugh! " exclaimed the first offi-
 
 154 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 cer, peering into his face, his tone expressive of the 
 liveliest concern. Without further hesitation he 
 dropped the revolver into his pocket and received 
 a tremendous short-arm blow in the face. 
 
 With a stifled cry he fell back, clutching at a 
 broken nose, and sprawled at length ; while O'Rourke, 
 leaping to his feet, deliberately put a heel into the 
 pit of Dennison's stomach, thereby effectually elim- 
 inating him as a factor in the further contro- 
 versy. Simultaneously he advanced upon Captain 
 Hole. 
 
 But in the latter he encountered no mean antago- 
 nist. The man it has been said was as tall and 
 heavier than the adventurer, and by virtue of his 
 position a competent and experienced rough-and- 
 ready fighter. In a breath he had lowered his head 
 and, bellowing like a bull, launched himself toward 
 O'Rourke. 
 
 The Irishman met the onslaught with a stinging 
 uppercut; which, nevertheless, failed to discourage 
 the captain, who grappled and began to belabour 
 O'Rourke with short, stabbing blows on the side of 
 the head, at the same time endeavouring to trip him. 
 The fury of his onset all but carried the Irishman off 
 his feet. At the same time it defeated Hole's own 
 purpose. O'Rourke watched his chance, seized the 
 man's throat with both hands and, tightening his 
 grip, fairly lifted him off his feet and shook him as 
 a terrier shakes a rat. Then, with a grUnt of satis-
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 155 
 
 faction, he threw the captain from him and turned 
 to face greater odds. 
 
 The noise of the conflict had brought the crew 
 down upon the contestants. It is safe to say that 
 they held neither of their officers in great love, but, 
 on the other hand, ship-board discipline is a strangely 
 potent thing. Unhappily the adventurer had neg- 
 lected to shake the last flutter of breath out of Hole's 
 carcass and even as the latter fell he barked an order 
 to the crew. Inarticulate though it was, they inter- 
 preted it readily, and closed in upon the Irishman 
 without delay. Surrounded, he was rushed to the 
 rail. With that to his back he drew on his reserve 
 of strength and, poising himself, began to give his 
 assailants personal and individual attention. They 
 pushed him close, snarling and cursing, hindering one 
 another in their eagerness, and suffering variously 
 for their temerity. O'Rourke fought with trained 
 precision ; his blows, lightning quick, were direct from 
 the shoulder and very finely placed ; and so straight 
 did he strike that almost from the first his knuckles 
 were torn and bleeding from their impact upon flesh 
 and bone. 
 
 Fight as fiercely as he might, however, the pack 
 was too heavy for him; and when presently he dis- 
 cerned, not in one but in half a dozen hands, gleams 
 of light the rays of a near-by lantern running down 
 knife-blades he conceded the moment imminent when 
 he must sever his connection with the Pelican.
 
 156 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 Moreover, he had a shrewd suspicion that Hole was 
 up and only waiting for an opening to use his re- 
 volver. 
 
 It was hard to leave such a beautiful fight, and 
 sorry was he to feel compelled to do so. But needs 
 must when a Greek on one side, an Italian on the 
 other, and a Cockney before you, drive at you with 
 knives. Leaping to the rail, he poised an instant, 
 then dived far out from the vessel's side, down into 
 the Stygian blackness of the harbour water: a good 
 clean dive, cutting the water with hardly a splash, 
 he went down like an arrow, gradually swerving 
 from the straight line of his flight into a long arc 
 so long, indeed, that he was well-nigh breathless when 
 he came to the surface, a dozen yards or more from 
 the Pelican. 
 
 Spitting out the foul harbour water, and with a 
 swift glance over his shoulder that showed him the 
 Pelican's dark freeboard like a wall, and a cluster 
 of dark shapes hanging over the rail at the top 
 vaguely revealed by lantern light, he struck out for 
 the nearest vessel, employing the double overhand 
 stroke, noisy but speedy. 
 
 That he heard no cry when he came to the surface, 
 that Hole had not detected him by the phosphores- 
 cence, and that he had held his hand from firing, at 
 first puzzled O'Rourke; but he reasoned that Hole 
 probably feared to raise an alarm and thereby at- 
 tract much undesirable attention to Himself and his
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 157 
 
 ship. In the course of the first few strokes, how- 
 ever, he managed to peep again over his shoulder, 
 and from the activity on the Pelican's decks concluded 
 that he was to be pursued by boat ; which, in fact, 
 proved to be the case. 
 
 Fortunately the Pelican rode at anchor in waters 
 studded thick with other vessels, affording plenty 
 of hiding places on a night as black as that. The 
 adventurer made direct for the first vessel, swam 
 completely around it, and by the time the Pelican's 
 boat was afloat and its rowers bending to the oars, 
 he was supporting himself by a hand upon the un- 
 known ship's cable, floating on his back with only 
 his face out of water. 
 
 Under these conditions, it was small wonder that 
 the boat missed him so completely. He saw it shoot 
 by two cable-lengths' away, and disappear in the 
 confusion of shipping, not to return. 
 
 At length rested, the Irishman released his hold 
 and struck out for land at an easy pace. What 
 little clothing he wore was no great weight upon 
 him, and O'Rourke was a strong swimmer. But the 
 lights seemed far, viewed from the very level of the 
 water, and the hot khamsin threw little waves directly 
 in the swimmer's face to blind and confuse him. 
 Fearful of exhausting his powers by too frantic en- 
 deavour to reach the waterfront in the shortest possi- 
 ble space of time, he swam on at a leisurely rate, 
 but steadily.
 
 158 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 Presently he struck a little current that bore him 
 gently inshore, measurably lightening his labours. 
 The lights of anchored shipping together with 
 those from the Marina (Alexandria's waterfront) 
 streaked toward him across the waters like broken 
 but radiant ribbons of many hues. Twice, wearied, 
 O'Rourke paused to rest as before. But he had now 
 little fear of being apprehended; Hole had all the 
 wide waterfront to search and the chances that he 
 and O'Rourke would select the same spot to land 
 were a hundred to one against. For that matter, by 
 this time the adventurer himself had entirely lost 
 track of the Pelican's boat. 
 
 Eventually he gained the end of a quay, upon 
 which he drew himself for a last rest and to let his 
 dripping garments drain a bit ere venturing abroad 
 in the streets. 
 
 Not until then, strangely enough, did it come 
 to him with its full force, how he had been tricked 
 and played upon from the very beginning. And he 
 swore bitterly when he contemplated his present posi- 
 tion of a penniless outcast in a city almost wholly 
 strange to him, without friends (save indeed, Danny 
 wherever he might be), without a place to lay his 
 head, lacking even a change of clothing. His kit- 
 box was aboard the Pelican and likely to remain 
 there, for all he could do to the contrary; in his 
 present state, to apply to the authorities or to at- 
 tempt to lodge a complaint against Captain Hole
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 159 
 
 would more likely than not result in incarceration 
 on a charge of vagrancy more real than technical. 
 
 And the Pool of Flame! He fumed with impo- 
 tent rage when he saw how blindly he had stum- 
 bled into Hole's trap, how neatly he had permitted 
 himself to be raped of the jewel. For in the light of 
 late events he could not doubt but that Hole had 
 sought him out armed with the knowledge that 
 O'Rourke was in possession of the priceless jewel 
 more than probably advised and employed by Des 
 Trebes : assuming that he had failed to inflict a mor- 
 tal wound upon that adventurer. 
 
 " Aw, the divvle, the divvle ! " complained 
 O'Rourke. " Sure, and 'tis a pretty mess I've made 
 of it all, now ! " 
 
 Saying which he rose and clambered to the top 
 of the quay with the more haste than good will 
 in view of the fact that to a splashing of oars, the 
 dimly outlined shape of a boat heading directly for 
 his refuge, had suddenly become visible. Of course, 
 it might not be the boat from the Pelican; but 
 O'Rourke was too thoroughly impressed with the con- 
 viction that the laws of coincidence were working 
 against him, just then at any rate, to be willing to 
 run unnecessary risks. 
 
 Chance, too, would have it that there should be an 
 arc-light ablaze precisely at the foot of the pier, 
 beneath which stood, clearly defined in the white 
 glare, the figure of a hulking black native represent-
 
 160 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 ative of the municipal police, whom O'Rourke must 
 pass ere he could gain solid earth. 
 
 For this reason he dared not betray evidences of 
 haste; his appearance was striking enough in all 
 conscience, without any additional touches. So he 
 thrust his hands into his pockets and sauntered with 
 a well-assumed but perhaps not wholly convincing 
 air of nonchalance towards the officer. 
 
 The latter remained all unsuspicious until and 
 then the mischief of it was that O'Rourke was still a 
 full five yards the wrong side of the man Hole him- 
 self leaped from the boat upon the end of the quay 
 and sent a yell echoing after the fugitive. 
 
 " Hey ! " he roared. " Stop 'im ! Deserter ! 
 Thief! Stop thief!" 
 
 The black was facing O'Rourke in an instant, 
 but simultaneously the Irishman was upon him and 
 had put an elbow smartly into his midriff in passing, 
 all but toppling the man backwards into the harbour. 
 
 It had been well for him had he succeeded. As it 
 was the fellow saved himself by a hair's breadth and 
 the next minute was after O'Rourke, yelling madly. 
 
 The Irishman showed a fleet pair of heels, be sure ; 
 but, undoubtedly, the devil himself was in the luck 
 that night! Who shall describe in what manner a 
 rabble springs out of the very cobbles of Alexan- 
 dria's streets? Men, women, naked children and 
 yapping pariah dogs, fellaheen, Arabs, Bedouins 
 from the desert, Nubians, Greeks, Levantines the
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 161 
 
 fugitive had not covered two-score yards ere a mob 
 of such composition was snapping at his calves. 
 
 Turning and twisting, dodging and doubling, smit- 
 ing this gratuitous enemy full in the face, treating 
 the next as he had the limb of the law (and leaving 
 both howling) , he seized the first opening and swung 
 into a narrow back-way, leading inland from the 
 waterfront, black as an Egyptian night and full of 
 unexpected pitfalls and obstacles in the shape of 
 heaps of rubbish and filth in the roadway. And the 
 man-pack streamed after him, crying the alarm ahead 
 and complimenting their quarry in a dozen tongues 
 and a hundred dialects. 
 
 He ran as seldom he had run before, straining and 
 labouring, stumbling, recovering and plunging on- 
 ward. And, by the gods, wasn't it hot ! The kham- 
 sin raved and tore like a spirit of hell-fire through 
 that narrow alley, turning it into a miniature in- 
 ferno. With this improvement: that, whereas we 
 are not advised that the nether pit is equipped with 
 stenches, here there were smells more potent and evil 
 than ever human nose had inhaled elsewhere smells 
 veritably fit to knock you down and stifle you to 
 death : ancient and hoary smells which doubtless had 
 a deal to do with driving the Chosen People to strike 
 off the bonds of slavery and emigrate to the Land of 
 Promise. 
 
 Through this unsavory and sweltering hole 
 O'Rourke panted on, temples throbbing, the heart
 
 162 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 hammering in his breast like a piece of clock-work 
 gone mad, sweat pouring from him in showers to 
 such an alarming extent, he says, that he was per- 
 suaded that the ultimate outcome of it all would be 
 a pool of moisture on the cobbles, the remains of 
 him who had been Terence O'Rourke. 
 
 But, in the course of some minutes, the end of the 
 tunnel came in view: a lighted rift between house 
 walls, giving upon the illuminated street beyond. 
 The sight brought forth a fresh burst of speed from 
 O'Rourke. He dashed madly out of the alley, stum- 
 bled and ran headlong into a strolling Greek, who 
 grappled with him, at first in surprise and then in 
 resentment, while the clamour of the pursuing rabble 
 shrilled loud and near and ever nearer. 
 
 Exhausted as he was, the Irishman struggled with 
 little skill before he mastered his own surprise; and 
 in the end saw his -finis written along the blade of a 
 thin, keen knife which the Greek had whipped from 
 the folds of his garments and jerked threateningly 
 above his head. 
 
 It was falling when O'Rourke saw it. In another 
 breath he had been stabbed. Unexpectedly the 
 Greek shrieked, dropped the knife as though it had 
 turned suddenly white-hot in his hands, and leapt 
 back from O'Rourke, nursing a broken wrist; while 
 a voice as sweet as the singing of angels rang in 
 the fugitive's ears, though the spirit of its melody 
 was simple and crude enough.
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 163 
 
 " O'Rourke, be all th' powers ! The masther him- 
 self ! Glory, ye beggar, 'tis sorry I am that I didn't 
 split the ugly face of ye wid me sthick ! . . . This 
 way, yer honour ! Come wid me ! " 
 
 Blindly enough (indeed the world was all awhirl 
 about him) O'Rourke, his arm grasped by a strong 
 and confident hand, permitted himself to be swung 
 to the right and across the street. In a thought 
 blackness again was all about him, but the hand 
 gripped still his arm, hurrying him onwards; 
 and he yielded blindly to its guidance without 
 power, for that matter, to question or to object; 
 what breath he had he sorely needed. And as blindly 
 he stumbled on for perhaps another hundred yards, 
 while the voice of the rabble made hideous the night 
 behind them. Hardly, indeed, had the two whipped 
 into the mouth of the back-way ere it was choked 
 by a swarm of pursuers. But " Niver fear ! " said 
 the voice at his side. " 'Tis ourselves that'll outwit 
 them. . . . Here, now, yer honour, do ye go 
 straight on widout sthoppin' ontil ye come to an 
 iron dure in a dead wall at the end av this. Knock 
 there wance, count tin, and knock again. I'll lead 
 'em away and be wid ye again in a brace av 
 shakes ! " 
 
 Benumbed by fatigue and exhaustion, O'Rourke 
 obeyed. He was aware that his preserver with a 
 wild whoop had darted aside into a cross-alley, but 
 hardly aware of more. Mechanically he blundered
 
 164 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 on until brought up by a wall that closed and made 
 a cul-de-sac of the way. 
 
 With trembling hands he felt before him, fingers 
 encountering the smooth, cool surface of a sheet of 
 metal. This, then, was the door. As carefully as 
 he could he knocked, counted ten, and knocked again 
 while the mob that had lusted for his blood trailed 
 off down the side alley in frantic pursuit of his gen- 
 erous preserver. And he heard, with a smile, the 
 latter's shrill defiant Irish yells luring them further 
 upon the false scent. 
 
 " If 'tis not Danny," gasped the adventurer, 
 "then myself 's not the O'Rourke! Bless the lad! " 
 
 But as he breathed this benediction the iron door 
 swung inwards and he stumbled across the threshold, 
 half fainting, hardly conscious that he had done 
 more than pass from open night to the night of an 
 enclosed space. His foot caught on some obstruc- 
 tion and he went to his knees with a cry that was 
 a cross between a sob and a groan; and inconti- 
 nently fell full length upon an earthen floor, his head 
 pillowed on his arm, panting as if his heart would 
 break. 
 
 In the darkness above him someone cried aloud, a 
 startled cry, and then the door was thrust to with a 
 clang and rattle of bolts. A match rasped loudly 
 and a flicker of light leaped from a small hand-lamp 
 and revealed to its bearer the fagged and quivering 
 figure on the floor.
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 165 
 
 Someone sat down beside him with a low exclama- 
 tion of solicitude and gathered his head into her lap. 
 Someone quite simply enfolded his neck with soft 
 arms and pressed his head to her bosom, and as if 
 that were not enough kissed him full and long upon 
 his lips. 
 
 " My dear ! My dear ! " she murmured in French. 
 "What has happened, O, what has happened? My 
 poor, poor boy ! " 
 
 Now the integral madness of all this was as 
 effectual in restoring O'Rourke to partial conscious- 
 ness as had been a douche of cold water in his face. 
 Blankly he told himself that he was damned, and 
 that it was all a dream. And yet, when he looked, 
 it was to see, dim in the feeble glimmer of the lamp, 
 the face of a woman as beautiful as young, as young 
 as beautiful. 
 
 One glance was enough. O'Rourke shut his eyes 
 again. " If I look too long," he assured himself, 
 " she'll vanish or or turn into a fiend. Sure, 'tis a 
 judgment upon me ! Too long have I been an amor- 
 ous dram-drinker; this will undoubtedly be the delir- 
 ium-tremens of love ! " 
 
 And with that he passed quietly into temporary 
 unconsciousness.
 
 CHAPTER 
 SIXTEEN 
 
 HE opened his eyes again, alone on the cool, damp, 
 earthen floor, but assured that the feminine element 
 in his adventure had been no hallucination, after all ; 
 for he could see the girl standing a little to one side 
 and looking down upon him, her face so deep in 
 shadow that he could gather nothing from its ex- 
 pression, whether it were of displeasure or of perplex- 
 ity. From this and that, however, he deduced that 
 she, discovering herself lavishing endearments on the 
 wrong man, was not utterly delighted with the situ- 
 ation. The circumstances taken into consideration, 
 such a state of mind he thought not unreasonable; 
 and being now to some extent recovered, he saw no 
 profit in making her suffer more. So with a show of 
 faintness not wholly assumed, he rolled his head to 
 one side, opened wide his eyes and looked the woman 
 in the face, inquiring with his faint, thin brogue: 
 " What's this, now, me dear? " 
 
 The girl's face darkened. She shook her head im- 
 patiently. " I have no English," she told him in ex- 
 cellent French. " Who are you? Why do you come 
 here? You are not Danny!" 
 
 166
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 167 
 
 " Oho ! " commented O'Rourke knowingly, " and 
 that's the explanation, is it ?" He sat up, embracing 
 his knees and drawing a rueful face. " Faith, me 
 dear," he admitted, " I concede ye the best of the 
 argument, thus far. I am not Danny 'tis true as 
 Gospel." 
 
 She frowned. " Then what are you doing here, 
 monsieur? How did you learn who told you the 
 signal? " 
 
 " Faith, from no less a person than Danny Ma- 
 hone himself. He showed me the way and bade me 
 knock but niver a word said he of yourself, me 
 dear." He smiled engagingly, then knitted his 
 brows in thought, passing a hand across his eyes as 
 if endeavouring to concentrate upon the vague and 
 obscure. ..." And then," he announced dream- 
 ily, " the door opened and somehow I fell into 
 a pit of blackness, in which me own light went out 
 like a tallow dip. . . . Tell me, if ye'll be so 
 good, have I been here long? " 
 
 " Monsieur does not recall that I admitted him ? " 
 she persisted, but with a lightening face, " nor 
 anything that happened thereafter? " 
 
 " Not the least in the world. What did happen, 
 now ? " 
 
 But she flanked that embarrassing question 
 adroitly, evidently much relieved by O'Rourke's re- 
 assurance. Which was just what he wished her 
 frame of mind to be. " Nothing that matters," she
 
 168 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 replied, continuing to employ the French tongue, 
 and that very prettily, with a fetching little accent. 
 " I think you fainted. Then but you know, my 
 Danny?" 
 
 " Your Danny ! " said O'Rourke, his mood quiz- 
 zical. " None better, me dear. I've known him 
 since he was so high, or thereabouts." And he held 
 a palm some six inches or so above the floor. 
 
 " And he he brought you here ? " 
 
 " Who else ? How else would I be knowing the 
 signal? Ye see, there was a bit of a shindig down 
 the street and me in the middle thereof and getting 
 all the worst of it if ye must know when along 
 comes Danny and lends a hand and whips me off 
 here and says he'll be back in a moment. He'll tell 
 ye the details himself; but I" he eyed her quiz- 
 zically " would now ask ye to overlook the uncere- 
 monious manner of me entrance and a certain lack 
 of dignity as to me attire, which I beg ye to believe 
 is not me ordinary evening dress, and and faith! 
 me throat is baked dry entirely, if me clothes are not. 
 May I ask for a drink at mademoiselle's fair 
 hands?" 
 
 He was on his feet now and enjoying the situation 
 hugely. " And 'tis the Irish eye for beauty Danny 
 has ! " he told himself. " I commend his taste, the 
 rogue ! " 
 
 For the girl was exceedingly fair to see: slender 
 and straight and girlish and sweet; a Greek, if he 
 were to judge of her features and her dress, and in
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 169 
 
 that odd light, with perturbation in her pose, a smile 
 half-perplexed trembling on her lips (because of 
 O'Rourke's conceit) and the shadow of anxiety cloud- 
 ing her eyes, she made a charming picture indeed. 
 
 She was quick to grant his request. " Danny will 
 explain," she agreed with conviction. "This way, 
 then, if you please, monsieur, and " as they passed 
 through a low doorway " if you will have the pa- 
 tience to wait here, I will fetch wine." 
 
 She smiled enchantingly, dropped him a bewitch- 
 ing little courtesy with a deference evoked, no doubt, 
 by the man's subtle yet ineradicable air of distinc- 
 tion, and left him wholly captivated. " Bless her 
 heart and pretty face ! " he murmured, eyeing her re- 
 treating figure. " 'Tis Danny who's the lucky dog 
 not that he's not deserving. . . ." 
 
 He reviewed his refuge summarily, discovering 
 that he stood in one corner of a small courtyard, the 
 centre of a hollow cube of masonry: a dwelling of 
 two storeys, round whose upper floor ran an inner 
 gallery to which steps led up from the court and 
 from which access was to be had to the living rooms 
 all dark and silent Across the open space on the 
 ground floor, two windows without glass were alight ; 
 but that was all, and their feeble glow served to il- 
 luminate the yard scarcely more than the softer, 
 clearer light of the stars hanging low in the square 
 of purple velvet sky above the flat roof. 
 
 In the centre of the courtyard a little fountain 
 tinkled, a tiny jet of water rising from the central
 
 170 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 upright of stone to spray the black, star-smitten 
 pool beneath. There was a little plot of grass, like- 
 wise, with flowers generous of their cordial perfume. 
 If overhead the withering khamsin raved, here at 
 least was peace and quiet and an effect of serene 
 things strong enough to make a weary, overwrought 
 man rest himself upon a stone seat, clasp his head in 
 his hands and question the events of the past few 
 hours, whether they were not after all but nightmare, 
 and this alone reality. 
 
 But they were vivid enough in his memory ; and 
 O'Rourke was steadily and methodically, if in un- 
 dertones, cursing Hole and Dennison, the Pelican 
 and all her crew, when the girl came silently out from 
 the shadows beneath the gallery, bringing him a cup 
 and a jar of earthenware brimming with wine. 
 
 He accepted the service with a bow. " Mademoi- 
 selle is as kind as she is beautiful ! " said he, and with 
 the appreciation of a connoisseur first watched her 
 blush, then drained the jug to its last drop and felt 
 the grateful fluid grapple with his fatigue, temper it, 
 and send new strength leaping through his veins. 
 " And as good, I'm sure, as she is kind," he added ; 
 and " Ah ! " he sighed, resuming his seat but rising 
 again, and quickly, as a second summons clanged 
 upon the iron door and sent the girl flying towards 
 the rear of the house. 
 
 " That will be Danny, now," O'Rourke opined as 
 she swept past him.
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 171 
 
 She murmured a response he did not clearly catch. 
 "What's that?" he called after- her. 
 
 " Or possibly," she repeated, pausing at the en- 
 trance to' the rear chamber, " it may be Monsieur 
 the Captain Hole ! " 
 
 " The divvle ! " cried O'Rourke, and was on his 
 feet in a twinkling, casting about him for a weapon. 
 " That can't be " 
 
 Nothing offered itself suitable either for offence 
 or defence, save and except the jug he had been 
 drinking from, and the Irishman was weighing this 
 thoughtfully with a definite intention of hurling it 
 at Captain Hole's head, if indeed he had heard 
 aright, when the entrance of quite another person 
 relieved his mind, however temporarily. 
 
 It was Danny, plainly enough: Danny, the same 
 as of old, with his half-sheepish, half-impudent grin 
 and his shock of naming hair, his upper lip that was 
 long even for an Irish boy's, his roving and twin- 
 kling blue eyes, his tip-tilted nose, his short, sturdy 
 physique. 
 
 " Faith," said O'Rourke, " the gods are not so 
 unkind after all ! 'Tis as welcome as the shadow of 
 a great rock in a weary land, the sight of ye, 
 Danny ! " And " Danny ! " he observed with some 
 severity, " I'll ask ye to explain what the divvle at 
 all ye're doing here." 
 
 Danny's assurance deserted him on the instant. 
 He had done his former master a signal service that
 
 172 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 night, but in his estimation nothing more than was 
 due the O'Rourke. Whatever he felt, he looked to 
 perfection a boy caught at mischief hanging his 
 head and eyeing O'Rourke under his brows, shame- 
 faced and ill at ease. 
 
 " Aw ! " he deprecated, " sure, now, yer honour, 
 now " 
 
 " Danny," demanded O'Rourke sternly, " does 
 Miss Cleopatra here understand English? " 
 
 " Divvle a word ! " the ex-valet protested earn- 
 estly. " Beyond Greek and French and Arabic, 
 sure, she's ignorant as Paddy's pig!" 
 
 So much was plainly evident from the girl's 
 manner and expression of puzzlement. Reassured, 
 O'Rourke proceeded: 
 
 " 'Tis good hearing. Faith, if she understood 
 the King's English, 'tis me hair she would be tear- 
 ing out by the roots in one minute. Danny, I gather 
 that the lady is be way of liking ye more than ye 
 deserve. Is it in love with you she is ? " 
 
 Danny stole a sidelong glance at the girl. " Beg- 
 gin' yer honour's pardon," he stammered, " and I 
 belave she is that." 
 
 " Umm! " snorted O'Rourke. " And what, if ye 
 please, about poor Annie Bragin, at home? Is it 
 marrying a Greek ye would be, and leaving poor 
 Annie to cry her eyes out for ye, ye worthless scut ? " 
 
 " Divvle a bit, respects to yer honour ! Sure, 'tis 
 only for amusement "
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 173 
 
 " And who may she be, that ye make so free to 
 amuse yourself with her? " 
 
 "The daughter av me partner, yer honour, Noc- 
 covie, the Greek tobaccy merchant." 
 
 "This will be his house, then?" 
 
 " No, sir, but a a sort av a sthore-house, in a 
 way av speaking. 'Tis jist 'round th' corner they 
 do be livin' in a gran' foine house, sir." 
 
 " Then what's the young lady doing here? " 
 
 " Waitin' for me to take her place, sir. Noccovie 
 is away and and," in a blurted confession, " 'tis 
 a bit of hashish smuggling we do be doing on the 
 side. The stuff is always brought here, sor ; and to- 
 night's the night a consignmint's due." 
 
 " Ah-h ! " observed O'Rourke darkly. One by one, 
 it seemed, he was gathering the trumps again into 
 his own hand. He resumed his catechism of the 
 boy. 
 
 " Danny, is this the way a decent man should be 
 behaving himself? " he browbeat him. " Is it your 
 mother's son and the sweetheart of Annie Bragin 
 that's become no more than an idle breaker of 
 hearts? Danny, Danny, what would Father Mal- 
 achi be saying if he could hear what ye've just told 
 me? Whin, boy, did ye confess last?" 
 
 Danny cowered. " Aw, dear ! " he whimpered. 
 "Aw, dearie-dear! And meself meant no harm at 
 all!" 
 
 " Thin take your light-o'-love home, Danny, and
 
 174 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 come back to me here at once with a change of 
 clothes ! " 
 
 " Yiss, yer honour. I'll do that, yer honour. But 
 will ye hark for the signal at the door and let 
 Cap'n Hole in?" 
 
 It was true, then! 
 
 " I will. But see that ye don't forget the change 
 of clothes, Danny, and don't be lingering too long 
 over your fond farewells with the lady, if ye're not 
 looking for a hiding, and Danny ! " 
 
 "Yiss, sor?" 
 
 " Have ye a revolver? " 
 
 " Here, sor." 
 
 "Give it here, and bring another back with ye. 
 Lively, now ! " 
 
 Alone, O'Rourke seated himself on the edge of 
 the fountain and considered gravely the uncertain- 
 ties of life. " 'Tis fate," he concluded soberly, at 
 length. " And 'tis hard upon eleven now. They 
 will not dare to run that cargo before midnight; 
 and meself sorely needs a bath." 
 
 Deliberately he stripped off rags and tatters and 
 plunged into the fountain. Danny was back with 
 the promised wearing apparel ere he had finished 
 splashing. 
 
 And while O'Rourke dressed, and for long there- 
 after, the two sat and smoked and confabulated, 
 talking of Men and Things and the turn of the 
 Wheel of the World.
 
 CHAPTER 
 SEVENTEEN 
 
 AT midnight the muezzin in a neighbouring minaret 
 turned his face to the windswept sky and summoned 
 the faithful to prayer and meditation. 
 
 O'Rourke pulled thoughtfully at his pipe until 
 the musical, melancholy wail had been whipped 
 away by the breath of the khamsin, and there was 
 silence save for the dull, heavy roaring overhead. 
 Then he resumed the conversation where it had been 
 interrupted. 
 
 " And ye say ye love the young woman, Danny ? " 
 
 "I do that, yer honour." 
 
 " And ye would marry her? " 
 
 " Wid ye honour's consint I'm ready, sor." 
 
 " But Danny about Annie Bragin, now ? " 
 
 Danny squirmed. " Sure, now, sor . . . Aw, 
 yer honour . . . Now Annie Annie's " 
 
 " Take shame to yourself, Danny, for the gay 
 deceiver that ye are." 
 
 1(1 Aw, yer honour," clucked Danny helplessly ; 
 and " Aw . . ." said he again, crescendo. 
 
 " When did ye hear from home last, Danny ? " 
 
 " Sure and that was long ago a matter of 
 
 years " 
 
 175
 
 176 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " And no one's written to tell ye that Annie 
 Bragin's married and a mother? " 
 
 " Aw ! " cried Danny in a rage. " 'Tis not so, 
 is ut? " 
 
 "'Tis so yes." 
 
 The boy worked the fingers of both hands together. 
 " And hersilf that promised me not over tin years 
 ago to wait until I made me forchune ! Aw 
 
 . . . 'Tis like a woman." 
 
 " Can ye, Danny, pick a pin between the two of 
 ye?" 
 
 Danny gaped. " Aw," said he ; and was silent. 
 Then, "'Tis different," he averred simply. "A 
 man's a man, as I see ut, and if th' ladies fancy him, 
 what is he to be doin', sor? Now take yersilf, 
 sor " 
 
 " On the contrary, we'll confine the argument to 
 the case in hand," O'Rourke interrupted firmly. 
 " 'Tis different, entirely . . ." He veered upon 
 a tangent hastily. " Ye thick-skulled imp ! " he blus- 
 tered, " be grateful to the woman that left ye free. 
 How long is it since ye were telling me ye loved 
 Mademoiselle Helen of Troy, here, with all your 
 heart, such as it is, and all your soul, if ye have 
 one, and all your body what that's worth? and 
 wanted to marry her, Annie Bragin or no Annie 
 Bragin?" 
 
 " Aw ! " exclaimed Danny in rapture. " 'Tis true, 
 thin! There's nothing to stop me. Sure "
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 177 
 
 " Have I given me consent, ye scut ? " 
 
 " Aw, no," admitted the boy from an abyss of 
 dejection. " But, yer honour " 
 
 " Let be, Danny. I bless the banns. Ye may 
 have her on one condition." 
 
 "Aw-w?" 
 
 " I've need of ye, as I've pointed out " 
 
 " Sure, yer honour knows ye can count on me to 
 the last breath in me, sor." 
 
 " Then ye'll come with me to Burmah? " 
 
 " Do you think, sor, I could slape of nights, 
 after hearin' from yer own lips what ye've been 
 through, and suspectin' what more ye must go 
 through with before ye've won? Will I be comin', 
 is ut? Faith, I'll go whether ye want me or 
 not." 
 
 " And afterwards ye can come back to Miss 
 Psyche here, or whatever her name may be." 
 
 " Yiss, yer honour, and thank ye kindly." 
 Abruptly Danny started up. " They'll be comin' 
 now, sor," he said in an excited whisper. " I'm 
 thinkin' I hear thim blundhering down the alley." 
 
 He turned toward the rear of the house, and 
 as O'Rourke rose to follow him, the signal sounded 
 on the metal door. Danny quickened his steps, and 
 as he disappeared his master slipped quietly into the 
 shadows beneath the overhanging gallery. From this 
 point of seclusion he could hear distinctly the jar of 
 the bolts as Danny opened the iron door, followed
 
 178 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 by his hoarse whisper : " Whist ! is ut yersilves, 
 now? " 
 
 Hole's voice answered him huskily : " Who the 
 hell else would it be? Let us in, you damn' harp." 
 
 The door creaked upon its hinges ; and was cau- 
 tiously closed. The bolts rattled again. Footsteps 
 shuffled slowly, as of men heavily burdened, over 
 the floor of earth. Then, while O'Rourke gathered 
 himself together, exultation in his heart and the 
 foretaste of revenge sweet in his mouth, two cloaked 
 figures scuffled into the courtyard, breathing hard 
 beneath their burdens of smuggled drug. 
 
 Hole promptly dumped his share of the load down 
 upon the bench and swung upon Danny. " Where's 
 Niccovie? " he demanded, evidently in as ugly a 
 mood as he could muster. "Where is 'e? Stop 
 standin' there and starin' with yer balmy trap open, 
 yer " 
 
 " That will be about enough," suggested O'Rourke 
 pleasantly, in a conversational tone, stepping from 
 his place of concealment. " Don't call names, Hole 
 ye're too near your God if ye have one, which 
 I misdoubt." 
 
 In the clear, bright starlight the pistols in his 
 hands were plainly evident ; and one stared the cap- 
 tain in the eye; one covered the head of the Peli- 
 can's first officer. 
 
 " Ye will not move ! " said O'Rourke sharply, 
 " save and except to put your hands above your
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 179 
 
 heads. So don't delay, Mr. Dennison; I've never 
 known me temper to be shorter." 
 
 Hole began to splutter excitedly. " Save your 
 breath, ye whelp ! " O'Rourke counselled him curtly. 
 " Ye'll have need of it before I'm done with ye." 
 He added: " Search and disarm them, Danny." 
 
 The servant set about his task with alacrity; it 
 is safe to say that he left not so much as a match 
 in the pocket of either. While he was about it, Hole, 
 with his eyes steadily fixed upon the unwavering 
 muzzles of O'Rourke's revolvers, managed to master 
 his emotion enough to ask coherently: 
 
 " What are you goin' to do with us ? " 
 
 " Ye'll see in good time," returned O'Rourke 
 grimly. " Have ye found it, Danny ? " 
 
 Danny backed away from Hole, whom he had 
 searched after Dennison. " Yiss, sor," he returned. 
 " At least, I think so. Is this ut? " 
 
 " I can't look at the moment, Danny. Is it a 
 leather bag with something hard inside, the size 
 of a hen's egg, or a bit larger? " 
 
 " The very same, yer honour." 
 
 " Very well," O'Rourke suppressed the tremble 
 of relief in his voice. " Put it in your pocket, 
 Danny the very bottom of your pocket. Did ye 
 find a gun on either of them ? " 
 
 " One on each, sor." 
 
 "Loaded?" 
 
 " Yiss, sor."
 
 180 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " Then cover them, Danny." 
 
 For himself O'Rourke put down his pistols and 
 calmly stripped off his coat, rolling up his sleeves. 
 
 " Hole," he said tersely, " don't move. If ye 
 do, Danny will puncture ye. Your turn comes 
 last. Dennison, ye may step out." 
 
 "What for?" demanded the Scot, advancing. 
 
 " To receive payment, with interest, for that blow 
 ye gave me this evening, me man. Put up your 
 hands. I'm going, in your own words, Mr. Denni- 
 son, to hammer the fear of God into as cowardly 
 and despicable a pair of scoundrels as I've ever 
 encountered. And," reflectively, "I've met a good 
 many. But most of the others were Men."
 
 CHAPTER 
 EIGHTEEN 
 
 Two battered and sore sailormen sat back to back, 
 their arms lashed to one another and to the central 
 upright so that neither could move, both half-sub- 
 merged in the fountain of Niccovie the Greek. 
 
 " Ye'll find the bath quite refreshing," O'Rourke 
 told them, preparing to depart, " as well as a novel 
 experience. 'Twill do ye a world of good, 
 Captain Hole, as anyone will tell ye who has 
 ever had the misfortune to stand too leeward of 
 ye. Your money and other belongings ye'll find 
 on the bench here, if ever ye are loosed, which I 
 doubt. I call your attention to the fact that I take 
 nothing but me property, of which ye sought to 
 rob me. On the other hand, because of that at- 
 tempted robbery, I hereby refuse to pay my bill 
 for passage from Athens to Alexandria. If ye care 
 to dispute it, me solicitors in Dublin will be pleased 
 to enter into litigation with ye. Gentlemen! " he 
 bowed ironically, " I bid ye good night. 
 
 He was still chuckling over the outcome when, 
 twenty minutes later, he and Danny were trudg- 
 
 181
 
 182 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 ing through the silent streets of Alexandria, a full 
 mile away, making for Danny's lodgings. One of 
 the wanderer's lips was badly cut and swollen, and 
 he was sore bruised from head to foot; but in his 
 pocket rested the Pool of Flame, and about his 
 mouth was wreathed a smile of ineffable complacency. 
 
 From time to time Danny turned to look up in 
 his face with ever-growing wonder and admiration. 
 But, sure, wasn't he the O'Rourke? And who iver 
 heard av anny ma-an the equal of the O'Rourke? 
 Danny wanted to know. He was a proud and 
 happy Irishman, Danny; for he had found his mas- 
 ter, and across his shoulders that master had flung 
 a weary arm, partly for support, partly as a mark 
 of his affectionate regard. 
 
 " But, Danny," O'Rourke pursued, with just a 
 hint of anxiety in his tone, " would ye happen to 
 be having a bit of lining in your pocket, now be 
 accident, as they say?" 
 
 Danny drew himself up proudly. " Fm eight- 
 hoondred and fifty pounds, Ay-gyptian, sor, and 
 two-hundred av that is yours be rights, bein' what 
 ye lent me, yer honour, while all the rist is yours for 
 the taking." 
 
 "That's fine, 0anny, fine!" sighed O'Rourke. 
 " 'Tis yourself will never regret investing it in Pool 
 of Flame, Unlimited. I'll personally guarantee 
 the income from it, Danny."
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 183 
 
 " Shure, sor, don't / know? " 
 
 " And in the morning, early, Danny, ye and I 
 will take boat and go out to the Pelican for me kit- 
 box." 
 
 But in the morning, as it happened, the Pelican 
 had discreetly left the harbour.
 
 THE sky was brazen, an inverted bowl ; the sea, blue 
 and oily, swelled and subsided in long, impercep- 
 tible undulations, reflecting a lane of garish brass ; 
 the desert was tarnished brass, a glaring greyish 
 yellow, spotted with grey-greenlike verdegris. To 
 the south the canal reached, a stretch of blue, still, 
 motionless, like a streak of paint . . . 
 
 In the roadstead were vessels, some apparently 
 idle and abandoned, lifeless, others again seeming 
 to strain at the leash hot vapour streaming from 
 their funnels, their decks crowded, their air 
 impatient. In the number of the latter the Panjnab, 
 a steamer eastward-bound, swung at anchor near 
 the entrance to the canal. 
 
 She was coaling. From the shore to her sides flat 
 barges plied, black, clumsy, laden deep with black 
 ore, glittering, dead. About her they clustered, 
 a pack in leash. One after another they were 
 swung in position and held so by straining cables, 
 to be invaded by an ant-like swarm of men, women 
 and children with baskets, themselves as black, well- 
 nigh as naked, as the stuff they handled. Baskets 
 of coal seemed to fly up the sides, into the ports, of 
 
 184
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN 185 
 
 the Panjnab, as if incredibly in defiance of the laws 
 of gravitation. A slight, distinctly perceptible haze 
 of black dust enveloped the ship like mist. A low 
 moaning hung in the air like an essence, intangible, 
 impalpable, inevitable: the plaintive sing-song of 
 the coal-heavers rising and falling in mournful mo- 
 notony, endlessly iterated. 
 
 It was mid-afternoon of a sultry day. No air 
 stirred. The Panjnab was coaling at Port Said. 
 
 O'Rourke eyed the vessel with disfavour from the 
 shore; then dropped into a harbour dinghy, 
 ensconced himself at the tiller-ropes, and caused 
 himself, with his luggage and his man-servant, to 
 be conveyed alongside the steamer. 
 
 Near the gangway he was held back ; another boat 
 had forestalled him, another intending passenger was 
 shipping for the East. O'Rourke was interested 
 idly. 
 
 He saw a woman, a slight, trim figure becomingly 
 attired in white, with a veil about her head, leave 
 the boat and mount the gangway steps with a 
 springy, youthful step, a cheerful and positive air, 
 a certain but indefinable calm of self-possession. 
 At the top she paused, turned, looked down, watch- 
 ing the transfer of her luggage and her maid. . . . 
 From sundry intangible indications O'Rourke as- 
 sumed the second woman's figure to be the lady's 
 maid. And so did Danny. The one eyed the mis- 
 tress, the other her servant, both with interest. . . .
 
 186 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 The woman on deck threw back her veil She 
 seemed to promise uncommon beauty of the English 
 type, full-coloured and of classic mould. 
 The Irishman was much too far away to be certain, 
 but he fancied that her gaze wandered toward him 
 and but this, of course, was only imagination 
 that she started slightly. 
 
 At all events, she was quick to drop the veil and 
 turn away. Her maid joining her, both vanished 
 beneath the canvas awnings. The boat that had 
 brought her sheered off, and O'Rourke was permitted 
 to board the Panjnab. Danny, fussing importantly 
 over the luggage, followed him. 
 
 It was a glad .day, the O'Rourke told himself, 
 that he trod those decks ; it saw him definitely started 
 on his way to the East, the splendid, barbaric and 
 alluring East that called ever, insistently, with a 
 siren voice, the East where his fortune lay at the 
 rainbow's end.
 
 CHAPTER 
 TWENTY 
 
 O'RouRKE roused upon his elbow and peered out of 
 the port of his stateroom. The steamer was plough- 
 ing through the Bitter Lakes. He saw a string of 
 buoys, a width of water like a jade, a vista of sand, 
 flat, grey, patched with grey-green desert shrub, 
 bounded only by the horizon. 
 
 " Damn . . ." said he listlessly. He slipped 
 down again upon his back, panted, and wiped his 
 brow. 
 
 Danny, recognising that he was not expected to 
 respond, and being a young man remarkably acute 
 to diagnose his master's moods, prudently re- 
 frained from comment. He sat hunched up on a 
 cabin stool, his intensely red, bullet-shaped head 
 bent low over a bit of chamois skin, which he was 
 sewing into a rough, sturdy bag. From time to 
 time he rested it on his knees, while he waxed his 
 thread or deftly found the eye of the needle as grace- 
 fully and airily as any needlewoman living. 
 
 O'Rourke lay back on his pillows, methodically 
 mopping perspiration from his forehead, his 
 knees crossed in the air. Attired quite simply and 
 
 187
 
 188 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 unaffectedly in pajamas of sheer India silk, in all 
 likelihood he had got himself as near to comfort as 
 any other passenger aboard the Panjnab; but this 
 was not at all borne out by his expression, which was 
 frankly a scowl of discontent. 
 
 He had excuse; the heat of the canal was most 
 properly to be characterised unbearable. The little 
 stateroom was stuffy and close; no least .sigh of air 
 stirred in through the open port; and only a whin- 
 ing punka swaying tediously overhead served to 
 make existence tolerable. 
 
 Yet it was not altogether the heat that disturbed 
 O'Rourke and rendered him moody and dissatisfied. 
 He was a seasoned traveller, and could stand much 
 in the way of high temperature. It was the simple 
 fact that he felt it unwise to go on deck ere the 
 sun should set or Suez be left behind, that irritated 
 him. In other circumstances he had been quite con- 
 tent to abide where he was ; but he resented it 
 enormously that anything should be denied him, and 
 so swore intermittently beneath his breath: big, 
 black, able-bodied, blood-curdling oaths that had 
 done service in a dozen climes and were of proven 
 worth. 
 
 Danny worked on, imperturbable; only at times 
 would his faintly marked, reddish eyebrows elevate 
 and a twinkle lighten his eyes when a particularly 
 virulent oath minded him of some amusing inci- 
 dent in the past association of himself with his
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 189 
 
 master. Little worried Danny ; in his philosophy 
 the past was past, the future on the knees of the 
 gods, and the present in the hands of O'Rourke, 
 whom he worshipped. A simple creed and comfort- 
 ing, all-sufficient for Danny. 
 
 But O'Rourke fumed. He smoked, and found it 
 overheating. He tried to pin his attention to a 
 yellow-backed French novel which at any other time 
 he would have thought amusing, and failed. He 
 squirmed restlessly, but discovered no cool spot in 
 his berth. The devil was in it! . . . 
 
 As the sun dipped beneath the rim of the horizon, 
 a pleasant shadow invaded the stateroom, until that 
 moment blood-red with its level rays. And Danny 
 straightened up, dropping thimble and thread, an- 
 nouncing the completion of his needlework by a 
 brief, contented : " There ! " 
 
 O'Rourke glanced at the article dangling from 
 his valet's fingers, and slammed the book against 
 the bulkhead at the foot of his berth. 
 
 " Finished, is it ? " he exclaimed. " Faith, 'tis 
 about time, ye lazy good-f or-naught ! " 
 
 Danny smiled serenely. "And a good job, too, 
 sor," said he proudly. "M'anin' no onrespect to 
 yer honour," he added hastily. 
 
 O'Rourke grunted acceptance of the implied apol- 
 ogy, and sat up. " Let me see it," he demanded. 
 " Sure, if there's a weak stitch in it, Danny, I prom- 
 ise I'll boot ye over the side."
 
 190 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " Nivver fear, yer honour. 'Tis a foine, strong 
 job." 
 
 O'Rourke took the subject of discussion in his 
 fingers and examined it searchingly. 
 
 "'Twill do," he announced. "'Twill serve its 
 purpose, if no more. *Tis a great comfort to 
 me, Danny, to know that, if all else fails ye, ye 
 can earn a comfortable living doing plain sewing. 
 Lay out me evening clothes now." He stood up, 
 stopping to stare through the port. " Good 
 enough," he commented on what he discovered with- 
 out ; " 'tis passing Suez we are this blessed minute. 
 Praises be, we caught a boat that doesn't stop 
 here." 
 
 Danny scratched an ankle thoughtfully. " Yiss, 
 yer honour," he assented, dubious. " But, for all 
 that, phwat's to hinder annywan from boordin' us 
 be boat, if they sh'u'd want to?" 
 
 O'Rourke turned and eyed the man keenly. " 'Tis 
 a great head ye have on your shoulders, Danny," 
 he said. " Sometimes ye betray almost canine intilli- 
 gence. I'm be way of having hopes of ye. Now get 
 ye on deck and watch to see who does come aboard, 
 if anyone, and report to me." 
 
 " Yiss, yer honour." 
 
 O'Rourke bolted the door after Danny and as- 
 sured himself that the keyhole was properly wadded, 
 that no crack existed through which his movements 
 might be observed from the gangway. Shrugging
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 191 
 
 his broad shoulders he returned to the seat vacated 
 by his valet and thrust a hand beneath the coat 
 of his pajamas, withdrawing it a moment later, 
 fingers tightly wrapped about a rather bulky object. 
 
 And the Pool of Flame lay glittering and stab- 
 bing his eyes with shafts of blood-red light. 
 
 Into its depths of pellucid fire O'Rourke gazed 
 long and earnestly, in the most profound meditation. 
 For minutes he did not move, save to shift the gi- 
 gantic stone from side to side, watching it catch 
 and glorify the fading light of day. The most 
 sombre of thoughts seemed to fill his mind; his 
 straightforward and dauntless eye became clouded, 
 his unlined brow was shadowed with apprehension. 
 
 But at length, slipping the ruby into the new re- 
 ceptacle and drawing the lanyard tight about its 
 puckered throat, he stood up and threw the loop 
 over his head, permitting the bag with its precious 
 contents to fall beneath the folds of his jacket; and, 
 shaking off the sober mood inspired in him by the 
 study of the stone, rang for a steward, to whom, 
 when he responded, he entrusted a summons for 
 Danny " if so be it we're clear of Suez." 
 
 In the course of five minutes or so Danny himself 
 tapped on the door and presented to his master a 
 beaming face. 
 
 " Divvle a sowl ! " he announced triumphantly. 
 " Sure, 'tis ourselves have given thim the slip en- 
 tirely!"
 
 192 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 He fished a brand new kit-box from beneath the 
 berth and, opening it, began to lay out O'Rourke's 
 clothing. 
 
 His master indulged in a sigh of relief. " Then 
 no boat put off to us at all? " he questioned in- 
 differently. 
 
 " Only wan," replied the servant, " and thot wid 
 no wan in ut but a naygur." 
 
 "A negro?" demanded O'Rourke, facing about. 
 " What do ye mean ? Did he come aboard ? " 
 
 " Sure and he did that, yer honour, and caught 
 us be no moore thin the skin av his tathe and " 
 
 O'Rourke bent over the man and seizing him by 
 the shoulders swing him around so that their eyes 
 met. " What the divvle ! " demanded the adven- 
 turer, " did ye mean by telling me nobody boarded 
 us, then? What " 
 
 " Sure, yer honour. ... Aw, yer honour ! 
 'Tis mesilf meant no harrm at all, at all ! " 
 protested Danny. " Didn't I Bay thot divvle a 
 sowl came aboord? Sure, thin, is a naygur a hu- 
 man? " 
 
 With an exasperated gesture O'Rourke released 
 the boy. " 'Tis too much for me ye are," he said 
 helplessly. " Now and again I believe ye have the 
 makings of a man in ye, and then ye go off and 
 play the fool! If I didn't believe ye a pure simple- 
 ton with not an ounce of mischief in your body, I'd 
 take that out of your worthless hide. Get on with
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 193 
 
 ye ! Tell me about this * naygur.' What sort of a 
 black man is he? " 
 
 " Sure, sor," whimpered Danny, " 'tis mesilf that 
 w'u'd die rather thin have ye talk to me thot way, 
 yer honour. Upon me sowl, I niver thought ye'd 
 worry about a poor divvle av a naygur, come aboard 
 wid nothin' but a say-chist and the clothes he walks 
 in, beggin' for a chanst to worrk his passage to 
 Bombay, sor." 
 
 " Did they let him sign on, then ? " inquired 
 O'Rourke. 
 
 " Divvle a bit, rayspicts to ye." More cheer- 
 fully Danny struggled with the studs in O'Rourke's 
 shirt. " The purser was all for kicking him back into 
 his boat, sor, whin he offered to pay passage in 
 the steerage. So they let him stay, sor." 
 
 "Seemed to have money eh?" 
 
 " Aw, no, yer honour. 'Twas barely able he was 
 to scrape ut all together." 
 
 " Lascar? " 
 
 " I belave so, yer honour. 'Tis harrd for me to 
 say. Wan av thim naygur*s as much like another 
 as two pays, sor; 'tis all tarred wid the same brush 
 they be." 
 
 " Ah, well ! " The adventurer girded on his even- 
 ing harness, satisfaction increasing and temper bet- 
 tering as he regarded himself in the mirror and saw 
 that his coat fitted him to perfection, that his trous- 
 ers were impeccable in cut and material, his shirt
 
 194 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 spotless, his tie knotted with just the right effect; 
 that, altogether, he looked himself. 
 
 " Ah, well," he resumed more pacifically, " belike 
 he's what he seems, Danny, and has no concern with 
 us at all. Whether or no, care killed the cat. . . . 
 D'ye mind, Danny," he swung off on one of his 
 characteristically acute tangents, " the little woman 
 with the red hair? Though 'tis meself should beg 
 the lady's pardon for mentioning the colour of her 
 hair in the same room with that outrageous head- 
 light of yours, Danny. . . . D'ye mind her, I 
 mean ? " 
 
 "The wan ye observed at Poort Said, sor? The 
 wan ye told me to discover the name av ? " 
 
 " 'Tis a brave detective ye would make, Danny. 
 Ye have me meaning entirely ! " 
 
 " Aw, yiss." Danny's lips tightened as he laced 
 O'Rourke's patent-leather shoes. He cast up at his 
 master's face an oblique glance of disapproval. " I 
 mind the wan ye mane," he admitted. 
 
 He rose, and as he did so, O'Rourke gently but 
 firmly twisted him around by the ear and as delib- 
 erately and thoughtfully kicked him. 
 
 " What the divvle is the matter with ye, Danny? " 
 he inquired in pained remonstrance. " Is it mad ye 
 are, or have ye no judgment at all, ye scut, that ye 
 speak to me in that tone ? " 
 
 Solicitously Danny rubbed the chastened portion 
 of his person, grumbling but unrepentant. " 'Tis
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 195 
 
 the wimmin," he complained, " 'tis always the wim- 
 min, beggin' yer honour's pardon. Sure and yer 
 honour knows they do be forever gettin' us into 
 trouble. 'Tis no more thin wance we get comfort- 
 able and aisy-loike in our minds, whin wan av thim 
 pops up and drags ye off into some fracas or 
 other " 
 
 O'Rourke grinned tolerantly, retaining his hold 
 upon the servitor's ear. "Her name?" 
 
 " Ow, yer honour, leggo ! . . . Missus Prynne, 
 sor!" 
 
 The wanderer gave the ear another tweak, by 
 way of enforcing the lesson. "Prynne, is it? And 
 how did you learn that, Danny? " 
 
 " 'Twas her maid told me, sor. Leggo, yer hon- 
 our, plaze " 
 
 " And how did her maid come to tell ye, ye great 
 ugly, long-legged omadhaun?" 
 
 " Sure ow ! 'twas only a bit av a kiss I was by 
 way av givin' her, sor " 
 
 " That'll do, Danny," O'Rourke chuckled. 
 
 The peal of the trumpet announcing dinner in- 
 terrupted his contemplated lecture on the ethics of 
 investigation and the perils of flirtation as between 
 maid- and man-servant. But as he turned away, 
 smiling, Danny delayed him an instant to remove the 
 last, least speck of dust from the lapel of his coat, 
 ere he permitted the immaculate adventurer to de- 
 part.
 
 196 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 ** 'Tis the bowld, dashing man he is," meditated 
 Danny without malice, when the door had closed be- 
 hind O'Rourke. "Phwat woman in all the world 
 would be holdin' out ag'in' the loikes av him, now? 
 Sure, befure the evenin's done, 'tis himself will be 
 sittin' wid his arm crooked about the lady's waist, 
 explainin' to her the moonlight on the wather ! "
 
 CHAPTER 
 TWENTY-ONE 
 
 IF Danny's notions of courtship as practised by 
 those in stations of life above his own were slightly 
 coloured by his own honest methods, his understand- 
 ing of the cause of O'Rourke's interest in Mrs. 
 Prynne was more at fault. 
 
 The wanderer had come upon that lady but once 
 since he had boarded the Panjndb. That morning, 
 himself early astir because of his vague misgivings, 
 he had discovered her on the hurricane deck of the 
 liner: an inconspicuous, slight figure in the shadow 
 of a life-boat, leaning upon the rail and gazing with 
 (he fancied) troubled eyes, out and across the waste 
 below Ismalia. And, seeing her at such close quar- 
 ters, in the clear light of the new day, he had 
 been struck afresh with that impression her person- 
 ality had conveyed to him, the evening before, of 
 beauty and breeding beyond the ordinary. 
 
 Though she must have been conscious of nearing 
 footsteps, she had not stirred, and he had passed 
 on, gaining but a fugitive glimpse of a profile 
 sweetly serious ; nor had she appeared either at 
 breakfast or luncheon. A circumstance which led 
 him to surmise that she did not court observation: 
 
 197
 
 198 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 an idiosyncrasy which seemed passing strange in a 
 a woman so fair. 
 
 The memory of her, however, abode with him 
 throughout the long, hot hours of the day; and, 
 dwelling upon it, he the imaginative Celt! had 
 invested her with an illusion of mystery wholly of 
 his own manufacture. He told himself that she wore 
 an air of watchfulness, of vague expectancy, as 
 though she, like himself, feared some untoward mis- 
 hap ; that she had the manner of one definitely appre- 
 hensive, constantly on guard against some unfore- 
 seen peril. 
 
 Now, he asked himself, what could it be? What 
 threatened her? And why? 
 
 Sure (and you can see the man straighten up and 
 look round about, challenging the world) there was 
 no good reason why any woman more especially 
 one so attractive should fear aught when the 
 O'Rourke was at hand to shield her for the asking. 
 He dimly promised himself the pleasure of her ac- 
 quaintance, relying in the rapid intimacy that 
 springs up between strangers on a long voyage, 
 with a still more indefinite intention of putting him- 
 self at her service in any cause that she might be 
 pleased to name, provisionally: she must not inter- 
 fere with his plans for reaching Rangoon " in 
 ninety days." 
 
 That night he was hoping to find the lady at 
 dinner; but though the ship's company was small,
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 199 
 
 he failed to see her in the saloon, at either the 
 captain's, the chief officer's or the doctor's table ; 
 nor, so far as he could determine, was she taking the 
 air on deck. Was it possible, then, that he had 
 been right, that she had a reason equally as compell- 
 ing as his own for secluding herself? Or, was it 
 simply (and infinitely more probably) that Mrs. 
 Prynne was indisposed, an enervated victim of ex- 
 cessive heat? 
 
 This latter conjecture proved apparently the 
 right one, Mrs. Prynne failing to appear during the 
 two following days, while the Panjnab was rocking 
 down the Red Sea channel; and O'Rourke grew in- 
 terested enough (he had little else to occupy his 
 mind, for a duller voyage he had never known) to 
 give Danny permission to pursue his inquiries: with 
 an injunction, however, prohibiting too lavish an ex- 
 penditure of the boy's wealth of affection. Where- 
 upon Danny returned with the information that the 
 mistress of Cecile, the maid, was suffering from heat 
 exhaustion. 
 
 This was entirely reasonable. O'Rourke accepted 
 the demolition of his airy castles of Romance, 
 laughed at himself, in part was successful in putting 
 the woman out of mind ; doubtless, in time, he would 
 have done so altogether, had not the lady chosen 
 to take the air the night that the Panjnab nego- 
 tiated the Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb. For on that 
 same night, O'Rourke, himself wakeful, was minded
 
 200 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 to sit up and watch the lights of Perim Island heave 
 into view. 
 
 Circumstances were entirely favourable ; the night 
 had fallen passably cool and surpassingly beauti- 
 ful, a strange, still night of stars, with a moon that 
 rose before eleven, and waxing in strength, drenched 
 the world with weird glamour. O'Rourke, in a deck- 
 chair on the starboard side, well cloaked in the 
 shadow of the deck above, watched the other pas- 
 sengers, one by one, quiet their chatter, yawn, stretch 
 and slip below to stuffy staterooms. Save for the 
 pulsing of the screws the ship was silent by eight 
 bells ; even the quaintly melancholy ** All's well! " of 
 the watch was distinctly audible in the stillness. 
 Thenceforward for a space O'Rourke found himself 
 in solitary possession of the deck, and was not ill 
 pleased. 
 
 He suffered a dreamy eye to rove where it would, 
 greedy of the night's superb illusion. Abeam, and 
 far across the moonstruck waters, the precipitous 
 coast of Arabia Deserta marched slowly, a low, black 
 line athwart the horizon, gradually widening as the 
 straits narrowed. The sea, where the moon's trail 
 did not rest quivering, lay black as ink, as smooth 
 and highly polished as a mahogany surface, almost 
 as motionless. The prevailing winds of the season 
 had subsided into still, stealthy airs, barely percep- 
 tible ; stark night brooded on the face of the waters, 
 profound in its mystery.
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 201 
 
 Awed by this unearthly wonder, O'Rourke was re- 
 luctant to stir ; it were a profanation to smoke, even 
 as the shudder and surge of the driven ship seemed 
 a profanation. Unconscious of the lapse of time, 
 indeed oblivious to it, the Irishman fell into a deep 
 reverie, steeping his soul in sadness, pondering those 
 futile days of adventure that lay behind him, seek- 
 ing to penetrate the mystery of the future. . . . 
 
 Four bells two o'clock chimed upon his con- 
 sciousness like a physical shock. He verified the hour 
 by his watch and, reluctantly enough, agreed that 
 it was time he got himself to bed. He half rose 
 from his chair, then sank back with an inaudible 
 catch of his breath. Without warning the appari- 
 tion of a white-clad woman had invaded the prome- 
 nade deck. For an instant he hardly credited his 
 eyes, then, with a nod of recognition, he identified 
 Mrs. Prynne. 
 
 Unquestionably unconscious of his presence in the 
 shadow, she fell to pacing to and fro. Now and 
 again she stopped, and with chin cradled in her small 
 hands, elbows on the rail, watched the approaching 
 cliffs of Arabia ; then, with perhaps a sigh, returned 
 to her untimely constitutional. 
 
 Partly because he had no wish to startle her, partly 
 because he was glad to watch unobserved (he had 
 a rare eye for beauty, the O'Rourke), the wanderer 
 sat on without moving, stirred only by active curios- 
 ity. The strangeness of her appearance upon deck
 
 202 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 at such an hour fascinated his imagination no less 
 than her person held his eye. He gave himself over 
 to vain and profitless speculation. . . . Why, 
 he wondered, should she keep to her cabin the greater 
 part of the evening, only to take the air when none 
 might be supposed to observe her? 
 
 Why, if not to escape such observation? Then, 
 he told himself, he must be right in his supposition 
 that she had something to fear, someone to avoid. 
 What or whom? What was it all, what the mystery 
 that, as he watched her, seemed to grow, to cling 
 about her like some formless, impalpable garment? 
 
 Events conspired to weave the man into the warp 
 and woof of her affairs ; more quickly than he could 
 grasp the reason for his sudden action, he found him- 
 self a-foot and dashing aft at top speed. But an 
 instant gone Mrs. Prynne had passed him, unmo- 
 lested and wrapped in her splendid isolation ; and 
 then from the after part of the deck he had heard 
 a slight and guarded cry of distress, and a small 
 scuffling sound. 
 
 In two breaths he was by her side and found her 
 struggling desperately in the arms of a lascar a 
 deck-hand on the steamer. 
 
 At first the strangeness of the business so amazed 
 O'Rourke that he paused and held his hand, briefly 
 rooted in action. For although it was apparent that 
 she had been caught off her guard, wholly unpre-
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 203 
 
 pared against assault, and while she struggled 
 fiercely to break the lascar's hold, the woman still 
 uttered no cry. A .single scream would have brought 
 her aid; yet she held her tongue. 
 
 The two, the woman's slight, white figure and 
 the lascar's gaunt and sinewy one, strained and 
 fought, swaying silently in the shadows, tensely, 
 with the effect of a fragment of some disordered 
 nightmare. But then, as the lascar seemed about to 
 overpower his victim, O'Rourke, electrified, sprang 
 upon the man's back. With one strong arm deftly 
 he embraced the fellow, an elbow beneath his chin 
 forcing his head up and back. With the other hand 
 O'Rourke none too gently tore away an arm encir- 
 cling the woman. Then wrenching the two apart, he 
 sent a knee crashing into the small of the lascar's 
 back, all but breaking him in two, and so flung him 
 sprawling into the scuppers. 
 
 Without a word the man slid upon his shoulders 
 a full half-dozen feet, while O'Rourke had a mo- 
 mentary glimpse of his face in the moonlight 
 dark-skinned and sinister of expression with its white, 
 glaring 'eyeballs. Then, in one bound, he was 
 on his feet again and springing lithely back to the 
 attack: and as he came on a jagged gleam of moon- 
 light ran like lightning down the sinuous and for- 
 midable length of a kris, most deadly of knives. 
 
 O'Rourke fell back a pace or two. His own hands
 
 204 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 were empty ; he had nothing out naked fists and high 
 courage to pit against the lascar and his kris. 
 Keenly alert, he threw himself into a pose of defence. 
 He had yet to give up a fight because the odds were 
 long against him. He speculated briefly on the pos- 
 sibility of running in under the lascar's guard and 
 closing with him, thereby escaping with perhaps 
 a slight cut. . . . 
 
 But O'Rourke had forgotten the woman ; it was 
 enough that he had made possible her escape, and 
 he had no thought other than she had fled. It was, 
 therefore, with as much surprise as relief that he 
 caught the glimmer of her white figure as she thrust 
 herself before him and saw the lascar bring up in 
 the middle of a leap, his nose not an inch from the 
 muzzle of an army Webley of respect-compelling 
 calibre. 
 
 Simultaneously, he heard her voice, clear and in- 
 cisive if low of tone : " Drop that knife ! " 
 
 The kris shivered upon the deck. 
 
 " Faith ! " murmured the Irishman, " and what 
 manner of woman is this, now? " 
 
 She did, indeed, command unstinted admiration. 
 The weapon in her hands was firm and steady ; and 
 she handled herself as she did it with supreme as- 
 surance. 
 
 The lascar stood as rigid as though carven out of 
 stone, long, gaunt legs shining softly brown beneath 
 his coal, dazzling white cummerbund, the upper half
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 205 
 
 of his body lost in the shadow of the deck, a grey 
 blur standing for his turban. 
 
 O'Rourke stepped forward, with a quick move- 
 ment kicking the kris overboard, and would have 
 seized the fellow but that the woman intervened. 
 
 She said decisively : " If you please no." 
 
 Bewildered, O'Rourke hesitated. " I beg your 
 pardon " he said in confusion. 
 
 She did not reply directly; her attention was all 
 for the lascar, whom her revolver still covered. To 
 him, " Go ! " she said sharply, with a significant 
 motion of the weapon. 
 
 The lascar stepped back, with a single wriggle 
 losing himself in the dense shadows. 
 
 O'Rourke fairly gaped amazement at the woman, 
 who, on her part, retreated slowly until her back 
 touched the railing. She remained very quiet and 
 thoroughly mistress of herself, betraying agitation 
 only by slightly quickened breathing and cold pal- 
 lor. Her eyes raked the deck on either hand: it was 
 plain that she had no faith in the lascar, perhaps 
 apprehended his return ; yet her splendid control 
 of her nerves evoked the Irishman's open admiration. 
 
 " Faith ! " he cried, breaking a tense silence, " 'tis 
 yourself shames me, madam, with the courage of 
 ye!" 
 
 She flashed him a glance, and laughed slightly. 
 " Thank you, 5 ' she returned. " I'm sure I don't 
 know where I should be now but for you."
 
 206 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " 'Twas nothing at all. But ye'll pardon me for 
 suggesting that ye have made a mistake, madam." 
 
 " A mistake ? " she echoed ; and then, thought- 
 fully: "No, I shouldn't call it that." 
 
 " Letting him go, I mean. Neither of us, I be- 
 lieve, could well identify him. When ye report this 
 outrage to the captain, whom will ye accuse ? " 
 
 The woman stood away from the rail, replacing the 
 revolver in a pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt. 
 She laughed again, lightly a deep-toned laugh that 
 thrilled O'Rourke. She was indeed a woman among 
 women, who could laugh after such an experience: 
 a woman after his own heart. 
 
 " I shall accuse no one," she said quietly, " for 
 I shan't report the affair." 
 
 " Ye will not " he cried, astounded. 
 
 " Indeed, I am quite sincere : I shall do nothing 
 whatever about it. It is, moreover, a favour which 
 I shall ask of you, to say nothing of the matter 
 to anyone." 
 
 O'Rourke hesitated, unwilling to believe that he 
 had heard aright. 
 
 " Believe me," she was saying earnestly, " I have 
 good reason for making a request so unaccountable 
 to you." 
 
 " But but Mrs. Prynne !" 
 
 " Oh, you know me then ? " she interrupted 
 sharply. And her look was curious and intent. 
 
 " I 'tis faith ! " O'Rourke stammered. He felt
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 207 
 
 his face burn. " Me valet told me," he confessed 
 miserably. " 'Tis a bit of a flirtation he's been hav- 
 ing with your maid, Cecile, I believe, madam." 
 
 " Ah, yes." She seemed unaccountably relieved. 
 " You, then, are Colonel O'Rourke? " 
 
 He bowed. " Terence O'Rourke, madam, and at 
 your service, believe me." 
 
 " I am very glad," she said slowly, eyeing him 
 deliberately, " that, since I had to be aided, it came 
 through one of whom I have heard so much " 
 
 " Faith, Mrs. Prynne ! " 
 
 " And I thank you a second time, very heartily ! " 
 She offered him her hand, and smiled bewitch- 
 ingly. 
 
 " 'Tis embarrassing me ye are," he protested. 
 " Faith, to be thanked twice for so slight a service ! 
 I can only wish that I might do more " 
 
 " It is possible," she said, apparently not in the 
 
 least displeased by his presumption " It is 
 
 possible that I may take you at your word, Colonel 
 O'Rourke." 
 
 In her eyes, intent upon his, he fancied that he 
 recognised an amused flicker, with, perhaps, a trace 
 of deeper emotion: the kindling interest of a woman 
 in a strong man, with whose signals he was not un- 
 familiar. Pride and his conceit stirred in his breast. 
 
 " 'Twould be the delight of me life," he told her 
 in an ecstasy. 
 
 " Don't be too sure, I warn you, colonel." Her
 
 208 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 manner was now arch, her smile entirely charming. 
 " It might be no light service I should require of 
 you." 
 
 " Ye couldn't ask one too heavy. . . . But 
 'tis weary ye are, Mrs. Prynne ? " he inquired, 
 solicitous. 
 
 " Very." There was in fact an indefinite modula- 
 tion of weariness in her voice. Her manner changed ; 
 she moved away, hesitated and returned, her dainty 
 head drooping as with fatigue. She managed sud- 
 denly to make herself seem very fragile and pitiful ; 
 which is woman's most dangerous aspect in the eyes 
 of man. " I'm only a woman," she said faintly, 
 with a little gesture of deprecation ; " and my ways 
 are hedged about with grave perils " 
 
 " 'Tis the O'Rourke would gladly brave them all 
 for ye, madam," he declared gallantly. " Command 
 me what ye will." 
 
 She lifted her gaze to his, colouring divinely there 
 in the moon-glamour. He looked into her curiously 
 bewitching eyes and saw there an appeal and a 
 strange little tender smile. Her head was so near his 
 shoulder that he was aware of the vague, alluring 
 perfume of her hair. Her scarlet lips parted . . . 
 And he became suddenly aware that it behooved him 
 to hold himself well in hand. It were an easy mat- 
 ter to imagine himself swept off his feet, into a whirl 
 of infatuation, with a little encouragement. And 
 he was not unsophisticated enough to fail to see that
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 209 
 
 encouragement would not be lacking if he chose to 
 recognise it. 
 
 " Faith," he told himself, " I'm thinking 'twould 
 be wiser for me to take to me heels and run be- 
 fore . . ." 
 
 He was spared the ignominious necessity of flight. 
 In two breaths they showed two very different pic- 
 tures. Now they stood alone on the dead white deck, 
 alone with the night, the sea, the stars, the silence 
 and the moonlight: O'Rourke a bit dismayed and 
 wary, but as curious as any man in such a case; the 
 woman apparently yielding to a sudden fascination 
 for him, swaying a little toward him as if in- 
 viting the refuge of his arms. . . . And now 
 she started away, clutching at her heart, with a little 
 choking cry of alarm ; while beneath them the vessel 
 was still quivering with a harsh yet deadened detona- 
 tion like an explosion, together with a grinding 
 crash and shriek of riven steel somewhere deep in the 
 hold. 
 
 Inexpressibly dismayed, they stared with wide 
 and questioning eyes at one another, through a long 
 minute filled with an indescribable uproar: a suc- 
 cession of shocks and thumps in the interior of the 
 vessel gradually diminishing in severity while, in a 
 pandemonium of clamorous voices, the liner, like a 
 stricken thing, hesitated in its southward surge, then 
 slowly limped into a dead halt on the face of the 
 waters.
 
 CHAPTER 
 TWENTY-TWO 
 
 O'ROURKE'S first fears were for the woman, his first 
 words a lie designed to reassure her. 
 
 " What what does it mean? " she gasped faintly, 
 her face as white as marble, her eyes wide and terri- 
 fied. 
 
 " Sure, I'm thinking 'tis nothing at all," he an- 
 swered readily, with a smile amending, " nothing 
 of any great consequence, that is to say. Permit 
 me to escort ye to your cabin. But one moment." 
 
 He leaned far out over the rail, glancing down the 
 vessel's freeboard fore and aft. To his eyes (and 
 his eyes were sharpened, you may be sure) the 
 Panjnab still rested on an even keel, nor seemed to 
 be settling : a circumstance which tended to relieve his 
 
 most immediate fear that the vessel had .struck 
 
 one of those sharp-toothed coral reefs with which the 
 Red Sea is so thickly studded. 
 
 " There'll be life-preservers in the lockers over 
 there," said O'Rourke ; " and if 'twill reassure ye 
 I'll be happy to help ye adjust one. But I don't 
 think it necessary. From this and that I judge 'tis 
 no more than an engine-room accident." 
 
 210
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
 
 " I'm not afraid," Mrs. Prynne interjected. 
 
 "Faith, I see that, madam. But your maid, 
 
 now ? Would it not be well to return to your 
 
 stateroom and quiet her, whilst I'm ascertaining 
 the cause of this trouble? I promise to advise ye 
 instantly, whether there's danger or not." 
 
 " You're very thoughtful," she returned. " I'm 
 sure you're right. Thank you." 
 
 He escorted her to her stateroom and left her at 
 the door, remarking its number and renewing his 
 pledge to return in ten minutes more speedily if 
 possible. He was back in five, with a long face. 
 
 Mrs. Prynne answered instantly his double- 
 knuckled summons and, stepping out quickly, closed 
 the door tight. In the fraction of a second that it 
 was wide, however, O'Rourke saw one side of the 
 stateroom warm and bright with electric light, and 
 sitting there, Cecile the maid, completely dressed, 
 wide awake and vigilant. The girl was French and 
 sullenly handsome after her kind. O'Rourke got an 
 impression of a resolute chin and resolute eyes under 
 level brows ; and he did not in the least doubt that 
 she was quite prepared to make good and effectual 
 use of the revolver which she held pointed directly 
 at the opening. 
 
 Why? 
 
 From her mistress's poise, too one arm rigid at 
 her side, the hand concealed in the folds of her 
 gown O'Rourke divined that she was alert, armed.
 
 212 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 on her guard no less than the maid. But she left 
 him no time to puzzle over the mystery. 
 
 " Well ? " she demanded breathlessly. 
 
 " 'Tis as I thought, Mrs. Prynne. A cylinder- 
 head has blown off and done no end of damage. 
 We're crippled, if in no danger. The other screw 
 will take us as far as Aden, but there we'll have to 
 wait for the next boat." 
 
 Mrs. Prynne's face clouded with dismay. " How 
 long a day or two?" she demanded. 
 
 " Mayhap," he replied, no less disconsolate ; 
 " mayhap as much as a week. Faith, 'tis meself 
 that would it were otherwise, but I fear there's no 
 mending matters." 
 
 She regarded him thoughtfully for an instant. 
 
 " Then you, too, travel in haste, colonel? " 
 
 " Indeed I do so, madam. Me fortune hangs upon 
 me haste. If I get there " he checked himself 
 in time, the word Rangoon upon his lips " too late, 
 'twill be all up. I'm heavy with an urgent enter- 
 prise, madam." And he smiled. 
 
 The woman looked past him, down the dusk of 
 the gangway, apparently pondering her dilemma. 
 "What will you do?" she inquired at length. 
 
 "Faith!" he said, disturbed, "that's hard to 
 say." 
 
 She flashed him an ironic look. " You mean you 
 are resigned to the inevitable ? " 
 
 " Be the powers ! " he cried in resentment, " I'm
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 213 
 
 resigned to nothing that doesn't please me. Is it 
 that ye ask me aid? Sure, if ye do, neither the in- 
 evitable nor the impossible shall keep ye from arriv- 
 ing at Bombay, and on time ! " 
 
 Her spirit, through her eyes, answered his in a 
 flash. Then cooling, she looked him over from crown 
 to toe, weighing him deliberately in the balance of 
 her knowledge of men. He bore the inspection with 
 equanimity, quite sure of himslf, as was natural 
 in the O'Rourke. Provoked, put on his mettle, he 
 felt himself invincible, and showed it in every line 
 of his pose. She could not have wavered long; in- 
 deed, her decision was quickly manifest. Impulsively 
 she caught his two hands in her own. 
 
 " Yes," she cried, " I do believe in you ! I take 
 you at your word your generous word, Colonel 
 O'Rourke! I shall trust implicitly in you. You 
 shall get me to Bombay by the fifteenth." 
 
 " The fifteenth? " he echoed thoughtfully. " This 
 is the tenth." 
 
 " The Panjndb is scheduled to arrive on the fif- 
 teenth. All my plans depend upon there being no 
 delay." 
 
 " Five days ! ... It shall be managed, Mrs. 
 Prynne. Bombay by the fifteenth it shall be, or 
 the O'Rourke will have broken his heart ! " 
 
 She grew thoughtful. " You are very good I've 
 told you that. I believe that you will accomplish 
 what you promise. Yet it seems hardly fair to sad-
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 die you with my cares, my perils, without informing 
 you of their nature 
 
 " Madam, 'tis not the O'Rourke who would ever 
 be prying into your secrets. Let's not complicate 
 a simple situation with explanations. "Pis thus: 
 ye have come to me and put yourself in me hands, 
 saying " 
 
 " Colonel, dear," she laughed, with a delicious imi- 
 tation of his faint brogue, " will ye take me to 
 Bombay by the fifteenth ? " 
 
 " I will that," he asserted heartily : " I will if I 
 have to swim the Arabian Sea with ye in me arms ! " 
 
 To a tune of dull poundings in the engine-room, 
 the Panjnab began to move onward, limping distress- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Ye see," said O'Rourke, " the very stars work 
 in their courses to aid us." 
 
 " I pin my faith to a less heavenly body Colonel 
 O'Rourke." 
 
 " Ye may, Mrs. Prynne," he returned simply. 
 "And so 'tis good night to ye or good morning! 
 I'm off to scheme me a plan." 
 
 " But, colonel, there is one thing more." He 
 paused. " It is a question," she continued, " of 
 chartering a ship at Aden, is it not ? " 
 
 " I see no other way." 
 
 " Then spare no expense, Colonel O'Rourke. 
 Remember that I foot the bill." 
 
 " But er "
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 215 
 
 " Or, if you insist, sir, I pay nothing : Great 
 Britain pays for both of us." 
 
 "Eh? Yes?" he stammered. 
 
 " But see, colonel." 
 
 He had before then noted indifferently that she 
 wore a chain of thin, fine gold about her neck, its 
 termination presumably a locket of some sort 
 hidden in the folds of her corsage. Now she quietly 
 pulled this forth, and displayed her pendant, a little 
 trinket of gold, a running greyhound exquisitely 
 modelled. 
 
 Stunned, he stared first at the toy, then at the 
 
 woman. " Ye mean to say ? " he whispered, 
 
 doubting. 
 
 " On the King's service, Colonel O'Rourke ! " 
 
 "A King's courier, madam? You a woman!" 
 
 "And why not?" she demanded proudly. "The 
 King's messengers dare many dangers, it's true. But 
 in some of them might not a woman serve better than 
 a man? " 
 
 " True enough. Yet 'tis unprecedented at least, 
 ye'll admit, most unusual. I begin to understand. 
 That lascar, for instance ? " 
 
 " Believe me, Colonel O'Rourke, I'm at liberty 
 to tell you nothing." 
 
 " Tell me this, at least : would ye know him if ye 
 saw him again? " 
 
 " Truthfully," she said, looking him in the eye, 
 ** I would not. I will say one other word : I had
 
 216 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 anticipated his attack, although I had never seen 
 him before." 
 
 " Faith, 'tis yourself that has your courage with 
 ye, Mrs. Prynne ! . . . But good night, madam ! 
 Your servant!" 
 
 " Good night, colonel," she said softly, and as she 
 watched him swing away, laughed lightly and 
 strangely. Later, still standing outside her door, 
 she sighed, and an odd light glowed deep in her 
 eyes of greyish-green. Sighing again, and with 
 another low laugh that rang a thought derisive, as 
 though she were flouting the man whose sendee she 
 accepted so gladly, she turned and vanished within 
 her stateroom. 
 
 As she did so, the opposite door that of an in- 
 side stateroom on the same gangway was opened 
 cautiously. A turbaned head peered out, its eyes 
 glancing swiftly up and down the corridor. Long 
 since, however, the excited passengers had been 
 reassured and had returned to their berths; the 
 coast was clear. 
 
 The lascar stepped noiselessly out, shut the door 
 without a sound, and sped swiftly forward: a long, 
 brown man with an impassive cast of countenance 
 in which his eyes shone with a curious light. 
 
 As he swung into the space at the foot of the 
 saloon companionway, he collided violently with an 
 undersized and excessively red-headed Irishman, 
 nearly upsetting the latter, to say nothing of a
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 217 
 
 glass of brandy-and-soda which he was conveying 
 to a certain stateroom. 
 
 "Phwat the divvle, ye domned naygur! Pwhy 
 d'ye not look where ye're going? " demanded Danny 
 with some heat. 
 
 The East Indian backed away, bowed pro- 
 foundly, mumbling something inarticulate, and 
 sprang up the steps. Danny looked after him, for 
 a moment hesitant, then put down the tray and 
 pursued. He caught the flicker of the lascar's cum- 
 merbund as the latter escaped to the deck, and him- 
 self arrived at the forward end of the promenade 
 just in time to see a white shape disappear into the 
 steerage companionway. 
 
 " I'd take me oath," said Danny reflectively, 
 " thot he's the naygur thot came aboard at Suez. 
 'Tis meself thot wishes I'd had a betther peep at the 
 ugly mug av him. I'm thinking I'd betther be after 
 tellin' himself."
 
 CHAPTER 
 TWENTY-THREE 
 
 LURCHING drunkenly into the harbour known locally 
 as Aden Back Bay, the Panjnab came to anchor. 
 
 As it had been with Port Said, so it was with 
 Aden : a dead calm held ; the place basked unhap- 
 pily in an intolerable blaze of sunlight. A theat- 
 rical sense of unreality, of illusion, was the keynote 
 of the scene. Upon the painted water of the harbour 
 that moved only in long, oily swells, mirroring the 
 sun blindingly, painted vessels at their moorings 
 jigged solemnly and silently with their inverted, 
 painted images. Beyond them curved a crescent of 
 glaring yellow beach, backed by the dingy settlement 
 overshadowed by its three hotels ; in the background 
 the dead crater of Jebel Shan-shan reared a haggard 
 crest into a sky of dense, painty blue. The air seethed 
 with heat, causing the whole to vibrate, to tremble 
 with all the instability of mirage, or like a stage 
 backdrop swayed by an errant draught. . . . 
 
 O'Rourke, from the lower grating of the steam- 
 ship's accommodation ladder, signalled to one of the 
 swarm of hovering dinghys, and waiting for it to 
 come in, reviewed the anchored shipping, gathered 
 transiently together in that spot from the four cor- 
 ners of the earth, and shook his head despondingly. 
 
 218
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 219 
 
 A yellow-haired Somali boatman shot his little 
 craft in to the grating. O'Rourke dropped upon 
 the stern-seat and took the tiller. " Post Office 
 pier," he said curtly. The dinghy shot away with 
 dipping, dripping oars, while the Irishman continued 
 to search among the vessels for anything that seemed 
 to promise the speed necessary for his purpose, and 
 failed to discover one. 
 
 " 'Tis hopeless," he conceded bitterly as the boat 
 wove a serpentine wake in and out among the heav- 
 ing bulks. " And, I'm thinking, 'tis the O'Rourke 
 who will presently be slinking back to confess he 
 bragged beyond his powers. The fool that ye are, 
 Terence, with your big words and your fine promises, 
 all empty as your purse! 'Tis out of patience I am 
 with ye entirely ! " He gave it up, bowed to the fer- 
 vour of the .sun, pulled his helmet down over his eyes, 
 and sat sunk deep in misery ; for, sure, it was a sad, 
 sad thing that the O'Rourke should have to con- 
 fess defeat (and that at the very outset!) to a 
 woman. 
 
 Doubtless he made the very picture of unhappi- 
 ness. 
 
 So, at least, seemed to think a man lounging in a 
 dilapidated canvas deck-chair beneath a dirty awning 
 in the stern of a distant tramp steamer ; who, raking 
 the shoreward-bound with a pair of rusty binoculars, 
 had chanced to focus upon O'Rourke. 
 
 " Looks as if he hadn't a friend in the world,"
 
 said the stout man audibly. " Looks as if a letter 
 from home with a cash draft 'ud about fill his little 
 bill." 
 
 He grunted in pleased appreciation of his own 
 subtle wit. A short man he was, stout, very much 
 at home in grimy pajamas and nothing else, with 
 eyes small, blue, informed with twinkling humour 
 and set in a florid countenance bristling with a 
 three days' growth of greyish beard. 
 
 He swung the glasses again upon O'Rourke, and, 
 " Hell ! " he exclaimed, sitting up with stimulated 
 interest. "Well, by jinks!" said the stout man. 
 " Who'd a-thunk it?" 
 
 He got up with evident haste and waddled for- 
 ward to the bridge, where he came upon what he 
 evidently needed in his business : a huge and battered 
 megaphone. Applying this to his lips and filling 
 his lungs he bellowed with a right good will, and his 
 hail, not unlike the roaring of an amiable bull, awoke 
 Aden's echoes : " 0-o-Rourke! " 
 
 " Good morning," murmured the Irishman, lifting 
 his head to stare about him with incredulous curi- 
 osity. "Who's that barking at me? " 
 
 The pajama'd person continuing to shout at the 
 top of his voice, by dint of earnest staring the Irish- 
 man eventually located the source of the uproar. 
 " Now who the divvle might ye be ? " he wondered. 
 ** Ananias, me friend," to the boatman " row to 
 the steamer yonder where the noise comes from."
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
 
 Whereupon the stout man, seeing the boat alter 
 its course, put aside the megaphone. And again 
 peace brooded over Aden. 
 
 On nearer approach to the tramp, O'Rourke's 
 smile broadened to a pleased grin, and airily he 
 waved a hand to the man with the voice. 
 
 " Jimmy Quick ! " he observed with unfeigned de- 
 light. " Faith, I begin to believe that me luck holds, 
 after all ! " 
 
 From the bottom step of the tramp's ladder he 
 tossed a coin to the boatman, then mounted to the 
 deck. Incontinently the stout man fell heavily upon 
 his neck with symptoms of extreme joy. A lull suc- 
 ceeding his first transports, he wiped his eyes, beamed 
 upon his guest and suggested insinuatingly: 
 "Drink?" 
 
 " Brevity's ever the soul of your wit, captain," 
 said O'Rourke. " I will." And he meekly followed 
 Quick's bare heels forward to the officers' quarters 
 beneath the bridge. 
 
 Having set him in a chair, Quick, still a-gurgle, 
 wandered off, unearthed a bottle, beamed upon his 
 visitor, asked a dozen questions in as many breaths 
 and, without waiting for an answer, waddled off 
 again to return \vith a brace of dripping soda-water 
 bottles. " Schweppe's," he said, patting their ro- 
 tund forms tenderly ; " and the last in our lockers 
 all in your honour, colonel." 
 
 " So? " commented O'Rourke. " Hard up, is it?
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 'Tis not the O'Rourke who would be wishing ye ill, 
 captain, dear, but, faith, meself's not sorry to hear 
 that word this day. I'm thinking me luck is sound, 
 after all." 
 
 Quick had again vanished. Presently O'Rourke 
 heard his mighty voice booming down an engine- 
 room ventilator. " Dravos ! Dravos, you loafer ! 
 Come up and see a strange sight ! " 
 
 He came back, still vibrant with an elephantine 
 sort of joy. " O'Rourke," he panted, mopping a 
 damp brow with the sleeve of his jacket, " you're 
 a good sight for sore eyes. Never did we meet up 
 with you yet but there came a run of luck." 
 
 " 'Tis good hearing," said O'Rourke, smiling. 
 
 A slight little man slipped a bald head, relieved 
 by ragged patches of grey hair about the temples, 
 apologetically into the cabin door. He wore flap- 
 ping Chinese slippers, a pair of trousers that 
 seemed everlastingly on the point of slipping their 
 moorings, and a thin cotton under-shirt, all satu- 
 rated with oil and grease. His thin face, of a gentle, 
 kindly cast, streaked with grime, continually he 
 swabbed with a fistful of cotton waste and praise- 
 worthy intent, accomplishing, however, nothing more 
 than an artistic blending of smear and smudge, until 
 his entire countenance was overcast with a gloomy 
 shade, through which his faded .smile shone like 
 moonshine through a mist. 
 
 " The top of the day to ye, Dravos ! " said
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 223 
 
 O'Rourke loudly, for little Dravos was partially 
 deaf. " And how are the engines ? " 
 
 The engineer carefully hitched up his trousers 
 and regarded the wanderer with temperate geni- 
 ality. 
 
 " Good afternoon, Colonel O'Rourke," he replied, 
 clipping his words mincingly. " Very nicely, I thank 
 you." He shook hands, sat down on the edge of a 
 birth with the manner of one who fears he intrudes, 
 and glanced searchingly at Quick. " If you're going 
 to serve the drinks, cap'n," he snapped acidly, 
 " hump yourself! '* 
 
 The final words came with surprising heat and 
 vigour. Quick, startled, discontinued lumbering 
 round O'Rourke in what was apparently a mild de- 
 lirium of bliss characterised by incoherent noises in 
 the throat, and jumped to obey his engineer. Dravos 
 regarded his huge bulk and deliberate movements 
 with something of acerbity, his expression eloquent, 
 saying distinctly : " I could do this thing better, 
 more quickly, with less fuss." 
 
 He accepted his glass with a dispassionate air and 
 drank hastily after a short nod to the guest, as one 
 who sacrifices his personal inclinations to the laws 
 of hospitality. But from his after-glow of benevo- 
 lence, O'Rourke concluded that the drink had not 
 been unwelcome. 
 
 " What brings you here ? " demanded Quick in a 
 subdued roar.
 
 224, THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " I've a job for ye, if so be it ye're not otherwise 
 engaged and if ye can do it." 
 
 Quick slapped a huge thigh delightedly. " I 
 knew it could have sworn to it ! " 
 
 " Can do anything," asserted Dravos with as- 
 perity. 
 
 " 'Tis merely a question of speed," explained the 
 Irishman. " Can ye make Bombay in four days 
 be the fifteenth?" 
 
 " Dravos," roared Quick, " how much speed can 
 you get out of those damned engines ? " 
 
 " Twenty knots," snapped Dravos indignantly. 
 
 "Ye're joking." 
 
 " Not in the least," returned the engineer with 
 even more heat. 
 
 Quick slouched bulkily in his chair, eyeing the 
 ceiling reminiscently. 
 
 " We made a bit of a strike last year," he volun- 
 teered. " No matter how nor why nor where. 
 Dravos here sunk two-thirds of the money in new 
 engines. They're beauties, all right," he conceded 
 with a heavy sigh. " And we'll need them. We're 
 going to take a little stroll down through the pearl 
 fisheries pretty soon, and it takes good going to 
 beat the patrol these days. The business ain't what 
 it once was." 
 
 Dravos glared at him furiously, opened his mouth, 
 changed his mind and shut his lips tightly. O'Rourke 
 hastened to change the embarrassing subject.
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
 
 " When can you sail? " 
 
 " To-night," said Dravos. 
 
 " If," stipulated Quick, " I can pick up a crew in 
 Aden." 
 
 " 'Tis settled then." 
 
 " We'll need a bit of money in advance." 
 
 " Ye shall have it, within reason." 
 
 Dravos rose and sidled towards the door, a far- 
 away look in his pale eyes. " You strike the bar- 
 gain, Quick," he said ; " I'll have a look around the 
 engine-room." 
 
 " Right-O, Bobby. . . . Yourself alone, I 
 s'pose, O'Rourke ? " 
 
 " And three others. Danny " 
 
 "Yes, yes." 
 
 " And two ladies ; an Englishwoman and her 
 maid." 
 
 There fell a dead silence in the cabin. Dravos 
 had halted on the threshold; he smiled sourly. 
 Quick's eyes were bulging. 
 
 " A lady and her maid ? " he gasped faintly. 
 
 " Might've known it," commented Dravos. " He's 
 an Irishman." He sniffed and passed on. 
 
 O'Rourke laughed. Quick continued to eye him 
 steadily, in unmitigated stupefaction. Presently, 
 as one in a dream, he rinsed his mouth with dregs of 
 soda-water and found voice enough to assert his 
 conviction that he would be eternally damned.
 
 CHAPTER 
 TWENTY-FOUR 
 
 THE day wore on, its calm unruffled, its heat unmiti- 
 gated. Toward evening the unbearable brilliance of 
 the sky became tarnished with clouds ; night settled 
 down, a pall of blackness penetrated only by the ar- 
 tificial glow ashore and the scattered, uneasy riding 
 lights in the roadstead. A dull depression seemed to 
 weigh upon the world ; Dravos, coming to the engine- 
 room hatchway for a breathing spell, sniffed the 
 night air with a dubious, wrinkled nose, wagged his 
 bald head and morosely prophesied the advent of the 
 southwest monsoon. 
 
 By nine o'clock the Ranee lay with steam up, 
 ready to weigh anchor. Miracles had been wrought 
 within a few hours aboard that disreputable thou- 
 sand-ton tramp. Her captain had been ashore, 
 picked up a crew and laid in a week's supply of pro- 
 visions, had interviewed the harbour authorities, se- 
 cured his clearing papers and attended to a thou- 
 sand minor details ; to finance all of which O'Rourke 
 advanced money from his private purse. 
 
 It is no praise to Dravos to state that his engines 
 were in admirable condition. Such was their invari- 
 
 226
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 
 
 able state. For an assistant he impressed into serv- 
 ice none other than Danny Mahone, to Danny's 
 intense dismay. However, it was the O'Rourke's 
 order, and whatsoever the O'Rourke desired, that 
 Danny did with a show of cheerfulness, however dis- 
 tasteful he might find the work. 
 
 O'Rourke took upon himself the duties of first 
 officer under Captain Quick. The Irishman cared 
 little for the sea, knew less of a first officer's duties ; 
 but it was patent that Quick could not stand every 
 watch, and O'Rourke was not to be daunted by any 
 such slight matter as nautical inexperience. 
 
 Quarters had been provided for Mrs. Prynne and 
 her maid, Quick not only surrendering his room, but 
 working with a will to clear and cleanse it, in a sin- 
 cere but almost hopeless attempt to make it fit for 
 a woman's occupancy. 
 
 By nine all was ready; and at that hour, for 
 the second time that day, O'Rourke ascended the 
 accommodation ladder of the Panjnab. At the 
 lower grating there awaited him one of the Ranee's 
 boats, manned by a brace of lascars drawn from 
 Quick's makeshift crew: a sullen pair of scoundrels, 
 both warned to hold no converse with any of the 
 Panjnab's men, under penalty, if discovered, of 
 O'Rourke's extreme displeasure; which they were 
 further given to understand was no light matter. 
 
 For O'Rourke was anything but easy in his mind ; 
 at intervals all through the day there had been re-
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 curring to him a sincere regret that Mrs. Prynne had 
 interfered to prevent the summary punishment he 
 would have dealt out to her assailant on the prome- 
 nade deck. 
 
 " 'Twas a mistake, to me own way of thinking," 
 he pondered. " 'Tis in that divvle her danger lies 
 whatever at all it may be, which I meself can't 
 guess. Sure, the man had some motive for making 
 that attack. 'Tisn't likely at all he will have for- 
 got it. I'm persuaded 'tis as well that he and we 
 are to continue the journey be different ships." 
 
 He kept an eye sharp for sight of the lascar aboard 
 the Panjnab, but .saw nothing of him. The crippled 
 steamer was all but deserted, its quondam passen- 
 gers having eagerly availed themselves of the op- 
 portunity for a run ashore and a sojourn at one of 
 the beach hotels. So, meeting practically no one, 
 and that much to his relief, O'Rourke found his way 
 to Mrs. Prynne's stateroom. As on previous occa- 
 sions, his guarded knock was answered immediately, 
 and he observed the same extreme caution in the 
 woman's wary manner as well as her maid's readi- 
 ness. 
 
 " *Tis deep," he told himself: "a rare deep mys- 
 tery. I'm thinking meself will never see the bottom 
 of it. ... Mrs. Prynne " aloud " is it ready 
 ye are? " 
 
 The Englishwoman's expressive smile drew atten- 
 tion to her costume, and O'Rourke was forced to
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 229 
 
 acknowledge his question superfluous ; Mrs. Prynne 
 was prepared for anything. 
 
 She had donned a serviceable tweed tourist suit, 
 short of skirt and cut with a certain simplicity that 
 would have evoked the comment " sensible " had it 
 been worn by another of her country-women. She, 
 to the contrary, lent it an indefinable grace that 
 robbed its uncompromising lines of their severity. 
 From her helmet to her canvas puttees there was not 
 a trace of the mannish; she showed herself entirely 
 feminine, wholly charming and more important 
 still dressed precisely as she should be to brave the 
 hardships of a voyage on a tramp of the Eastern 
 seas. 
 
 " Have you explained to Captain Captain ? " 
 
 "Quick?" 
 
 " Captain Quick, that his bill is to be presented 
 to the Indian Government, by which it will be 
 promptly paid, in cash?" 
 
 " I have that, madam ; 'tis all settled, and the cap- 
 tain understands that he sails on His Majesty's 
 business." He paused and threw back his head, 
 smiling his triumph. " Did I not tell ye, madam? 
 Did ye do ill to trust in the O'Rourke? " 
 
 " You shall learn of my gratitude, colonel." 
 
 " Not a word of that, if ye please ! The boat's in 
 waiting for ye, madam, and the Ranee is straining 
 at her cable like your golden greyhound at his leash, 
 impatient to be off."
 
 230 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 Mrs. Prynne turned. " Cecile ! Now, 
 
 colonel dear, I'm at your orders." 
 
 Three minutes later the Panjnab was minus four 
 more passengers Danny being already aboard the 
 Ranee, hearking sulkily enough to a lecture on the 
 rules of engine-room etiquette as propounded by a 
 bald-headed wisp of oil-soaked humanity " wid 
 trousies," Danny complained, " thot forever made 
 ye hopeful of bein* shocked." 
 
 The tramp was riding with anchor a-trip, and 
 hardly had Mrs. Prynne set foot upon the deck 
 ere the ship began to move. Within the hour Dravos' 
 engines had settled into their stride, and the Ranee, 
 with a bone between her teeth, was stretching down 
 the Gulf of Aden, pointing her nose to the heart of 
 the Arabian Sea. 
 
 In the knowledge that they were safely off at last 
 there was poignant relief to the wanderer, as he 
 stood by Quick's side, on the bridge, with midnight, 
 imminent and the ship still and peaceful. He peered 
 into the oppressive thickness ahead, saw nothing 
 and was glad. The damp air puffing in his face 
 was sharp with the tang of the open sea, sweet with 
 an assurance of dangers passed. To that moment 
 Mrs. Prynne's secret had weighed upon his imagina- 
 tion; now it was a matter of no immediate conse- 
 quence. For the succeeding days there would be 
 naught to do save to stand watch-and-watch with 
 Quick and mayhap, indulge in a bit of philander- 
 ing, just by way of diversion.
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 231 
 
 The Irishman heaved a deep sigh of contentment: 
 "Faith!" briefly. 
 
 " Come again? " suggested Quick, turning from 
 the wheel. 
 
 " I was merely expressing me pleasure in being 
 out of that mess, captain dear," explained O'Rourke 
 obscurely. 
 
 "What mess?" 
 
 O'Rourke glanced at the man at the wheel a 
 stalwart lascar, apparently a Malay, erect, self- 
 contained, impassive, eyes on the binnacle, arms shin- 
 ing like polished bronze in the light of the lamp as 
 point by point he shifted the spokes. He seemed ut- 
 terly oblivious to all save his duty; nevertheless, a 
 vague distrust of all men of his colour stirred in 
 O'Rourke. 
 
 " A fine night," he observed obscurely, glancing 
 at the sky : " be the smell of it, 'tis rain we'll be hav- 
 ing the morning, Jimmy Quick." 
 
 The northern horizon glowed pale gold for a long 
 minute; and then again the world was black. A 
 salvo of shocks rattled through the night-wrapped 
 void. 
 
 " Thunderstorms," commented Quick superflu- 
 ously. " Showers before sun-up, then the monsoon. 
 You didn't answer my question," he persisted quer- 
 ously. "I said, what mess?" 
 
 O'Rourke moved abstractedly to the far end of the 
 bridge, keeping an eye on the man at the wheel. 
 
 " 'Twas the divvle of a mess for the little woman,"
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 said O'Rourke. " I'll tell ye about it, me boy, but 
 for the love of Hiven, captain, if ye have to make 
 any comments, whisper 'em. Then not more than 
 half the ship will hear." 
 
 He recounted briefly, in crisp phrases, Mrs. 
 Prynne's adventure on the Panjnab. When he con- 
 cluded Quick whistled softly. 
 
 " She let him go? " he iterated, with an obvious 
 effort to gentle his voice. " What'n hell'd she do 
 that for?" 
 
 " Mainly," O'Rourke speculated, " to avoid at- 
 tracting attention to herself, I'm thinking. I've told 
 ye what she is." 
 
 " King's courier? Something diplomatic, I sup- 
 pose. Well, probably she knows her business ; 
 damned if I do." 
 
 " Never a truer word passed your lips, captain," 
 laughed O'Rourke ; " and as much can be said for 
 meself." 
 
 " Oh, well ! " said the captain, " she's got no 
 cause to worry now. We'll pull her through on time 
 or bust a gallus, O'Rourke." 
 
 He stepped to the rail and leaning over bawled: 
 " Silence, there ! " And for a time peace obtained 
 amongst the group of lascars that had been squat- 
 ting on the forward deck, squabbling vociferously, 
 after the manner of their kind. Their disputa- 
 tion, whatever its cause, subsided into sullen mut-
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 233 
 
 terings, oddly mocked by the grumbling thunder be- 
 low the northern horizon. 
 
 Quick shrugged his heavy shoulders. " Always 
 scrapping like a pack of crows ! " he complained. 
 " I'd give the mess of them for half a dozen white 
 men Sou'wegians at that. . . . What d'ye 
 s'pose that fellow was after? " he pursued, lowering 
 his tone. 
 
 " 'Tis nothing at all to me," returned O'Rourke ; 
 " 'tis the lady's secret and be the same token none of 
 mine." He yawned, stretching himself. " I'm 
 thinking 'tis bedtime." 
 
 " Right-O," assented Quick. The chorus of the 
 lascars arose again in full angry blast, and again 
 the captain found need to caution them. " Stop 
 that yapping, you " Followed a lull, as pre- 
 viously. 
 
 " I'll stand the night watches," the captain 
 took up the thread of conversation. " By morning 
 we'll be far enough out for you to take hold without 
 spraining the art of seamanship. G'dnight." 
 
 " Thank ye," said O'Rourke. In fact, he had 
 long been sensible that he was very drowsy; the 
 night wind in his face had something to do with that. 
 " Good night," he returned, and went down the lad- 
 der to the deck. 
 
 At its foot he paused, turning curiously; it 
 seemed that surely there must be some serious trouble
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 afoot in the crew. They were at it again, with a 
 more ugly note in their yelping. The Irishman 
 could see in the glimmer of the forecastle lantern a 
 confused blur of naked, shining, brown bodies and 
 limbs, apparently inextricably locked. A scream 
 rang shrill and there followed the sound of a heavy 
 fall. 
 
 Overhead, on the bridge, Quick was roaring him- 
 self hoarse, without effect. The sounds of shuffling, 
 of blows, harsh-breathing, stifled cries, continued. 
 A knot of the contestants swept, whirling, aft to- 
 ward the superstructure. Something shot singing 
 through the air; the wind of it fanned O'Rourke's 
 cheek. 
 
 With an unconscious, surprised oath, O'Rourke 
 stepped aside, his hand going toward his revolver. 
 The missile struck a stanchion, glanced and fell 
 clattering into the scuppers. Revolver in hand, he 
 went forward to the rail, overlooking the struggling 
 rabble on the deck below. But they seemed intent 
 only on their private differences, and Quick's roars 
 were bringing them to their senses. Gradually the 
 tumult subsided, the contestants separating and 
 slinking forward to their quarters. 
 
 " It may have been chance," O'Rourke conceded 
 a bit doubtfully. He swung about and moved aft 
 slowly, examining the deck intently. In a moment 
 or two he stopped and picked up a long, thin- 
 bladed knife, double-edged and keen as a razor.
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 235 
 
 The point was broken, having doubtless been snapped 
 off at the moment of contact with the deck-house. 
 O'Rourke turned it over soberly. 
 
 " Faith, I don't like to think it was intentional 
 but me head would have been split had it come two 
 inches to the left." 
 
 He returned to the bridge, calling Quick aside. 
 You're armed? " 
 
 " Certainly always armed when I'm dealing with 
 these devils. Why?" 
 
 O'Rourke showed him the knife. Quick laughed 
 at his theory. " Nothing in it," he was pleased to 
 believe. Nevertheless, before he turned in, the wan- 
 derer clambered down the iron ladders to the en- 
 gine-room for a conference with Dravos and ftanny. 
 He lay down under arms and only fell asleep after a 
 long period of wakefulness troubled by dark fore- 
 bodings. Ordinarily, too, his slumbers were sound 
 enough, whatever the circumstances, but this night 
 he awoke, writhing in the grip of nightmare, dream- 
 ing that the Pool of Flame had turned into a ball of 
 malignant fire and was burning a hole through his 
 breast, working with purpose towards his heart. A 
 clutch at the chamois bag beneath his left arm, how- 
 ever, assured him that it was safe and cool enough, 
 for that matter. And he turned and slept again.
 
 CHAPTER 
 TWENTY-FIVE 
 
 THE day came out of the East with a windy swag- 
 ger; as Quick had foretold, a series of thunder- 
 storms swept the sea before dawn, so that it, like 
 the sky, seemed newly washed, clean and brilliant. 
 The watery waste stretched wide and vacant before 
 the Ranee's bows, untenanted by sail, unsmudged 
 by smoke. The waves, breaking out here and there 
 with glistening froth, raced the ship eastwards, 
 running before the monsoon. As the hours length- 
 ened, the temperature rose, making an awning 
 nothing to be despised, yet the clearness of the 
 atmosphere, the absence of humidity and the strong, 
 sweet breath of the trade wind tempered the sun's 
 ardour and made it a day to be marked with a 
 white stone for the sense of purely animal well- 
 being it induced. 
 
 O'Rourke relieved Quick at four bells of the 
 morning watch and kept the deck for the remainder 
 of the day, his meals being brought to him on the 
 bridge. His duties were simple enough, requiring 
 little more than a display of the habit of authority 
 which sat so well on his broad shoulders. It was 
 
 236
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 237 
 
 no great trick to keep the crew in order: they went 
 about their work peaceably enough and showed no 
 signs of desiring to renew their disputations. Oth- 
 erwise he had to keep an eye upon the helmsman 
 and see that he held the Ranee to the course pre- 
 scribed by Quick ; and that was nothing difficult to 
 a man of average intelligence. Naught but deep 
 water lay between them and Bombay, so long as a 
 direct course was shaped and maintained. 
 
 As the sunlit watches wore out and nothing un- 
 toward took place, O'Rourke's grim apprehen- 
 sions dissipated into shadows. He began to believe 
 with Quick that the affair of the winged knife was 
 merely a hapchance accident, quite unpremeditated. 
 Lascars do use knives promiscuously: the knife is 
 their law and their leveller, making all men equal. 
 And it's as dangerous to figure as an innocent by- 
 stander when lascars start in to arbitrate their dis- 
 putes as it is to play that role at a " gun-fight " 
 in a Western mining camp. 
 
 O'Rourke breathed more freely as this view of 
 the matter obtruded itself the more insistently upon 
 his judgment. The one blot on his satisfaction 
 with the swing of his world was the fact that Mrs. 
 Prynne had pleaded indisposition as an excuse for 
 keeping to her berth the day long. 
 
 Below decks, Dravos and Danny were standing 
 watch-and-watch, with clockwork regularity, where 
 the former's beloved engines were justifying his.
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 confidence and pride in them and clicking off their 
 twenty knots without a hitch. 
 
 Now Danny happened to have " off " the first 
 afternoon watch. O'Rourke from the bridge saw 
 him come up the engine-room companion ladder, 
 dive into the messroom for his dinner, and later 
 emerge, picking his teeth and grinning self-com- 
 placency until his master could have kicked him, 
 had such a course been politic before the crew or 
 even consistent with the dignity of his office. It 
 appeared that his sage counsel as to the wisdom of 
 abstinence from flirtation had been wasted upon 
 the servant, or else Cecile had proven herself quite 
 irresistible. 
 
 Cecile herself presently came on deck for a breath 
 of air, and spent ten minutes leaning her dark head 
 entirely too close to Danny's shoulder, while the 
 pair of them watched the foamy smother kicked up 
 by the screw. Recalled to a sense of duty, she 
 fluttered away to her mistress, and Danny strolled 
 forward, beaming. O'Rourke caught glimpses of 
 him from time to time as he sauntered here and 
 there about the ship, smoking and eyeing the las- 
 cars with ill-concealed contempt; but it was close 
 upon eight bells again before the valet hailed him, 
 with a truly nautical pull at his forelock and 
 an impudent grin, from the foot of the bridge 
 ladder. 
 
 " What d'ye want, Don Juan ? " demanded
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 239 
 
 O'Rourke with irony that was wasted upon the 
 boy. 
 
 " A word to say to ye, sor, if I may make so 
 bold." 
 
 O'Rourke glanced at the helmsman, and having 
 long since made up his mind that the man was 
 competent, left him in possession of the bridge 
 for a space, and joined Danny below. 
 
 "What is it, ye gay deceiver?" 
 
 Danny lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. 
 " Kape yer eye on thot black divvle up there, sor, 
 for the love of Hiven, and don't look surprised 
 at anything " 
 
 O'Rourke moved a few paces aft, along the rail, 
 to a point whence he could see the head and shoul- 
 ders of the helmsman. " Well ? " 
 
 " 'Tis nawthin' I cud swear to, sor, but 'tis me- 
 self thot's mortal leary av these naygurs rayspicts 
 to ye and and " 
 
 " Come, come ! Out with it, Danny." 
 
 " Sure, sor, 'tis the serang. Have ye chanced to 
 notice him, sor? " 
 
 O'Rourke glanced down to the fore deck, where 
 the personage in question was standing at ease. 
 " What of him ? " he inquired, running his eye over 
 the fellow's superb proportions. Indeed, he tow- 
 ered head and shoulders above his fellows, over 
 whom he exercised a boatswain's authority. He 
 was staring out to sea, his brown arms naked to
 
 240 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 the shoulder and folded across his breast, the mus- 
 cles and tendons of his long, gaunt legs standing 
 out like steed bands. A dirty turban was wrapped 
 about his head and a gaily coloured sash, much 
 the worse for wear, concealed his breech-clout and 
 the lower part of his thin, blue cotton chirt. His 
 pose was one of natural, unaffected dignity, and 
 something thoughtful. 
 
 "What of him?" repeated O'Rourke. 
 
 " 'Tis nawthin' I'd take me oath to, sor, but I'm 
 thinkin' he's the man who boarded the Panjnab 
 at Suez, sor. And as for the naygur I run against 
 on the s'loon deck, yer honour, he's his mortal 
 twin." 
 
 " Ah," commented O'Rourke. " Thank you, 
 Danny." 
 
 He continued to watch the serang until the lat- 
 ter, as if influenced by the fixity of the Irishman's 
 regard, turned and stared directly into O'Rourke's 
 eyes. For a full minute he gave him look for look, 
 dark eyes steadfast and unyielding above his fine 
 aquiline nose, then calmly turned his back, resum- 
 ing his contemplation of the turbulent horizon. 
 
 An instant later Quick came up to relieve 
 O'Rourke, and, eight bells sounding, Danny 
 dived below to take Dravos' place. O'Rourke, un- 
 pleasantly impressed by the incident, still forbore 
 to mention it to either of the ship's owners ; he 
 retired to think it over, and spent a long hour
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 241 
 
 consuming an indifferent cigar and studying the 
 cracks in the bulkhead between his room and the 
 cabin. 
 
 Without profit, however. Lacking more substan- 
 tial proof than Danny's suspicions, he could arrive 
 at no definite conclusion. It was possible, of course, 
 that the lascar who had attacked Mrs. Prynne, 
 divining O'Rourke's purpose, had gone ashore at 
 Arden, and, putting himself in Quick's way, had suc- 
 ceeded in securing the position of serang. But this 
 argued almost supernatural powers of divination on 
 the lascar's part, unless he had managed to overhear 
 O'Rourke's conversation with Mrs. Prynne imme- 
 diately after the accident. And then O'Rourke re- 
 called that Danny had met the lascar coming from 
 the direction of the woman's stateroom. 
 
 All things were possible, all improbable. O'Rourke 
 reserved judgment, meanwhile urged to a more 
 scrupulous watchfulness. He said nothing of the 
 matter to Mrs. Prynne who emerged quite radiant 
 
 from her long rest to dine with him and kept his 
 
 fears from the captain. 
 
 The night passed without incident ; the second day 
 dawned the counterpart of its predecessor, and wore 
 away quietly enough. The ship's company seemed 
 to have settled down to routine, in the confidence 
 that their voyage was to be a normal one. Barring 
 himself and possibly Danny though Danny was 
 habitually thoughtless and the Irishman's own ap-
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 prehensions were becoming lulled none had grounds 
 for any fears to the contrary, thought O'Rourke 
 in his error. 
 
 It fell to him to stand the first dog-watch, 
 from four to six in the evening. Shortly after 
 he ascended the bridge, it was his happiness to be 
 joined by Mrs. Prynne, who improved the moment 
 to express her gratification with the propitious tide 
 in her affairs. The King's courier was pleased to 
 declare herself very well pleased indeed, though she 
 admitted, under jocular pressure, that she consid- 
 ered she was roughing it. Captain Quick's quarters 
 were by no means palatial, and the bill of fare, 
 while substantially composed, lacked something of 
 variety; but that was all a part of the great and 
 fascinating game she played the game of secret 
 service to His Majesty, Edward VII. 
 
 Not that alone, but she was comforted by the 
 assurance that her voyage would soon be over, her 
 mission discharged, her responsibility a thing of the 
 past. She would be glad to see Bombay. 
 
 " One never knows, you know, Colonel O'Rourke," 
 she said with a little gesture expressive of her allow- 
 ance for the unforeseen. 
 
 O'Rourke divined she had something on her mind 
 which she hesitated to voice, though they were prac- 
 tically alone; the man at the wheel was a nonen- 
 tity a bronze statue in a faded shirt, ragged tur- 
 ban and soiled cummerbund.
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 243 
 
 " Then 'tis yourself will be glad, I gather, to 
 be rid of us, madam? " 
 
 She smiled, deprecatory. " What would you ? " 
 she asked in French, with a significant glance up 
 into O'Rourke's eyes a glance that, implying, as 
 it did, a certain amount of intimacy, a mutual un- 
 derstanding, a barrier down between them, in other 
 days would fairly have distracted the Irishman. 
 But now it served only to remind him of other eyes 
 that had coquetry for him alone. 
 
 " It's not precisely pleasant to be constantly ap- 
 prehensive," the woman continued in the same 
 tongue, " even when one has a Colonel O'Rourke to 
 look to for protection." 
 
 " Ah, madame ! " expostulated the wanderer. 
 " But what makes ye so positive I'd not turn tail 
 and run away from any real danger? " 
 
 She gave him a look that brimmed with mirth. 
 " A man who is a coward," she said slowly, " doesn't 
 stand still and draw a revolver when a heavy knife 
 is thrown at his head." 
 
 "Quick told ye, madam?" 
 
 " No, I saw heard the quarrelling on the forward 
 deck and got to the companionway in time to see 
 what happened. Had you not been so intent on 
 your search for the knife, you would have seen me. 
 As it was, I slipped below again without attracting 
 attention." 
 
 "But why?"
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " To get my revolver, monsieur le colonel" 
 
 " 'Twas naught but an accident " 
 
 "You do not believe that yourself, colonel dear; 
 for my part, I " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Someone tried my door last night, after you'd 
 retired." 
 
 " Ye are sure ? " doubted O'Rourke, disturbed. 
 
 " Quite. I was awake thinking ; I heard you 
 come below and close your door at eight bells; 
 long after there were footsteps someone walking 
 in his bare feet in the saloon. Then the knob was 
 turned, very gently. Fortunately, the door was 
 bolted; someone put a shoulder to it, but it held 
 fast. I caught up my revolver indeed and I am 
 very reckless with it, sir ! and opened the door my- 
 self. The saloon was quite empty." 
 
 " Ye shouldn't have risked that " 
 
 " I had to know, with so much at stake," she 
 said simply. 
 
 O'Rourke endeavoured to manufacture a plausi- 
 ble and reassuring explanation to the fact. " Quick, 
 Danny, or Dravos, mistaking their rooms " 
 
 " It was none of them. Captain Quick was on 
 deck; I heard his voice almost simultaneously; surely 
 I couldn't mistake that." She laughed. " Nor 
 would your man or Mr. Dravos have been so stealthy, 
 so instant to escape."
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 245 
 
 " But but- 
 
 " My theory, if you will have it, is that mine 
 enemy of the Panjnab is one of the crew of the 
 Ranee, monsieur." 
 
 Mrs. Prynne made this statement as quietly as 
 though she were commenting on the weather. But 
 her belief chimed so exactly with his own that 
 O'Rourke was stricken witless and at a loss to frame 
 a satisfactory refutation. He was silent for -some 
 moments, his lips a thin hard line, a crinkle of anxi- 
 ety between his brows. 
 
 " If ye'd only permitted me to attend to 
 him " he growled at length. 
 
 " You are right," she admitted, " but I am 
 desolated the mischief's done." 
 
 "Faith, yes!" he sighed dejectedly. His gaze 
 roved the deck and fastened upon the serang. " It 
 might be any one of them," he considered aloud. 
 
 " Any one. For instance, though the serang? " 
 
 " Why d'ye suspect him more than another? " 
 he demanded, startled. 
 
 " Call it feminine intuition, if you like. The man 
 looks capable of anything." 
 
 " Yes. But sure, there's no telling at all." 
 
 " No telling," she concurred quietly. " We can but 
 wait, watch, hope that I imagined the hand at my 
 door." 
 
 " There might be something in that."
 
 246 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " I am neither nervous nor an imaginative woman." 
 " At all events, I'll go bail 'twill not happen a 
 second time." 
 
 " How do you propose to prevent it ? " 
 " Sure, the simplest way in the world. I my- 
 self will stand guard in the saloon, madam." 
 
 *' But no, monsieur ; I can better afford to lose 
 a little sleep than have you forfeit your rest. Be- 
 sides, I have Cecile . . ." 
 
 There ensued an argument without termination; 
 he remained obdurate, she insistent. Only the ap- 
 pearance of Quick on the stroke of four bells forced 
 them to shelve the subject. It was resumed at the 
 dinner table and carried out in a light manner of 
 banter for a time, dropped and forgotten, appar- 
 ently, by all but O'Rourke.
 
 CHAPTER 
 TWENTY-SIX 
 
 THE night fell clear as crystal and wonderfully 
 bright with stars ; the wind went down with the sun, 
 then rose again refreshed and waxed to half a gale. 
 At midnight O'Rourke, leaving the bridge, left the 
 Ranee driving steadily through a racing sea, 
 through a world noisy with the crisp rattle and 
 crash of breaking crests. 
 
 Fortifying himself with strong coffee, the ad- 
 venturer settled himself in a chair by the foot of 
 the companionway steps leading up from the tiny 
 saloon that served as dining-room for all but the 
 crew of the tramp. From this position he com- 
 manded both entrances, port and starboard, from 
 the upper deck, as well as the doors that flanked 
 them on either hand, to the quarters occupied by 
 Mrs. Prynne and to Dravos' stateroom, which was 
 empty and would be so until the next change of 
 watch. 
 
 The succeeding hours dragged interminably, quiet 
 and uneventful. 
 
 About six bells the moon got up, and its rays, fil- 
 tering through the heavy-ribbed glass of the sky- 
 
 247
 
 248 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 light, filled the saloon with an opalescent shimmer 
 that assorted incongruously with the dull glow of 
 the electric bulbs dull, because there was some- 
 thing wrong with the dynamo, according to Dravos. 
 
 O'Rourke, weary and yawning, watched the milky 
 rainbow dance upon the half-opaque glass overhead 
 for several moments before it conveyed to him a 
 warning. Then immediately he abandoned his seat 
 and stretched himself out upon a transom against 
 the after bulkhead, whence he could see something 
 less of the upper gangway, but sufficient for his 
 purposes. For his chair had been beneath the sky- 
 light, and the wings of that were open for venti- 
 lation. 
 
 " 'Tis safer here," he considered. " There'll be 
 no dropping one of those long knives on me now, 
 be premeditated inadvertence, I'm thinking." 
 
 He gaped tremendously. The peace of the night, 
 the singing of the waves against the Ranee's sides, 
 the deep throb and unbroken surge of her engines. 
 and the sustained, clear note of the monsoon in her 
 wire rigging these combined with physical fatigue 
 to soothe the man, to lull him into fantastic bor- 
 derland of dreams. Yet such was his command of 
 self that he would not yield to the caressing touch 
 of drowsiness, but merely lay motionless and at 
 rest, communing with his fancy. And that led him 
 out of the sordid saloon of the Ranee across the seas 
 that lay ahead of that ship's prow, to the fair
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 249 
 
 land whither he was to convey the Pool of 
 Flame. . . . 
 
 Abruptly he leapt to his feet, wide awake and 
 raging. 
 
 A blow was still sounding through the saloon, a 
 dull crash. Buried half way to the hilt in the bulk- 
 head back of the transom a knife quivered. In- 
 stinctively the wanderer's fingers had closed upon 
 the grip of his revolver. He pulled the trigger 
 almost before he realised what had happened and 
 sent a bullet winging toward a spot on the gangway 
 above where a pair of long brown legs had been but 
 now were not. On the heels of that fruitless shot 
 he sent another, this time with no murderous in- 
 tent, but to warn the captain on the bridge. Here 
 at last was an issue forced, animus proven, assas- 
 sination indisputably attempted. 
 
 He sprang for the companionway, was half way 
 up it in a thought, his heart hot within him, mouth 
 dry with thirst for that lascar's blood. Not a 
 third time should the man escape his judgment at 
 the hands of O'Rourke, he swore. 
 
 A stentorian roar saluted him as he gained the 
 
 deck a bellow choked and ending in a sickening 
 
 gurgle. O'Rourke in a flash swung on his heel. 
 Simultaneously he came face to face with Quick. He 
 could have cried aloud in pity. 
 
 The captain swayed before him, a massively built 
 figure clothed all in white, huge arms trembling to-
 
 250 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 wards his head, revolver dropping from a nerveless 
 hand, his chin fallen forward on his chest, a stupid, 
 weary smile on his face, and a dark and hideous 
 smear spreading swiftly over the bosom of his 
 shirt. 
 
 A cry of horror, despair and rage stuck in the 
 wanderer's throat. Quick, who had hailed his ap- 
 pearance on the Ranee at Aden as a harbinger of 
 good luck, had been foully murdered. His domi- 
 nant emotion of the moment, an intense and pitiful 
 solicitude for the dying man, threw him off his guard. 
 Under its influence he forgot the desperate case to 
 which this tragedy brought all aboard the Ranee, 
 put out his arms, received the falling body, and let 
 it gently to the deck. 
 
 But in a trice he was alive again to his own peril. 
 In the twinkling of an eye he saw a flash of light 
 gliding towards him with resistless impetus. In- 
 tuitively he swung to one side, to the right, and 
 leapt to his feet. At that the knife, a kris sinuous 
 and keen, ran cold upon the flesh of his chest, slit 
 through his shirt, caught in the thong that held 
 the Pool of Flame, and tore out, leaving a flapping 
 hole and scraping a hand's breadth of skin from 
 his forearm. Heedless of this, only in fact subcon- 
 sciously aware that the chamois bag had fallen 
 to the deck, he caught at the hand that had wielded 
 the kris ; his fingers closed about the wrist, and, brac- 
 ing himself, he swung the assassin off his feet. So
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 251 
 
 doing, his fingers slipped on the man's greasy skin 
 and he stumbled off his balance. 
 
 His object, however, had been accomplished. The 
 murderer, hurled a yard or more through the air, 
 fell and slid along the deck into a group of lascars, 
 one of whom, like a nine-pin, was knocked over and 
 fell atop of him. 
 
 O'Rourke recovered and stepped forward, revolver 
 poised to administer the quietus to the murderer 
 an amiable intention which was, however, doomed 
 to frustration. With almost inconceivable swift- 
 ness the group of lascars had become a mere tangle 
 of arms and legs, a melange of struggling limbs 
 and bodies. Where he had thought to find a single 
 prostrate form, there were six struggling in con- 
 fusion on the deck. 
 
 For a thought he stayed his finger on the trigger, 
 waiting to pick out the undermost and slay him 
 first of all, unwilling, furthermore, to waste one of 
 the four invaluable cartridges remaining in his re- 
 volver. And then unexpectedly the tragedy seemed 
 over and done with altogether. 
 
 From the bottom of the heap of bodies a terrible 
 cry of mortal anguish shrilled loud; and almost at 
 once the mob seemed to resolve into its original 
 elements. Five lascars crawled, arose, or flung them- 
 selves away from the sixth, who lay inert, prone, 
 limbs still twitching, a knife buried in his back. 
 
 For a thought the tableau held, there in the pure
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 brilliance of the moonlight: the half a dozen stand- 
 ing figures, O'Rourke a space apart from the rest, 
 and two bodies, the .one face down, Quick with a 
 face to the stars, each with its dread background: 
 a black stain that grew and spread slowly upon 
 the white, dazzling planks. 
 
 Quietly the tallest of the lascars moved for- 
 ward, knelt and drew the knife from the back of 
 his dead fellow. He straightened up, facing 
 O'Rourke without a tremor, his eyes afire, and wiped 
 the blade of the kris on his cummerbund. 
 
 " Do not shoot, sahib," he said smoothly in excel- 
 lent English. " Do not shoot, sahib, for it is I who 
 have avenged. This dog," and with his toe he 
 stirred the thing at his feet, " ran amok. Now he 
 is dead." 
 
 This was the serang who spoke. O'Rourke eyed 
 him coldly through a prolonged silence. At length, 
 " That seems quite evident," he admitted coolly. 
 " Pick up that body and throw it overboard ! " he 
 commanded sharply. 
 
 In obedience to a sign from the serang, two of 
 the lascars seized the body. A subsequent splash 
 overside told the Irishman that his order had been 
 carried out. But he heard it abstractedly, con- 
 fronted as he was with a problem whose difficulty 
 was not to be underestimated, the problem embodied 
 in the statuesque, imperturbable serang. 
 
 It was hard to know what to do, what to believe,
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 253 
 
 what action to take. If he were right in his sur- 
 mise, the serang should rightly be shot down in- 
 stantly, without an instant's respite. Yet the heart- 
 less brutality upon which his theory was based made 
 him hesitate. It was difficult to believe that the 
 serang had been able to accomplish what O'Rourke 
 was inclined to credit him with: that he, the wielder 
 of the kris, the murderer of Quick, thrown off his 
 feet by the Irishman's attack, had deliberately in- 
 volved his fellows with him in his fall and profited 
 by the confusion to slay one upon whom he could 
 throw the blame for all that had happened. 
 
 The weapon quivered in O'Rourke's grasp. More 
 than once in that brief debate he was tempted to 
 shoot the fellow on suspicion. Yet he held his hand ; 
 he could not be positive. With every circumstance 
 against him, he might still be telling the truth. The 
 whole horrible affair might boil down to nothing 
 more than an insane crime of a crazy Malay, one 
 who, as the serang claimed, had " run amok." 
 
 He had not made up his mind, when his thoughts 
 were given a new turn by a new complication, in 
 the shape of Mrs. Prynne herself. That lady came 
 up the companion steps with no apparent hesita- 
 tion, no fear or apprehension ; quietly and confidently 
 alert, on the other hand, she was visibly armed and 
 prepared against danger in whatever form she might 
 have to encounter it. 
 
 She came directly to the adventurer, without
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 so much as a glance for the group of lascars or the 
 grim evidences of tragedy upon the deck. O'Rourke 
 shut his teeth with exasperation. Whatever he de- 
 cided to believe of the serang, whether his judgment 
 said of the man, " Guilty," or " Not guilty," he 
 dared risk nothing with the woman present. He 
 could not tell what hell of murder and mutiny he 
 might not let loose upon the Ranee, did he make 
 one ill-advised or hasty move. Alone, he could have 
 faced the situation with equanimity: with the 
 woman by his side, he felt as though handcuffed. 
 
 "You are hurt, Colonel O'Rourke?" 
 
 " A mere scratch, madam an inch of skin shaved 
 off me arm. Be good enough to return to the saloon, 
 waken Danny and send him to me." 
 
 She ignored the curtness of his tone, even as she 
 ignored his wish. "What has happened?" she de- 
 manded, ranging herself by his side. " Who is 
 that there on the deck ? " Her voice rising a note, 
 foreboded hysteria. 
 
 " Quick stabbed. I didn't want ye to see. !A! 
 lascar ran amok, cut down the captain, was killed 
 himself kindness," the irrepressible humourist broke 
 out, " of our little brown brother, the serang." 
 
 His eyes never left the latter ; not for an instant 
 did he take his attention from the cluster of dark 
 figures ; he was more than every ready to defend 
 himself should they make any overt move, deem- 
 ing his attention distracted.
 
 " She was visibly armed and prepared against 
 
 danger in whatever. form she might 
 
 have to encounter it "
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 255 
 
 "What will you do?" 
 
 " How can I say ? Do ye, for the love of God, 
 get below and leave me to deal with these fiends in 
 me own fashion." 
 
 " Which," she returned equably, " is precisely 
 what I shall not do." 
 
 " If that's the case," he said brusquely, " have 
 the kindness to hand me the revolver by the cap- 
 tain's side, and ye might see if the poor fellow 
 still lives." 
 
 He heard a quick rustle of skirts and the woman's 
 hand closed over his, pressing into his palm the 
 weapon he had desired. As promptly, without fur- 
 ther words, she turned to Quick. 
 
 The adventurer deliberated briefly, while she bent 
 over the captain, making a hurried examination. 
 " He is badly wounded," O'Rourke heard her say, as 
 he arrived at his decision, " but not dead." 
 
 " Praise God for that ! . . . I must ask ye, 
 madam, to back me up. It is necessary to clear 
 the decks. Are ye ready? " He saw, out of the tail 
 of his eye, that she had sprung to her feet. " Now, 
 ye curs," he thundered, with a menacing pistol in 
 either hand, " get forward, the lot of ye. Move, ye 
 blackguards ! " 
 
 They went expeditiously, crowding between the 
 deck-house and the rail, huddling together as if for 
 mutual protection. The serang was the last to move, 
 and went reluctantly, or seemed to.
 
 256 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 Yet that was no time to judge him for a minor 
 fault. O'Rourke herded the pack before him, 
 watched them scramble down the ladder to the fore- 
 deck, then backed to the spot where the woman stood 
 above the captain. His arm was paining him some- 
 what, with the irritating, stinging ache that such 
 wounds produce, and he thrust one revolver into 
 his pocket, clasping a hand above the hurt. 
 
 In a flash realisation of his loss came to him ; he 
 clutched the rail with a cry. The Pool of Flame, 
 his sacred trust, was gone! His eyes searched the 
 deck wildly, but found no trace of the round leather 
 bag with its precious burden. Despair gripped his 
 heart in a clutch of ice, and for a space the ship 
 reeled about him. . . 
 
 He found himself gazing blankly into the woman's 
 solicitous eyes. "What is it? What is it?" he 
 heard her voice repeating breathlessly. He knew 
 that his own lips moved for some seconds without 
 sound as he strove to answer her. The words, when 
 they came, should have been quite unintelligible 
 to her; he realised this almost as soon as he had 
 uttered them : " The Pool of Flame ! " 
 
 Then he stumbled forward, crying aloud for the 
 serang. Half-way to the ladder he halted; that 
 individual's head and shoulders were lifting above the 
 level of the deck. O'Rourke covered him and called 
 him aft as he again retreated to the scene of the 
 tragedy.
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 257 
 
 Had he been in a condition to think coherently, 
 he might have acted more prudently. But maddened, 
 he was able to grasp but one fact: that the Pool 
 of Flame was gone and must be recovered at what- 
 ever hazard. 
 
 The lascar came with what might have seemed 
 suspicious alacrity, considering the fact that he was 
 coerced, that O'Rourke held him at the pistol's point. 
 Gaunt and sombre in the moonlight, moving noise- 
 lessly in his bare feet, head up and arms swinging 
 limp, he advanced without a pause until about six 
 feet from the Irishman ; at which distance O'Rourke, 
 collecting his wits, found voice enough to bid the 
 fellow, " Stop ! " 
 
 The serang halted, impassive, unmoved. 
 
 " The sahib has called," he said in an even voice. 
 " I am come. What is the sahib's will with me ? " 
 
 His words, together with his half-indolent, half- 
 defiant, wholly contemptuous bearing, supplied the 
 one thing needful to restore to the adventurer his self- 
 control. O'Rourke drew himself up, master of self 
 once more, and looked the lascar in the eye. 
 
 " You stand," he said slowly, choosing his words, 
 " on the edge of the grave. Do you comprehend 
 that, dog? " 
 
 " Aye, sahib ! " 
 
 " I have called ye, then, to demand back that 
 which is mine, the leather bag which ye stole when 
 ye slew your brother, pretending falsely it was he
 
 258 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 who had slain the captain. I counsel ye, speak 
 truth and render back to me that which ye have 
 stolen." 
 
 The serang stiffened, his eyes glistening in the 
 moonlight. " Sahib ! " he cried as if in supplica- 
 tion. 
 
 " No words, dog ! " cried O'Rourke sternly. " Do 
 as I bid ye, or abide the result of disobedience ! " 
 
 " The sahib,*' said the serang slowly, " is full of 
 eyes and wisdom. He sees what no man would be- 
 lieve he could see. I am content." He bowed 
 his head with curious submissiveness, stretching forth 
 his palms as if in token of surrender. 
 
 O'Rourke caught at his breath. He had scarcely 
 hoped for this ; he had merely called the serang aft 
 as the leader of the lascars, hoping to frighten him 
 into revealing whichever of his comrades had stolen 
 the great ruby if he knew. 
 
 "Ye have, then, the leather bag? " he demanded, 
 exultation in his voice. 
 
 " Aye, sahib ; or, if not that, I have that which 
 was therein." 
 
 "The stone?" 
 
 " Aye, sahib." 
 
 " Then give it me." 
 
 " I am the sahib's slave." The serang flashed a 
 strange smile at the revolver in O'Rourke's hand. 
 His attitude puzzled O'Rourke; he would hardly 
 have believed this of the man ; rather he could have 
 conceived of him as denying the theft to the last
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 259 
 
 and fighting like an unchained fiend to retain his 
 booty. His present pose was out of character, or 
 the Irishman misjudged him. 
 
 Out of character or no, it was comfortable. The 
 serang, with head bent, was fumbling in the folds 
 of his sash ; O'Rourke thought him over long about 
 it, yet was inclined to give him time in view of his 
 abject surrender. 
 
 At length, still smiling oddly, the man lifted his 
 eyes and stretched forth a hand tight closed. 
 " The sahib," he said gently, " shall see that his 
 servant spoke truth. Let this weigh with the sahib 
 for mercy. Behold ! " 
 
 The brown fingers unclosed and in the hollow of 
 his palm trembled that which seemed a ball of crys- 
 tallised rose fire, the stone that man has named the 
 Pool of Flame. O'Rourke uttered a low cry of sat- 
 isfaction, stepping forward to snatch up the jewel. 
 Simultaneously he was aware of a quick gasp from 
 the direction of the woman, followed, ere he could 
 account for them, by two pistol shots. 
 
 The adventurer groaned, pitching forward 
 blindly, one side of his head, from the ear to the 
 temple, a-quiver with an agony as if a white-hot iron 
 had seared him there. He stretched forth an arm 
 aimlessly and gripped an iron stanchion, stopping 
 his fall, and hung there for what seemed an eon, 
 sea and skies swimming blood-red before his eyes, in 
 his ears a thunderous rushing as of mighty waters. 
 
 By a supreme effort of will he kept himself
 
 260 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 half-erect, clinging to the rail, and opened his 
 eyes. So briefly had pain blinded him that it was 
 patent barely a second had elapsed since the firing 
 of the shots. To his left a stricken lascar was still 
 in the act of falling; before him Mrs. Prynne stood 
 motionless, her face a mask of horror, revolver still 
 poised ; to the right the .serang, drawing a kris, was 
 smiling sardonically, his eyes fixed upon the woman 
 who had set at naught his plans. 
 
 O'Rourke tried to call a warning to her, for it 
 was plain that she was appalled by what she had 
 done, heedless of all but the man she had killed; but 
 it was as if the bullet that creased his temple had 
 temporarily paralysed him; his tongue clave to the 
 roof of his mouth and he could neither move nor 
 speak. 
 
 Powerless (he believed), he watched the serang 
 gather himself together, like some gaunt cat, and 
 spring; in two strides he would have been upon the 
 woman and the night had been crowned with its 
 most pitiful crime. Yet in midair, O'Rourke saw the 
 man falter and throw back, dropping the kris and 
 clutching frantically at nothing. 
 
 Stupidly the adventurer saw the smoke trickling 
 from the muzzle of his own revolver and knew that, 
 somehow, he had managed to pull the trigger. 
 His heart leapt in his breast, so keen was his grati- 
 tude. Trembling in every limb, he essayed a second 
 time to fire and put a final period to the serang's
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 261 
 
 career. But his shot went wide and the cylinder 
 jammed so that the hammer would not rise a sec- 
 ond time. With an oath he let go the rail and at- 
 tempted to bridge the distance between himself and 
 the lascar, who was now at a considerable distance 
 reeling away toward the rail. 
 
 But his overtaxed strength, sapped by loss of 
 blood, failed him ; and malice infused new vigour into 
 the serang, new power to accomplish his final fiendish 
 act. 
 
 Grinning with anguish, the man leapt away from 
 O'Rourke, staggered and, jerking back his arm, 
 flung the Pool of Flame from him with all his might. 
 
 O'Rourke paused, petrified with despair. The 
 great stone, glinting in the moonlight like the very 
 heart of fire, described a long and flaming arc and 
 . . . the sea leapt up with a hiss to welcome it 
 and it was gone. 
 
 A bitter cry broke from the Irishman's lips ; he 
 made for the man, whom he would gladly have killed 
 with his bare hands. But again he failed. The 
 lascar, perhaps guessing his intention, was at the 
 last too quick for him. 
 
 By a supreme effort the gaunt serang seized the 
 rail, lifted himself upon it, and dropped over the 
 side, following that to win which he had given his 
 fife.
 
 CHAPTER 
 TWENTY-SEVEN 
 
 MRS. PRYNNE, roused out of her semi-stupor by 
 O'Rourke's cry, with some return of her habitual 
 clearness of thought, stepped to the companionway 
 and called for her maid. 
 
 O'Rourke passed a hand over his eyes, and brought 
 it away black with blood, but was no more than 
 half aware of this. Dazed and heart-broken, he 
 stared blankly round the shambles that was the deck, 
 then, recovering slightly, saw Cecile join her mistress, 
 and realised that, whatever his personal grief, pain 
 and despair, he must play the part of the O'Rourke. 
 So he turned and staggered down into the saloon. 
 
 Danny was in his berth, sleeping the childlike 
 and loglike sleep that was ever his : Dravos, below, 
 his ears deafened by the mighty chant of his en- 
 gines, had been , no more conscious of the drama 
 on deck than had Danny. O'Rourke caught the 
 boy with hands that gripped his shoulders cruelly, 
 and shook him awake, then methodically booted him 
 up the steps to the deck. 
 
 Once there, Danny came to his proper senses and 
 fell with a will to the tasks O'Rourke set for him. 
 
 269
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN 263 
 
 With Cecile he lifted the unconscious captain and 
 bore him down to his berth, then left him to the 
 ministrations of mistress and maid and returned to 
 throw overboard the last corpse, that of the lascar 
 whom the serang had set to slay the adventurer from 
 behind. 
 
 O'Rourke himself proceeded to the bridge, where 
 he found the helmsman still at the wheel, soberly 
 keeping the vessel on her course. The circumstance 
 at the time surprised him ; but it afterwards was 
 developed by dint of cross-examination of the re- 
 mainder of the crew that the serang had specially 
 exempted Quick and Dravos from the general mas- 
 sacre, they being held necessary to the navigation 
 of the ship. He had likewise put strict injunctions 
 on the helmsman not to desert the wheel, whatever 
 the tide of battle, whether for or against his breth- 
 ren. The stabbing of Quick seemed to have been ac- 
 cidental, or necessary under circumstances unfore- 
 seen. 
 
 As a matter of fact, the remainder of the lascars 
 were thoroughly cowed and proved unbelievably 
 docile for the balance of the trip only too eager 
 to curry favour by prompt execution of orders and 
 full confession of details of the serang's scheme of 
 mutiny. 
 
 Thus it was that the voyage of the Ranee from 
 Aden to Bombay was pushed through without fur- 
 ther fatality. To the Irishman, however, must go
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 more than half the credit: for forty-eight hours he 
 never left the bridge nor once closed his eyes in 
 slumber. Wounded and suffering intensely, he 
 dared not for a single instant leave the lascars in 
 possession of the deck, however meek and humble 
 their attitude. They were herded in the forecastle, 
 nor permitted to venture a foot aft save on duty, 
 and then only under the guard of Mrs. Prynne 
 and Cecile. Dravos and Danny hardly ever left the 
 engine-room ; the one slept there in the infernal and 
 incessant clangour, while the other watched under 
 arms, turn and turn about. It remained for 
 O'Rourke to afford new proof of his marvellous 
 powers of endurance. 
 
 He gave it willingly ; but the effort, the sustained 
 wakefulness at a time when he was tortured by the 
 knowledge of his immense loss, drained him of his 
 reserve strength to a degree more great than he 
 himself understood, and which the others, perhaps, 
 scarcely credited, seeing him as they did hour after 
 hour erect, smiling, assured and competent. 
 
 It was not indeed until the Ranee, on the stroke 
 of the hour, the evening of the fifteenth day of June, 
 walked smartly into Bombay harbour, the interna- 
 tional code signal " NJ " fluttering from her peak, 
 rounded Colabra and dropped anchor off the point; 
 not until Danny and Dravos, free at length from 
 their toil in the broiling engine-room, came on deck 
 to relieve him, that O'Rourke collapsed stumbled
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN 265 
 
 down the bridge ladder and lurched drunkenly down 
 the saloon companion way. His head humming with 
 sleep, his brain bemused with fatigue and pain, his 
 eyes heavy, he brushed by Mrs. Prynne without see- 
 ing her or even hearing her low cry of pity and solici- 
 tude; and so entering the first stateroom that he 
 came to, threw himself, already asleep, into 'the 
 berth. 
 
 As he did so a loaded revolver dropped from his 
 numb fingers. . . .
 
 CHAPTER 
 TWENTY-EIGHT 
 
 IT was night when O'Rourke awoke; he found 
 himself staring wide-eyed at the ceiling of the state- 
 room, upon which rippled wavering lines of light 
 reflected through the porthole by the waters with- 
 out. His mind for the time was a blank; he was 
 merely conscious that he was rested and very thirsty, 
 and that the ship was motionless. 
 
 Then in a blinding flash memory returned to him. 
 He rose, curiously light-headed and strangely weak, 
 pushed open the door and stepped into the saloon. 
 
 It was lighted, if poorly, by a smoky kerosene 
 lamp dependent from a beam above the centre-table, 
 and wore a hollow, dingy air of desolation for all 
 that Danny slept there, his vivid head pillowed on 
 arms crossed before him on the table. The ship 
 was utterly silent, and the O'Rourke's sensitive in- 
 stinct told him that it was tenanted only by himself 
 and the servant. 
 
 He clapped a hand on Danny's shoulder and shook 
 him into wakefulness. The boy leapt to his feet 
 with a cry and, seizing O'Rourke's hand, began to 
 sob upon it a touching but disconcerting per- 
 
 266
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 267 
 
 formance, to the last degree exasperating to a man 
 thirsting and famished. 
 
 O'Rourke, as gently as he could, disengaged his 
 hand and thrust Danny away, at the same time in- 
 dicating in no uncertain tones that he preferred 
 meat and drink to emotional crises. Provided with 
 a duty, Danny's sentimental nature was diverted; 
 he bustled away and returned with an excellent cold 
 meal sandwiches, a salad, cheese, and other edibles 
 upon a tray graced likewise by a bottle of cham- 
 pagne. And you are to believe that the master fell 
 to and wolfed it all, to the last crumb and the last 
 drop. 
 
 A new man, refreshed, he demanded a pipe, and, 
 with his head cocked on one side and something of 
 his old humour twinkling in his eye, what time it 
 was not clouded with bewilderment and concern at 
 the answers he received, cross-examined his valet. 
 
 " How long," was his first question, " will I have 
 slept now, Danny ye divvle ? " 
 
 " Wan complete round av the clock, yer honour." 
 
 " Where are we ? " 
 
 " At anchor, sor, off the Fort in Bombay har- 
 bour." 
 
 " Umm-hm. I'm by way of remembering some- 
 thing of that. What of the captain? " 
 
 " Raymoved, yer honour, to a horsepittle ashore, 
 sor, to con-valesce. At laste, I'm thinking thot's 
 the word the doctor used, sor."
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " He's on the mend, then? " 
 
 " Aw, yiss, yer honour ; sure and he is just that. 
 Faith, and wasn't it the doctor himself was sayin' 
 'twould do him no manner of harm to lose as much 
 blood wance a year? " 
 
 "Good. AndDravos?" 
 
 " Gone ashore, sor, this afternoon, for a con- 
 ference wid the authorities, rayspictin' the mutiny, 
 sor. And not come back yit." 
 
 O'Rourke pulled at his cigar, regarded regretfully 
 the empty glass before him, and with some visible 
 reluctance put the question that, more than aught 
 else, he had wished to put ever since he had eaten. 
 
 "And Mrs. Prynne? " 
 
 " Aw, yer honour ! " 
 
 " What's the matter, Danny? " 
 
 " Sure, sor, and axin' yer pardon for spakin' so, 
 and manin' no manner of disrayspict whatso- 
 ever " 
 
 " What the divvle, Danny ! " 
 
 Danny drew himself up with an air, bristling in- 
 dignation. " Sure, and 'tis meself never seen the 
 loike av thim wimmin for rank ingratichude, sor. 
 And afther all thot meself had said to thot black- 
 eyed Frinch vixen " 
 
 " Danny ! " 
 
 " Nor, sor, not wan worrd av ut will I widdror, 
 not if yer honour discharges me wid me usual 
 month's notice, sor, this minute. Faix, didn't /
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 269 
 
 see ? No more and the anchor was down, sor, and yer- 
 silf did to the worrld in yer berth, sor, thin thim 
 two does be after hailin' a boat and intendin' to go 
 ashore, widout so much as a fare-ye-well, and me 
 meanin' the most honourable intintions in the, world 
 toward the maid " 
 
 " Have your intentions ever been aught else toward 
 any woman ye ever won a smile from, spalpeen? " 
 
 " Aw, now, yer honour " 
 
 " Get on with your story. What about Mrs. 
 Prynne?" demanded O'Rourke, eyeing his servant 
 curiously and trying to fathom his but half-dis- 
 guised and wholly awkward air of self-esteem. 
 Plainly the boy thought highly of himself because 
 of something he had accomplished, some exploit of 
 prowess or stroke of diplomacy as yet undisclosed. 
 
 " Yissor. ... I was tellin' ye it seemed to 
 me the height of maneness she was displaying 
 ma'nin' this same Mrs. Prynne, whin 'twas mesilf 
 knew, none betther, how much ye've laid out on her 
 account and hersilf not waitin' to settle up wid 
 
 ye '' 
 
 " What business was that of yours ? " 
 "'Twas none, sor. But yersilf had keeled over 
 and was did to ivrything, and what am I for if not 
 to look out for ye at such times? ... So I'm 
 afther sthoppin' thim two just as they would be 
 lavin' their staterooms, and sz'I, * Missus Prynne,' 
 jsz'I, * me masther's compliments and he'd like a worrd
 
 270 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 wid yees before ye're gone entirely.' And * What's 
 this? ' sz'she wid a fine show of surprise the day- 
 <:eytful huzzy ! though I'm watchin' her and think- 
 in' she was frightened about somethin', from the 
 white turn av the face av her. Sz'she : * 'Tis in 
 the divvle's own hurry I am the minute,' or worrds 
 to the same iffict. Sz'she : ' And phwat will he be 
 wan tin' av me? ' ' A momint's conversation wid ye,' 
 sz'I. And sz'she: * I've no time. Let me pass.* 
 * I'll be doing,' sz'I, * nawthin' like thot,' for be now 
 I'm thinkin' there's somethin' deeper behint her flus- 
 ter and flurry thin a mere desire to bilk ye p'rhaps 
 'twas this thing in-too-ishun I've heard ye mintion. 
 And the next minit I'm sure av ut, for she goes white 
 as snow in the face and the eyes of her begins to burn 
 like cold grane fire and she screams to Cecile for 
 help and is afther whipping out a gun to blow me 
 out av her way wid ; but 'tis mesilf thot's be way av 
 bein' too quick for her and takin' the pistol away; 
 and be the mercy av the Saints Misther Dravos hears 
 the shindy and hops down just in time to snatch an- 
 other gun out of the hand av that same Cecile, and 
 he grabs the gurl and truns her into a stateroom and 
 
 shuts the dure on her and " 
 
 " And," interrupted O'Rourke in a black rage, 
 rising and turning back his sleeves " And now I'm 
 going to give ye the father and mother of all trash- 
 ings, ye insolent puppy! How dare ye lay hands 
 on a lady "
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 271 
 
 " Ow, murther ! " chattered the boy, leaping away. 
 " Be aisy, yer honour, and hear me out, for 'tis 
 thin ye'll not be blamin' me, but if ye do I'll take 
 the batin' widout a worrd, sor." 
 
 " Very well," assented O'Rourke ominously. " But 
 be quick about it, for I'm mistrustful of ye alto- 
 gether. Get on, ye whelp ! " 
 
 Danny placed the table between them with con- 
 siderable expedition. " Aw, listhen now," he 
 pleaded. " While Misther Dravos was 'tendin' to 
 Cecile, this Missis Prynne was scrappin' like a wild- 
 cat, scratching and bitin', and 'tis all I can do to 
 kape her from doing me a hurrt ; but finally I'm 
 afther wrappin' me arrms tight about her and 
 holdin' her so, and I'm makin' a grab at her waist 
 whin be accident like what do I catch hold av but 
 something undernathe as big as a hin's egg a stone 
 she's carryin' round her neck, the same as yer hon- 
 our did wid the Pool av Flame ; and be the feel av 
 ut ut's the same entirely; and thin I'm sure 'tis 
 the same and thot some sculduggery's be way av 
 havin' been put upon ye." 
 
 "What the divvle!" 
 
 " Wan momint more. . . . Now in fightin' 
 wid me the collar av her waist has come unfastened 
 and meself can see the string av ribbon that's hold- 
 ing the thing there. So I sez to mesilf, sz'I, * Tis 
 strange enough to bear investigatin',' sz'I, ' an' I'll 
 be takin' a chanst at this if the masther do be afther
 
 272 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 flayin' me alive.' So I calls Misther Dravos and gets 
 him to hould her fast while I takes out me knife 
 and cuts thot ribbon and pulls the thing out widout 
 any immodesty whatever; and there on thot ribbon 
 is a chamois-case, all sewed up, and I'm rippin' it 
 open an' finding this! *' 
 
 " God in Heaven ! " cried O'Rourke, stupefied and 
 agape; for Danny, having worked up to his climax, 
 had dramatically whipped from his pocket and cast 
 upon the table between them the Pool of Flame. 
 
 Thunderstruck, the adventurer stared at the glor- 
 ious stone until it swam beneath his gaze, pulsing 
 with its secret fires, so unreal in his sight and under- 
 standing that he could not believe himself sane. 
 Then heavily he let himself down into a chair and 
 put forth an unsteady hand to take up the ruby. 
 Only its weight, its cold polish, the sharpness of its 
 great facets, rid him of incredulity, made him be- 
 lieve that he really held the stone in his hand, how- 
 ever impossible it were that it should be so. 
 
 He looked up, blind to the glee and triumph in 
 Danny's face. 
 
 " How did ye come be this ? " he demanded, speak- 
 ing slowly and steadily, as one who, having drunk 
 more than enough, listens to his own enunciation to 
 detect in it the slur that liquor brings. " I mean 
 I mean how could ye have taken this from the 
 woman when it lay all the time at the bottom of the 
 sea -six hundred miles and more behind us ? "
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 273 
 
 " Ask Misther Dravos if ye do not belave me, sor. 
 How would I be havin' it at all, widout I got it 
 like I've told ye? ... 'Tis the real Pool of 
 Flame ye're handlin'; that's sure. T'other one 
 the stone the serang flung into the say, sor, was a 
 counterfeit." 
 
 " How do ye know that ? " 
 
 " Aisily enough, yer honour : be puttin' the maid 
 Cecile on the witness stand. 'Twas this way: I 
 tuk the stone from Missus Prynne and Misther 
 Dravos and mesilf locked her in her cabin. Thin 
 afther talkin' things over we let Cecile out and be 
 dint av threats and persuashions, got her to tell 
 what she knew." 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 " She sez thot Frinchman ye kilt back there in 
 Algiers, sor, is at the bottom av it all, only he's 
 not did because ye didn't make a clane job av ut, 
 but lift him wid the laste susphicion av the breath 
 av life in the body av him." 
 
 ' I was afraid of that," nodded O'Rourke. " The 
 next time we meet, Des Trebes and I, there'll be no 
 mistake about it." 
 
 " She sez thot befure he fought wid ye he'd taken 
 measuremints av the stone and made a wax mould av 
 ut, so thot whin he failed to kill yersilf and had got 
 his .strength back, he wint to Paris and had an imita- 
 shun av ut made there somehow be fusing chape 
 stones together and all thot, I belave. 'Twas
 
 ixpinsive an* him tight up for money, so he takes 
 Missus Prynne into partnership and she puts up the 
 cash. Thin they've been watchin' yersilf all the 
 time, sor they sets Cap'n Hole onto ye to get the 
 stone away, and he does it like ye know. Afther ye 
 escaped from the Pelican, he goes ashore and mates 
 the lady at her hotel and daylivers the stone to her, 
 getting his pay and the imitashun into the bargain, 
 he insistin' on thot because he knows ye'll be comin' 
 back for the Pool av Flame, and he's afraid av ye 
 afraid ye'll kill him if he can't turn over a ruby to 
 ye like the wan he stole. So 'twas the faked stone 
 we tuk from him thot same night and the same we 
 brought aboard the Ranee and the same the serang 
 sthole from ye." 
 
 " I begin to see. But how about the serang? 
 What did Cecile have to say in explanation of 
 him?" 
 
 " She couldn't account for him at all, sor, save 
 thot mebbe the natives in Rangoon had somehow got 
 wind av the fact that the stone was comin' back and 
 a gang av thim set out to stale ut. She sez Missus 
 Prynne niver cud account for the way they discov- 
 ered she had ut, but they seemed to know pretty 
 certain sure, sor, for ye'll recall they niver 
 bothered ye at all at first, and 'twas only be chanst, 
 like, thot the serang got the imitashun from 
 
 ***
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 275 
 
 " But what about Des Trebes ? Did the maid 
 say? " 
 
 " No more than he'd been lift in Paris, sor." 
 
 " And why ? Why didn't he himself take the stone 
 East instead of the woman?" 
 
 " I niver asked, sor, but belike 'twas hersilf thot, 
 havin' put the money into ut, insisted in collectin* 
 the reward because she misthrusted the blackhearted 
 scoundrel intirely." 
 
 " And what 've ye done with the two of them, 
 Mrs. Prynne and the maid? Are they still locked 
 up safely? " 
 
 " Divvle a bit, yer honour. 'Twas impossible to 
 kape them so, Dravos said, wid Missus Prynne 
 threatening to yell bloody murther out av the poort 
 and kick up such a row thot the authorities wud 
 be down on us if we didn't let her go. Besides, 
 we'd got what we wanted out av her, and pwhat 
 was the use av holdin' her anny longer ? " 
 
 " So ye let them go ? " 
 
 Yissor." 
 
 "I could kill ye for it," said O'Rourke, "and 
 Dravos, too; for there's a deal of matters I'd like 
 to be inquiring into with the lady this blessed min- 
 ute. But, Danny boy, there's nothing in the world 
 I can't forgive ye now, for what ye've done for me, 
 and 'twill be a strange thing if I don't serve ye 
 handsomely when I come into me fortune.
 
 276 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 Now donH be standin* there like a ninny, but be off 
 with ye and pack me things before I lift me hand 
 to ye. 'Tis in haste we are with Des Trebes alive 
 and Mrs. Prynne on the loose; and there'll be no 
 such thing as rest for either of us until we reach 
 Rangoon."
 
 CHAPTER 
 TWENTY-NINE 
 
 " DANNY . . ." said O'Rourke without looking 
 up from the occupation which had engrossed his at- 
 tention for the last three hours ; and for the first 
 time in that period he spoke audibly, making an end 
 to the mumbled confabulation he had been holding 
 with himself, a Murray's Guide, a Bradshaw, an 
 Indian railway guide, several steamship folders and 
 a large coloured map of the Indian Empire. 
 
 "Danny . . ." 
 
 A slight but none the less sincere snore was all 
 his answer. In a chair by the window of O'Rourke's 
 room in the Hotel Apollo Bunder, Danny was nap- 
 ping candidly. His master looked up, regarded the 
 boy without prejudice for a moment, then deftly 
 shied the Bradshaw across the room, missing 
 Danny's head by a scant inch. The dull double im- 
 pact of the book against the wall and on the floor 
 brought Danny up standing in an instant, blinking 
 and gasping and swaying with sleep, but with his 
 head down, his fists clenched and his general air 
 that of a man ready for trouble. 
 
 " Now," said he heavily, " I've got ye . . ." 
 
 277
 
 278 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 Murray's Guide followed the Bradshaw with a 
 more accurate aim and the boy's dream abruptly dis- 
 solved into the consciousness of real pain. With a 
 small yelp he abandoned his fighting pose and began 
 to hop on his right foot with both hands clasped 
 about the left shin. 
 
 " Ow ! " he cried. " Phwat th' divvle at all ! " 
 
 O'Rourke reached for the railway guide. " Shut 
 up ! " said he ominously. And there was peace. 
 " What did ye think ye were after in your dream, 
 Danny? " he added curiously. 
 
 Danny winked rapidly and scratched his head. 
 "Faith, I was dr'amin' " 
 
 " I know that well enough, idiot." 
 
 " I was dr'amin' I was back in the ingine-room 
 av thot hell-ship, sor, an' Misther Dravos was 
 standin' up to me as man to man." 
 
 " What 've ye got against Dravos, ye scut? " 
 
 " He was afther tr'atin' me like a naygur, sor 
 dhrivin' me iv'ry minute av the day " 
 
 " As ye deserved to be driven." 
 
 "And insultin' yer honour besides," amended 
 Danny naively. 
 
 "What ?" 
 
 " He was afther sayin' I'd so little intilligince 
 no wan but a madman like yerself would be afther 
 kapin' me in yer employ, sor." 
 
 " Oh," commented O'Rourke. He put the railway 
 guide aside, signifying that he was placated for
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 279 
 
 the time being. " There's a deal in that," he ad- 
 mitted fairly. " I've no doubt the little man 
 could 've skinned ye alive for your stupidity. How- 
 ever . . . What day's this day, Danny? " 
 
 Danny thought laboriously. " 'Twas this morn- 
 in' we lift th' Ranee, sor? . . . Thin yestiddy 
 was Wednesday." 
 
 " And to-day Thursday, be logical progress of 
 reasoning, eh? " 
 
 " Aw, yiss, sor." 
 
 "And what's the time?" 
 
 Danny consulted O'Rourke's watch on the bureau. 
 "A quarther av twilve." 
 
 " Then bestir yourself, ye lazy good-for-nothing, 
 and pack up me things." 
 
 " Aw ! " cried Danny, expostulant. 
 
 " Our train leaves at two. Ye have an hour and 
 a half." 
 
 " Aw, but yer honour, is ut no rist at all we'll 
 iver be havin' ? " 
 
 O'Rourke took up the railway guide and weighed 
 it meditatively, estimating the distance to Danny's 
 head ; so that the latter turned hastily and began to 
 gather up his master's belongings with a haphazard 
 hand. 
 
 " Ye can rest on the train," continued O'Rourke 
 slightly mollified. " I've just ten days left in 
 which to reach Rangoon, where I've an appointment 
 to keep with a lady, Danny, to wit, Madame
 
 280 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 O'Rourke. D'ye mind her, and do ye blame me, 
 Danny?" 
 
 Danny became suddenly extraordinarily busy. 
 " Why did ye not say as much to begin with, yer 
 honour?" he complained. "As if I wouldn't work 
 me hands to the stumps av thim . . ." 
 
 " 'Tis now Thursday noon," continued O'Rourke 
 thoughtfully. " The two o'clock train's scheduled to 
 land us in Calcutta at ten Saturday night. At 
 eight Sunday morning a steamer leaves Diamond 
 Harbour for Rangoon, scheduled for a fair-weather 
 passage of three days. That'll leave us a little lee- 
 way, barring accidents. But we've no time to waste." 
 
 " But how'll we be catching thot steamer at 
 Di'mind Harbour, sor? How far's that from Cal- 
 cutta, now, an' will there be thrains at that hour av 
 the night?" 
 
 " That's to be dealt with as it turns up, Danny. 
 There's only forty miles between the two places, 
 and if there's no train, we'll charter a motor-car 
 or a boat down the Hughli. . . ." 
 
 The latter expedient O'Rourke finally adopted, 
 although he could have afforded a comfortable night 
 in a hotel at Calcutta, had he deemed it wise. But 
 in the fifty-six hours of unmitigated sweltering that 
 he and Danny endured in their flight across India 
 he had leisure to think matters over very carefully, 
 with the result that, all things considered, he felt 
 justified in assuming the world to be in league
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 281 
 
 against him and in shaping his course accordingly. 
 Therefore it were unwise to permit himself to be seen 
 and recognised in Calcutta, or even to linger on the 
 soil of India an instant longer than absolutely 
 necessary. 
 
 Within an hour, then, of his arrival at Howrah, 
 he had, by dint of persistence and rupees, succeeded 
 in hiring a launch to take him from the terminus 
 by water to the steamer at Diamond Harbour 
 " a moonlight flitting," as he designated the pro- 
 ceeding to Danny, much to the boy's bewilderment. 
 
 At the moment the phrase fell from his lips the 
 launch was pluttering noisily down a night-en- 
 shrouded reach of the Hughli, some distance below 
 Calcutta. A broad and swollen flood of inky water 
 swept silently with them on either hand, bounded 
 by impenetrable walls of tropical growth, jet black 
 and unrelieved by any touch of light along the 
 river's banks. Ahead there was just simple dark- 
 ness, nothing more; only behind them a brazen sky 
 overhung the receding city. 
 
 Danny looked up to the zenith and back, argu- 
 mentative, to his master's face. 
 
 " There's naught but stars," he said firmly. 
 
 " 'Tis a moonlight flitting, all the same, ye ig- 
 norant spalpeen. To be sure, as ye have acutely 
 observed, there's no moon; but that in itself 's 
 an insignificant detail, hardly to be held more than 
 negligible. . . . What's that ye say? "
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " Aw, nawthin', yer honour," pleaded Danny 
 plaintively. 
 
 " Why not, did ye ask? " 
 
 " Aw, shure, sor, I dunno, and I didnH." 
 
 " 'Tis a moonlight flitting, I'm telling ye, be rea- 
 son of that full-complexioned and able-bodied sun- 
 burst ye insist on sporting instead of a head-piece, 
 Danny ; the same being calculated to understudy any 
 moon that happens to be out of the cast any night." 
 
 "Aw, yiss," Danny acceded, hastily if vaguely. 
 
 " "Pis the outrageous and unlawful colour of 
 the stuff ye call yer hair I'm animadverting 
 against." 
 
 " Is ut, now? Aw, shure, an* ut is by way av 
 bein' a thrifle awburn," admitted the valet compla- 
 cently. " Mesilf wud niver be disphutin' thot, yer 
 honour. But," he insisted, " 'tis as black a night 
 as iver I see, wid niver a sign av a moon. So 
 how " 
 
 Here O'Rourke gently but with determination 
 changed the subject.
 
 CHAPTER 
 THIRTY 
 
 AT a small hour of the morning they made Diamond 
 Harbour in pitch darkness to which circumstance 
 Danny ostentatiously drew attention and without 
 misadventure were successful in causing themselves 
 to be transhipped, bag and baggage, to the twin- 
 screw steamship Poonah, which vessel rode at anchor 
 in midstream. 
 
 Toward eight o'clock of the white-hot forenoon 
 that followed, O'Rourke, in the shadow of a long- 
 boat on the Poonah's promenade deck, stood finish- 
 ing a matutinal cigar and watching narrowly a 
 tender ferry out a final boatload of passengers from 
 the eastern river bank. 
 
 Below him the unclean yellow flood swirled and 
 brawled, as if eager to end its journey and cleanse 
 itself in the mother sea that lay sixty miles farther 
 to the south. Beyond the river the Sanderbands 
 reared high their walls of vivid green, shutting off 
 India from the Bay of Bengal. Overhead the skies 
 were pale with heat and dotted with sentinel carrion 
 birds. . . . 
 
 Slowly the tender forged toward the steamer's
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 side ; and as it drew near, O'Rourke forgot to smoke 
 and bent over the rail to inspect with unremitting 
 interest those upon its decks. Half-screened as he 
 was he made no pretence of veiling the intensity of 
 the lively and alert glances that he shifted rapidly 
 from face to face. From his expression it might 
 have been thought that he was searching for an 
 expected acquaintance, but never that he appre- 
 hended danger, or feared a deadly peril to himself 
 might be embodied in one or another of that hetero- 
 genous rabble. 
 
 The forward deck of the tender held his regard 
 but briefly; those who waited there, eyeing impas- 
 sively the towering flanks of the liner, were one and 
 all of the East, of races, creeds and types too nu- 
 merous to catalogue, as many and as varied as the 
 hues and tints of their garments jacket, sarong, 
 cummerbund and surtout, turban and tarboosh 
 that made the decks glow like some odd, floating, 
 faded flower-bed. These the adventurer might not 
 read, save individually upon personal contact. If 
 trouble was to come from them, collectively or in- 
 dividually, he would not know until the blow had 
 fallen. On. the other hand, he might be able to haz- 
 ard shrewd surmises as to the potential animus 
 inherent in any one of the Europeans who were to 
 be his fellow passengers. 
 
 The latter were a mere handful : half a dozen com- 
 mercial travellers from London, Paris, Berlin, their
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY 285 
 
 avocations evident beyond dispute; a sallow English 
 missionary with his withered wife, sombre figures in 
 the stark sunlight; a red-faced deputy-sub-some- 
 thing-or-other of the Indian Government, compla- 
 cent in white drill and new pith helmet with a gay 
 puggaree; a lone English girl, and a Frenchman. 
 
 The two latter held the Irishman's attention: the 
 girl because, even at a distance, her slim white-clad 
 figure and well-poised head seemed singularly fresh 
 and attractive; the man because well, because 
 O'Rourke was susceptible to premonitions. 
 
 He was a tall man and broad, the Frenchman 
 well-made, well-groomed, carrying himself with an 
 indefinable air of distinction. His face was rather 
 pale (and therefore notable in that concourse of 
 dark skins), its features strongly modelled, the 
 mouth and chin masked by a neatly trimmed and 
 pointed beard and moustache. 
 
 O'Rourke could not have said that he had ever 
 seen the man before; yet there was this and that 
 about him which struck a spark of reminiscence 
 from his memory. A suspicion flashed through his 
 mind which he put aside with disdain, as absurd and 
 far-fetched. On the other hand . . . He knit 
 his brows in puzzlement. 
 
 The very fixity of his regard drew the eyes of its 
 object upwards. They encountered O'Rourke's, 
 lingered briefly in an unveiled, inquiring stare in 
 which there was not to be detected the least hint of
 
 286 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 recognition, and passed onward casually, indiffer- 
 ently, ignoring the impertinence. 
 
 By this time deck-hands were making the tender 
 fast to its overshadowing sister, bringing the man 
 and the girl directly underneath O'Rourke or al- 
 most so. He could overhear them conversing indif- 
 ferently on indifferent topics. The man was speak- 
 ing French with the glib Parisian enunciation, the 
 girl as fluently, but with an inflection betraying her 
 nationality unmistakably. She was unquestionably 
 English, from her white-canvas shoes to her straw 
 hat with its green film of veiling, while her assured 
 demeanour and dispassionate acceptance of her sur- 
 roundings led O'Rourke instantly to class her as 
 no stranger to the East. Most probably, he thought, 
 she would turn out to be the daughter of some Brit- 
 ish official. She was certainly very pretty. 
 
 She chattered on with the well-bred vivacity of her 
 caste, attention centred on her companion; he re- 
 plied less readily, perhaps, and seemed a trifle 
 diverted by contemplation of the Poonah and the 
 native rabble. His eyes, black and blank as but- 
 tons, travelled hither and yon incessantly. After 
 a bit he looked back to O'Rourke, again became 
 aware of his existence, and lifted his thick and 
 arched black brows in semi-surprise at the steady 
 scrutiny to which he found himself subjected. 
 
 The tender's passengers began to stumble up the 
 gang-plank to a lower deck of the liner; and
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY 287 
 
 O'Rourke, with a sober face, went below, taking 
 some care to avoid contact with the incoming 
 crowd. 
 
 He found Danny was in his stateroom, engaged 
 with some details of repair to the adventurer's ward- 
 robe. But his ears had been quick to recognise the 
 ring of his master's heels in the gangway, and he 
 had the bolt half drawn when O'Rourke tapped the 
 panels with a peculiar triple knock. 
 
 When he had entered, Danny without question 
 returned to his employment. He was only human, 
 however, and plentifully endowed with the human 
 trait of curiosity. He was quick, then, to cock an 
 intelligent blue eye up at his master's countenance, 
 and not at all slow to observe thereupon disturbing 
 portents : a notably set expression about the wide- 
 lipped mouth, an ominous flicker in the depths of 
 thoughtful eyes, a V-mark of perturbation deep be- 
 tween the eyebrows. 
 
 Seeing all this, Danny whistled long and low 
 indeed, inaudibly. " The Saints presarve us ! *' said 
 he to himself. " But there's the divvle to pay, or 
 I dunno the O'Rourke at all." 
 
 O'Rourke remained for a brief space standing 
 in the middle of the cabin, visibly abstracted. Then 
 abruptly some whimsical consideration seemed to re- 
 solve his dubiety as lightning will clear sultry, 
 brooding air; a smile deepened the corners of his 
 mouth, the flicker in his eye merged magically into
 
 288 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 a twinkle, the shrug of his broad shoulders conveyed 
 an impression of casting care to the winds. 
 
 Which was precisely what he was not doing. He 
 was simply determined temporarily to make the best 
 of what might turn out to be a very serious mat- 
 ter. His philosophy knew nothing so discouraging 
 to ill luck as a smiling welcome. 
 
 " Danny, lad," he remarked reflectively, throw- 
 ing himself ungracefully upon the cushioned tran- 
 som opposite to his berth. " Danny, ye wouldn't 
 lie to me, would ye now? " 
 
 " Aw-w ! " reproved Danny. " Shure, yer hon- 
 our knows ut isn't in me at all." And to himself: 
 " Phat the divvle now? " 
 
 " Then tell me, Danny, truthfully ; did ye ever 
 see a ghost? " 
 
 " Aw-w ! " seeing cause to take the query as a 
 joke. 
 
 " A ghost that had grown beard since it had 
 become a ghost, Danny ? " 
 
 " Aw-aw-w ! " still willing to be amused, if 
 " himself " chose to be facetious. 
 
 " Because," continued O'Rourke with a slight 
 frown, " I have, and that not five minutes since." 
 
 "Aw?" 
 
 " Wance I left a man for dead, Danny, with a 
 clean sword-thrust through the body of him a mis- 
 begotten blackguard he was ; but I killed him in 
 fair fight, sword to sword, and no favour. . . .
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY 289 
 
 'And this bright and beautiful morning, lo and be- 
 hold ye! who should come tripping up the gang- 
 plank but his ghost, as lively as ye please, and with 
 a neat new beard ! " 
 
 " Aw-w ? " incredulously. 
 
 O'Rourke frowned impatiently. " Des Trebes," 
 he explained. 
 
 AW " 
 
 " Stop it, ye parrot ! Stop it, I say ! Have ye 
 no word in the dark lexicon of your ignorance other 
 than ' Aw-aw ' ? Did I hire ye to talk like a hen 
 when meself condescends to have speech with ye? 
 What the divvle d'ye mean be it? Easy there!" 
 as Danny opened a startled mouth with the patent 
 intention of delivering himself of a protesting " aw." 
 " Careful, ye scut ! One more cluck and out ye go, 
 through the port into the broad and ugly Hughli, 
 Danny, to give some hungry crocodile the indiges- 
 tion. . . . There! Get up, ye omadhaun, and 
 take me respects to the purser and ask him please 
 will he show ye the passenger-list." 
 
 The valet left with circumspect alacrity. 
 
 Alone, O'Rourke rose and turned thoughtfully to 
 a revolver that made a conspicuous black spot on 
 the white counterpane of the berth, with nervous, 
 strong fingers unlimbering the weapon and tak- 
 ing account of the brass dials of the cartridges 
 that nestled snug in its six-chambered cylinder. The 
 machine was in perfect condition ; O'Rourke snapped
 
 290 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 the breech shut and thrust it in his pocket. Then 
 he sat down to think, subconsciously aware from 
 noises without that the tender had swung off and the 
 anchor was being tripped. 
 
 Could the resemblance be accidental? It seemed 
 hardly possible. The Des Trebes he had known had 
 been a type distinct, so clear and aloof from the 
 general Frenchman that not even the addition of a 
 beard to his physiognomy could have proven a 
 thorough disguise. And it seemed reasonable enough 
 to assume that, Mrs. Prynne having failed in her 
 undertaking, Des Trebes would resume his office as 
 active head of their conspiracy. If it were indeed 
 he whom O'Rourke had just seen, there was every 
 chance imaginable that the final chapter in the his- 
 tory of the Irishman's connection with the Pool of 
 Flame would prove an eventful one. 
 
 " Maybe not," admitted O'Rourke, " maybe I de- 
 ceive meself. But I'm persuaded I'll do well to keep 
 both me eyes open until the day I'm rid of the 
 damned thing ! " 
 
 At this juncture Danny's knock took him to the 
 door. " Mongsere Raoul de Hyeres," announced 
 the valet breathlessly : " 'tis thot the purser says his 
 name is, yer honour." 
 
 " Yes," assented O'Rourke dubiously. " But per- 
 haps the purser's mistaken misinformed."
 
 CHAPTER 
 THIRTY-ONE 
 
 As time went on, however, if his uneasiness were not 
 sensibly diminished, nothing happened, the voyage 
 proving entirely uneventful; and O'Rourke was 
 forced to the conclusion that, if Monsieur de Hyeres 
 were really the Vicomte des Trebes, he was strangely 
 content to play a waiting game. 
 
 The Irishman, however, had known stranger 
 things than that one man should seem the counter- 
 part of another. And by nothing more than this 
 questionable accident of resemblance did De Hyeres 
 give him reason to believe him anything but what 
 he claimed to be. The man's demeanour was consist- 
 ently discreet and self-contained; he moved about 
 the ship openly and without any apparent attempt 
 to pry upon the doings of the adventurer, whom he 
 fell into the easy ship-board way of greeting ami- 
 ably but coolly. Only in one instance, indeed, did 
 they exchange more than but courteous salutations, 
 and then De Hyeres himself seemed to seek the in- 
 terview, approaching O'Rourke directly. 
 
 This was at night, when O'Rourke occupied a 
 chair on the leeward side of the saloon deck, con- 
 suming a meditative after-dinner cigar. De Hyeres 
 
 291
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 stepped out of the companionway, glanced swiftly 
 this way and that, and sauntered toward the Irish- 
 man with an unlighted cigarette held conspicuously 
 between his fingers. 
 
 O'Rourke likewise surveyed his surroundings in two 
 brief glances: and was contented to find that they 
 were alone, or as much alone as two can be upon a 
 steamship. For they were, after all, well matched; 
 and one of them he knew to be armed. Shifting in his 
 chair so that his revolver lay convenient to his hand, 
 as De Hyeres approached the Irishman removed 
 his cigar from between his teeth, flicked away an 
 inch of ash and silently proffered it in the pre- 
 scribed fashion. 
 
 The Frenchman accepted the courtesy with a bow, 
 applied the fire to his cigarette, inhaled deeply and 
 returned the cigar with a formal phrase of thanks. 
 He lingered for a moment, puffing and gazing off 
 over the black, starlit expanse of the Bay of Ben- 
 gal, lonely to its dim and far horizon, then ob- 
 served quietly : " I am not mistaken, I believe, in 
 understanding I have the honour to address Mon- 
 sieur le Colonel O'Rourke, Chevalier of the Legion 
 of Honour? " 
 
 " You are not mistaken, monsieur,*' returned 
 O'Rourke pleasantly, then with the directness which 
 he sometimes found useful, watching the man closely 
 as he spoke : " And I believe it is my pleasure to 
 recognise Monsieur le Vicomte des Trebes ? "
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE 293 
 
 " Des Trebcs, monsieur? " The Frenchman's look 
 of wonder was beyond criticism and there was no 
 least trace of discomfiture to be detected in his man- 
 ner. " But no. You are under a mistake. I am 
 merely a French gentleman without a title ; Raoul 
 de Hyeres is my name." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the wanderer. " 'Twas the resem- 
 blance misled me. Pardon, monsieur." 
 
 " Granted, my dear sir. . . . Des Trebes ? 
 The name has a familiar sound. Do I not remember 
 reading somewhere that the Vicomte des Trebes died 
 last spring? In Tunis, was it? . . . Suddenly, 
 I believe." 
 
 "Is it so?" said O'Rourke drily. "Possibly. 
 The vicomte lived in the manner of those who meet 
 with sudden deaths." 
 
 The subject languished, and after a few more 
 noncommittal observances De Hyeres wandered off, 
 presumbably in search of the English girl, to whom 
 he had been paying assiduous attention. 
 
 On closer scrutiny, she had proved to be a re- 
 remarkably pretty girl; although, in point of fact, 
 O'Rourke, for all that he admired her looks im- 
 mensely, had purposely avoided her. This he did 
 from motives of prudence; he mistrusted the com- 
 bination formed by De Hyeres and the girl. The 
 latter might be all that she looked and claimed to 
 be: a sweet, wholesome and rather ingenuous young 
 Englishwoman, an orphan, resident in Rangoon in
 
 294 
 
 the household of an uncle, to whom she was re- 
 turning after a visit with friends in Simla. On the 
 passenger list her name stood as Emilia Pynsent. 
 But the adventurer felt it the course of wisdom to 
 deny himself the pleasure of her acquaintance, so 
 long as she permitted the attentions of the French- 
 man. 
 
 Altogether, considering the hot weather and such 
 self-imposed restrictions, O'Rourke considered the 
 voyage hardly a success from a social point of view. 
 He kept pretty much to himself and to Danny, and 
 to make assurance doubly sure he instituted a new 
 regime with regard to the Pool of Flame: that jewel 
 never left his stateroom. When O'Rourke was on 
 deck or at meals, Danny sat behind bolts, alert and 
 under arms, and vice versa. By night they stood 
 regular watches together, the one on guard while 
 the other slept. Clearly the adventurer was deter- 
 mined that no lack of safeguards on his part should 
 again deprive him of the ruby. 
 
 But it's no easy matter to avoid meeting any 
 particular person on a ship with a small saloon list, 
 unless one is willing to be purposely rude and dis- 
 courteous. For all his wariness the Irishman was to 
 carry with him a personal impression of Miss Pyn- 
 sent. 
 
 On the last day of the passage, toward evening, 
 the Poonah raised the coast of Burmah ; by dark she
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE 295 
 
 was steaming steadily southwards along the littoral, 
 heading for the delta of the Irrawaddy. 
 
 A still, bright night with little wind: O'Rourke 
 was not one to resist its allure. Four bells saw him 
 lounging at the rail below the bridge, staring hun- 
 grily over toward the land. It was in his mind that 
 another twelve hours or so would see him relieved of 
 his trust ; and as the time drew nigh impatience 
 burned hotly within him; he had become full weary 
 of the Pool of Flame and was anxious to be free of 
 the thing, to have its chapter in his history closed 
 forever. 
 
 Far over the water a white and flashing light 
 lifted up and caught his eye, a nameless beacon 
 bright against the darkness at the base of the 
 Arakan hills, guardian of the perils of those shallow 
 seas. And simultaneously he became conscious of a 
 presence at his elbow ; as he turned sharply the Eng- 
 lish girl addressed him in a voice sweet-toned and 
 quiet. 
 
 " What is that light, if you please, Colonel 
 O'Rourke?" 
 
 "Faith, that I can't say, Miss Pynsent." 
 
 Her eyes flashed a laugh upon him in the gloom. 
 " Then you know my name ? " 
 
 " Even as yourself knew mine. 'Twould be 
 strange otherwise, with our ship's company so small." 
 
 " But I," she returned, animated, " am such an
 
 296 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 insignificant person while you are the Colonel 
 O'Rourke." 
 
 " Ye do me an honour I'm not deserving, Miss 
 Pynsent, but 'tis proud I am entirely that a humble 
 soldier of fortune should be known to ye be reputa- 
 tion." 
 
 " Oh, I've grown quite weary of your fame, 
 Colonel O'Rourke," she countered with a trace of 
 laughing impudence. " Hardly anything has inter- 
 ested Monsieur de Hyeres, these past few days, save 
 anecdotes of your exploits." 
 
 " 'Tis kind of him, to be sure. I must cultivate 
 his acquaintance and learn from him to know me- 
 self, I see." 
 
 If she detected the irony she overlooked or failed 
 to understand it. " He's very entertaining," she 
 commented pleasantly. " But then most French- 
 men are, don't you think? I hope to see much of 
 him in Rangoon." 
 
 "So he's landing there, too?" O'Rourke filled 
 in the pause. 
 
 " I believe so. And you, Colonel O'Rourke ? " 
 
 " I may have to wait over until the next steamer," 
 he admitted warily. 
 
 " I sympathise heartily with your disgust at the 
 prospect," laughed the girl. 
 
 " Eh? And why? 'Tis a land of fair repute, for 
 climate and beauty." 
 
 " Ah, but I live in Burmah, you see, and so have
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE 29T 
 
 come to know it far too well. But that's the way 
 with all expatriates, isn't it to hate their homes 
 so far from Home? " 
 
 "Must ye endure it, then, Miss Pynsent?" 
 
 " An orphan has little choice. It seems my kis- 
 met to abide in Rangoon forever and a day. You 
 see, my only living relative is an uncle, Mr. Lans- 
 downe Sypher, and he's got no one else to keep 
 house for him." 
 
 " Lansdowne Sypher ... ! " 
 
 The ejaculation sprang to O'Rourke's lips before 
 he could restrain it. 
 
 " Yes. Do you know him? He's the junior, you 
 know, of the firm of Secretan and Sypher." 
 
 " Solicitors, are they not ? . . . No ; 'tis me 
 misfortune not to know your uncle. But the name 
 of his firm I've heard." 
 
 The genial nature of the Irishman, which had in- 
 sensibly warmed to the girl's charm, withdrew 
 abruptly, tortoise-like, into a shell of reserve. The 
 element of coincidence had again entered into his 
 affairs, and he had learned a bitter lesson from ex- 
 perience to distrust coincidence on general prin- 
 ciples. " There's naught so common in life as co- 
 incidence," he philosophised, " and be the same token 
 naught so dangerous." 
 
 For which reason he invented an early excuse to 
 terminate the conversation, and ungallantly with- 
 drew to the seclusion of his stateroom, where he
 
 298 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 passed a night that seemed interminable; for he 
 lay long in a wakeful panic of the imagination, 
 scheming out a hundred stratagems whereby he 
 might confuse as many possible attempts to pre- 
 vent the due and safe delivery of the Pool of Flame 
 into the hands of Mr. Lansdowne Sypher.
 
 CHAPTER 
 THIRTY-TWO 
 
 TOWARD the close of the following day the Poondh 
 dropped anchor in the river roadstead off Rangoon ; 
 and within the ensuing hour her passengers had de- 
 serted her, De Hyeres and Miss Pynsent in their 
 van, O'Rourke among the last to leave. And noth- 
 ing hindered him, not the least hitch delayed his 
 disembarkation. It was curious, it was incredible, 
 it was disturbing. He took away with him no ease 
 of mind whatever. 
 
 " The course of good luck never did run smooth," 
 he assured himself gloomily. " At least, that's me 
 own experience. The sun never shines so bright as 
 the minute before I stumble over the unexpected and 
 fall flat on me foolish face. Now if only it were 
 stormy if only De Hyeres, or Des Trebes or some- 
 body had slipped a dynamite bomb into me pocket, 
 I'd feel more hopeful. But, Heavens ! " he rapped 
 sharply the gunwale of the sampan in which he was 
 journeying shorewards " knock wood before the 
 sky falls, me boy. 'Twould be only natural were this 
 cockleshell to turn turtle in midstream and then 
 meself would sink like a shot, with this infernal 
 Jonah hanging round me neck ! " 
 
 399
 
 300 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 There seemed more than a possibility of that ; the 
 particular sampan which had fallen to his lot was 
 apparently no more substantial, no less cranky than 
 its kin. It seemed to dance across the rushing tide 
 of Rangoon river as lightly and with quite as much 
 stability as a feather, every wavelet a peril, 
 the swell from a passing bumboat a dangerous men- 
 ace. . . . O'Rourke at length rose, balanced 
 himself gingerly, with a convulsive leap found 
 himself upon the landing stage below the floating 
 jetty, and took away with him a high opinion of 
 the skill of Burmese watermen. 
 
 There were tikkagharries waiting, and without a 
 breath's delay the adventurer and his servant 
 climbed into the nearest and desired to be conveyed 
 to the offices of Messrs. Secretan and Sypher. The 
 vehicle whirled them swiftly away and into the main- 
 travelled way of Rangoon, Mogul Street ; whose 
 romantic designation rouses anticipations inevitably 
 disappointed, since it is anything but Burmese in 
 character, offering to eyes acquainted with the street 
 scenes of Indian cities nothing new. O'Rourke de- 
 clared it might have been a bit of Bombay or of 
 Madras transplanted; of Burmah, the individual 
 land, there was little visible little more than the na- 
 tives who formed anything but a large part of the 
 wayfaring throng. He found in Mogul Street, the 
 commercial centre of Rangoon, architects as well 
 as architecture alien to the land. . . . But
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO 301 
 
 there were compensating things : glimpses caught 
 in passage of narrow side streets, teeming with life; 
 the warm, scented atmosphere of the city ; the glow- 
 ing colour and the repose inseparable from any 
 conception of an Eastern city; above all the slim, 
 graceful spire of the Shway Dagon, a finger of gold 
 pointing the way to Heaven. 
 
 In front of a structure of stone and iron so pal- 
 pably an office-building that it might bodily have 
 been transplanted to the Strand without exciting 
 comment save for the spotless cleanliness of it 
 their tikkagharry drew up. The gharriwallah in- 
 dicated the offices of Messrs. Secretan and Sypher, 
 one flight up and named his fare. O'Rourke paid 
 him and alighted, with Danny at his heels and his 
 heart trying to choke him. The hour of fulfilment 
 was at hand and all was well! He who had 
 faced death in a hundred shapes of terror, unflinch- 
 ing, found himself in a flutter of nerves that 
 would have disgraced a schoolgirl. He would not 
 have considered it surprising had he been shot down 
 then and there, in broad daylight, by some skulk- 
 ing assassin. He apprehended he knew not what: 
 danger, death, despoilment of his treasure from 
 every quarter. Every footfall was ominous in his 
 ears, every spoken word a shriek of warning. 
 
 He dodged into the building, took the steps three 
 at a stride . . . and suddenly found himself 
 in the presence of, more than that, closeted with, the
 
 302 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 man to meet whom he had crossed half the world at 
 peril of his life : Mr. Lansdowne Sypher. He eyed 
 him in astonishment unbounded, questioning his 
 reality. Conscious of what he had dared and tri- 
 umphed over within the last three months, to find 
 himself in that spot dazed him. 
 
 And yet the solicitor was tangible enough; the 
 touch of his hand was still warm in O'Rourke's palm ; 
 while their seclusion was undeniable and Danny re- 
 mained in the outer office, a stout-hearted, loyal, 
 armed and efficient guard against interruption. 
 
 " Colonel O'Rourke ? " Sypher's manner was 
 very cordial. " I'm glad to see you. You are within 
 your time, yet I had begun to despair of you. Be 
 seated." He indicated a chair beside his desk. " And 
 permit me; you of all men will appreciate the pre- 
 caution." 
 
 He laughed and went to the windows, adjusting 
 the wooden shades in such a manner that the light 
 was tempered and no portion of the room could be 
 visible to any one spying from a window in one of 
 the adjacent buildings. Then he turned and smiled 
 cheerfully at the stupefied adventurer. O'Rourke 
 comprehended him slowly: a little man of brisk 
 habits, full-coloured, his hair touched with grey, 
 wearing the indescribable manner of the Anglo- 
 Saxon exile; unquestionably an Englishman, a gen- 
 tleman, a man of ability. 
 
 "Ye are Mr. Sypher?" The Irishman got his
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO 303 
 
 bearings gradually and cautiously. " 'Tis surpris- 
 ing somewhat your reception. I trust ye'll par- 
 don me showing it. I didn't understand ye were 
 expecting me." 
 
 " And why not ? " Sypher rocked back in his desk- 
 chair. " Certainly I should be justified in assuming 
 that my letter must eventually have reached a gen- 
 tleman of reputation as international as your own." 
 
 " True for ye," O'Rourke agreed, not without 
 a certain simple dignity in permitting the flattery 
 to pass unchallenged. " But . . . there's been 
 an interval of some months between me receipt of 
 your communication and me appearance here. If 
 I were to tell ye what's happened to me in the mean- 
 time, ye'd understand something of me emotions 
 just now. . . . Faith, 'tis meself wouldn't bet 
 ye or anyone else a penny on the proposition that 
 I'm really here at last." 
 
 " I don't doubt that." Sypher eyed him with un- 
 disguised interest. " It's something I promise my- 
 self you'll be kind enough to tell me later. At 
 present the business day is closing." He paused 
 significantly. 
 
 O'Rourke nodded. " I have it here," said he; 
 " safe be the mercy of several highly potential 
 saints!" He laughed uneasily, fumbling in his 
 breast-pocket. " There it is," said he, tossing the 
 stone in its chamois covering upon the solicitor's 
 desk.
 
 304 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 Sypher himself betrayed some evidences of nerv- 
 ousness as he sat forward and lifted the case by its 
 leathern thongs. He let it dangle before him for 
 an instant, watching it with a curious, speculative 
 smile. ..." Well," he said, " really ... ! " 
 And after a pause: "I congratulate you, Colonel 
 O'Rourke. And I admire you immensely. 
 (You see, when this commission was offered us, I con- 
 sidered seriously the project of going in search of 
 you in person and bringing the stone back to Ran- 
 goon myself. But then although I'm not really a 
 timorous man I knew the circumstances so well I 
 feared I should never reach Rangoon alive. Yes." 
 He thrust a hand into his waistcoat pocket and pro- 
 duced a penknife, with which he began to slit the 
 stitches that enclosed the ruby. " You've been won- 
 dering, no doubt, why so enormous a reward was 
 offered. . . ." 
 
 " I have that," assented O'Rourke. 
 
 " It was partly because of the danger," said 
 Sypher, intent upon his occupation. " You know, 
 these Burmese are a curiously pious folk; when one 
 of them grows rich he employs the major part of 
 his fortune in building a temple or in some such 
 work. This particular gentleman a very wealthy 
 merchant chose to give half of what he had to the 
 restoration of the Pool of Flame to the Buddha 
 from which it was originally stolen. But he, too, 
 was afraid. He's superstitious about the stone 
 
 r
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO 305 
 
 believes it bad luck to touch it so long as it remains 
 away from its Buddha. So he came to us. ... 
 I myself am not superstitious, but . . ." 
 
 He ceased to speak abruptly, for the Pool of 
 Flame lay naked, a blinding marvel, in the hollow 
 of his palm. O'Rourke heard him gasp and was 
 conscious of his hastened respiration. Watching 
 the man intently, he saw a strange shade of pallor 
 colour his face. 
 
 " 'Tis meself ," said the adventurer, " that's no 
 more superstitious than ye, sir. Yet I'm willing to 
 confess I'm glad the thing's out of me hands at 
 last." 
 
 Sypher seemed to recollect himself as one coming 
 out of a state of stupor. He stood up and buttoned 
 the ruby carefully into a pocket of his trousers. 
 " Come," he said crisply. " Let us step across the 
 street to the bank. The money's there for you, sir 
 the reward."
 
 CHAPTER 
 THIRTY-THREE 
 
 BACK in his stateroom on the Poonah, O'Rourke 
 threw himself into the lower berth and there lay, a 
 forearm flung across his eyes, thinking excitedly, 
 disturbed by formless forebodings. 
 
 Beside him Danny was packing industriously, 
 with now and again a pause during which he would 
 stand reflective, his gaze fixed upon his employer's 
 face, a little puzzled and perplexed. 
 
 The Poonah was pausing overnight to discharge 
 and take aboard cargo; for this. reason O'Rourke in 
 his haste to get ashore had not delayed to take his 
 luggage with him. . . . On deck, fore and aft, 
 donkey-engines were puffing and chugging and 
 chain tackles rattling as they lifted freight to and 
 from the hold and the lighters alongside. 
 
 Abruptly, without moving, O'Rourke spoke. 
 " I'll want evening clothes, Danny," .said he. " 'Tis 
 dining I am to-night with Mr. Straker and his 
 niece, Miss Pynsent, who came with us from Dia- 
 mond Harbour. 'Twill save a bit of bother to dress 
 before I go ashore." 
 
 " Aw-w," said Danny, assimilating. ..." And 
 306
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE 307 
 
 the Missus?" he said suddenly, some minutes later; 
 " M'anin' Madam O'Rourke, sor. Did ye get no 
 word from her? " 
 
 " For what else would I be driving to every hotel 
 in the town after leaving Mr. Sypher, Danny, but to 
 inquire for her ? She's not here ; but she'll come, 
 ,be sure. She's still got several days three or four 
 in which to keep our tryst. 'Tis discontented I 
 am not to find her waiting for me, but I'm satisfied 
 entirely she'll keep faith." 
 
 " And," insisted Danny eagerly " beggin' yer 
 honour's pardon but what will ye have to tell her, 
 sor? " 
 
 O'Rourke sat up. "Have to tell her? What 
 d'ye mean ? " 
 
 " I mean, sor, I'm dyin' wid the wish to know how 
 ut's all turned out. Plase, yer honour, won't ye be 
 tellin' me? Is ut is ut all right? " 
 
 " Bless your heart, Danny ! " laughed O'Rourke. 
 " 'Tis so dazed I've been that I never thought to 
 tell ye thinking all the time that ye knew. 'Tis 
 all right indeed, me boy. The Pool of Flame's in 
 Mr. Sypher's keeping and the money's in mine 
 in the bank, Danny, payable to me order. 
 Think of it one hundred thousand pounds of real 
 money, and all me own. 'Tis ridiculous, 'tis absurd. 
 'Tis meself hardly credits the truth of it all; yet I 
 was there saw the man, gave him the jewel, went 
 to the bank with him and for the space of five min-
 
 308 
 
 utes sat at a table, with all that money before me 
 counting it over, bill by bill, a square hundred of 
 them, each for a thousand pounds, guaranteed by 
 the Bank of England! . . . Think of that all 
 that belonging to me to me, O'Rourke! . . ." 
 
 " Thank God ! " breathed Danny devoutly. " But 
 did ye 1'arn nothin' about the stone ? " 
 
 " Little enough Danny only a part of the mean- 
 ing of the whole divilish business ; the rest I'm to 
 know to-night. Mr. Sypher '11 be telling me after 
 we've dined; he wants to hear me own end of the 
 story, too. . . . Hand me those shoes no, 
 idiot, the button ones. I must be hurrying, not to 
 be late. 'Tis a surprise the man's promised me 
 * and the reverse of unpleasant,' said he. I'd like to 
 know what that can be. . . ." 
 
 He stood up and scrambled into the shirt Danny 
 held for him, but while fumbling with the studs, fell 
 again into a thoughtful and troubled humour. 
 
 " I can't believe 'tis all come true," he averred 
 soberly. " 'Tis wholly out of reason and insane ; be 
 rights this business should have wound up in a 
 fracas the like of which neither you nor myself has 
 ever known. This peace passes me understanding 
 altogether; 'tis unnatural, like the calm before a 
 storm. I'm mistrustful of it; I fear 'tis early yet 
 for us to be congratulating ourselves on having the 
 Pool of Flame off our hands for good and all. Mark 
 me words, Danny. . . ."
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE 309 
 
 " And what'll them be? " asked Danny, open- 
 mouthed. 
 
 " There's a storm brewing," said O'Rourke with 
 conviction. 
 
 " The Saints forbid ! " murmured Danny piously. 
 
 Sypher had very explicitly named his dinner-hour, 
 after the formal English fashion, nowhere and by 
 nobody more rigidly observed than by the Eng- 
 lishman in the Orient ; " eight for eight-thirty," he 
 had said. And as O'Rourke, a very dignified and 
 imposing O'Rourke in his evening dress, waited for 
 a sampan on the lower grating of the Poonah's 
 passenger gangway he had a round three-quarters 
 of an hour for leeway ample leisure for an inter- 
 ested inspection of that part of Rangoon lying be- 
 tween the floating jetty and Sypher's residence in 
 a suburb near Dalhousie Park. 
 
 Danny remained aboard ship only temporarily, be- 
 ing instructed to follow with O'Rourke's belongings 
 to suitable accommodations already engaged at a 
 hotel on the Strand, overlooking the roadstead ; from 
 whose windows O'Rourke was promising himself the 
 pleasure of watching the arrival of the steamship 
 bearing his wife to his arms. 
 
 " Bless her dear face ! " said he softly. " 'Tis 
 meself will be desolated if she's not aboard that Mes- 
 sageries boat due to-morrow now that I can go 
 back to her. a man of property, no longer a pauper 
 ne'er-do-well ! Think of that, ye lucky dog ! "
 
 310 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 A sampan slid noiselessly in beside the grating. 
 O'Rourke let himself cautiously into it and incon- 
 tinently collapsed upon the rear seat as the boat 
 slid away toward the shore lights, yielding to the 
 vigorous sweeps of the single long oar wielded by 
 the Burman in the bows. 
 
 Here and there overhead thin and ragged shreds 
 of cloud blurred the brilliance of the sky. Between 
 the Rangoon shore where the city, beneath a haze 
 luminous and golden, pulsed and throbbed with its 
 noisy nocturnal life, to the Dalla side, still and dim 
 behind its barrier lights, the river rolled like a flood 
 of ink, its burnished surface shot with parti-coloured 
 streamers of radiance from jetty beacons and the 
 riding-lights of the night-enshrouded fleet. 
 
 Suspended far above the seething city a star hung 
 like a planet in leash, at the peak of the invisible 
 spire of the Shway Dagon. 
 
 Down-stream and up, like water-insects, sampans 
 skimmed silently, flitting shadows merging into 
 shadows ; low, muted echoes of laughter, like broken 
 chords of gentle music, drifted across the tide. The 
 waters gnawed and growled at the great stark flanks 
 of the vessels beneath whose sterns and before whose 
 prows the sampan swept. 
 
 A native river-boat with knife-like stem and tow- 
 ering, stately stern, passed, surging swiftly up 
 against the current, oars dipping and rising in 
 steady, rhythmic splashings, lanternlight disclosing
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE 311 
 
 rows of oarsmen, bare backs glistening like black 
 silk as they bent and recovered. 
 
 The day had died in gentle winds, and now by 
 night suave airs breathed down from inland, little 
 breezes heavy laden with a strange, sweet smell, and 
 melancholy, as if conscious that they wafted a multi- 
 tude of souls of gentle flowers out to the Nirvana 
 of the sea. 
 
 " A fair land," commented O'Rourke. " Faith, 
 'tis meself wonders that men linger in the cold, pale 
 West, when there's all this to be seen, to be felt 
 and known, for the seeking." 
 
 Ashore, a tikkagharry caught him up and bore 
 him down the silent road that winds between the 
 Strand and the river's edge, then whipped into- 
 Mogul Street, where the fluent tide of life ran broad 
 and deep beneath a glare of light. And for a time 
 the gharriwallah piloted his fare slowly through a 
 concourse of nations : keen, gaunt Chin from the 
 Hills pausing to purchase cherroots from side- 
 walk stalls attended by partridge-plump Burmese 
 girls ; Tommies and kilted Scots elbowing one an- 
 other, all moderately the worse for drink ; Chinese 
 strutting in all the pomp and panoply of their bizarre 
 festal costumes ; Sikhs chatting with members of the 
 municipal police; Japanese, silent, furtive, sly and 
 efficient; vendors of a dozen tribes and castes offer- 
 ing their wares of betel-nut, pineapple, cooked foods 
 and tobacco ; naked and marvelling natives from the
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 Southern Provinces ; coolies pattering madly be- 
 tween shafts of spidery rickshaws wherein lolled 
 Europeans in evening attire, like O'Rourke bound 
 for their late dinners ; Suratis, Karen, Shan princes 
 with their retinues. . . . An epitome of the 
 East: the East indolent, alluring, insolent, that 
 sang in the wanderer's willing ear its age-old, subtle 
 siren-song, wooing him, insinuating itself once 
 again into its niche in his heart, flattering him, win- 
 ning him with the elusive caress of its fragrant 
 breath. . . . 
 
 All too quickly the tikka whisked out of the main 
 channel of the city's life, out beyond the Mohamme- 
 dan mosque and the Chetti's hall and the Christian 
 chapel, and into the soft, dense night of the coun- 
 tryside a world of darkness sparsely studded with 
 dim, glowing windows ; and all too soon, again, it 
 swung off from the highway into a private drive, 
 crunched over gravel, and stopped before the illumi- 
 nated veranda of a native bungalow. 
 
 O'Rourke got down, discharged the driver and 
 ascended the steps, a little puzzled to find no one 
 waiting to welcome him, whether Sypher, Miss Pyn- 
 sent, or at worst a servant. Surely he was expected. 
 . . . But nobody appeared. The grating tires 
 of the departing tikkagharry had made noise enough 
 io apprise the household of the arrival of its guest, 
 one would think. Nevertheless, O'Rourke remained 
 ungreeted.
 
 Grinning with anguish, the man . . . stag- 
 gered and, throwing back his arm, flung the 
 Pool of Flame from him with all his might " 
 
 (Page 261)
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE 313 
 
 He stroked his chin, perplexed, wondering if by 
 mischance the native driver had brought him to the 
 wrong bungalow. But it was now too late to call 
 him back and make sure. And this veranda, still 
 and empty as it was, softly lighted by lanterns de- 
 pendent from its roof, was to him a small oasis in 
 a world of darkness. Without advice he was lost, 
 could find his way no other where. He would have 
 simply to wait until the household came to life, or 
 until by his own efforts he succeeded in quickening it. 
 
 He tried to do this latter to the best of his ability 
 by tapping a summons on the door- jamb. Through 
 the wire insect-screens a broad hallway and a stair- 
 case rising to the upper floor were visible. Limp, 
 cool-looking rugs conceived in pleasing colour- 
 schemes protected the hardwood flooring. To the 
 right a door stood ajar and permitted a broad shaft 
 of light to escape from the room beyond. On 
 the other hand a similar door, likewise open, showed 
 a dimmer glow. Two other doors were closed; 
 O'Rourke assumed that they led to the kitchen-offices. 
 
 Having waited a few moments without event, the 
 Irishman knocked a second time, and would have 
 knocked a third when he thought better of it and 
 glanced at his watch. It was only a matter of ten 
 minutes after eight ; strictly interpreting the intent 
 of Sypher's invitation, he was a trifle early. Pre- 
 sumably the servants were all out of earshot, pre- 
 occupied with preparations for the meal; while
 
 314 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 Sypher and his niece were most probably still dress- 
 ing. 
 
 With an impatient air O'Rourke turned back to 
 the veranda. A hammock in one corner was swing- 
 ing idly in the breeze. A number of Avicker arm- 
 chairs stood about, invitingly furnished with 
 cushions. O'Rourke selected one and disposed him- 
 self to wait. 
 
 After five minutes he frowned thoughtfully and 
 lit a cigarette. 
 
 When an additional ten minutes had elapsed with- 
 out a sound being heard in the house, he forgot to 
 be angry, and began to feel uneasy. Something in 
 the deathlike silence of the place proved infinitely 
 disturbing. He got up, stamped heavily to the 
 door and knocked again with no uncertain vigour; 
 and, presently, again and more loudly still. 
 
 Behind him the jungle-like gardens round the 
 bungalow were almost imperceptibly astir with whis- 
 perings and stealthy rustlings of foliage: the night 
 singing gently in its mystery of the world be- 
 yond. . . . 
 
 " I don't like it ! " O'Rourke exclaimed suddenly. 
 The crisp rattle of the syllables jangled, dissonant in 
 the silence. He had an odd sensation as of being 
 rebuked for some unwarrantable presumption, some 
 lawless trespass upon sacred precincts. 
 
 " But it isn't right," he argued in a lower tone. 
 
 He put a hand upon the knob of the screen door,
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE 315 
 
 but thought again and turned away ; it was not his 
 place to invade the home of a man who was hardly 
 more than a chance acquaintance, no matter how 
 unpleasantly impressed he might be by the circum- 
 stances in which he found himself. 
 
 " Faith, 'tis a fine surprise he's given me," he 
 said, irresolute. " But it can't be premeditated 
 insult. Why should it be? And they can't all be 
 out. 'Tis sorry I am I let that driver go ; more 
 than likely this will be the wrong house entirely. 
 That must be the trouble. I'll just go, quietly fold 
 up me tent and decamp before the inhabitants, if 
 any there be, discover me and run me off the prem- 
 ises." 
 
 But at the head of the steps, with foot poised 
 to descend, something restrained him ; it would be 
 difficult to say what, unless it were the unbroken, 
 steadfast, uncanny quiet. " I'll have a look," he 
 determined suddenly ; " perhaps . . ." 
 
 He turned to the right and stopped before a long, 
 open window, looking into what seemed to be a 
 music-room and library combined. Brightly illumi- 
 nated by hanging lamps of unusual brilliancy, the 
 interior was clearly revealed. And with an abrupt 
 exclamation the adventurer entered, feeling for the 
 revolver, to carry which had of late become habitual 
 with him. 
 
 The room was simply furnished, if tastefully. 
 There was a grand piano near the veranda windows
 
 316 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 with a music rack and cabinet near by. Dispersed 
 about the floor were a few comfortable chairs, a rug 
 of rare Oriental texture, two consoles adorned with 
 valuable porcelains. In the middle of the room 
 stood a draped centre-table littered with books and 
 magazines ; toward the back a long, flat-topped 
 desk. And against the rear wall, ordinarily hidden 
 by a folding screen of Japanese manufacture, now 
 swept aside, was a small steel safe. Upon this 
 O'Rourke's attention was centred. He remarked 
 that it looked new and very strong ; it was open, dis- 
 closing a variety of pigeonholes more or less occu- 
 pied by docketed documents, and a smaller interior 
 strong-box. 
 
 Between the desk and the safe a man lay prone 
 and quite motionless. He was dressed for a cere- 
 monious dinner, and apparently had been struck 
 down in the act of stepping from his desk to the 
 safe. For beyond all doubt he had been murdered. 
 The haft of a knife protruded from his back, buried 
 to its hilt just beneath his left shoulder-blade. 
 
 O'Rourke moved over to the body and lifted it 
 by the shoulders, turning the face to the light. 
 Then, with a low oath, he dropped it. 
 
 A small sound, so slight as to be all but indis- 
 tinguishable, penetrated O'Rourke's stupefaction. 
 He stood erect, looking about, telling himself that 
 the noise resembled as much as anything the hushed 
 cry of a child sobbing in sleep, soft .and infinitely
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE 817 
 
 pathetic. Unable to assign its source elsewhere, he 
 at first attributed it to the stricken man at his feet ; 
 and in a desperate hope that the pulse of life might 
 still linger in Sypher's body, he knelt, withdrew the 
 knife, turned the corpse upon its back, and laid 
 his ear to its breast, above the heart. 
 
 He could not detect a flutter, yet, hoping against 
 hope, he turned back the eyelid and examined the 
 cold staring pupil. With a despairing shake of his 
 head he stood up and cast about for something suit- 
 able for the final test, discovering upon the desk 
 a long, thin steel paper-cutter with a brightly pol- 
 ished surface. And kneeling once more, he held the 
 flat of the blade before the pale, parted lips. A mo- 
 ment's experiment was enough; no trace of breath 
 dimmed the lustre of the steel. Beyond dispute, 
 Sypher was dead. 
 
 " Poor divvle ! " muttered the Irishman. . . . 
 "The Pool of Flame! .
 
 CHAPTER 
 THIRTY-FOUR 
 
 FOB several minutes O'Rourke remained beside the 
 body, making two notable discoveries. For he was 
 quick to note the fact that one of the dead man's 
 hands was tightly clenched, while the other lay 
 half-open and limp. The former was closed upon a 
 leather thong so stout as to resist any attempt to 
 break it by main strength, so firmly held that the 
 murderer had found it necessary to sever it with a 
 knife. The knife itself was there, for proof of this ; 
 the sheen of light upon its mother-of-pearl handle 
 caught the Irishman's eye. 
 
 Picking it up, he subjected it to a close examina- 
 tion that, however, gleaned no information. It was 
 simply a small pocket penknife, little worn, with 
 blades of German steel. It carried no identifying 
 marks and told him but one thing that the assassin 
 had been a European ; a native would never have 
 bothered with so ineffectual a thing when a sturdy 
 weapon, serviceable alike for offence or defence, 
 would have served its purpose equally well. 
 
 From this he turned to the dagger which he had 
 taken from the body ; a stiletto with a plain ebony 
 
 318
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR 319 
 
 handle, unmarked, unscratched, apparently fresh 
 from the dealer's showcase. It meant nothing, save 
 that it indicated still more strongly that the mur- 
 derer was most probably not a native. A Greek or 
 an Italian, a Genoese sailor or a native of Southern 
 France say a seafaring-man out of Marseilles- 
 might have carried it. 
 
 " Oho ! " said O'Rourke, speculative. " A French- 
 man, mayhap 1 " 
 
 He got up, satisfied that he would learn nothing 
 more by continuing his search of the solicitor's 
 body. The mental link between the fact of the 
 crime and its perpetrator was inevitable; O'Rourke 
 believed implicitly that Sypher had been murdered 
 by Des Trebes masquerading as " De Hyeres." 
 And he could have done himself an injury in the 
 impotent fury roused by realisation that he had 
 permitted himself to be so childishly hoodwinked, 
 despite the suspicions he had entertained of 
 the soi-disant "De Hyeres." He felt himself re- 
 sponsible, since he had neglected to warn Sypher. 
 It had been on his tongue's tip that afternoon, when 
 Sypher himself had diverted the warning by his 
 request that the O'Rourke could more comfortably 
 spin his yarn after they had dined. 
 
 " Poor divvle ! " said the adventurer again. He 
 stooped to spread his handkerchief over the staring, 
 pitiful face. " And poor, poor young woman ! " 
 
 He was startled by the thought of her; for the
 
 320 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 first time it entered into his comprehension, until 
 then bounded by the hard and fast fact of the mur- 
 der. Now instantly his concern about the crime was 
 resolved into solicitude for the girl. What could 
 have happened to her? What had become of the 
 servants, whose sudden desertion had left the house 
 so sinisterly quiet? 
 
 Swept on by a fervour of anxiety on the girl's be- 
 half, O'Rourke glanced quickly about the study to 
 assure himself that he had overlooked nothing of 
 importance, then passed out into the main hall or 
 reception-room. Here the most searching inspection 
 revealed nothing amiss. He moved on to the other 
 room on the main floor and found himself in the 
 dining-room; here again all was in perfect order. 
 The pretty, round table in the centre had been care- 
 fully set for a party of four and wore an air of 
 expectancy, he thought of patient waiting to dis- 
 charge its cordial function. Not a spoon or knife 
 or fork was out of place or missing. Only, the 
 candles in the five-armed silver candelabrum needed 
 snuffing. 
 
 The sole illumination of the room, the candles 
 furnished a good light, however, protected as they 
 were from draughts by transparent cylinders of 
 mica ; and observing this the wanderer swept away 
 the dainty, trifling silken shades and, catching up 
 the candelabrum itself, bore it with him on his round 
 of investigation.
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR 
 
 The kitchen offices in the rear of the house next 
 received his attention; he found them completely 
 untenanted, having apparently been abandoned in 
 desperate haste. Everything was in disorder; the 
 meal he had been invited to partake of was cooking 
 to cinders in pots and ovens ; a heavy offence 
 of burning food thickened the atmosphere. Half- 
 stifled, he left the place as quickly as possible, re- 
 turned to the main hall and ascended to the upper 
 story. 
 
 Here he found three bed-chambers and a bath. 
 He first entered Sypher's, then the room evidently 
 occupied by Miss Pynsent, finally what was unques- 
 tionably a guest-chamber, discovering nothing note- 
 worthy until he reached the latter. And here he 
 received a shock. Thrown carelessly across the foot 
 of the bed was a woman's evening-wrap, while on the 
 bureau were gloves, long, white and fresh, but wrin- 
 kled from recent wear, and a silken veil. Plainly 
 these were the property of the fourth guest, whose 
 place had been set at the table below, but of whose 
 identity he had not been apprised. Presumably, he 
 reflected, she (whoever she was) had been intended as 
 the fulfilment of Sypher's hinted surprise. 
 
 A guess formed vaguely in his brain, and sud- 
 denly curdled into a suspicion. He took the gloves 
 in his hand, examining them for marks of identifica- 
 tion, but found none. But in one corner of the veil 
 he discovered an embroidered initial the letter B.
 
 "Beatrix?" he guessed huskily. "Is it pos- 
 sible? . . . He promised me a surprise. . . . 
 'Twould have been like her to plan it with him * 
 and 'tis quite possible she reached Rangoon before 
 I. ... My wife! . . ." 
 
 Hastily he returned to the evening-wrap, a fas- 
 cinating contrivance of lace and satin unquestionably 
 the last cry of the Parisian mode, such a wrap as 
 his wife might well have worn. But beyond Paquin's 
 label stitched inside its dainty pocket it boasted no 
 distinguishing mark. . . . 
 
 He stumbled hurriedly from the room and down 
 the stairs, leaving the candelabrum on a table in 
 the hall and returning to the study where Sypher's 
 body lay; tortured by mounting fears, he stood 
 and looked blankly about him, at a loss where 
 next to turn, if almost preternaturally alive to every 
 sound or sight that might afford him a clue. . . . 
 He fought against a suspicion that crawled like a 
 viper in his brain. Had he, after all, been deceived 
 in Sypher's niece, Miss Pynsent? Had that inno- 
 cent charm of hers been a thing assumed, a cloak 
 for criminal duplicity? Had she in reality been Des 
 Trebes' accomplice? Had those clear and limpid 
 eyes of youth, all through that voyage been looking 
 forward to such a scene, to such a tragic ending as 
 this? Could she have afforded the Frenchman the 
 aid he needed to consummate his chosen crime? 
 
 For he was now ready to believe Des Trebes the
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR 
 
 prime mover in this terrible affair; he no longer 
 entertained a shred of doubt that his 'enemy had 
 travelled with him from Calcutta under the disguise 
 of " De Hyeres." And he believed the man had 
 planned this thing far ahead; else would he have 
 surely taken some overt steps to prevent O'Rourke 
 from delivering the ruby to Sypher. He divined 
 acutely that, despairing of any further attempt to 
 win the jewel from him, Des Trebes had turned his 
 wits to the task of stealing it from Sypher: some- 
 body naturally much less to be feared than the ad- 
 venturer. 
 
 But on the other hand, if the girl had not been 
 Des Trebes* assistant what had become of her? 
 And what of her guest the lady one of whose 
 initials was B? 
 
 It was not inconsistent with Des Trebes' whole- 
 hearted villainy that he should employ a gang of 
 thugs sufficiently large to overpower and make away 
 with bodily and in a body Miss Pynsent, her guest 
 and the servants. " Great God ! " cried 
 O'Rourke. " If it be in truth my wife ! " 
 
 Without presage a thin but imperative tintin- 
 nabulation broke upon the silence of the house of 
 death. O'Rourke jumped as if shot. Somewhere in 
 one of the other rooms a telephone-bell was ringing. 
 It ceased, leaving a strident stillness ; but before 
 he could move to find the instrument and answer the 
 call, there rose a second time that moaning sob
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 which first he had attributed to an impassible source, 
 then, in the turmoil of his thoughts, had forgotten. 
 
 He waited, listening intently. The telephone 
 called again and again subsided. Then a third time 
 he heard the groan, more faint than before, but 
 sufficiently loud to suggest its source. He moved 
 warily toward the windows and out upon the 
 veranda hounded by the telephone. But that would 
 have to wait ; here was a more urgent matter to his 
 hand. Between the long insistent rings the groaning 
 was again audible; and this time he located it ac- 
 curately. It came from the lawn, near the edge of 
 the veranda. He stepped off carefully, but almost 
 stumbled over the body of a man who lay there, 
 huddled and moaning. 
 
 " And another ! " whispered the adventurer, awed. 
 " Faith, this Pool of Flame . . . ! " 
 
 He was at once completely horrified and utterly 
 dumbfounded. Nothing he had come upon within 
 the bungalow seemed to indicate that there had been 
 anything in the nature of a struggle prior to the 
 assassination of Sypher. He had up to this moment 
 considered it nothing but a cold-blooded and cow- 
 ardly murder; the man had apparently been struck 
 down from behind in total ignorance of his dan- 
 ger. O'Rourke had deduced that Sypher had risen 
 from the desk to put the jewel in his safe ; and that 
 while he was so engaged the assassin, till then 
 skulking outside the long windows and waiting for
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR 325 
 
 a moment when his victim's back should be turned, 
 had entered and struck. . . . But how could 
 he reconcile that hypothesis with this man who lay 
 weltering and at the point of death at the veranda's 
 edge? 
 
 Indeed, he could not do so. But this victim, at 
 least, was not yet dead ; if he had strength to moan, 
 he might yet be revived, at least temporarily. 
 
 Without delay, then, the Irishman grasped the 
 man beneath his armpits, and, lifting him bodily to 
 the veranda, dragged him into the library. Not 
 until he had placed him in the middle of the floor, 
 beneath the glare of lamplight, did O'Rourke have 
 an opportunity to observe his features. But now 
 as he dropped to his knees beside the body, his won- 
 dering cry testified to immediate recognition. 
 
 The latest name to be inscribed on the long and 
 blood-stained death-roll of the Pool of Flame was 
 that of Paul Maurice, Vicomte des Trebes; or, if 
 there were life enough left in the man to enable him 
 to insist upon his nom de guerre (the wanderer re- 
 flected grimly) Raoul de Hyeres. 
 
 " What next ? " wondered O'Rourke. " What can 
 the meaning of it all be now ? " 
 
 With each development the mystery was assuming 
 more fantastic proportions, becoming still more im- 
 penetrable and unsolvable. But he had no leisure in 
 which to ponder it now, if Des Trebes were to be 
 restored. And O'Rourke worked over the man as
 
 326 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 tenderly as though they had been lifelong friends, 
 with skilful fingers estimating the nature and ex- 
 tent of his wounds, with sound knowledge of rough 
 and ready surgery doing all that could be done to 
 bring him back to consciousness. 
 
 Only the faintest of respirations moved the 
 Frenchman's breast ; to all other appearance he was 
 lifeless, indisputably beyond salvation. His body 
 was a mass of wounds ; in the torso alone O'Rourke 
 found no less than eleven knife-thrusts, and these all 
 in spots normally mortal. That he retained the 
 least glimmer of the vital spark seemed miraculous. 
 
 Remembering that he had remarked water and 
 wine on the dining-room buffet, O'Rourke went 
 hastily thither, returning with a carafe of the former 
 and a half-bottle of brandy. With these judiciously 
 applied, it was still a matter of some ten minutes ere 
 he succeeded in quickening to a feeble blaze the dying 
 embers of vitality. Then at last Des Trebes sighed 
 feebly; a spot of colour, febrile, fickle, evanescent, 
 dyed his cheeks ; his breath rattled harshly in his 
 gullet; his eyelids twitched and opened wide. He 
 glared blankly at the face above. 
 
 " Des Trebes ! " cried O'Rourke. " Des Trebes ! " 
 
 His voice quickened the intelligence of that mor- 
 ibund brain. A flash of recognition lighted the 
 staring eyes. The lips moved without sound. 
 
 "Des Trebes!" 
 
 '* Ah, yes . . . the Irishman . . ."
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR 327 
 
 The whisper was barely articulate. 
 
 O'Rourke put to his lips a cup of brandy diluted 
 with a little water. " Drink," he pleaded, " and try 
 to tell me what's happened to ye. Who gave ye 
 these wounds ? Try to speak." 
 
 " But . . . no ... I shall not tell.'* 
 
 " But good God, man ! ye've been murdered ! " 
 
 The white lips moved again; the adventurer bent 
 his ear low to them. 
 
 " We . . . have both . . . lost . . . 
 but you . . . your wife . . ." 
 
 " My wife! " 
 
 In a frenzy O'Rourke resumed his efforts to 
 strengthen the dying man with spirits and water, 
 but Des Trebes, with a final effort, obstinately shut 
 his teeth, moving his head imperceptibly from side 
 to side in token of his stubborn refusal. 
 
 So he died, implacable. In his pale cheeks the 
 flush ebbed, leaving them leaden ; in his eyes the light 
 faded ; in his mortal agony they became glazed ; 
 his limbs grew rigid and the death sweat stood out 
 on his pallid forehead and hollow temples. A violent 
 tremor shook him like a reed in the wind. And then 
 he lay cold and still, malignant and lustreless eyes 
 still staring fixedly at the face of him whom Des 
 Trebes of his own accord had chosen for his mortal 
 enemy. In death the chiselled features remained set 
 in a smile sardonic and triumphant. Dying, he gave 
 no comfort to his foe.
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 For a little time longer O'Rourke knelt at Des 
 T rebes' side, watching and wondering. Eventually 
 he sighed heavily, shook his head, shrugged his 
 shoulders and rose. And, rising, he perceived for the 
 first time that he was no longer alone with the dead 
 in that place. 
 
 Kneeling in silence by the vicomte's side he had 
 till then been hidden from the inner doorway to the 
 room by the drapery of the centre-table. And evi- 
 dently it was this circumstance which had embold- 
 ened a man to slip in from the main hall and ap- 
 proach Sypher's desk at the back of the room. 
 
 As O'Rourke appeared he was conscious first of 
 something moving in the room a movement caught 
 vaguely from the corners of his eyes. Then he 
 heard a stifled cry of fright. He had already his 
 revolver in his hand, so instant had been the obedi- 
 ence of his brain and body to the admonition of 
 instinct. 
 
 He swung about with the weapon poised, crying: 
 " Stop ! " The other man was apparently trying to 
 escape by the door to the hall, but was much too 
 far from it to escape the threatened bullet. A jet 
 of fire spurted from his hand. O'Rourke heard a 
 crash and clatter of broken window-glass behind 
 him. Without delay or conscious aim he fired and 
 saw, still indistinctly through pungent wreaths of 
 smoke, the figure reel and collapse upon itself. 
 
 The man had hardly fallen ere O'Rourke stood 
 over him, with a foot firm upon one arm, while he
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR 329 
 
 bent and wrenched a revolver from relaxing fingers. 
 Then, stepping back, he took stock of the murderous- 
 minded intruder, and saw at his feet, writhing, 
 coughing and spitting, a Chinese coolie a type of 
 the lowest class, his face a set yellow mask, stolid, 
 unemotional, brutalised. Even then it betrayed little 
 feeling; only the slant-set black eyes burned with 
 unquenchable hatred as they glared up at the con- 
 queror. . . . O'Rourke's bullet had penetrated 
 the man's chest; and as he squirmed and groaned 
 through his sharpened teeth of a rat, a crimson stain 
 spread on the bosom of his coarse white blouse. 
 
 Wholly confounded, O'Rourke shook an amazed 
 head. A third element had been added to the 
 mystery with no effect other than to render it 
 more opaque and dense than before. And he was 
 unable even to question the fellow, for he himself 
 knew no Pidgin English, and even should he find a 
 way to reach that low intelligence its possessor 
 would probably refuse any information. 
 
 With a hopeless, baffled gesture, the adventurer 
 turned away, debating his next move. The tele- 
 phone, its raucous voice now long since stilled, came 
 into his mind, and he was minded to leave the room 
 and find it, to summon aid. 
 
 Before he could move, however, a footfall on the 
 veranda startled him, and his ears were ringing with 
 a command couched in terse, curt English: 
 
 "Hands up!"
 
 CHAPTER 
 THIRTY-FIVE 
 
 A MAN stood in one of the windows, his figure con- 
 spicuous against the night in cool white linen of 
 a semi-military cut, his extended right hand train- 
 ing a revolver on the Irishman's head. 
 
 " Faith ! " cried O'Rourke with genuine relief, 
 " you're more welcome than a snowfall in Hades. 
 Good evening to ye, and many of them." 
 
 "Hands up!" 
 
 " With all the pleasure in the world." O'Rourke 
 elevated his hands. " I've two revolvers on me per- 
 son," he volunteered amiably ; " before ye go any 
 further ye'll be wanting to take 'em away from me, 
 I'm not doubting." 
 
 " From what I see, I quite believe I shall," agreed 
 the Englishman, without relaxing his unprejudiced 
 attitude. "At all events, keep your hands where 
 they are, for the time being. . . . What the 
 deuce does this mean ? " 
 
 " Tell me yourself and I'll make ye a handsome 
 present," returned O'Rourke composedly. " I've 
 been addling me wits over it for the last thirty min- 
 utes, but neither rhyme nor reason can I read into 
 
 330
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE 331 
 
 it. But, see now: would ye mind relieving me of 
 the arsenal I've been telling ye about, that I may 
 rest me arms without fear of being punctured? " 
 
 The other laughed shortly and entered the room 
 a clean-limbed, sturdy, well set-up boy of four- 
 or five-and-twenty or thereabouts. He possessed, 
 aside from an emphatic and capable manner, good 
 looks enhanced by a wide, good-humoured mouth. 
 His eyes at the moment were professionally cold and 
 alert, rapidly inventorying the room. O'Rourke was 
 prepossessed by him at sight. 
 
 " You might help me out a bit, you know," said 
 the boy briskly. " You've been so free with your in- 
 formation that I don't doubt you will place me still 
 further under obligation to you by turning your 
 back and depositing your weapons on that table. 
 Of course, I needn't bore you by remarks upon the 
 folly of false moves." 
 
 " 'Twould be quite superfluous," replied O'Rourke, 
 obeying with a fair and easy grace. " There now. 
 What else may be your pleasure? " 
 
 " Move back three paces and stand still." 
 
 " Right-O, me lord." 
 
 O'Rourke executed the prescribed evolution and, 
 at rest, heard footsteps behind him ; a thought later 
 he felt the Englishman's hands rapidly going 
 through his pockets. Then, with a " very good," 
 the latter stepped between the table and O'Rourke 
 and faced him.
 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 " You've apparently told the truth thus far," he 
 said. "Now what d'you know about this?" He 
 waved a hand round the room. " Be careful what 
 you say. I may as well inform you I'm Couch 
 lieutenant sub-chief of police for this district." 
 
 " Saint Patrick would be no more welcome," de- 
 clared O'Rourke. " I was on the point of trying to 
 get ye by telephone when ye saved me the trouble. 
 How the divvle did ye happen to drop in so oppor- 
 tunely?" 
 
 " I was coming up-stream in the police launch, on 
 the night tour of inspection, and stopped at the 
 landing just below this the grounds here run down 
 to the river, you know to telephone back to head- 
 quarters on business. The exchange operator sug- 
 gested I look in here and see if everything was all 
 right said he'd been unable to get any response 
 since nightfall. . . . Now? " 
 
 Carefully and concisely O'Rourke wove the events 
 of the day into a straight narrative, starting with 
 the delivery to Sypher of the Pool of Flame, touch- 
 ing briefly upon Des Trebes' part so far as he un- 
 derstood it and concluding with the death of the 
 coolie. The sub-chief of police eyed him throughout 
 with gravely concentrated interest, nodding his un- 
 derstanding. 
 
 " I see," he said slowly. " You make it clear 
 enough. Moreover, you've convinced me. I didn't 
 really believe from the first you'd had any hand in 
 this ghastly mess, but I couldn't take chances, of
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE 333 
 
 course. You're at liberty to take up these pistols 
 as soon as you please; in fact, I advise you to do 
 so immediately. From what's taken place already, 
 you may have need of 'em within the next ten sec- 
 onds. . . . Now for this coolie. If he's able to 
 speak, I'll get some information out of him." 
 
 " 'Tis too far gone he is, I'm fearing." 
 
 "We'll soon find out." The Englishman bent 
 over the man, who was now very quiet, but, by the 
 constant flicker of his cunning eyes, still conscious. 
 A hasty examination told the investigator all he 
 needed to know about the nature of the wound. 
 " He'll not last long," said Lieutenant Couch, and 
 began to converse with the local vernacular of Pid- 
 gin-English, about one word in ten of which was in- 
 telligible to O'Rourke. As he continued to speak 
 the coolie's scowl darkened and he interrupted with 
 a negative motion of his head. The sub-chief re- 
 peated his remarks with emphasis. For reply he got 
 a monosyllable that sounded, as much as anything 
 else, like an oath. Couch looked up. " He says he 
 wants water, and I suspect he won't speak until he 
 gets it. Can you ?" 
 
 O'Rourke fetched the half-empty carafe and 
 Couch put it to the coolie's lips, permitting him to 
 drink as much as he liked. But as soon as the bottle 
 was removed the fellow shut his mouth like a trap 
 and refused a word in answer to the lieutenant's de- 
 mands and persuasions. 
 
 " Stubborn brute," growled Couch. " Most of
 
 334 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 these animals here belong to some devilish tong or 
 other, and they'd rather die than say anything touch- 
 ing on the business of the society or affecting the 
 interests of a brother-member. But I think I know 
 a way to bring him to reason. Hand me that knife, 
 please." 
 
 Wondering, O'Rourke tendered him the weapon 
 that had brought death to Sypher. The lieutenant 
 wiped it callously on a corner of the coolie's blouse 
 and held the keen shining blade before his eyes, ac- 
 companying the action with a few emphatic phrases. 
 A curious expression, compounded of sullen fury 
 and abject panic fright, showed in the Chinaman's 
 eyes, and his lips were as if by magic unsealed. 
 However reluctant, he began to chatter and spoke 
 at length, delivering himself of a long statement 
 which Couch punctuated now and again with perti- 
 nent, leading questions. 
 
 At length, throwing aside the knife, he jumped 
 up, strong excitement burning in his eyes. " I've 
 got enough from him," he said rapidly. " I'll explain 
 later. You'll help of course; your wife's involved 
 as well as Miss Pynsent. But I don't think you need 
 fear ; we'll be in time. Are you ready ? . . . Half 
 a minute; I've got to use that telephone." 
 
 He ran out into the hall, rang up and shouted a 
 number into the receiver, and for a few moments 
 spoke rapidly in a Burmese dialect. O'Rourke gath- 
 ered that he was speaking with a native subor- 
 dinate at the police headquarters in Rangoon.
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE 335 
 
 Couch swung back into the study. " Got those re- 
 volvers, sir? Then come along; we'll have to run for 
 it. Fortunately our launch is handy; other- 
 wise . . ." 
 
 He sprang across the veranda and down to the 
 lawn, O'Rourke pelting after him.
 
 CHAPTER 
 T HIRTY-SIX 
 
 T A NIGHT of velvet blackness, softly opaque, lay upon 
 land and water. The police launch, shuddering with 
 the vibrations of a motor running at high tension, 
 sped down the silent reaches of Rangoon River like 
 a hunted ghost. She ran without lights, these hav- 
 ing been extinguished by Couch's directions, regard- 
 less of harbour regulations or danger. Happily the 
 hour was late enough to relieve them of much fear 
 of trouble with other craft; the upper reaches of 
 the river were practically deserted. 
 
 In the bow Couch was handling the wheel with 
 the nonchalance of one from whom the river had no 
 secrets by night or day. To O'Rourke it seemed no 
 light task to pilot so slight a craft at such high 
 speed through that Stygian darkness ; yet the sub- 
 chief was accomplishing the feat without a discern- 
 able trace of fear or tremor of uncertainty. 
 
 O'Rourke sat beside him. In the stern a police- 
 orderly acted as mechanic, attending to the motor. 
 These three, no more, made up the rescue party. 
 
 Though devoured by impatience and anxiety, 
 O'Rourke forbore to question Couch, hesitating to 
 
 336
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX 337 
 
 divert his attention from his task and knowing that 
 as soon as he could the young lieutenant would 
 speak. From the time when the coolie had yielded, 
 there had been not a second's rest for either ; neither 
 had had time to confer save on questions of the most 
 immediate moment; and control of these Couch had 
 voluntarily and naturally assumed, deciding, acting 
 and directing in the same thought, apparently. 
 
 " Your wife, with Miss Pynsent," said Couch 
 abruptly, without looking round " at least I pre- 
 sume it's Mrs. O'Rourke, from what you say have 
 been kidnapped by a gang of highbinders and are 
 now aboard a junk in the lower river, which will 
 sail for God-knows-where at the turn of the tide. 
 That's the only thing that saves 'em. We'll be 
 on 'em before they're able to force a way down the 
 river." 
 
 O'Rourke groaned, holding his head with both 
 hands. " My wife . . . ! " he said brokenly. 
 
 " I know," Couch interrupted grimly ; " I know 
 how you feel. Miss Pynsent is there, too, you see." 
 
 " Oh," said O'Rourke, " I didn't understand that. 
 . . . I'm sorry." He dropped a hand on the 
 younger man's shoulder and let it rest there briefly. 
 " Please God," he said reverently, " there'll be many 
 another polluted yellow soul yammering at the gates 
 of hell this night ! " 
 
 " Amen ! " said Couch. . . . "We sha'n't be 
 long now."
 
 338 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 Silently O'Rourke removed his coat and waist- 
 coat, his collar and lawn tie, and turned back his 
 cuffs. " Evening clothes are hardly the thing to 
 fight in," he said ; " but I'm thinking 'twon't make a 
 deal of difference to me. Got any cartridges for a 
 Webley mark IV? " 
 
 "Wheeler has. Give Colonel O'Rourke a few, 
 Wheeler," said Couch, addressing the orderly. 
 
 The latter rummaged in a locker and pressed into 
 O'Rourke's hand half a dozen cartridges, with which 
 the adventurer proceeded to replenish the empty 
 chamber in his revolver. 
 
 " I'd only discharged one," he observed, " but 
 'tis likely we'll need that, even, with only the three 
 of us against a junk-load." 
 
 " Oh, I telephoned for reinforcements, of course," 
 returned Couch. " They ought to be there ahead 
 of us." 
 
 " What did the coolie tell ye, if ye've time to 
 talk? " 
 
 Couch laughed. " I daresay you're wondering 
 how I made him speak at all." 
 
 " That's the true word for ye." 
 
 " I threatened to cut off his silly pigtail and send 
 him naked and dishonoured to the ghostly halls of 
 his ancestors. It's wonderful how much those cal- 
 lous brutes dote on that decoration. I told him, 
 further, that if he lied, when I found it out Fd 
 return and shave him bald as an egg, even if he
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX 339 
 
 were dead by that time. So I persuaded the truth 
 from him, the whole story from his side of it." 
 
 " I'm listening. . . ." 
 
 " He confessed he was in the pay like these 
 chaps we're after now of a highly respectable 
 Chinese merchant and head of one of the tongs 
 one of the richest men in Rangoon, who, it seems, 
 was also after that ruby. I can't imagine what he 
 wanted of it, but that'll come out, probably; the 
 man's rich enough to buy dozens of stones as fine. 
 However ... I gather he'd laid his plan far 
 ahead. The coolie intimated you'd been watched 
 all the way from Bombay. At all events, the brutes 
 were ready when you arrived ; Sypher was a doomed 
 man from the moment you handed over the Pool 
 of Flame. They surrounded his house this night, 
 coming up from the river, just as soon as it was 
 dark enough to conceal their actions. Then they 
 found a third element in the business your friend 
 Des Trebes, all unsuspicious of them, lurking on the 
 veranda and watching Sypher through the window. 
 So they waited to see what he was up to. And 
 pretty soon they found out. Sypher came down- 
 stairs, went to the safe and opened it; I presume 
 he had the stone in his hand, ready to put away. 
 While he was standing there the Frenchman slipped 
 up behind and stabbed him, annexing the stone 
 and leaving the way he got in. The instant he 
 stepped off the veranda the Chinese got him; but
 
 340 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 he managed to scream before they could silence 
 him and drew the attention of the household, Miss 
 Pynsent, your wife and the servants. So to cover 
 things up they had to gather them all in. The 
 servants were killed there were three of them 
 and the women . . ." 
 
 Neither man spoke for a time. Then Couch re- 
 sumed. 
 
 " This coolie was an outsider a servant of the 
 merchant's not one of the junk gang; so he stayed 
 ashore, and thought it would be a fine young 
 scheme to return and do a little looting on his own. 
 . . . I've telephoned the head office to arrest that 
 cursed merchant and confiscate his house and goods 
 and detain anybody they could catch connected 
 with him. The net's well enough laid, and I 
 think . . ." 
 
 The lights of the city became visible, strung along 
 the right bank of the river as the launch rounded 
 a bend. Couch swung the little boat out into mid- 
 stream. " Half-speed, Wheeler," he said, adding 
 to O'Rourke: "I've got to pick out that junk. 
 I presume the right one will have all sail set and 
 be moving downstream with the tide; it's just on 
 the turn now and fortunately there's no wind worth 
 mentioning. ... I wish I could see something 
 of the other launch." He peered anxiously into 
 the obscurity ahead. " If there were only star- 
 light ! " he complained bitterly. " Stand by,
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX 341 
 
 Wheeler, to stop the motor. We'll drop alongside 
 with the current, as quietly as we can. Colonel 
 O'Rourke, will you get forward and take the boat- 
 hook and headwarp, please ; I'm needed at the wheel 
 and Wheeler at the engine until we make fast." 
 
 Cautiously the Irishman rose, took the boathook 
 Couch offered him, and crept out upon the narrow 
 triangle of deck at the bows. Crouching there, he 
 found the headwarp and waited, tense with anxious 
 expectancy, staring ahead in futile effort to pene- 
 trate the wide, shadowy reaches of the river. But 
 the mystical distances confused and eluded him. 
 The launch seemed to move, panting, in an abyss of 
 night. She made little noise : a hiss of water beneath 
 her stem ; the steady humming of the motor, throt- 
 tled down to half speed; the muffled gasping of the 
 exhaust. And presently even these ceased at a word 
 from Couch, and the launch moved only with the tide. 
 
 And still O'Rourke could not discern the junk. 
 A fever boiled in his veins ; he found it difficult to 
 breathe. . . . The damp river air swam past 
 his face, gratefully cool. Dark bulking shadows 
 glided by on either hand, as if they moved and the 
 launch itself were motionless. He was conscious of 
 the yellow glimmer of riding-lights, shining high in 
 confused tangle of spars and rigging that loomed 
 spectrally against a sky only a shade lighter than 
 the lower world. . . . On the southern horizon 
 heat lightning played like a naked sword; and he
 
 343 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 thought, with a pang in his heart, of another night 
 in Monte Carlo. 
 
 Abruptly a towering wall of opaque black rose out 
 of the darkness to starboard. He braced himself 
 for the imminent instant of action, poised so lightly 
 upon his toes and fingertips that a swell from a 
 moving vessel would have thrown him off his bal- 
 ance, perhaps overboard. The launch closed swiftly 
 and silently in upon the black wall ; it towered over 
 him like a cliff; far above he could see dim divisions 
 between black and black that must be the rail. And 
 he shook his head, dismayed ; he could never scale 
 that, he thought; not even the O'Rourke could ac- 
 complish a miracle. But in a breath it had faded 
 back, and he realised that the towering poop of the 
 junk had misled him. They were now alongside at 
 the waist. He stood up and saw a low railing mov- 
 ing past, breast high, thrust out with the boathook 
 and caught it over the edge of the rail, drew the 
 launch in, let go the boathook and, with the head- 
 warp wrapped about his hand, jumped blindly. 
 
 Something dealt him a vicious, all but paralysing, 
 blow in the pit of the stomach ; he doubled up, for a 
 moment helpless, across the junk's rail, but retained 
 sufficient presence of mind to hold on to the headwarp. 
 Then, recovering a trifle, he squirmed over and fell 
 sprawling upon the deck, his heels drumming an 
 abrupt and violent alarm. From somewhere he heard 
 a shrill jabbering arise, with an ensuing patter of
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX 843 
 
 bare feet. Swiftly he got upon his knees and drew 
 in the headwarp, with his free hand searching along 
 the rail for a cleat. Something thumped heavily on 
 the deck beside him, and grunted ; and something else 
 followed with a second bump ; and the launch swung 
 outboard and, caught by the current, jerked the 
 headwarp from his grasp. " May the luck of the 
 O'Rourke still hold ! " he prayed fervently, getting 
 upon his feet to realise that, with Couch and the 
 man Wheeler, he was imprisoned aboard the junk, 
 doomed there to remain whatever might befall, until 
 the coming of the second launch ... or perhaps 
 for a longer time. 
 
 As he rose some indistinct body ran into him and 
 cannoned off with an uncouth yelp ; with no time to 
 draw his revolvers, the adventurer stuck out with a 
 bare hand and had the satisfaction of finding a goal 
 for his blow of landing heavily on bare flesh and of 
 hearing the dull sound of a fall upon the deck. 
 
 Synchronously lights were flashing out fore and 
 aft. A revolver spat venomously beside him. Some- 
 where a man screamed and fell, whimpering horribly. 
 The revolver exploded a second time. There were 
 confused noises, as of a furious struggle, rough and 
 tumble, and he suspected that one or another of his 
 companions had been tackled bodily by one of the 
 junk's crew. On his own part he caught a glimpse 
 of a shadow moving ghostlike against one of the 
 lights, and promptly exorcised it with a shot.
 
 344 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 By this time the vessel seemed to be caught in the 
 grip of pandemonium ; shouts and shots vied with 
 screams, groans, confused padding footsteps, to 
 make the moment one of a nightmare. The board- 
 ing party stood at bay, not daring to venture from 
 the spot on which they had landed, firing steadily 
 but with discretion. The man who had been grap- 
 pled with Wheeler had succeeded in accounting 
 for his antagonist and now stood shoulder to shoul- 
 der with Couch. Did a head shine in the light of a 
 lantern or a footfall sound near by, a bullet sought 
 it, more often than not successfully, if one were to 
 judge from the responsive yells. 
 
 The unexpectedness of the attack had been their 
 strongest ally, the confusion thereby created in the 
 minds of the attacked an invaluable aid. But now 
 abruptly they found the tables turned. The initial 
 error on the part of the Chinese in displaying lights 
 was remedied ; they disappeared as if upon a con- 
 certed signal, leaving the deck in absolute obscurity. 
 With this the firing ceased, and save for the cries 
 of the wounded, silence obtained where had been a 
 chaos of discordant sounds. 
 
 Huddled together like children in fear of the pow- 
 ers of darkness, the three held their fire against the 
 inevitable assault in force, handicapped fearfully by 
 their absolute ignorance of the lay of the deck, of 
 the number of their opponents, and of from which 
 quarter they had to expect the attack. And the
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX 345 
 
 silence and the suspense wore upon their nerves until 
 the final struggle came in the shape of a boom to 
 save them from madness. And it came with a 
 rush and a will, cyclonic, tremendous, overpowering. 
 By sheer weight of human flesh the Europeans were 
 pinned against the rail, fighting at handgrips with 
 a cruel and cunning foe far better prepared for such 
 business than they. For at such close quarters pis- 
 tols were practically worthless save as clubs, while 
 knives could slip to slay through almost any inter- 
 stice, however straitened. O'Rourke had no time 
 to think of his companions. Stung to desperation by 
 the silent, unrelenting fury of his assailants twice 
 he was conscious of the white-hot agony of a knife- 
 thrust, one penetrating the fles^ of his side and 
 scraping his ribs, the other biting deep into his 
 thigh he fired until he had but one cartridge left 
 in his revolver, and expended that blowing out the 
 brains of an extraordinarily persistent coolie, then 
 dropped the useless weapon and trusted to his naked 
 strength. 
 
 It served him well for a little. One man, precipi- 
 tated by the weight of those behind him into the ad- 
 venturer's arms, he seized by the throat and throt- 
 tled in a twinkling; then lifting him from the deck, 
 he exerted his power to the utmost, and cast the 
 body like a log into the midst of the melee. Thus 
 clearing a little space, he found himself able to step 
 aside and let another run past him into the bulwark ;
 
 346 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 and seeing the sheen of a swordblade in the fellow's 
 hand, before he could recover seized his wrist, twisted 
 it savagely, and wrenched the weapon away. 
 
 It hung with a strange balance in hands more 
 used to the Continental rapier and broadsword, but 
 it was far better than nothing, and he made shift to 
 employ it effectually, if at haphazard. . . . 
 
 The finale came a moment later, signalised by a 
 blinding flash of light more bright than that of day, 
 which fell athwart the deck and illuminated instan- 
 taneously every inch of the fighting ground. Fer- 
 vently he blessed the near-by vessel that had turned 
 its searchlight on the junk. The scene it revealed 
 beggared the experience of a man whose trade was 
 fighting; it fell upon decks slippery with blood and 
 littered with the bodies of dead and wounded; it si- 
 lenced a confusion indescribable. Upon that insane 
 turmoil the light fell with the effect of a thunder- 
 bolt from a clear sky. 
 
 Screaming shrilly in their panic, the Chinese scat- 
 tered and fell away, leaving O'Rourke beside Couch, 
 Wheeler being down and buried beneath three Chinese 
 corpses. And instantaneously something grated 
 harshly against the starboard side of the junk, and 
 a man, his figure stark black against the cold white 
 glare, leaped upon the rail and tumbled inboard. 
 Others to the number of a dozen followed him, swarm- 
 ing over the decks. Couch reeled towards them, bab- 
 bling orders and instructions.
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX 347 
 
 The second launch had arrived. 
 
 Sick and faint, O'Rourke slouched back against 
 the rail, watching with lack-lustre eyes the 'end of 
 the chapter. It was simple to the point of seem- 
 ing farcical in comparison with that which preceded 
 it. The dazed and now outnumbered Chinese of-r 
 fered no further resistance. Disarmed and put un- 
 der guard, they disappeared from his consciousness, 
 while he watched the men from the second launch, 
 spurred by Couch, scatter in search of the abducted 
 women. 
 
 Loss of blood was beginning to tell upon him; 
 his strength seemed altogether gone ; his wits buzzed 
 in his head like a swarm of gnats. He grasped his 
 support convulsively, beginning to appreciate how 
 seriously he was hurt. He heard as from a great 
 distance thin, faint cries of men shouting in triumph ; 
 saw Couch, a pygmy shape, holding in his arms a doll 
 who wore the face of Miss Pynsent. Then of a sud- 
 den he was conscious of a woman hastening toward 
 him, a fantastic and incongruous figure in a dinner- 
 gown, her skirts trailing in the slime of the sham- 
 bles, her arms outheld to him; and knew her for his 
 wife. 
 
 He essayed to speak, but could not. He felt her 
 arms close about him. In the face of the search- 
 light's penetrating and undeviating glare, night 
 closed down upon him.
 
 CHAPTER 
 THIRTY-SEVEN 
 
 IN after days, when he was altogether well and 
 whole, they journeyed forth, these two, the man 
 and his wife, from Rangoon northward. The rail- 
 way carried them some distance ; later they struck off 
 with their train into the primitive wilderness beyond 
 the ulimate British outposts on the Chindwine, 
 main tributary to the Irrawaddy. 
 
 The land was peaceful, hospitable, and very, very 
 lovely in its wildness. Their happiness was ecstasy. 
 By day they rode through jungle, wood and rolling 
 uplands, or less easily through the fastnesses of the 
 hills, side by side, thought linked to thought, their 
 hearts attuned. By night their camps were pitched 
 in a new-found world of beauty, wonderful in its 
 shadowy mystery. Sometimes they were the guests 
 of native princes in their palaces, again they slept 
 a hundred miles from nowhere, beside the banks of 
 some rolling flood whose very name was strange to 
 them. Reunited, they lived as one being in a world 
 of iridescent wonders. 
 
 It was so ordered that they came, toward sun- 
 down of a certain day, to the foot of a hill crowned 
 
 348
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN 349 
 
 with a great pagoda of many multiplied roofs 
 fringed with a myriad silver bells that tinkled cease- 
 lessly in the evening airs. 
 
 Here they dismounted and together made the as- 
 cent of an age-old wooden stairway, broad and easy, 
 with a rail of carven wood coloured like a rainbow, 
 and thronged from the first rise to the last with 
 weary pilgrims, beggars, lepers, laughing children, 
 mendicant holy men. The sun was low upon the 
 horizon when, having bribed their way along that 
 gauntlet, O'Rourke and his bride (she could never 
 be aught less to him) attained to the topmost plat- 
 form and, having received permission, with meet 
 show of reverence entered the temple. 
 
 It was very dark inside and for a time they moved 
 blindly in and out; but at length they came to a 
 massive doorway looking toward the West, and here 
 they paused, hand in hand, looking up to the placid 
 face of a huge Buddha who, squatting cross-legged 
 upon a pedestal, looked through the incense-scented 
 gloom ceaselessly forward to Nirvana. 
 
 The figure, carven originally from stone, had been 
 so heavily plastered with gold-leaves by the devout, 
 that now it had all the semblance of being gold to 
 its core ; and, lavishly decorated with necklaces and 
 bracelets of rare jewels set in crusted gold, in the 
 evening glow it shone like some great lamp of holi- 
 ness. Only its face was in shadow. 
 
 Slowly the light struck higher beneath the eaves
 
 350 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 
 of the pagoda, and slowly it crept up and yet up, 
 until its last blood-red shaft revealed the Buddha's 
 forehead and what was set therein, a monstrous 
 ruby. 
 
 The woman gasped faintly and clung tightly to 
 her husband's arm. He held her close, watching the 
 great stone flame and throb and pulse, like a pool of 
 living flame swimming in darkness. 
 
 And then the light of the world went out. 
 
 Pensively in the dusk they descended the temple 
 staircase. At the foot, before they remounted their 
 horses, the woman came to the man and put her 
 hands upon his shoulders. 
 
 " Terence," she said, " I think I am very weary. 
 Take me home." 
 
 He gathered her into his arms. 
 
 " I think," she said, " it frightened me made me 
 fearful of this country the Pool of Flame, up 
 there." 
 
 " Ye've seen the last of it," he said tenderly, " and 
 so have I. 'Tis done with, like the days of me ad- 
 venturings. I have no thought but you, dear heart. 
 Let us go home." 
 
 THE END
 
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