A Prisoner of Morro Part 26

Eagerly Clif waited, to see what would happen next.

But what did happen was more startling and incredible yet; he could scarcely believe his senses.

For he felt the hands running down his arm. They fumbled at his wrists for an instant.

And then with a clatter the handcuffs dropped to the ground!

"Merciful heavens!" Clif thought to himself. "Can he be insane?"

For a moment he actually thought so; then it flashed over him that perhaps the fiend was torturing him with the most horrible of all tortures--hope.

"He'll wish he hadn't!" Clif gasped, as he braced his muscles.

But that was not the true solution of the mystery; there were stranger things yet stranger and stranger.

The only things that bound Clif now were the ropes that had held his wrists at first. He tugged at them, but in vain.

There was a moment's silent pause. And then to Clif's unutterable consternation he heard another sound, a sound from across the room--a low, grating sound!

It left him breathless.

Some one else was coming into the cell!

And with one rush the true state of affairs swept over Clif.

"This isn't Ignacio!" he panted.

And a moment later he received proof positive of that fact. For again the hand stole down his arms and there came a couple of quick slashing cuts that hurt his wrists more than the ropes.

But seconds were precious then. In one of them Clif's hands were free.

And his pulses leaped as he felt the knife thrust into his palm. He clutched it, and he heard one word whispered--in English:

"Fight!"

And then the dark figure stole swiftly over to the other side of the cell. It was at the same instant that the door was opened and the light of a lantern flashed in.

It was Ignacio returning!

CHAPTER XVII.

OUT OF THE DUNGEON.

The furious Spaniard came in like some wild beast, fairly gnashing his teeth and snarling to himself in his rage.

Clif had but a moment, but he was quick to think; he sprang back to his old position, slipping his feet into the iron ring and putting his hands behind him.

And Ignacio never noticed any difference, in fact he did not look at Clif until he had set down the lantern and shut the heavy door.

He turned the key again and then faced about; touching low and muttering to himself, he stole swiftly across the floor.

And his gleaming eyes flashed into Clif's face.

"Yankee!" he hissed, "I am back. Do you hear me? Ha, ha!"

As if to make sure that he heard him he struck him once more across the face.

"Listen!" he cried. "Ha, ha!--and tremble."

Clif's blood rose at that blow, but he held himself back and watched and waited.

That was a moment of peril for the treacherous Spaniard; what would have been his terror may be imagined, had he known the victim into whose eyes he was glaring was clutching in one hand a sharp knife, ready at any instant to plunge it into him.

But the fellow had no idea of his peril; he was at the very height of his triumph and his dark, beady eyes gleamed ferociously out of the shadows of that damp and silent vault.

But he must have noticed that some of the color had come back into Clif's face.

"You are still defiant," he cried. "You still do not tremble. But wait--wait till you begin to feel what I have for you. Did you see those iron things I brought in? Ha, ha! There is one I will fasten about your forehead and draw it tight till your very brain bursts. And then will you like it? Hey? Will you turn pale then? Will you scream? Ha, ha!--and I shall dance around you and watch you. Will you be sorry you interfered with me then?"

Ignacio might have taunted his victim that way for hours, but he was too eager and impatient. He whirled about and sprang toward the door.

"Santa Maria!" he panted. "I will get it! I will begin! I must hear him yelling!"

And he s.n.a.t.c.hed up something from the floor and taking the lantern in his other hand bounded back toward Clif.

"Are you ready?" he exclaimed. "Yankee pig, begin to scream!"

And he flashed the lantern's light upon him.

That was the crisis of the situation; for as the Spaniard looked he made the appalling discovery that his victim's feet were untied.

And he staggered back, dazed.

"Por dios!" he gasped.

And that exclamation was his last sound.

Clif had nerved himself for the spring; for he knew that Ignacio might have a revolver and that no risks could be taken.

But at that instant a dark, shadowy form rose up behind Ignacio.

And one of his own iron instruments was raised above his head. It came down with a hissing sound, and then a heavy thud.

And Ignacio dropped without a groan, without even a quiver. He lay perfectly motionless. His villainy was at an end.