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Updated: June 16, 2025
My explosive has destroyed everything at one blow!" he shouted, the light of triumph flashing in his eyes. "You see," said the director, addressing the Count d'Artigas. "The idea of his invention never leaves him." "And it will die with him," affirmed the attendant. "Couldn't you, Gaydon, get him to talk about his fulgurator?" asked his chief. "I will try, if you order me to do so, sir."
The engineer is a good deal more free, more loquacious and less surly than his companions, and I wonder what position he occupies on the schooner. Is he a personal friend of the Count d'Artigas? Does he scour the seas with him, sharing the enviable life enjoyed by the rich yachtsman? He is the only man of the lot who seems to manifest, if not sympathy with, at least some interest in me.
"Of his accomplices, if you please." "'Of his accomplices, then 'and on the other hand, given the fact that I know the real name of the Count d'Artigas and in what mysterious safe he keeps his riches " "Riches stolen, and stained with blood, Mr. Serko."
The officer in command of the boarding-party a first lieutenant advanced towards the owner of the schooner, and the following questions and answers were exchanged: "This schooner belongs to the Count d'Artigas, to whom, I presume, I have the honor of speaking?" "Yes, sir." "What is her name?" "The Ebba." "She is commanded by? "Captain Spade." "What is his nationality?" "Hindo-Malay."
It is equally likely that Ker Karraje, become once more the Count d'Artigas, travelling for pleasure on board his yacht, intends to put into some port on the American coast to procure the substances necessary to the preparation of Roch's fulgurator.
The carte de visite received that day, June 15, 189-, by the director of the establishment of Healthful House was a very neat one, and simply bore, without escutcheon or coronet, the name: COUNT D'ARTIGAS. Below this name, in a corner of the card, the following address was written in lead pencil: "On board the schooner Ebba, anchored off New-Berne, Pamlico Sound."
Thus it came to pass that one of the islands of the Archipelago of Bermuda, erstwhile the haunt of buccaneers, became the lair of another gang a good deal more to be dreaded. This retreat having been definitely adopted, Count d'Artigas and his companions set about getting their place in order.
It only remained for them, therefore, to take leave of the Count d'Artigas. "You must pardon us for having disturbed you, Monsieur the Count," said the lieutenant. "You were compelled to obey your orders, gentlemen." "It was merely a formality, of course," ventured the officer. By a slight inclination of the head the Count signified that he was quite willing to accept this euphemism.
I do not know how the fact will help me in any way, even if the entrance to the tunnel is partly uncovered, but I cannot afford to miss any detail that may possibly aid in my escape from Back Cup. August 29. This morning I am witnessing the departure of the tug. The Count d'Artigas is, no doubt, going off in the Ebba to fetch the sections of Thomas Roch's engines.
Both are now confined in the interior of a cavern which serves as a lair for the said Count d'Artigas who is really Ker Karraje, the pirate who some time ago carried on his depredations in the West Pacific and for about a hundred men of which his band is composed.
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