much advantage over the Bloodhound, who understood no English. Then suddenly Lykoff went sick. Zack pulled something from his vest pocket and dropped the capsule. Lykoff had almost sprung forward when Zack picked it up again, and the Rusian smiled inwardly. The black must be an accomplished diplomat; his face never betrayed him. Nobody could have suspected that capsule. The fact was that Zack had forgot about it. He had cholera on his mind. Blindly he stumbled down the salon steps. Everything below rattled in confusion. Porters and stewards jostled each other, dumping trunks into the main passage. He saw a lot of black-whiskered Russians who would be glad to chop off his fingers. Zack got through safely to the Colonel's cabin and came back, panting like a lizard, with the bags.
That yellow flag was approaching with all speed. Things began to happen exactly as Guinea had foretold. Zack shivered behind the Colonel. The ugly little boat bulged ahead. He could make out white faces, brown faces, yellow faces, all kinds of faces looking straight at him. The Olga dropped anchor and lowered a shaky flight of steps to the water. From the prow of the quarantine boat a brown-skinned giant reached out with a long stick that had an iron hook on the end. That must be to snatch folks
