Page:Weird Tales v15n01 1930-01.djvu/106

shoulders. Mayhap the jailer! So thought Davie as he watched the approaching figure, though he knew it was not yet dawn.

But now, as a forked streak worked its way in from the outside and snaked blindingly down the reeking corridor, Davie gave a gasp of amazement. In the momentary flash he had recognized the tall figure wearing a broad-brimmed hat and a dark cloak thrown over the shoulders. One hand held the lantern aloft while the other clasped the loosened folds of his cloak away from the dampish walls.

"By the pope!" cried Davie, pressing his face tightly against the grille.

"'Tis Captain Kidd!"

The heavily cloaked figure stopped without the door and seemed to tense into an attitude of listening. But there came no sound but the trickle of water and the howling of the wind above the jail.

"Aye, Davie! 'Tis Kidd! And a straight road to thy freedom!"

The voice was deep, hollow-toned, the intonation sepulchral. But Davie, in his joy, noted naught amiss.

Came the grating of a rusty key, a grinding of little-used hinges and in the wall an oblong patch of black showed where the iron-studded door had opened into the cell. For a space there was silence. Davie Bartmey could scarce believe his eyes. Captain Kidd . . . notorious buccaneer . . . long sought . . . captured. sentenced to hang. . . . This same Kidd was loose in Newgate, and faced him across the cell.

Kidd stood straight, his face lifted and his eyes burning.

"Nay, touch me not, Davie!" he boomed to the lad who would have embraced him, for there was affection between these two, born of memories of glorious days amid the reek of battle.

Kidd let slip the cloak from his shoulders, revealing round his waist a dark red sash and heavy cutlas, this weapon almost concealing his own dress sword. Disengaging the sash, he threw the cutlas to the younger man. Davie looked at Kidd with a perplexed shake of his head, but with obedience gained by years of experience, fastened the heavy weapon firmly to his waist. The blade glittered dully in the yellow light of the lantern.

"How now, Captain?" cried Davie shortly.

"I fear we must needs hurry!" Kidd spoke in deep and precise tones.

"Ho! Ho!" chuckled Davie as at a subtle jest. "To what end? When Captain Kidd runs amuck in Newgate what need is there to hurry?"

Kidd held up a restraining hand.

"Jest not, Davie," he protested. "'Twas of thee I was thinking. Thou standest in the shadow of the gallows, yet reckest not the scant time till dawn, when thou wilt hang."

"'Tis no disgrace to hang with Kidd," cried the younger man with feeling, "and since they have not hanged thee, what's to do?"

Davie now gave little thought to the fact that Captain Kidd was here armed and unescorted by an overbearing jailer. 'Twas, perchance, strange, but he was willing to accept the situation in silence, content to abide in patience till things were, anon, made plain. 'Twas enough that Kidd was here. He would learn in time the why and wherefore of it; meantime he awaited orders unquestioningly, as always.

Kidd gently rubbed his throat. "'Tis not my plan that thou shalt hang, Davie. 'Tis my hope to get thee well clear of this hole; then is my errand ended. Mayhap we will succeed; yet we must strike hard and quickly; of that I am persuaded. Loosen thy blade and mind the slippery flags." He gathered his cloak closely about him and stepped across the threshold into the corridor.

For a space Davie followed the other closely, their cautious footsteps echoing eerily, and their light