Method and Foresight

Without a word--with merely a careless glance at Neeland, who remained
seated under the level threat of Ali Baba's pistol, the big, handsome
German removed his overcoat. Under it was another coat. He threw this
off in a brisk, businesslike manner, unbuckled a brace of pistols,
laid them aside, unwound from his body a long silk rope ladder which
dropped to the floor at Ilse Dumont's feet.

The girl had turned very pale. She stooped, picked up the silk ladder,
and, holding it in both hands, looked hard at Golden Beard.

"Johann," she said, "I gave my word of honour to this young man that
if he came here no harm would happen to him."

"I read the note you have shoved under his door," said Golden Beard.
"That iss why we are here, Karl and I."

Neeland remembered the wax in the keyhole then. He turned his eyes on
Ilse Dumont, curiously, less certain of her treachery now.

Meanwhile, Golden Beard continued busily unwinding things from his
apparently too stout person, and presently disengaged three
life-belts.

One of these he adjusted to his own person, then, putting on his
voluminous overcoat, took the pistol from Ali Baba, who, in turn,
adjusted one of the remaining life-belts to his body.

Neeland, deeply perplexed and uncomfortable, watched these operations
in silence, trying to divine some reason for them.

"Now, then!" said Golden Beard to the girl; and his voice sounded cold
and incisive in the silence.

"This is not the way to do it," she said in a low tone. "I gave him my
word of honour."