He knows my name.  Engineer Serko must have informed him that it was Simon Hart, and not Keeper Gaydon who was watching over him at Healthful House.

“You know who I am?” I say.

“Yes, as I know what your object was in undertaking such a position.  You lived in hopes of surprising a secret that they would not pay for at its just value!”

Thomas Roch knows everything, and perhaps it is just as well, in view of what I am going to say.

“Well, you did not succeed, Simon Hart, and as far as this is concerned,” he added, flourishing the phial, “no one else has succeeded, or ever will succeed.”

As I conjectured, he has not, then, made known the composition of his deflagrator.

Looking him straight in the face, I reply: 

“You know who I am, Thomas Roch, but do you know in whose place you are?”

“In my own place!” he cries.

That is what Ker Karraje has permitted him to believe.  The inventor thinks he is at home in Back Cup, that the riches accumulated in this cavern are his, and that if an attack is made upon the place, it will be with the object of stealing what belongs to him!  And he will defend it under the impression that he has the right to do so!

“Thomas Roch,” I continue, “listen to me.”

“What do you want to say to me, Simon Hart?”

“This cavern into which we have been dragged, is occupied by a band of pirates, and—­”

Roch does not give me time to complete the sentence—­I doubt even whether he has understood me.

“I repeat,” he interrupts vehemently, “that the treasures stored here are the price of my invention.  They have paid me what I asked for my fulgurator—­what I was everywhere else refused—­even in my own country—­which is also yours—­and I will not allow myself to be despoiled!”

What can I reply to such insensate assertions?  I, however, go on: 

“Thomas Roch, do you remember Healthful House?”

“Healthful House, where I was sequestrated after Warder Gaydon had been entrusted with the mission of spying upon me in order to rob me of my secret?  I do, indeed.”

“I never dreamed of depriving you of the benefit of your secret, Thomas Roch.  I would never have accepted such a mission.  But you were ill, your reason was affected, and your invention was too valuable to be lost.  Yes, had you disclosed the secret during one of your fits you would have preserved all the benefit and all the honor of it.”

“Really, Simon Hart!” Roch replies disdainfully.  “Honor and benefit!  Your assurances come somewhat late in the day.  You forget that on the pretext of insanity, I was thrown into a dungeon.  Yes, it was a pretext; for my reason has never left me, even for an hour, as you can see from what I have accomplished since I am free.”

“Free!  Do you imagine you are free, Thomas Roch?  Are you not more closely confined within the walls of this cavern than you ever were at Healthful House?”