Chapter 11. Four Thirty-Four
"Doubting,
dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before."
--Poe
The door closed softly behind me, the great dark
house looming up more starkly than ever. Stooping, I crossed the wet lawn at a
run, a grotesque and unholy figure, I doubt not, since any man had at a glance
sworn me to be not a man but a giant ape. So craftily had the Master devised!
I clambered the
wall, dropped to the earth beyond and made my way through the darkness and the
drizzle to the group of trees which masked the automobile.
The Negro driver
leaned out of the front seat. I was breathing hard and sought in various ways
to simulate the actions of a man who has just murdered in cold blood and fled
the scene of his crime.
"You heard
nothing, no sound, no scream?" I hissed, gripping his arm.
"No noise
except a slight crash when you first went in," he answered. "You did
a good job--nobody passing along the road could have suspected anything."
"Have you
remained in the car all the time?" I asked. And when he replied that he
had, I seized his ankle and ran my hand over the soles of his shoe; it was
perfectly dry, as was the cuff of his trouser leg. Satisfied, I climbed into
the back seat. Had he taken a step on the earth, shoe and garment would have
showed it by the telltale dampness.
I ordered him to
refrain from starting the engine until I had removed the apeskin, and then we
sped through the night and I fell victim to doubts and uncertainties. Why
should Gordon put any trust in the word of a stranger and a former ally of the
Master's? Would he not put my tale down as the ravings of a dope-crazed addict,
or a lie to ensnare or befool him? Still, if he had not believed me, why had he
let me go?
I could but
trust. At any rate, what Gordon did or did not do would scarcely affect my
fortunes ultimately, even though Zuleika had furnished me with that which would
merely extend the number of my days. My thought centered on her, and more than
my hope of vengeance on Kathulos was the hope that Gordon might be able to save
her from the clutches of the fiend. At any rate, I thought grimly, if Gordon failed
me, I still had my hands and if I might lay them upon the bony frame of the
Skull-faced One--
Abruptly I found
myself thinking of Yussef Ali and his strange words, the import of which just
occurred to me, - "The Master has promised her to me in the days of the
empire!"-
The days of the
empire--what could that mean?
The automobile at
last drew up in front of the building which hid the Temple of Silence--now dark
and still. The ride had seemed interminable and as I dismounted I glanced at
the timepiece on the dashboard of the car. My heart leaped--it was four
thirty-four, and unless my eyes tricked me I saw a movement in the shadows
across the street, out of the flare of the street lamp. At this time of night
it could mean only one of two things--some menial of the Master watching for my
return or else Gordon had kept his word. The Negro drove away and I opened the
door, crossed the deserted bar and entered the opium room. The bunks and the
floor were littered with the dreamers, for such places as these know nothing of
day or night as normal people know, but all lay deep in sottish slumber.
The lamps
glimmered through the smoke and a silence hung mist-like over all.
Chapter 12. The Stroke of Five
"He saw gigantic
tracks of death,
And many a shape of
doom."
--Chesterton
Two of the China boys squatted among the smudge
fires, staring at me unwinkingly as I threaded my way among the recumbent
bodies and made my way to the rear door. For the first time I traversed the corridor
alone and found time to wonder again as to the contents of the strange chests
which lined the walls.
Four raps on the
underside of the floor, and a moment later I stood in the idol room. I gasped
in amazement--the fact that across a table from me sat Kathulos in all his
horror was not the cause of my exclamation. Except for the table, the chair on
which the Skull-faced One sat and the altar--now bare of incense--the room was
perfectly bare! Drab, unlovely walls of the unused warehouse met my gaze
instead of the costly tapestries I had become accustomed to. The palms, the idol,
the lacquered screen--all were gone.
"Ah, Mr.
Costigan, you wonder, no doubt."
The dead voice of
the Master broke in on my thoughts. His serpent eyes glittered balefully. The
long yellow fingers twined sinuously upon the table.
"You thought
me to be a trusting fool, no doubt!" he rapped suddenly. "Did you
think I would not have you followed? You fool, Yussef Ali was at your heels
every moment!"
An instant I
stood speechless, frozen by the crash of these words against my brain; then as
their import sank home, I launched myself forward with a roar. At the same
instant, before my clutching fingers could close on the mocking horror on the
other side of the table, men rushed from every side. I whirled, and with the
clarity of hate, from the swirl of savage faces I singled out Yussef Ali, and crashed
my right fist against his temple with every ounce of my strength. Even as he
dropped, Hassim struck me to my knees and a Chinaman flung a man-net over my
shoulders. I heaved erect, bursting the stout cords as if they were strings,
and then a blackjack in the hands of Ganra Singh stretched me stunned and
bleeding on the floor.
Lean sinewy hands
seized and bound me with cords that cut cruelly into my flesh. Emerging from
the mists of semi-unconsciousness, I found myself lying on the altar with the
masked Kathulos towering over me like a gaunt ivory tower. About in a
semicircle stood Ganra Singh, Yar Khan, Yun Shatu and several others whom I
knew as frequenters of the Temple of Dreams. Beyond them--and the sight cut me
to the heart--I saw Zuleika crouching in a doorway, her face white and her
hands pressed against her cheeks, in an attitude of abject terror.
"I did not
fully trust you," said Kathulos sibilantly, "so I sent Yussef Ali to
follow you. He reached the group of trees before you and following you into the
estate heard your very interesting conversation with John Gordon--for he scaled
the house-wall like a cat and clung to the window ledge! Your driver delayed
purposely so as to give Yussef Ali plenty of time to get back--I have decided
to change my abode anyway. My furnishings are already on their way to another
house, and as soon as we have disposed of the traitor--you!--we shall depart also,
leaving a little surprize for your friend Gordon when he arrives at
five-thirty."
My heart gave a
sudden leap of hope. Yussef Ali had misunderstood, and Kathulos lingered here
in false security while the London detective force had already silently
surrounded the house. Over my shoulder I saw Zuleika vanish from the door.
I eyed Kathulos,
absolutely unaware of what he was saying. It was not long until five--if he
dallied longer--then I froze as the Egyptian spoke a word and Li Kung, a gaunt,
cadaverous Chinaman, stepped from the silent semicircle and drew from his
sleeve a long thin dagger. My eyes sought the timepiece that still rested on
the table and my heart sank. It was still ten minutes until five. My death did
not matter so much, since it simply hastened the inevitable, but in my mind's
eye I could see Kathulos and his murderers escaping while the police awaited
the stroke of five.
The Skull-face
halted in some harangue, and stood in a listening attitude. I believe his
uncanny intuition warned him of danger. He spoke a quick staccato command to Li
Kung and the Chinaman sprang forward, dagger lifted above my breast.
The air was
suddenly supercharged with dynamic tension. The keen dagger-point hovered high
above me--loud and clear sounded the skirl of a police whistle and on the heels
of the sound there came a terrific crash from the front of the warehouse!
Kathulos leaped
into frenzied activity. Hissing orders like a cat spitting, he sprang for the
hidden door and the rest followed him. Things happened with the speed of a
nightmare. Li Kung had followed the rest, but Kathulos flung a command over his
shoulder and the Chinaman turned back and came rushing toward the altar where I
lay, dagger high, desperation in his countenance.
A scream broke
through the clamor and as I twisted desperately about to avoid the descending
dagger, I caught a glimpse of Kathulos dragging Zuleika away. Then with a
frenzied wrench I toppled from the altar just as Li Kung's dagger, grazing my
breast, sank inches deep into the dark-stained surface and quivered there.
I had fallen on
the side next to the wall and what was taking place in the room I could not
see, but it seemed as if far away I could hear men screaming faintly and
hideously. Then Li Kung wrenched his blade free and sprang, tigerishly, around
the end of the altar. Simultaneously a revolver cracked from the doorway--the
Chinaman spun clear around, the dagger flying from his hand--he slumped to the floor.
Gordon came
running from the doorway where a few moments earlier Zuleika had stood, his
pistol still smoking in his hand. At his heels were three rangy, clean-cut men
in plain clothes. He cut my bonds and dragged me upright.
"Quick!
Where have they gone?"
The room was
empty of life save for myself, Gordon and his men, though two dead men lay on
the floor.
I found the
secret door and after a few seconds' search located the lever which opened it.
Revolvers drawn, the men grouped about me and peered nervously into the dark
stairway. Not a sound came up from the total darkness.
"This is
uncanny!" muttered Gordon. "I suppose the Master and his servants
went this way when they left the building--as they are certainly not here
now!--and Leary and his men should have stopped them either in the tunnel
itself or in the rear room of Yun Shatu's. At any rate, in either event they
should have communicated with us by this time."
"Look out,
sir!" one of the men exclaimed suddenly, and Gordon, with an ejaculation,
struck out with his pistol barrel and crushed the life from a huge snake which
had crawled silently up the steps from the blackness beneath.
"Let us see
into this matter," said he, straightening.
But before he
could step onto the first stair, I halted him; for, flesh crawling, I began
dimly to understand something of what had happened--I began to understand the
silence in the tunnel, the absence of the detectives, the screams I had heard
some minutes previously while I lay on the altar. Examining the lever which
opened the door, I found another smaller lever--I began to believe I knew what
those mysterious chests in the tunnel contained.
"Gordon,"
I said hoarsely, "have you an electric torch?"
One of the men
produced a large one.
"Direct the
light into the tunnel, but as you value your life, do not put a foot upon the
steps."
The beam of light
struck through the shadows, lighting the tunnel, etching out boldly a scene
that will haunt my brain all the rest of my life. On the floor of the tunnel,
between the chests which now gaped open, lay two men who were members of
London's finest secret service. Limbs twisted and faces horribly distorted they
lay, and above and about them writhed, in long glittering scaly shimmerings,
scores of hideous reptiles.
The clock struck
five.
No comments:
Post a Comment