“‘I know her!’ cried the prince savagely. ‘Implacable, ambitious, unscrupulous. What will she not attempt with that old driveller?’ Then, evidently impressed by something shadowed in the expression of his ill-omened Mercury, he exclaimed: ‘You have more to tell me?’
“The Hindoo bowed his head in perturbed affirmation.
“‘Quickly, then!’ demanded his august listener.
“‘The British forces have concentrated at the cantonment without the walls of Delhi; a detachment is even now on the way to your palace, which they propose to seize and garrison.’
“‘Ah!’ murmured the prince, ‘the freshet is turning to a deluge. Is there more?’
“‘Yes, O prince,’ returned the Hindoo; ‘the British intend to hold you as a hostage for the safety of the English resident, who is a prisoner at the palace in Delhi.’
“‘So!’ exclaimed this royal reprobate as he reflected upon the picturesque possibilities to himself, in view of the sanguinary temptation which the helpless resident would present to the ambitious Queen Rani Rue. ‘How far in advance of the detachment are you?’
“‘About one hour’s march.’
“‘This is short reckoning. You have hastened with leaden feet.’
“‘Nay, your highness,’ cried the Hindoo, ‘I came the instant I heard. There is still time to escape, and the way is known to you alone.’
“‘So be it,’ returned the prince as an expression of savage determination compressedhis thin lips and ignited baleful fires in his restless eyes. ‘Await me without; I will join you presently.’
“As the Hindoo turned to obey, the prince darted, with lithe haste, into the inner room and pressed the spring in the wall.
“Slowly the panel rolled aside and revealed the glittering pyramid of gems within.
“From the depths, just in the rear of the priceless heap, he withdrew a sort of jacket, separated upon its upper edge into a series of openings similar to the partitions of a cartridge-belt.
“Into these, with a sort of clumsy trepidation, he began to pack the almost elusive portions of the gleaming mass of brilliants from the recess.
“At the conclusion of fifteen vital minutes the prince had deposited the last of the gems in the receptacles of this curious jacket, and, if the reports of the Hindoo were to be credited, the advancing British were that much nearer the Kutub.
“With desperate rapidity he disengaged the folds of the delicate cambric which covered theupper portion of his body, inserting the precious jacket beneath, and after adjusting it to his figure, strapped it securely in place and rearranged his attire into non-committal contours.
“‘And now,’ he cried with an expression of savage determination, ‘and now for the rarest gem of all!’ and darting through the silken hangings which concealed his extreme of the passageway leading to the apartments of Lal Lu, he hastened along that dingy bypath and presently reached the threshold from which he had issued but a short time before with such little credit to himself.
“Without pausing to announce himself or consider the impropriety of his abrupt intrusion and its possible influence upon Lal Lu, the impetuous heir-apparent swept aside the curtains and rushed into the room.
“Startled at the rattling rings which held the hangings in place, and the impetuous swish of its folds, Lal Lu sprang to her feet and gazed with indignant rebuke upon the inconsiderate prince.
“Heedless of the unconcealed disdain of herglance and ignoring the presence of the furtive-eyed waiting-woman, he cried:
“‘Lal Lu, the time for further parley is past. The Kutub is shortly to be attacked by the British. We must fly—come!’ and the speaker advanced with unreflective haste to the side of the palpitating girl.
“In an instant, however, his headlong progress was checked as Lal Lu, with a superb gesture, raised the gleaming dagger above her head and cried, encouraged by the lowering eyes of the evilly-expectant waiting-woman: ‘With thee—never! I will die first!’
“As the prince recoiled a step at sight of the flashing blade, Lal Lu, with contemptuous emphasis, exclaimed: ‘Be not afraid, Prince Otondo, this is not for thee. Advance but a step and it will be but an empty casket that awaits thee!’
“Never had Lal Lu appeared so desirable in the eyes of this royal rogue, and never had he been more resolute to possess her.
“With misleading quiet, therefore, he gazed upon the upraised hand which menaced the one unattained object of his desire. Quickly hemeasured the distance between them. Slowly he removed one foot behind the other. Lightly he pressed the slipper’s point upon the tessellated floor, and then with a leap of incredible quickness, he darted forward, caught the descending arm of Lal Lu in his grasp, and, with his disengaged hand, wrenched the dagger from her and threw it away from him into the center of the apartment.
“But as rapidly as he had moved, the prince had not been able to prevent the incision which the dagger’s point made in his wrist and from which a thin stream of blood issued.
“‘Ah, ha, my beauty!’ he cried as he released the struggling girl and retreated a step, the better to enjoy her discomfiture; ‘ah, ha! I like thy spirit. I would not have thee mar the lovely casket which contains it. Here!’ he called to the waiting-woman, who had witnessed the episode and into whose quick eyes, which had detected the slight wound upon the wrist of the prince, there crept a strange, inexplicable expression of leering triumph, ‘here, guard this maiden for a space. Your life shallpay the penalty if aught befalls her in my absence.
“‘I shall return presently with the help I need to overcome such elevated objection’; and turning abruptly, the prince hastened toward the doorway, pausing a second to regain possession of the dagger which he had cast from him during the brief struggle.
“‘Alas!’ cried the unhappy girl, ‘what shall I do? He has gone to get some of his creatures to help him in his evil purposes.’
“For a moment a tense silence prevailed.
“The next instant, with eerie, jubilant interruption, the waiting-woman made the very air shudder with a laugh of such shrill exultation and riotous abandon that Lal Lu, for a moment forgetful of her own extremity, gazed with unconcealed amazement and alarm upon the almost hysterical creature.
“‘Ha, ha!’ she raved; ‘be not afraid, Lal Lu. This royal pest, this insolent prince, will trouble you no more; you will never see him again.’
“‘Ha!’ exclaimed Lal Lu. ‘You seem strangely positive. What do you mean?’
“‘Did you see that scratch which the point of your dagger made upon the wrist of the prince?’
“‘No,’ replied Lal Lu, shrinking from the picture presented to her mind.
“‘Well,’ returned the grim-visaged woman with a return to her customary austerity, ‘I did. The wound was slight; only a few easily subdued drops of blood followed; but, believe me, maiden, it will be sufficient.’
“‘What do you mean?’ demanded Lal Lu.
“‘This,’ returned the weird creature with repulsive, evil joy, which she made no attempt to disguise: ‘The point of that dagger was steeped in the most deadly poison known in India. In twenty minutes, ha, ha! it is the prince who will be the empty casket.’”
As the Sepoy reached this point in his narrative he paused with startling abruptness.
Raikes, no longer under the influence of the seductive cadences, looked up sharply.
“Well?” inquired the Sepoy as he met the inquiring glance of his furtive auditor, “whatof the flaw in the sapphire? Can you trace the blemish?”
“Devil seize me!” exclaimed Raikes, as he offered, by this apostrophe, an invitation which was certain, at no distant date, to be accepted.
“Devil seize me if I have thought of the sapphire!” and he began at once an apologetic inspection of the brilliant with the magnifying glass.
“Ha, ha!” laughed the Sepoy. “I must congratulate myself upon my powers of narration.”
“Aye!” replied Raikes, as he continued his examination of the flaming bauble, “and also upon your irritating habit of concluding at the anxious moment. But see here,” and he held the sapphire up to view; “I can see nothing wrong; possibly the light is bad. The searching glare of day is required to discover a blemish such as you speak of.”
“Suppose you return to-morrow, then, directly after breakfast?” suggested the Sepoy.
“I want your judgment. I dare not trust my own; my blindness may be voluntary.”
“Very well, then,” assented Raikes, who,now that he had nothing upon which to fasten his eyes, felt an easily comprehended uneasiness to leave the Sepoy. “I will be here at that time”; and with his customary emotionless adieux the guilty creature slipped through the doorway and speeded like a shriveled shadow along the various passages.
As he was about to enter his room he was hailed by his nephew.
“Uncle, you wanted to see me.”
“True,” replied Raikes, with a start of recollection, “I do; but suppose we postpone the interview until to-morrow.”
“Very well,” replied the young man easily, and Raikes, entering his room, fastened the door with his usual elaborate precaution.
His first movement was to disclose the interior of the recess containing his coin and his conscience.
A rapid examination convinced him that no further depredations had been committed upon the former, and the latter he secreted in the pocket of his waistcoat along with the diamond, which flashed its unregarded rebuke into his eager eyes.
At this juncture the singular drowsiness which had overtaken him so persistently in the past few days began to steep his dulling senses.
Warned by its approach, Raikes began to put into execution a newly conceived plan of retiring for the night and effective vigil over his treasure-trove.
Hastily drawing a chair before the radiator, and placing directly in front of that the table, from which with a savage sweep of the arm he swept the dull heap of coals rattling to the floor, Raikes established himself in the seat so provided and, leaning forward, awaited the final blandishments of the drowsiness which was not long in lulling him into that profound degree of slumber which is commonly supposed to be the reward of sound morals and Christian resignation.
(To be continued on Dickey No. 3, Series B.)
During the reading of this impossible helter-skelter of unrestrained imagination and composite style, the expression in the countenance of the listening woman had developed fromits original sadness to an unmistakable geniality.
The pensive droop of her lips, little by little, nestled away into a smiling seriousness, and when Dennis, confronted with the habitual conclusion in italics, looked up with a grimace of recognition, his glance was met by a pair of kindly blue eyes, in which he believed he traced a charming suggestion of unaffected good fellowship.
Altogether unsuspected by himself, Dennis, with his intent, intelligent countenance, and the contrasting vivacity of his rich, Irish accent, had awakened an interest in the mind of his companion which months of adroit approach could not have achieved.
His genuineness was unquestionable.
His entire absorption in the story, his delightful and unconscious elimination of self, supplied this tired woman with elements of mental refreshment and genuine enjoyment which circumstances had compelled her to decide no longer existed.
Encouraged, therefore, by this unmistakable interest and the amiable attitude of attentionwhich Dennis, with characteristic ingenuousness, accepted as a tribute to the narrative, he exclaimed:
“An’ isn’t it great, now? Did you ever hear such a tale as that?”
“I never did,” was the smiling reply.
“An’ wasn’t that Raikes a div—a tight one, I mean?”
“He was, indeed,” assented the lady, as she reviewed this sordid character and the incidents surrounding him, and contrasted the tumult of phrase and situation with her genial Addison and her placid Irving.
“An’ would you like to hear the rest?” asked Dennis, as he produced the remaining bosom of Series B.
“Yes,” replied the lady, “I believe I would. But just a moment before you begin,” and regarding this oblivious young man with an expression in which a degree of speculation still lingered to tantalize its suggestion of frank indorsement, she hazarded:
“You have not lived in New York long?”
Wondering at the acuteness of this observation,Dennis responded by according to her the exact time of his brief residence.
“Ah!” exclaimed the lady, “I thought so.”
“May I ask,” inquired Dennis, wondering if, like the visitor from the bucolic district, he supplied unconscious data in his appearance for classification, “may I ask how you are able to tell that I’m here for a short time only?”
“Well,” returned his companion with a degree of hesitation exquisitely refined as it shadowed through her fine countenance, and which she presently conquered as she replied to his question with that shade of frankness which, in the well-bred, can never be mistaken for anything else: “It requires about a year’s residence in this bedlam to replace the genuine with the artificial; I see no evidence of such an unhappy transformation in you.”
“Oh, I see,” responded Dennis. “An’ you never will, either.”
“I am almost prepared to believe that,” answered the lady with a reassuring cordiality which somehow indicated to this young man that she had already become convinced of more than she was willing to acknowledge.
“You may do so entirely,” said Dennis simply.
“Now, one question more,” continued his companion, “and do not consider me inquisitive, since I may have something to suggest to your advantage if your reply is satisfactory. What is your business?”
Dennis blushed.
“My business?” he repeated with a droll accent and an amusing grimace; and then, encouraged by the friendly invitation and subtle encouragement in the manner of his sweet-faced listener, with a straightforward recital which the lady had expected from him, and which advanced him several leagues in her estimation, Dennis recounted his experiences from the time of his arrival up to the present moment.
“It isn’t much,” he concluded apologetically, “not anywhere as interesting as the dickey back; but it’s all there is, an’ it’s true, every word.”
“It is more than you suspect,” dissented his hearer. “You have enabled me to come to a decision, at least, and may help me to solvea vexed problem. In the meantime, let us finish the story. While you are reading my mind will clear; I will make my suggestion when you conclude.”
Wondering, and yet with a prompt confidence which conveyed an agreeable flattery which the cleverest diplomacy could not have achieved, Dennis, holding his absurd medium at a level which permitted him to receive the stimulation of a sympathetic glance now and then, began.
CHAPTER VII
Considering the unaccustomed position in which Raikes had placed himself in arranging to retire the night before, he awoke with considerable astonishment to the realization that he had passed a night of undisturbed slumber.
Aside from a slight disposition to stretch his lean limbs unduly, and a feeling of insecurity attending his first efforts to stand, he was not aware of any inconvenience from his singular siesta.
At last, after having re-established his creaking equilibrium and resumed his accustomed furtive regard of things, he was suddenly reminded by the shifted position of the furniture of the purpose of this makeshift barricade.
At once the shuddering dread which had attended his recent visits to the secret recess returned with numbing chills and sinking spirit.
He advanced his bony hand, gnarled and mean with useless abstemiousness and miserable abnegations, and revolved the button in the concave. In response, the false register swung back; in another tense moment the inner space was revealed, and his treasury laid bare.
For an instant, in the manner of an apprehensive child who postpones as long as possible some unwelcome confirmation, Raikes closed his eyes, and when he opened them again they rested, with unerring precision, upon a bag somewhat detached from the others, which protruded at its sides with those frightful points and angles with which he had become so unhappily familiar of late.
With a smothered cry he sprang forward, gripped the bag in a trembling, faltering clutch, and dropped it with a groan to the floor, where it fell with a heart-breaking, distracting lightness, which, nevertheless, smote like a mighty weight upon his bursting heart.
“My God!” he cried, “this is incredible!” and the miserable creature stood for a moment with an appalling vacancy shadowing in his countenance, which was illumed for one fitfulmoment with a ray of hope as he inserted his hand in his waistcoat pocket to assure himself that the diamond which he had placed in that receptacle the night before at least was safe.
The diamond—ah, yes!
There was still some consolation in that.
Its value still maintained a close proportion to his loss. If there was no gain there was, at least, a sort of evil restitution.
But his exploring fingers found only an empty pocket.
In a palsy of fear, and with the demeanor of one who feels the first twinge of a mortal affliction and awaits in fearful silence the grewsome confirmation of another, he stood without sound or motion, his set, staring eyes directed with unseeing intensity upon the vacant air.
The next instant, with feverish animation and impotent apprehension, five writhing fingers leaped from their futile search, like scotched reptiles, into the opposite pocket and withdrew the two useless keys with which he fastened his abortive latch on the door.
And then, with a frightful glitter in his eyes, an ugly ooze about his bloodless lips, a flickeringeffort of his shriveled fingers to adjust themselves to some ribald rhythm, Raikes began to sing, with the dry rasp and ancient husk of a galvanized sphinx:
“And her name it was Dinah,Scarce sixteen years old;She’d a very large fortuneIn greenbacks and gold.Sing turi-li-luri——
Ha, ha! ha, ha!” and supporting himself along the wall he made his way slowly to the threshold, unfastened the locks, removed the heavy bar, opened the door, and cried out in a voice that was not human, that shuddered its way along the chill passage through the shrinking air:
“Robert—Robert!” and then, reeling, stumbling toward a near-by chair, he fell ere he could reach it, in utter collapse to the floor, and lay there—shriveled, grotesque, in no way pathetic, in all points contemptible, as his nephew, in response to his uncle’s unearthlysummons, rushed into the room, followed by the wide-eyed spinster.
For three days during the week that followed Raikes lay oblivious to the considerations of loss or gain.
The utmost of the young medical attendant, who had been selected on the basis of the small charges incident to a beginning practice, had failed to restore the emaciated man to his suspended consciousness, until, toward the morning of the fourth day, the spinster, who sat near-by in weary vigil, was startled to behold the dull eyes of her brother fastened upon her with the faraway, questioning look of one returning from the confines of the nether to the sharp realities of existence.
“Rodman?” she inquired with anxious interrogation.
In response the thin lips of the sufferer moved slowly.
Approaching the bed, his sister, leaning over the unfortunate Raikes, heard him articulate with difficulty “Water!”
Supporting his head with one hand, the spinster supplied his feebly-sighed request, andwhen the last difficult swallow conveyed the refreshing draught along his fevered throat, she restored his head to the pillow and awaited developments.
As she sat at the bedside in an attitude of fearful expectation, it was evident that some transformation, more wholesome than subtle, had manifested itself in the mien and physique of his nurse.
A large degree of her pitiful attenuity had vanished; a legible vestige of placid well-being seemed to have replaced the hunger of her eyes; there was a vague, unsubstantial promise of possible comeliness in the restoration of her cheeks.
Aware of these changes herself, and fearful lest her brother’s sharp eyes would discover them, the spinster recalled, with a sort of troubled gratification, the occasion of the improvement.
Undisturbed by the rebuking glances of the abstemious Raikes, and secretly abetted by the amused Sepoy, the poor woman had enjoyed the privileges of the table with a relish andsurrender which had begun to result in the manner indicated.
For several days previous to the catastrophe which had concluded in the prostration of her brother, the spinster had supplied the cravings of her appetite with a gusto that was a revelation to her, and which would have evoked a profound rebuke from the wretched creature on the bed.
It was therefore with secret misgiving and a qualified delight she heard her brother at last call feebly: “Sarah!”
In answer to the exhausted interrogation in his utterance of the name, his sister hastened to recount to him the incident of his collapse and his subsequent unconsciousness.
Little by little his intelligence began to resume its abandoned functions, and at last he recalled the whole evil situation.
“Where’s Robert?” he said. “I want him.”
“I will send him to you,” exclaimed his sister, and she hastened from the room.
“Well, uncle!” exclaimed Robert as he entered with a cheerfulness he was far from feelingas he witnessed that emaciated countenance; “better, I see.”
“I congratulate you upon your imagination,” replied Raikes, with a feeble attempt at his customary incivility; “but lock the door and listen to me carefully.”
These instructions complied with, Robert seated himself in the chair just vacated by the spinster, which provided his uncle an unobstructed view of the embonpoint and general aspect of well-being which were so obnoxious to the singular man on the bed.
“In the first place,” resumed Raikes weakly, “move the bed around so that I can see the register in the wall.”
The wondering Robert did as he was ordered.
“Take hold of the button that moves the valves and pull it toward you.”
Robert followed these instructions minutely, and to his astonishment and the miser’s consternation the radiator itself swung away from the wall.
“What!” cried the startled invalid as he beheld this confirmation of his fear that he hadneglected to spring the catch that held the radiator on the occasion of the mishap which resulted in his confinement to the bed, “Look within. Is the inner compartment closed?”
“No!” replied Robert.
“My God!” groaned Raikes as he realized that his treasury had been thus unguarded during his illness. “Tell me how many bags there are.”
Robert removed them one by one, and deposited them on the table.
As the miser followed the movements of his nephew with anxious notation, a sigh of unutterable relief welled from the innermost depths of his bosom.
The bags had been untouched!
There was no further loss, and the clinking weight assured him that his nocturnal visitor had made no more of his gross substitutions.
“Listen, Robert,” said Raikes with laborious amiability, as his astonished nephew seated himself near the bedside, “it has been my purpose to conceal this hiding place from any living soul, but I find that I have not succeeded.
“Some one has made three visits to that recess and helped himself to as many bags of coin.”
Robert, remembering his uncle’s well-known secrecy and the unusual precautions taken by him to secure his room from intrusion, looked his incredulity, which stimulated Raikes into exclaiming:
“Ah, but you do not know how incredible it is. Wait until you hear all. You will wonder what human agency could penetrate these locks, open the doors of this hiding place, extract the plunder, restore the locks to their original condition, and re-issue into the passageway without disturbing the latches or the crossbar. My losses are supernatural. Now follow me carefully and confess that you have not heard anything so ghastly, so unreal as what I am about to relate.”
As Raikes proceeded in his narrative, his nephew was at first inclined to receive these weird confidences as features of the unhappy man’s condition, but as the latter progressed, with a constantly increasing degree of his customaryemotionless lucidity, his sincerity became apparent.
“And now,” concluded Raikes, “what have you to say to all this? Is it not worthy of a Poe or a Maupassant? I tell you, I must have some explanation of this mystery or I shall go mad.”
During this singular recital the young man’s mind, stimulated by the eerie perplexities and the unhappy dénouement, had been busy.
It was not difficult to convince himself of the futility of any of his own speculations; the nearness of the calamity affected him, in a degree, as it did the withered invalid.
He had a sound brain, nourished by a well sustained body; his intelligence was apt and rapid, but these unheard-of complications demanded a morbid analysis of which he was incapable.
On this basis, however, as his uncle had proceeded, Robert had been able to develop a suggestion; he could offer that, at least.
In reply, therefore, to the feverish questions of his uncle, the young man said:
“In so far as I am able to see, your disastershave narrowed your range of discernment. They are too recent; they affect you too nearly. Under such conditions we take counsel of our prejudices instead of our judgment. Your thoughts are apt to return to the central feature of your loss. It is not natural to expect one to dismiss such a consideration in order to make way for others which might help you in your search.
“On my part, the incident is new and stimulating, but the ideas it awakens lead to nothing. However, I should not regard the case as impossible until I had tried at least one means of solution.”
“What is that?” demanded Raikes, diverted, if not convinced, by the sensible observations of his nephew.
“You have heard of Gratz?” inquired Robert.
“Of the secret service?”
“Yes.”
“Ah!” cried the old man; “to submit the case to him means another in the secret, with little prospect of advantage.”
“I am not so sure about that,” returned Robert. “Do you recall the Dupont mystery?”
Raikes nodded.
“Well,” continued Robert, “you must also remember the Belmont scandal. Gratz certainly let daylight into that.”
“Ah,” cried Raikes, “I do not like your suggestions; they encourage me and alarm me at the same time. Think of the cost.”
Irritated at the intrusion of this frugal proviso at this juncture, Robert exclaimed with some warmth: “Yes, but think, also, how insignificant that would be if he discovered the thief and recovered the money.”
“If—if——” repeated Raikes with impatience.
“And I can say this,” continued Robert: “It is the ambition of Gratz to be appointed chief of the bureau to which he belongs. Whatever can be placed to his credit in the meantime will serve as an additional reason for his advancement.
“I believe that he would be more persuaded to undertake the case with this prospect in view than for a mercenary reason.”
“But,” interrupted Raikes, “can you get him?”
“I think I can answer for that,” replied Robert. “I know him very well. If you will consent to leave the matter in my hands, I will attend to Gratz.”
“Well,” exclaimed Raikes, as Robert concluded, “have it your own way; anything is better than this killing suspense. I do not believe that I could endure a repetition of the incidents of the last few nights. But return the bags before you go, and shut the radiator; it will lock in closing.”
When Robert at last reached the dining-room he discovered his aunt at the table, seated opposite the Sepoy.
Instructing the spinster to resume her vigil until his return, Robert proceeded to his own table, and from that point of observation occupied himself, during the next twenty minutes, partly with his breakfast and partly in regarding this illy-assorted duet.
The Sepoy was as gravely urbane as ever; his browns and blacks intermingled harmoniously; his eyes were bright; his teeth stillsuggestive of restrained sarcasm in their dull, red sheaths, as, with grave courtesy, he made himself agreeable to his companion by abetting her newly-awakened appetite with recommendations of the steak and eulogies of the butter.
The spinster was no longer ravenous; the advantages she had enjoyed during the absence of her domestic Argus had made her cravings more equable, and she accepted the edible suggestions of the Sepoy with an approach to placid satisfaction that hinted at the imminence of repletion.
This disposition to make the most of her privileges, with what composure she could assume, would have added the basis of a serious relapse on the part of the invalid could he have witnessed the phenomenon.
It was remarkable how promptly the poor creature evinced the effects of her nourishment.
Beginning, as already indicated, with a logical indigestion, she progressed to the point of a possible filling out of the crevices of her countenance, and her eyes certainly had lost the expression of appeal characteristic of the mendicant in the doorway.
All this, minutely noted by her watchful nephew, was thoroughly enjoyed with a sort of chuckling collusion and vicarious gratification.
On her return to the invalid she was requested by him to provide whatever nourishment was needed, and then to leave him alone for a couple of hours.
These instructions fulfilled, the spinster sought the retirement of her room, surrendered herself to the enjoyment of reminiscent digestion, and Raikes began to pull himself together.
His method was characteristic.
On the basis that he could not afford to enjoy himself like any normally constituted being, he assured his mind that he could not submit to the expense of illness.
According to his rigid logic, sickness was more the result of indulgence than self-denial.
He proposed to have the credit of his abnegations.
Therefore he directed his perverse will to the contemplation of the rational aspect of his condition, and presently had managed to convince himself that if he did not entertain thebelief of suffering, this untoward condition would cease to exist.
As this singular being combatted all that was unwelcome to this point of view, the grim lines tightened about the corners of his mouth, the deep fissures in his forehead established a communication with the obstinate wrinkles at the root of his nose, and by noon he was well on his way to the mastery of his indisposition, and by nightfall he scandalized the young medical attendant by standing up to receive him.
Extending to himself a chuckling tribute of his resolution, he received the incredulity of his nephew as additional indorsement when the latter made his appearance that evening, accompanied by the colorless negation of a man whom he could scarcely persuade himself to believe was the celebrated Gratz.
However, no more ideal countenance could have been created for the purposes to which it was applied by its owner.
Pallid, expressionless, vacant, it was as nearly a canvas upon which to delineate almost anything in the range of emotion as it was possible for a visage of flesh and blood to be.
As to the details of features, these were altogether subordinate, and as devoid of physiognomical meaning as the dull integument which encompassed them.
It had about the same amount of character as a bald baby.
One received the impression that a seismic disturbance might awaken some show of emotion, but design—never.
And yet, behind that pale disguise, between sleepy, level lids, two points of concentrated fire and ceaseless animation gleamed their startling significance to any one able to comprehend.
In stature he was adjusted to his visage.
His frame was lean enough to repudiate the incredible agility and recuperative strength it housed, and his carriage was consistently “out of plumb.”
Altogether it was an identity that would have been overlooked in any gathering, and was almost nondescript enough to establish an eligibility to the most exclusive function.
This unpromising ensemble, however, was not misleading to Raikes, who had looked upquickly at the first appearance of the detective, and had seen the sharp, penetrating glance with which Gratz had for an instant surveyed the apartment.
Moreover, the very leanness of the famous official appealed to him.
Here, at least, were none of the obnoxious evidences of repletion which he viewed with such disapprobation in his sturdier nephew.
The man’s attire, too, commended him to the starved graces of his spare host. It was as characterless as it was possible for fabric to be, and considered with his meager physique and vacant physiognomy, was a fitting complement to both; an adjustment of component detail too consistent to have been the needless aspect it was designed to present.
With a voice in which the character had been trained away as surely as the charity from the opinions of the social élite, this descendant of Lecocq accosted his patron, and with business-like brevity indicated that he was already familiar with the situation as outlined by Robert, and if Mr. Raikes would consent toreply to a few questions it would facilitate matters.
His hearer indicated that he was entirely at the disposal of the detective.
With characteristic concentration, therefore, Gratz began:
“Do you suspect anybody in particular?”
“No.”
“That is singular,” commented Gratz. “May I ask why? Under such circumstances the mind generally proceeds in some unhappy direction.”
“Not in this instance,” returned Raikes. “Before I suspect any one, I must assign to him supernatural powers, almost. I will have to explain how it is possible for any one to enter this room, penetrate that recess, make the substitution, and retire, leaving the door in the same condition, precisely as left by me the night before.”
“That is the point,” replied Gratz. Then, after a moment’s reflection, he inquired: “Am I at liberty to nose around this room?”
“Help yourself,” answered Raikes.
With this assent, Gratz hurried to the window,examined the sash, considered the sheer depths immediately below, its lack of vicinity to other windows, and last, the strong fastenings, to disturb which would involve a degree of rasp and wrench sufficient to disturb the slumbers of a Rip Van Winkle.
With a countenance as impassive as ever, he returned to Raikes and said:
“Now for the hiding place.”
With a grimace of reluctant acquiescence, Raikes, closely regarded by the detective, proceeded to the button in the concave, which he moved with slow manipulation for the edification of the alert watcher, who witnessed, without comment, the displacement of the register and the subsequent revelation of the inner compartment.
“Remove the bags.”
At the conclusion of this labor, this impenetrable being produced a small rod of steel from one of his pockets, one end of which concluded in a round knob.
With this he proceeded to rap the walls of the inner recess, a proceeding of which Raikes inquired the purpose.
“I want to ascertain,” replied Gratz, “if there is any vacancy on the other side.”
“I could have saved you all that trouble,” replied Raikes. “This is a false radiator, the real flue is on the other side of the room.
“The rear of this small safe backs up against nearly two feet of solid brickwork.
“Exactly behind that is a room occupied by one no more burglarious than a dressmaker’s apprentice.”
“Thank you,” replied Gratz. “Your information is helpful, but I am never satisfied to rely upon description when investigation is possible.
“Whatever deductions I make from this examination I do not want disturbed, so all the doubts they dissipate are not likely to intrude upon my calculations again.”
After a few further taps, in which Raikes could see no better purpose than to retire from an embarrassing position with some show of satisfied motive, Gratz directed that the bags be returned.
For the next few minutes he busied himself with the locks, upon which he experimentedwith the extraordinary keys which Raikes had given him. He shot the bolts backward and forward; noted the stout bar and the precautions for keeping it in place, and then resumed the seat near the table.
After a few moments he said:
“Tell me what has occurred to you between sunrise and sunset during the last three days.”
Raikes recounted his usual round of petty detail, which had no possible bearing upon the problem.
When he had concluded this meager résumé, Gratz continued:
“Now tell me about the nights.”
Raikes complied with a statement of his careful precautions; the watch of his sister upon the doorway during his absence, and his visits to the room of the Sepoy.
“The Sepoy?” inquired Gratz. “Why do you call him that?”
“On account of his swarthy complexion, his bright eyes, and his general alien aspect,” replied Robert.
“Describe him to me as carefully as you can,” said Gratz.
When Robert had concluded his brief delineation, Raikes hastened to inquire: “Why do you ask about him so particularly? He could no more enter my room, under the conditions I have described to you, than you could.”
“I realize that,” admitted the detective, “but I gather from what you have just said that you visit this Sepoy, as you call him, with some degree of regularity. May I ask if you have business transactions with him?”
“I have not,” replied Raikes.
Then, in response to the unchanging look of inquiry in the countenance of the detective, he added:
“The Sepoy has been telling me an extraordinary story. It has been too elaborate to confine to one sitting, and my purpose in re-visiting him was to get at the conclusion. It is most interesting, and apparently interminable.”
“Would you object to relating it to me?” inquired Gratz.
“Heavens!” cried Raikes, aghast at the prospect of the extended effort which this would impose upon him. “Is it necessary?”
“I would not be surprised,” replied Gratz. “At any rate, if your story is more mysterious than the predicament which confronts us, it must be worth hearing.”
With an ill grace, after making the elaborate arrangements which usually precede a protracted campaign, Raikes hastened to comply with the request of the detective.
As he proceeded, he was startled to note, now that he made his first conscious effort to review the weird recital of the Sepoy, just how vividly the incidents presented themselves.
Aside from the phraseology, he recounted, in precise order, the incredible incidents, and by the time he had reached the climax in the first division of his effort his hearers were interested enough to hasten through a light meal, which, at the suggestion of Gratz, had been sent to the room they occupied.
With something of the calculation of the Sepoy, or remembering, perhaps, the effect which his abrupt terminations had upon him, Raikes contrived his irritating pauses with remorseless enjoyment and the ostensible purposeof stimulating his sorely taxed energies with draughts of brandy and water.
In this way Raikes consumed the time until the hour of eleven, which enabled him to develop the narrative to the point at which the Sepoy had concluded.
“And now,” exclaimed Raikes with unmistakable relief, as he signified that his hearers were in possession of all he knew, “and now will you kindly tell me what you expect to gain by this tedious task you have imposed upon me?”
Gratz did not reply at once, but after a few moments of reflection, he asked, apparently ignoring the question of the narrator: “Will you give me the keys of this building you occupy, and indicate to me the means of rummaging about the other building on the opposite side of the wall?”
“If it is necessary,” replied Raikes with grudging assent.
“Why else should I make the request?” suggested Gratz with emotionless directness of speech and a momentary gleam of the eyes.
“True!” responded Raikes.
“Now,” exclaimed Gratz, when the various keys were placed in his hand, “you can sleep in peace to-night, and bolt your doors with all the assurance in the world, for I guarantee that your property will be undisturbed.”
Then turning to Robert, he said: “I want you to guide me for a short while, and as soon as I get my bearings you can retire.”
At this the two bade the thoroughly exhausted Raikes good-night and departed from the room, which the miser hastily secured with his usual precautions.
Without, Robert soon discovered that his services were no longer required, and at the suggestion of the detective he retired, after indicating to this curious official that when he had concluded his investigations he would find a cot in his room which he was at liberty to occupy.
As dawn began to make its appearance on the ensuing morning, Robert was disturbed by a curious dream.
He appeared to be alone upon a fragile raft in the midst of a destructive sea.
Bit by bit the hastily joined structure uponwhich he rode the waters so insecurely began to disintegrate, until but one scarcely sufficing plank remained.
To this, however, he clung with rapidly failing strength, shouting at intervals with what vim remained, in an attempt to attract the attention of the keepers of the light, not far away.
But with devilish perversity, an immense fog-horn sent forth a heavy blast seaward precisely at the moments he raised his voice.
No matter how far apart or how near he planned the intervals, he was bound to coincide with the deafening horn.
At last in despair he desisted in his efforts, and the monster horn, with hoarse mockery, continued its grewsome noises at dismal intervals, until one, more stentorian than the others, caused the very tempest to hush, and Robert awoke to discover Gratz the cause of his fictitious misery, sleeping upon the cot near the foot of his bed, emitting a series of snores which had managed to communicate their odious telepathy to his slumbering consciousness.
As this singular being lay there in the relaxationand undisguise to which the most diplomatic must submit at times, his countenance, so impassive in his wakeful hours, depicted singular lines of determination.
An expression of tense anxiety contracted his features; resolution held the thin lips in rigid partnership; there was a hint of purpose in the solitary wrinkle which corrugated his forehead; the general aspect was impressive, its suggestion indefatigable.
In this paradoxical fashion, the emotions, concealed during the day, revealed themselves at night.
What in others would have concluded in a vacant mien and colorless repose, in him expressed all that he was so sedulous to conceal.
Scarcely had Robert placed his feet upon the floor when Gratz opened his eyes, awakened partly by the sounds of rising and partly by his tumult of snores, and in an instant the flaccid mask descended over his face, and Gratz was his apathetic self again.
“Well?” inquired Robert.
“You have said it,” replied Gratz; “it is well.”
“You have succeeded, then?” demanded Robert breathlessly.
“I believe so; but do not question me further just now. I want to see your uncle before I go.”
A few moments later the two presented themselves before the closed door leading to the apartment occupied by Raikes, whom they fancied they could hear stirring about within.
In answer to their raps, he opened the door and they entered.
“What news?” demanded Raikes.
“The best, I hope; but I will not communicate it to you until to-morrow morning.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Raikes with manifest disappointment.
“But,” continued Gratz, as he noted the expression on the face of the other, “at that time I fancy that I shall not only have solved the mystery but I will also secure the thief.”
“Do you know him, then?” asked Raikes.
“You are wrong,” replied Gratz. “Unless I am seriously mistaken, there are two.”
“Two!” repeated Raikes incredulously.
“Yes—but listen: I am anxious to hear theconclusion of that remarkable story you began last night.”
“But,” objected Raikes, “I have already told you all I know.”
“I am aware of that,” answered the detective, “but your friend, the Sepoy, will doubtless oblige you with the balance. Arrange with him at breakfast-time for a continuation. I will return either to-night or to-morrow morning to hear it.”
“But——” began Raikes.
“Do not refuse to do as I ask,” urged Gratz impressively. “It may be useful; I’m inclined to think it will.”
“Very well,” answered Raikes. “I will do as you suggest.”
“And,” continued Gratz, “I need not assure you that if a living soul learns of my presence here last night, I can do nothing for you.”
“I understand,” said Raikes.
“And I,” added Robert.
With this Gratz departed, and Raikes prepared to make his appearance in the dining-room.
Advised of the intention of her brother tobreakfast at the table, the spinster had hastened to precede him, and by the time Raikes presented himself she had managed to bestow a couple of furtive biscuits in her pocket, and had devoured another couple, lavishly buttered, accompanied by a fairly liberal cut of beefsteak.
Consequently, when Raikes conveyed his customary intimation that she was at liberty to begin, the spinster obediently proceeded to add a moderate breakfast to the one she had already enjoyed.
Trembling lest her brother would remark the developing suggestions of well-being which had resulted from her recent regimen, she welcomed with genuine relief the advent of the Sepoy, to whom Raikes transferred his speculative glance.
“Well!” exclaimed the Sepoy, “you have had quite a siege, I hear.”
“I have,” replied Raikes shortly; then added with a sort of grim humor: “My physician has recommended a little diversion, and I have just thought of a simple way of following his advice.”
“What is that?” asked the Sepoy.
“I would like to present myself at the usual hour and hear the conclusion of the story, for I judge, from the predicament of Prince Otondo, that the end is not far off.”
“Ah, you remember?” exclaimed the Sepoy.
“Decidedly!” replied Raikes.
“Very well, then,” returned the other. “Come at ten and I will gather the tangled threads together.”
During the balance of that day Raikes devoted his powers of concentration to the consummation of the treatment to which he had subjected himself, and this, together with the prospect of the recovery of his property, resulted in a condition which made the visits of the astonished physician no longer necessary.
With an eagerness intensified to a childish impatience, almost, by the vague suggestions of Gratz that the story would be personally interesting, and exhausting his mind with futile speculations as to the manner of its application to the unnatural conditions which distressed him so, Raikes at last concluded his contemplation of the clock, and promptly uponthe stroke of ten, hastened from his room and hurried to the apartment occupied by the Sepoy.
Seating himself in the chair indicated by his host, he shortly found that he was unable to avoid recalling his recent guilty appropriation of the diamond, and a degree of confusion, which he could not entirely disguise, manifested itself in his difficulty of adjusting his eyes to the inscrutable gaze of the Sepoy.
On this occasion the narrator, as hitherto, did not provide his auditor with a brilliant to look upon during the progress of the story—an omission that was radiantly repaired by the two lambent gems in the eyes of the former.
Upon these the shifting gaze of the restless listener finally fastened itself with a fascination which he found it impossible to resist, and the Sepoy, with all the modulated lights and shadows of ardor, animation, lethargy, somnolence, peace, with which he complemented his sedative phrases, began:
(The conclusion of this interesting tale will be found on Bosom No. 1,Dickey Series C.)
As Dennis looked up from his reading, a pair of eyes of unclouded blue, vivid with interest and altogether friendly, met his animated glance.
With alert intuition his sweet-faced auditor believed that she discovered a shadow of vexation in the ingenuous countenance of the reader.
“What is it?” she asked.
To Dennis, in his absorption, it seemed impossible that the question could refer to anything else than the habitual disability at the end of each chapter, and he answered promptly:
“’Tis the way the dickey ends—to be concluded in Series C—an’ it’s me here an’ Series C in Baxter Street, so I can’t read the rest; it’s too bad, so it is.”
“So it is,” repeated the lady softly, with a dexterous parody of his concluding words, but with a subtle intimation in her manner that she did not consider the inconvenient termination such a misfortune, after all, and that it somehow suggested an alternative that was not displeasing.
“Do you want to hear the rest?” asked Dennis frankly.
“I do, indeed,” replied his companion with an adroitly conveyed insinuation of disappointed expectation that seemed to place the responsibility of measuring to this agreeable emergency entirely upon Dennis.
The same degree of sensitiveness which leaves an Irishman so open to offense, enables him, with equal celerity, to comprehend a hint, and Dennis, when he realized that the lady understood that the continuation of the tale involved a subsequent reading, exclaimed, with a delicious paraphrase of Sancho Panza: “God bless the man who first invented ‘Continued in our next!’”
Presently the one certain that her telepathy had not miscarried, and the other equally convinced that his reception of the message was accredited to him, the conversation was given an abrupt direction by an apparently alien question:
“Do you know anything about flowers?” asked his companion.
“Only the difference between a rose and acauliflower,” replied Dennis with a twinkle in his eye, to which the lady responded with a shade of disappointment.
“An’ why flowers?” asked Dennis.
“Listen!” answered the lady with a slight return of her original sadness.
“Eleven months ago I was left a widow.
“My husband’s estate consisted of a moderate amount of life insurance, a prosperous business, and no debts.
“He was a florist.
“The establishment is located in the heart of a very fashionable district.
“There has scarcely been a function of the élite in this section which my husband has not supplied with floral decorations.
“His taste was exquisite, and his taste was his undoing, for he added refinement to refinement until he began to lose sight of the practical side of existence.
“By degrees he became as attenuated as some of the tendrils he cultivated with such absorption, and as frail as an orchid.
“The intrusion of a pronounced scent was sufficient to induce a serious nervous disturbance,and he could no more endure disproportionate and sharp distinctions of color than a lapidary could tolerate a serious unevenness of facets.
“I was compelled to paper his room with a delicate shade of lavender.
“The furniture was stained a light buff, and the upholstering was a delicate cretonne livened by exquisite tracings of wisteria.
“The carpet was light blue, surrounded by a border of deeper blue, lightly emphasized by suggestions of trailing arbutus.
“Despite all this,” continued the lady sadly as she paused to enjoy an intentness of interest on the part of the bewildered Dennis, so profound that the dickey backs had been permitted to fall unregarded to the ground, and their printed extravagances, by contrast with this unusual recital, relegated to the most prosaic of occurrences, “despite all these precautions, the most carefully guarded recesses are not entirely secure.
“For one day an elaborately protected package arrived during my absence, and my husband opened it.
“At once a pungent, overpowering sweetness filled the air, and the very surfeit of its fragrance threw my husband into a convulsion of delight which ended in a stupor so replete that we were able only to restore the poor man to consciousness by hypodermics of—what was to him a most violent stimulant—Cambric Tea.”
Dennis looked his astonishment at these accumulating refinements, and in the pause that followed the narration of this last episode he inquired, with the appreciative hesitation of one who is reluctant to advance lest he destroy the dew-gemmed tracery of a fragile spider’s web.
“An’ what kind of flowers did all this?”
“Cape Jessamine,” replied the lady; “and we were never able to discover who sent them.
“His physicians claimed that his disorder was paralleled by similar disturbances instanced in pathological records, but that the contributing causes were different and that my husband’s particular debility was not induced by his devotion to flowers but aggravated by it.
“To further complicate matters, the physician assured me that to deprive the invalid ofhis floral diversions would be to remove his remaining impulse to continued existence.
“He went on to say that he had reached the limit of his skill, and that nothing further was to be done than to surround the sufferer with placid considerations and neutral odors, and intimated that he disliked to contemplate the possible result of a second contact with Cape Jessamine.
“In a short time it became evident that I possessed merely the essence of a husband, and one day, as he wafted—that’s the word, for his step seemed to be almost devoid of specific gravity—so I repeat, one day, as he wafted to the room in which he usually experimented with his floral attenuations, I happened to be engaged in the dwelling adjoining the conservatory and into which it opened.
“Presently, my duties concluded, I proceeded in the direction taken by my husband.
“As I advanced I grew momently conscious of a ravishing fragrance which seemed to pervade and invite the consciousness to all varieties of agreeable surrender.
“Ah!—in a moment I recognized this pungent delight: Cape Jessamine!
“Aware of the consequences to him should he inhale anything so transporting, I hastened forward.
“The fragrance grew stronger as I hurried on. It seemed to envelop every delicate, fainting scent in the conservatory, and as I placed my hand upon the door-latch leading to the section where I was positive my husband would be found, I knew that I had traced the occasion to its source.
“In another second I had opened the door, and there, a few feet away, lay my unfortunate husband.
“I hurried to his side.
“His countenance, which exhibited that singular placidity which sometimes comes with death, was as serene as a lily, and gave no evidence of the convulsion that must have ensued.
“He was dead.
“All about him, distributed with devilish malignity and criminal intent, were various clusters of the flowers that had transported him, literally.”
“My God!” exclaimed Dennis. “What a situation!”
“Wasn’t it?” exclaimed the widow. “It almost equals the story on the dickeys.”
“Equals!” exclaimed Dennis with profound conviction. “I don’t know that I care to read the balance of the story after this. Do you know the guilty party?”
“I think so,” answered the widow; “but you can judge for yourself as I proceed.
“Now follow me closely.”
There was no need of this advice, for Dennis would not have missed a word for the world, and gazed upon the sweet-faced narrator with a sort of superstitious admiration as she continued:
“Since his death the patronage is larger than ever.
“I now find myself confronted with what is equivalent to an embarrassment of riches on the one hand, and a famine of intelligent help on the other.”
At this statement Dennis attempted not to appear too deeply interested.
“I employ a manager, the one we have alwayshad, who desires to become a partner in the business; but his proposition is handicapped by the character of the consideration he is willing to offer for such an interest.
“In other words, he considers that a proposal of marriage is an equivalent for any financial objection I may suggest.”
Despite his efforts, Dennis looked troubled.
The lady smiled and continued:
“I received this proposition two months since. Its suddenness surprised a plan which I have been perfecting for a long time.
“In order to avoid any interruption to my purposes, I permitted the manager to believe that I was impressed with his offer, but desired a little time for consideration.”
“An’ true, now,” asked Dennis with genuine Irish impulse, “an’ true, now, were you?”
The lady smiled again. “Wait,” she urged, “you shall see.
“I have never trusted this man. He is not only personally obnoxious to me, but I fear that I cannot rely upon his business integrity.
“Little by little, I have gathered together the threads of the business, and I now have astrong legal grip upon the situation, which enables me to decline this alliance with no possible jeopardy to the property.
“But one consideration restrains me: I need a man of enterprise and address to succeed him. And now,” she added with a simple, business-like directness, “I have a suggestion to offer:
“You ransack Baxter Street to-morrow for Dickey Series C, and come with it to this address,” and she placed a small card in his hand.
“We can reach the end of the story, in which I am exceedingly interested, and when we have set our minds at rest on that point, I will give myself the pleasure of listening to whatever recommendations you may offer as to your fitness to take the place of the retiring management.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Dennis as he went through an absurd pantomime of punching himself, “an’ is it awake you are, Dennis Muldoon?”
At this the lady, with a cordial smile, indicated that the interview was at an end, and as she turned to depart, said: “You will come, then, to-morrow night?”
And Dennis, hat in hand, with an unmistakable deference of attitude and demeanor, cheerily responded with a query that required no further answer than a rosy acknowledgment:
“Will a duck swim?”