"But where is 'The Scorpion'?"
He turned and stared at the wall from which the matting had been torn. And out of the little niche in the cunningly masked door the green-eyed joss leered at him complacently.
Stuart awoke to a discovery so strange that for some time he found himself unable to accept its reality. He passed his hands over his face and eyes and looked about him dazedly. He experienced great pain in his throat, and he could feel that his neck was swollen. He stared down at his ankles, which also were throbbing agonisingly—to learn that they were confined in gyves attached by a short chain to a ring in the floor!
He was lying upon a deepdiwan,which was covered with leopard-skins and which occupied one corner of the most extraordinary room he had ever seen or ever could have imagined. He sat up, but was immediately overcome with faintness which he conquered with difficulty.
The apartment, then, was one of extraordinary Oriental elegance, having two entrances closed with lacquer sliding doors. Chinese lamps swung from the ceiling, illuminated it warmly, and a great number of large and bright silk cushions were strewn about the floor. There were tapestries in black and gold, rich carpets and couches, several handsome cabinets and a number of tall cases of Oriental workmanship containing large and strangely bound books, scientific paraphernalia, curios and ornaments.
At the further end of the room was a deep tiled hearth in which stood a kind of chemical furnace which hissed constantly. Upon ornate small tables and pedestals were vases and cases—one of the latter containing a number or orchids, in flower.
Preserved lizards, snakes, and other creatures were in a row of jars upon a shelf, together with small skeletons of animals in frames. There was also a perfect human skeleton. Near the centre of the room was a canopied chair, of grotesque Chinese design, upon a dais, a big bronze bell hanging from it; and near to thediwanupon which Stuart was lying stood a large, very finely carved table upon which were some open faded volumes and a litter of scientific implements. Near the table stood a very large bowl of what looked like platinum, upon a tripod, and several volumes lay scattered near it upon the carpet. From a silver incense-burner arose a pencilling of blue smoke.
One of the lacquer doors slid noiselessly open and a man entered,Stuart inhaled sibilantly and clenched his fists.
The new-comer wore a cowled garment of some dark blue material which enveloped him from head to feet. It possessed oval eye-holes, and through these apertures gleamed two eyes which looked scarcely like the eyes of a human being. They were of that brilliant yellow color sometimes seen in the eyes of tigers, and their most marked and awful peculiarity was their unblinking regard. They seemed always to be open to their fullest extent, and Stuart realized with anger that it was impossible to sustain for long the piercing gaze of Fo-Hi … for he knew that he was in the presence of "The Scorpion"!
Walking with a slow and curious dignity, the cowled figure came across to the table, first closing the lacquer door. Stuart's hands convulsively clutched the covering of thediwanas the sinister figure approached. The intolerable gaze of those weird eyes had awakened a horror, a loathing horror, within him, such as he never remembered to have experienced in regard to any human being. It was the sort of horror which the proximity of a poisonous serpent occasions—or the nearness of a scorpion….
Fo-Hi seated himself at the table.
Absolute silence reigned in the big room, except for the hissing of the furnace. No sound penetrated from the outer world. Having no means of judging how long he had been insensible, Stuart found himself wondering if the raid on the den of Ah-Fang-Fu had taken place hours before, days earlier, or weeks ago.
Taking up a test-tube from a rack on the table, Fo-Hi held it near a lamp and examined the contents—a few drops of colourless fluid. These he poured into a curious long-necked yellow bottle. He began to speak, but without looking at Stuart.
His diction was characteristic, resembling his carriage in that it was slow and distinctive. He seemed deliberately to choose each word and to give to it all its value, syllable by syllable. His English was perfect to the verge of the pedantic; and his voice was metallic and harsh, touching at time, when his words were vested with some subtle or hidden significance, guttural depths which betrayed the Chinaman. He possessed uncanny dignity as of tremendous intellect and conscious power.
"I regret that you were so rash as to take part in last night's abortive raid, Dr. Stuart," he said.
Stuart started. So he had been unconscious for many hour!
"Because of your professional acquirements at one time I had contemplated removing you," continued the unemotional voice. "But I rejoice to think that I failed. It would have been an error of judgement. I have useful work for such men. You shall assist in the extensive laboratories of my distinguished predecessor."
"Never!" snapped Stuart.
The man's callousness was so purposeful and deliberate that it awed. He seemed like one who stands above all ordinary human frailties and emotions.
"Your prejudice is natural," rejoined Fo-Hi calmly. "You are ignorant of our sublime motives, but you shall nevertheless assist us to establish that intellectual control which is destined to be the new World Force. No doubt you are conscious of a mental hiatus extending from the moment when you found the pigtail of the worthy Ah-Fang-Fu about your throat until that when you recovered consciousness in this room. It has covered a period roughly of twenty-four hours, Dr. Stuart."
"I don't believe it," muttered Stuart—and found his own voice to seem as unreal as everything else in the nightmare apartment. "If I had not revived earlier, I should never have revived at all."
He raised his hand to his swollen throat, touching it gingerly.
"Your unconsciousness was prolonged," explained Fo-Hi, consulting an open book written in Chinese characters, "by an injection which I found it necessary to make. Otherwise, as you remark, it would have been prolonged indefinitely. Your clever but rash companion was less happy."
"What!" cried Stuart—"he is dead? You fiend! You damned yellow fiend!" Emotion shook him and he sat clutching the leopard-skins and glaring madly at the cowled figure.
"Fortunately," resumed Fo-Hi, "my people—with one exception— succeeded in making their escape. I may add that the needless scuffling attendant upon arresting this unfortunate follower of mine, immediately outside the door of the house, led to the discovery of your own presence. Nevertheless, the others departed safely. My own departure is imminent; it has been because of certain domestic details and by the necessity of awaiting nightfall. You see, I am frank with you."
"Because the grave is silent!"
"The grave, and … China. There is no other alternative in your case."
"Are you sure that there is no other in your own?" asked Stuart huskily.
"An alternative to my returning to China? Can you suggest one?"
"The scaffold!" cried Stuart furiously, "for you and the scum who follow you!"
Fo-Hi lighted a Bunsen burner.
"I trust not," he rejoined placidly. "With two exceptions, all my people are out of England."
Stuart's heart began to throb painfully. With two exceptions! Did Miska still remain? He conquered his anger and tried to speak calmly, recognising how he lay utterly in the power of this uncanny being and how closely his happiness was involved even if he escaped with life.
"And you?" he said.
"In these matters, Dr. Stuart," replied Fo-Hi, "I have always modelled my behavior upon that of the brilliant scientist who preceded me as European representative of our movement. Your beautiful Thames is my highway as it was his highway. No one of my immediate neighbours has ever seen me or my once extensive following enter this house." He selected an empty test-tube. "No one shall see me leave."
The unreality of it all threatened to swamp Stuart's mind again, but he forced himself to speak calmly.
"Your own escape is just possible, if some vessel awaits you; but do you imagine for a moment that you can carry me to China and elude pursuit?"
Fo-Hi, again consulting the huge book with its yellow faded characters, answered him absently.
"Do you recall the death of the Grand Duke Ivan?" he said. "Does your memory retain the name of Van Rembold and has your Scotland Yard yet satisfied itself that Sir Frank Narcombe died from 'natural causes'? Then, there was Ericksen, the most brilliant European electrical expert of the century, who died quite suddenly last year. I honor you, Dr. Stuart, by inviting you to join a company so distinguished."
"You are raving! What have these men in common with me?"
Stuart found himself holding his breath as he awaited a reply—for he knew that he was on the verge of learning that which poor Gaston Max had given his life to learn. A moment Fo-Hi hesitated—and in that moment his captive recognised, and shuddered to recognise, that he won this secret too late. Then:
"The Grand Duke is a tactician who, had he remained in Europe, might well have readjusted the frontiers of his country. Van Rembold, as a mining engineer, stands alone, as does Henrik Ericksen in the electrical world. As for Sir Frank Narcombe, he is beyond doubt the most brilliant surgeon of today, and I, a judge of men, count you his peer in the realm of pure therapeutics. Whilst your studies in snake-poisons (which were narrowly watched for us in India) give you an unique place in toxicology. These great men will be some of your companions in China."
"In China!"
"In China, Dr. Stuart, where I hope you will join them. You misapprehend the purpose of my mission. It is not destructive, although neither I nor my enlightened predecessor have ever scrupled to remove any obstacle from the path of that world-change which no human power can check or hinder; it is primarily constructive. No state or group of states can hope to resist the progress of a movement guided and upheld by a monopoly of the world's genius. The Sublime Order, of which I am an unworthy member, stands for such a movement."
"Rest assured it will be crushed."
"Van Rembold is preparing radium in quantities hitherto unknown from the vast pitchblend deposits of Ho-Nan—which industry we control. He visited China arrayed in his shroud, and he travelled in a handsome Egyptian sarcophagus purchased at Sotherby's on behalf of a Chinese collector."
Fo-Hi stood up and crossed to the hissing furnace. He busied himself with some obscure experiment which proceeded there, and:
"Your own state-room will be less romantic, Dr. Stuart," he said, speaking without turning his head; "possibly a packing-case. In brief, that intellectual giant who achieved to much for the Sublime Order—my immediate predecessor in office—devised a means of inducing artificial catalepsy——"
"My God!" muttered Stuart, as the incredible, the appalling truth burst upon his mind.
"My own rather hazardous delay," continued Fo-Hi, "is occasioned in some measure by my anxiety to complete the present experiment. Its product will be your passport to China."
Carrying a tiny crucible, he returned to the table.
Stuart felt that his self-possession was deserting him. Madness threatened … If he was not already mad. He forced himself to speak.
"You taunt me because I am helpless. I do not believe that those men have been spirited into China. Even if it were so, they would die, as I would die, rather than prostitute their talents to such mad infamy."
Fo-Hi carefully poured the contents of the crucible into a flat platinum pan.
"In China, Dr. Stuart," he said, "we know how tomakemen work! I myself am the deviser of a variant of the unduly notoriouskitedevice and the scarcely less celebrated 'Six Gates of Wisdom.' I term it The Feast of a Thousand Ants. It is performed with the aid of African driver ant, a pair of surgical scissors and a pot of honey. I have observed you studying with interest the human skeleton yonder. It is that of one of my followers—a Nubian mute—who met with an untimely end quite recently. You are wondering, no doubt, how I obtained the frame in so short a time? My African driver ants, Dr. Stuart, of which I have three large cases in a cellar below this room, performed the task for me in exactly sixty-nine minutes."
Stuart strained frenziedly at his gyves.
"My God!" he groaned. "All I have heard of you was the merest flattery. You are either a fiend or a madman!"
"When you are enlisted as a member of the Sublime Order," said Fo-Hi softly, "and you awaken in China, Dr. Stuart—you will work. We have no unwilling recruits."
"Stop your accursed talk. I have heard enough."
But the metallic voice continued smoothly:
"I appreciate the difficulty which you must experience in grasping the true significance of this movement. You have seen mighty nations, armed with every known resource of science, at a deadlock on the battlefield. You naturally fail to perceive how a group of Oriental philosophers can achieve what the might of Europe failed to achieve. You will remember, in favour of my claims, that we command the service of the world's genius, and have a financial backing which could settle the national loans of the world! In other words, exhumation of a large percentage of the great men who have died in recent years would be impossible. Their tombs are empty."
"I have heard enough. Drug me, kill me; but spare me your confidences."
"In the crowded foyer of a hotel," continued Fo-Hi imperturbably, "of a theatre, of a concert-room; in the privacy of their home, of their office; wherever opportunity offered, I caused them to be touched with the point of a hypodermic needle such as this." He held up a small hypodermic syringe.
"It contained a minute quantity of the serum which I am now preparing—the serum whose discovery was the crowning achievement of a great scientist's career (I refer, Dr. Stuart, to my brilliant predecessor). They were buried alive; but no surgeon in Europe or America would have hesitated to certify them dead. Aided by a group of six Hindu fanatics, trained asLughais(grave-diggers), it was easy to gain access to their resting-places. One had the misfortune to be cremated by his family—a great loss to my Council. But the others are now in China, at our headquarters. They are labouring day and night to bring this war-scarred world under the sceptre of an Eastern Emperor."
"Faugh!" cried Stuart. "The whole of that war-scarred world will stand armed before you!"
"We realise that, doctor; therefore we are prepared for it. We spoke of the Norwegian Henrick Ericksen. This is his most recent contribution to our armament."
Fo-Hi rested on long yellow hand upon a kind of model searchlight.
"I nearly committed the clumsy indiscretion of removing you with this little instrument," he said. "You recall the episode? Ericksen's Disintegrating Ray, Dr. Stuart. The model, here, possesses a limited range, of course, but the actual instrument has a compass of seven and a half miles. It can readily be carried by a heavy plane! One such plane in a flight from Suez to Port Said, could destroy all the shipping in the Canal and explode every grain of ammunition on either shore! Since I must leave England to-night, the model must be destroyed, and unfortunately a good collection of bacilli has already suffered the same fate."
Placidly, slowly, and unmoved from his habit of unruffled dignity, Fo-Hi placed the model in a deep mortar, whilst Stuart watched him speechless and aghast. He poured the contents of a large pan into the mortar, whereupon a loud hissing sound broke the awesome silence of the room and a cloud of fumes arose.
"Not a trace, doctor!" said the cowled man. "A little preparation of my own. It destroys the hardest known substance—with the solitary exception of a certain clay—in the same way that nitric acid would destroy tissue paper. You see I might have aspired to become famous among safe-breakers."
"You have preferred to become infamous among murderers!" snappedStuart.
"To murder, Dr. Stuart, I have never stooped. I am a specialist in selective warfare. When you visit the laboratory of our chief chemist in Kiangsu you will be shown the whole of the armory of the Sublime Order. I regret that the activities of your zealous and painfully inquisitive friend, M. Gaston Max, have forced me to depart from England before I had completed my work here."
"I pray you may never depart," murmured Stuart.
Fo-Hi having added some bright green fluid to that in the flat pan, had now poured the whole into a large test-tube, and was holding it in the flame of the burner. At the moment that it reached the boiling point it became colourless. He carefully placed the whole of the liquid in a retort to which he attached a condensor. He stood up.
Crossing to a glass case which rested upon a table near thediwanhe struck it lightly with his hand. The case contained sand and fragments of rock, but as Fo-Hi struck it, out from beneath the pieces of rock darted black active creatures.
"The common black scorpion of Southern India," he said softly. "Its venom is the basis of the priceless formula,F. Katalepsis,upon which the structure of our Sublime Order rests, Dr. Stuart; hence the adoption of a scorpion as our device."
He took up a long slender flask.
"This virus prepared from a glandular secretion of the Chinese swamp-adder is also beyond price. Again-the case upon the pedestal yonder contains five perfect bulbs, three already in flower, as you observe, of an orchid discovered by our chief chemist in certain forests of Burma. It only occurs at extremely rare intervals—eighty years or more—and under highly special conditions. If the other two bulbs flower, I shall be enabled to obtain from the blooms a minimum quantity of an essential oil for which the nations of the earth, if they knew its properties, would gladly empty their treasuries. This case must at all costs accompany me."
"Yet because you are still in England," said Stuart huskily, "I venture to hope that your devil dreams may end on the scaffold."
"That can never be, Dr. Stuart," returned Fo-Hi placidly. "The scaffold is not for such as I. Moreover, it is a crude and barbaric institution which I deplore. Do you see that somewhat peculiarly constructed chair, yonder? It is an adaptation, by a brilliant young chemist of Canton, of Ericksen's Disintegrating Ray. A bell hangs beside it. If you were seated in that chair and I desire to dismiss you, it would merely be necessary fro me to strike the bell once with the hammer. Before the vibration of the note had become inaudible you would be seeking your ancestors among the shades. It is the throne of the gods. Such a death is poetic."
He returned to the table and, observing meticulous care, emptied the few drops of colourless liquid from the condenser into a test-tube. Holding the tube near a lamp, he examined the contents, then poured the liquid into the curious yellow bottle. A faint vapour arose from it.
"You would scarcely suppose," he said, "that yonder window opens upon an ivy-grown balcony commanding an excellent view of that picturesque Tudor survival, Hampton Court? I apprehend, however, that the researches of your late friend, M. Gaston Max, may ere long lead Scotland Yard to my doors, although there has been nothing in the outward seeming of this house, in the circumstances of my tenancy, or in my behaviour since I have—secretly—resided here, to excite local suspicion."
"Scotland Yard men may surround the house now!" said Stuart viciously.
"One of the two followers I have retained here with me, watches at the gate," replied Fo-Hi. "An intruder seeking to enter by any other route, through the hedge, over the wall, or from the river, would cause electric bells to ring loudly in this room, the note of the bell signifying the point of entry. Finally, in the event of such a surprise, I have an exit whereby one emerges at a secret spot on the river bank. A motor-boat, suitably concealed, awaits me there."
He placed a thermometer in the neck of the yellow bottle and the bottle in a rack. He directed the intolerable gaze of his awful eyes upon the man who sat, teeth tightly clenched, watching him from thediwan.
"Ten minutes of life—in England—yet remain to you, Dr. Stuart. In ten minutes this fluid will have cooled to a temperature of 99 degrees, when I shall be enabled safely make an injection. You will be reborn in Kiangsu."
Fo-Hi walked slowly to the door whereby he had entered, opened it and went out. The door closed.
The little furnace hissed continuously. A wisp of smoke floated up from the incense-burner.
Stuart sat with his hands locked between his knees, and his gaze set upon the yellow flask.
Even now he found it difficult to credit the verity of his case. He found it almost impossible to believe that such a being as Fo-Hi existed, that such deeds had been done, were being done, in England, as those of which he had heard from the sinister cowled man. Save for the hissing of the furnace and the clanking of the chain as he strove with all his strength to win freedom, that wonderful evil room was silent as the King's Chamber at the heart of the Great Pyramid.
His gaze reverted to the yellow flask.
"Oh, my God!" he groaned.
Terror claimed him—the terror which he had with difficulty been fending off throughout that nightmare interview with Fo-Hi. Madness threatened him, and he was seized by an almost incontrollable desire to shout execrations—prayers—he knew not what. He clenched his teeth grimly and tried to think, to plan.
He had two chances:
The statement left with Inspector Dunbar, in which he had mentioned the existence of a house "near Hampton Court," and … Miska.
That she was one of the two exceptions mentioned by Fo-Hi he felt assured. But was she in this house, and did she know of his presence there? Even so, had she access to that room of mysteries—of horrors?
And who was the other who remained? Almost certainly it was the fanatical Hindu, Chunda Lal, of whom she had spoken with such palpable terror and who watched her unceasingly, untiringly.Hewould prevent her intervening even if she had power to intervene.
His great hope, then, was in Dunbar … for Gaston Max was dead.
At the coming of that thought, the foul doing to death of the fearless Frenchman, he gnashed his teeth savagely and strained at the gyves until the pain in his ankles brought out beads of perspiration upon his forehead.
He dropped his head into his hands and frenziedly clutched at his hair with twitching fingers.
The faint sound occasioned by the opening of one of the sliding doors brought him sharply upright.
Miska entered!
She looked so bewilderingly beautiful that terror and sorrow fled, leaving Stuart filled only with passionate admiration. She wore an Eastern dress of gauzy shimmering silk and high-heeled gilt Turkish slippers upon her stockingless feet. About her left ankle was a gold bangle, and there was barbaric jewellery upon her arms. She was a figure unreal as all lose in that house of dreams, but a figure so lovely that Stuart forgot the yellow flask … forgot that less than ten minutes of life remained to him.
"Miska!" he whispered—"Miska!"
She exhibited intense but repressed excitement and fear. Creeping to the second door—that by which Fo-Hi had gone out—she pressed her ear to the lacquered panel and listened intently. Then, coming swiftly to the table, she took up a bunch of keys, approached Stuart and, kneeling, unlocked the gyves. The scent of jasmine stole to his nostrils.
"God bless you!" he said with stifled ardour.
She rose quickly to her feet, standing before him with head downcast. Stuart rose with difficulty. His legs were cramped and aching. He grasped Miska's hand and endeavoured to induce her to look up. One swift glance she gave him and looked away again.
"You must go—this instant," she said. "I show you the way. There is not a moment to lose…."
"Miska!"
She glanced at him again.
"You must come with me!"
"Ah!" she whispered—"that is impossible! Have I not told you so?"
"You have told me, but I cannot understand. Here, in England, you are free. Why should you remain with that cowled monster?"
"Shall I tell you?" she asked, and he could feel how she trembled. "IfI tell you, will you promise to believe me—and to go?"
"Not without you!"
"Ah! no, no! If I tell you that my only chance of life—such a little, little chance—is to stay, will you go?"
Stuart secured her other hand and drew her toward him, half resisting.
"Tell me," he said softly. "I will believe you—and if it can spare you one moment of pain or sorrow, I will go as you ask me."
"Listen," she whispered, glancing fearfully back toward the closed door—"Fo-Hi has something that make people to die; and only he can bring them to life again. Do you believe this?"
She looked up at him rapidly, her wonderful eyes wide and fearful. He nodded.
"Ah! you know! Very well. On that day in Cairo, which I am taken before him—you remember, I tell you?—he … oh!"
She shuddered wildly and hid her beautiful face against Stuart's breast. He threw his arms about her.
"Tell me," he said.
"With the needle, he … inject …"
"Miska!"
Stuart felt the blood rushing to his heart and knew that he had paled.
"There is something else," she went on, almost inaudibly, "with which he gives life again to those he had made dead with the needle. It is a light green liquid tasting like bitter apples; and once each week for six months it must be drunk or else … the living death comes. Sometimes I have not seen Fo-Hi for six months at a time, but a tiny flask, one draught, of the green liquid, always comes to me wherever I am, every week … and twice each year I see him—Fo-Hi … and he …"
Her voice quivered and ceased. Moving back, she slipped a soft shoulder free of it s flimsy covering.
Stuart looked—and suppressed a groan.
Her arm was dotted with the tiny marks made by a hypodermic syringe!
"You see!" she whispered tremulously. "If I go, I die, and I am buried alive … or else I live until my body …"
"Oh, God!" moaned Stuart—"the fiend! the merciless, cunning fiend!Is therenothing…"
"Yes, yes!" said Miska, looking up. "If I can get enough of the green fluid and escape. But he tell me once—it was in America—that he only prepares one tiny draught at a time! Listen! I must stay, and if he can be captured he must be forced to make this antidote … Ah! go! go!"
Her words ended in a sob, and Stuart held her to him convulsively, his heart filled with such helpless, fierce misery and bitterness as he had never known.
"Go, please go!" she whispered. "It is my only chance—there is no other. There is not a moment to wait. Listen to me! You will go by that door by which I come in. There is a better way, through a tunnel he has made to the river bank; but I cannot open the door. Onlyhehas the key. At the end of the passage some one is waiting——"
"Chunda Lal!" Miska glanced up rapidly and then dropped her eyes again.
"Yes—poor Chunda Lal. He is my only friend. Give him this."
She removed an amulet upon a gold chain from about her neck and thrust it into Stuart's hand.
"It seems to you silly, but Chunda Lal is of the East; and he has promised. Oh! be quick! I am afraid. I tell you something. Fo-Hi does not know, but the police Inspector and many men search the river bank for the house! I see them from a window——"
"What!" cried Stuart—"Dunbar is here!"
"Ssh! ssh!"Miska clutched him wildly."Heis not far away. You will go and bring him here. No! for me do not fear. I put the keys back and he will think you have opened the lock by some trick——"
"Miska!"
"Oh, no more!"
She slipped from his arms, crossed and reopened the lacquered door, revealing a corridor dimly lighted. Stuart followed and looked along the corridor.
"Right to the end," she whispered, "and down the steps. You know"— touching the amulet which Stuart carried—"how to deal with—Chunda Lal."
But still he hesitated; until she seized his hand and urged him.Thereupon he swept her wildly into his arms.
"Miska! how can I leave you! It is maddening!"
"You must! you must!"
He looked into her eyes, stooped and kissed her upon the lips. Then, with no other word, he tore himself away and walked quickly along the corridor. Miska watched him until he was out of sight, then re-entered the great room and closed the door. She turned, and:
"Oh, God of mercy," she whispered.
Just within the second doorway stood Fo-Hi watching her.
Stricken silent with fear, Miska staggered back against the lacquered door, dropping the keys which she held in her hand. Fo-Hi had removed the cowled garment and was now arrayed in a rich mandarin robe. Through the grotesque green veil which obscured his features the brilliant eyes shone catlike.
"So," he said softly, "you speed the parting guest. And did I not hear the sound of a chaste salute?"
Miska watched him, wild-eyed.
"And he knows," continued the metallic voice, "'how to deal with Chunda Lal'? But it may be that Chunda Lal will know how to deal withhim!I had suspected that Dr. Keppel Stuart entertained an unprofessional interest in his charming patient. Your failure to force the bureau drawer in his study excited my suspicion—unjustly, I admit; for did not I fail also when I paid the doctor a personal visit? True, I was disturbed. But this suspicion later returned. It was in order that some lingering doubt might be removed that I afforded you the opportunity of interviewing my guest. But whatever surprise his ingenuity, aided by your woman's wit, has planned for Chunda Lal, I dare to believe that Chunda Lal, being forewarned, will meet successfully. He is expecting an attempt, by Dr. Stuart, to leave this house. He has my orders to detain him."
At that, anger conquered terror in the heart of Miska, and:
"You mean he has your orders to kill him!" she cried desperately.
Fo-Hi closed the door.
"On the contrary, he has my orders to take every possible care of him. Those blind, tempestuous passions which merely make a woman more desirable find no place in the trained mind of the scientist. That Dr. Stuart covets my choicest possession in no way detracts from his value to my Council."
Miska had never moved from the doorway by which Stuart had gone out; and now, having listened covertly and heard no outcry, her faith in Chunda Lal was restored. Her wonderful eyes narrowed momentarily, and she spoke with the guile, which seems so naive, of the Oriental woman.
"I care nothing for him—this Dr. Stuart. But he had done you no wrong——"
"Beyond seeking my death—none. I have already said"—the eyes ofFo-Hi gleamed through the hideous veil—"that I bear him no ill will."
"But you plan to carry him to China—like those others."
"I assign him a part in the New Renaissance—yes. In the Deluge that shall engulf the world, his place is in the Ark. I honor him."
"Perhaps he rather remain a—nobody—than be so honored."
"In his present state of imperfect understanding it is quite possible," said Fo-Hi smoothly. "But if he refuses to achieve greatness he must have greatness thrust upon him. Van Rembold, I seem to recall, hesitated for some time to direct his genius to the problem of producing radium in workable quantities from the pitchblend deposits of Ho-Nan. But thesplit rodhad not been applied to the soles of his feet more than five times ere he reviewed his prejudices and found them to be surmountable."
Miska, knowing well the moods of the monstrous being whose unveiled face she had never seen, was not deceived by the suavity of his manner. Nevertheless, she fought down her terror, knowing how much might depend upon her retaining her presence of mind. How much of her interview with Stuart he had overheard she did not know, nor how much he had witnessed.
"But," she said, moving away from him, "he does not matter—this one.Forgive me if I think to let him go; but I am afraid——"
Fo-Hi crossed slowly, intercepting her.
"Ah!" said Miska, her eyes opening widely—"you are going to punish me again! For why? Because I am a woman and cannot always be cruel?"
From its place on the wall Fo-Hi took a whip. At that:
"Ah! no, no!" she cried. "You drive me mad! I am only in part of the East and I cannot bear it—I cannot bear it! You teach me to be like the women of England, who are free, and you treat me like the women of China, who are slaves. Once, it did not matter. I thought it was a part of a woman's life to be treated so. But now I cannot bear it!" She stamped her foot fiercely upon the floor. "I tell you I cannot bear it!"
Whip in hand, Fo-Hi stood watching her.
"You release that man—for whom you 'care nothing'—in order that he may bring my enemies about me, in order that he may hand me over to the barbarous law of England. Now, you 'cannot bear' so light a rebuke as the whip. Here, I perceive, is some deep psychological change. Such protests do not belong to the women of my country; they are never heard in thezenana,and would provoke derision in theharemsof Stambul.
"You have trained me to know that life in aharemis not life, but only the existence of an animal."
"I have trained you—yes. What fate was before you when I intervened in that Mecca slave-market? You who are 'only in part of the East.' Do you forget so soon how you cowered there amongst the others, Arabs, Circassians, Georgians, Nubians, striving to veil your beauty from those ravenous eyes? Fromwhatdid I rescue you?"
"Andforwhat?" cried Miska bitterly. "To use me as a lure—and beat me if I failed."
Fo-Hi stood watching her, and slowly, as he watched, terror grew upon her and she retreated before him, step by step. He made no attempt to follow her, but continued to watch. Then, raising the whip he broke it across his knee and dropped the pieces on the floor.
At that she extended her hands towards him pitifully.
"Oh! what are you going to do to me!" she said. "Let me go! let me go! I can no more be of use to you. Give me back my life and let me go— et me go and hide away from them all—from all … the world…."
Her words died away and ceased upon a suppressed hysterical sob. For, in silence, Fo-Hi stood watching her, unmoved.
"Oh!" she moaned, and sank cowering upon adiwan—"why do you watch me so!"
"Because," came the metallic voice, softly—"you are beautiful with a beauty given but rarely to the daughters of men. The Sublime Order has acquired many pretty women—for they are potent weapons—but none so fair as you. Miska, I would make life sweet for you."
"Ah! you do not mean that!" she whispered fearfully.
"Have I not clothed you in the raiment of a princess!" continued Fo-Hi. "To-night, at my urgent request, you wear the charming national costume in which I delight to see you. But is there a woman of Paris, of London, of New York, who has such robes, such jewels, such apartments as you possess? Perhaps the peculiar duties which I have required you to perform, the hideous disguises, which you have sometimes been called upon to adopt, have disgusted you."
Her heart beating wildly, for she did not know this mood but divined it to portend some unique horror, Miska crouched, head averted.
"To-night the hour has come to break the whip. To-night the master in me dies. My cloak of wise authority has fallen from me and I offer myself in bondage toyou, my slave!"
"This is some trap you set for me!" she whispered.
But Fo-Hi, paying no heed to her words, continued in the same rapt voice:
"Truly have you observed that the Chinese wife is but a slave to her lord. I have said that the relation of master and slave is ended between us. I offer you a companionship that signifies absolute freedom and perfect understanding. Half of all I have—and the world lies in my grasp—is yours. I offer a throne set upon the Seven Mountains of the Universe. Look into my eyes and read the truth."
But lower and lower she cowered upon thediwan.
"No, no! I am afraid!"
Fo-Hi approached her closely and abject terror now had robbed her of strength. Her limbs seemed to have become numbed, her tongue clave to the roof of her mouth.
"Fear me no more, Miska," said Fo-Hi. "Iwillyou nothing but joy. The man who has learned the Fifth Secret of Rache Churan—who has learned how to control his will—holds a power absolute and beyond perfectability. You know, who have dwelt beneath my roof, that there is no escape from my will." His calm was terrible, and his glance, through the green veil, was like a ray of scorching heat. His voice sank lower and lower.
"There is one frailty, Miska, that even the Adept cannot conquer. It is inherent in every man. Miska, I would notforceyou to grasp the joy I offer; I would have youacceptit willingly. No! do not turn from me! No woman in all the world has ever heard me plead, as I plead to you. Never before have Isuedfor favours. Do not turn from me, Miska."
Slightly, the metallic voice vibrated, and the ruffling of that giant calm was a thing horrible to witness. Fo-Hi extended his long yellow hands, advancing step by step until he stood over the cowering girl. Irresistibly her glance was drawn to those blazing eyes which the veil could not hide, and as she met that unblinking gaze her own eyes dilated and grew fixed as those of a sleep-walker. A moment Fo-Hi stood so. Then passion swept him from his feet and he seized her fiercely.
"Your eyes drive me mad!" he hissed. "Your lips taunt me, and I know all earthly greatness to be a mirage, its conquests visions, and its fairness dust. I would rather be a captive in your white arms than the emperor of heaven! Your sweetness intoxicates me, Miska. A fever burns me up!"
Helpless, enmeshed in the toils of that mighty will, Miska raised her head; and gradually her expression changed. Fear was smoothed away from her lovely face as by some magic brush. She grew placid; and finally she smiled—the luresome, caressing smile of the East. Nearer and nearer drew the green veil. Then, uttering a sudden fierce exclamation, Fo-Hi thrust her from him.
"That smile is not forme,the man!" he cried gutterally. "Ah! I could curse the power that I coveted and set above all earthly joys! I who boasted that he could control his will—I read in your eyes that I amwillingyou to love me! I seek a gift and can obtain but a tribute!"
Miska, with a sobbing moan, sank upon thediwan.Fo-Hi stood motionless, looking straight before him. His terrible calm was restored.
"It is the bitter truth," he said—"that to win the world I have bartered the birthright of men; the art of winning a woman's heart. There is much in our Chinese wisdom. I erred in breaking the whip. I erred in doubting my own prescience, which told me that the smiles I could not woo were given freely to another … and perhaps the kisses. At least I can set these poor frail human doubts at rest."
He crossed and struck a gong which hung midway between the two doors.
Her beautiful face a mask of anguish, Miska cowered upon thediwan,watching the closed doors. Fo-Hi stood in the centre of the great room with his back to the entrance. Silently one of the lacquered panels slid open and Chunda Lal entered. He saluted the figure of the veiled Chinaman but never once glanced in the direction of thediwanfrom which Miska wildly was watching him.
Without turning his head, Fo-Hi, who seemed to detect the presence of the silent Hindu by means of some fifth sense, pointed to a bundle of long rods stacked in a corner of the room.
His brown face expressionless as that of a bronze statue, Chunda Lal crossed and took the rods from their place.
"Tum samajhte ho?"(Do you understand?) said Fo-Hi. Chunda Lal inclined his head.
"Main tumhari bat manunga"(Your orders shall be obeyed), he replied.
"Ah, God! no!" whispered Miska—"what are you going to do?"
"Your Hindustani was ever poor, Miska," said Fo-Hi.
He turned to Chunda Lal.
"Until you hear the gong," he said in English.
Miska leapt to her feet, as Chunda Lal, never once glancing at her, went out bearing the rods, and closed the door behind him. Fo-Hi turned and confronted her.
"Ta'ala hina(come hither), Miska!" he said softly. "Shall I speak to you in the soft Arab tongue? Come to me, lovely Miska. Let me feel how that sorrowful heart will leap like a captive gazelle."
But Miska shrank back from him, pale to the lips.
"Very well." His metallic voice sank to a hiss. "I employ no force. You shall yield to me your heart as a love offering. Of such motives as jealousy and revenge you know me incapable. What I do, I do with a purpose. That compassion of yours shall be a lever to cast you into my arms. Your hatred you shall conquer."
"Oh, have you no mercy? Is therenothinghuman in your heart? Did I say I hate you!"
"Your eyes are eloquent, Miska. I cherish two memories of those beautiful eyes. One is of their fear and loathing—ofme;the other is of their sweet softness when they watched the departure of my guest. Listen! Do you hear nothing?"
In an attitude of alert and fearful attention Miska stood listening.Fo-Hi watched her through the veil with those remorseless blazing eyes.
"I will open the door," he said smoothly, "that we may more fully enjoy the protests of one for whom you 'care nothing'—of one whose lips have pressed—your hand."
He opened the door by which Chunda Lal had gone out and turned again to Miska. Her eyes looked unnaturally dark by contrast with the pallor of her face.
Chunda Lal had betrayed her. She no longer doubted it. For he had not dared to meet her glance. His fear of Fo-Hi had overcome his love for her … and Stuart had been treacherously seized somewhere in the corridors and rendered helpless by the awful art of the thug.
"There is a brief interval," hissed the evil voice. "Chunda Lal is securing him to the frame and baring the soles of his feet for the caresses of the rod."
Suddenly, from somewhere outside the room, came the sound of dull, regular blows … then, a smothered moan!
Miska sprang forward and threw herself upon her knees before Fo-Hi, clutching at his robe frantically.
"Ah! merciful God! he is there! Spare him! spare him! No more—no more!"
"He is there?" repeated Fo-Hi suavely. "Assuredly he is there, Miska.I know not by what trick he hoped to 'deal with' Chunda Lal. But, asI informed you, Chunda Lal was forewarned."
The sound of blows continued, followed by that of another, louder groan.
"Stop him! Stop him!" shrieked Miska.
"You 'care nothing' for this man. Why do you tremble?"
"Oh!" she wailed piteously. "I cannot bear it … oh, I cannot bear it! Do what you like with me, but spare him. Ah! you have no mercy."
Fo-Hi handed her the hammer for striking the gong.
"It isyouwho have no mercy," he replied. "I have asked but one gift. The sound of the gong will end Dr. Stuart's discomfort … and will mean that youvoluntarilyaccept my offer. What! you hesitate?" A stifled scream rang out sharply.
"Ah, yes! yes!"
Miska ran and struck the gong, then staggered back to thediwanand fell upon it, hiding her face in her hands. The sounds of torture ceased.
Fo-Hi closed the door and stood looking at her where she lay.
"I permit you some moments of reflection," he said, "in order that you may compose yourself to receive the addresses which I shall presently have the honour, and joy, of making to you. Yes—this door is unlocked." He threw the keys on the table. "I respect your promise … and Chunda Lal guards theouterexits."
He opened the further door, by which he had entered, and went out.
Miska, through the fingers of her shielding hands, watched him go.
When he had disappeared she sprang up, clenching her teeth, and her face was contorted with anguish. She began to move aimlessly about the room, glancing at the many strange objects on the big table and fearfully at the canopied chair beside which hung the bronze bell. Finally:
"Oh, Chunda Lal! Chunda Lal!" she moaned, and threw herself face downward on thediwan,sobbing wildly.
So she lay, her whole body quivering with the frenzy of her emotions, and as she lay there, inch by inch, cautiously, the nearer door began to open. Chunda Lal looked in.
Finding the room to be occupied only by Miska, he crossed rapidly to thediwan,bending over her with infinite pity and tenderness.
"Miska!" he whispered softly.
As though an adder had touched her, Miska sprang to her feet—and back from the Hindu. Her eyes flashed fiercely.
"Ah!you! you!"she cried at him, with a repressed savagery that spoke of the Oriental blood in her veins. "Do not speak to me—look at me! Do not come near me! I hate you! God! how I hate you!"
"Miska! Miska!" he said beseechingly—"you pierce my heart! you kill me! Can you not understand——"
"Go! go!"
She drew back from him, clenching and unclenching her jewelled fingers and glaring madly into his eyes.
"Look, Miska!" He took the gold chain and amulet from his bosom. "Your token! Can you not understand!Yah Allah!how little you trust me— and I would die for one glance of your eyes!
"He—Stuart Sahib—has gone, gone long since!"
"Ah! Chunda Lal!"
Miska swayed dizzily and extended her hands towards him. Chunda Lal glanced fearfully about him.
"Did I not," he whispered, with an intense ardour in his soft voice,— "did I not lay my life, my service, all I have, at your feet? Did I not vow to serve you in the name ofBhowani!He is long since gone to bring his friends—who are searching from house to house along the river. At any moment they may be here!"
Miska dropped weakly upon her knees before him and clasped his hand.
"Chunda Lal, my friend! Oh, forgive me!" Her voice broke. "Forgive …"
Chunda Lal raised her gently.
"Not upon your knees tome,Miska. It was a little thing to do—for you. Did I not tell you thathehad cast his eyes upon you? Mine was the voice you heard to cry out. Ah! you do not know; it is to gaintimethat I seem to servehim!Only this, Miska"—he revealed the blade of a concealed knife—"stand between Fo-Hi and—you! Had I not read it in his eyes!"
He raised his glance upward frantically.
"Jey Bhowani!give me strength, give me courage! For if I fail …"
He glared at her passionately, clutching his bosom; then, pressing the necklet to his lips, he concealed it again, and bent, whispering urgently:
"Listen again—I reveal it to you without price or hope of reward, for I know there is no love in your heart to give, Miska; I know that it takes you out of my sight for always. But I tell you what I learn in the house of Abdul Rozan. Your life is your own, Miska! With the needle"—yet closer he bent to her ear and even softer he spoke—"he pricks your white skin—no more! The vial he sends contains a harmless cordial!"
"Chunda Lal!"
Miska swayed again dizzily, clutching at the Hindu for support.
"Quick! fly!" he said, leading her to the door. "I will seehedoes not pursue!"
"No, no! you shall shed no blood for me! Not evenhis. You come also!"
"And if he escape, and know that I was false to him, he willcall me back,and I shall be dragged to those yellow eyes, though I am a thousand miles away!Inshalla!those eyes! No—I must strike swift, or he robs me of my strength."
For a long moment Miska hesitated.
"Then, I also remain, Chunda Lal, my friend! We will wait—and watch -and listen for the bells—here—that tell they are in the grounds of the house."
"Ah, Miska!" the glance of the Hindu grew fearful—"you are clever—butheis the Evil One! I fear for you. Fly now. There is yet time …"
A faint sound attracted Miska's attention. Placing a quivering finger to her lips, she gently thrust Chunda Lal out into the corridor.
"He returns!" she whispered: "If I call—come to me, my friend. But we have not long to wait!"
She closed the door.
Stuart had gained the end of the corridor, unmolested. There he found a short flight of steps, which he descended and came to a second corridor forming a right angle with the first. A lamp was hung at the foot of the steps, and by its light he discerned a shadowy figure standing at the further end of this second passage.
A moment he hesitated, peering eagerly along the corridor. The man who waited was Chunda Lal. Stuart approached him and silently placed in his hand the gold amulet.
Chunda Lal took it as one touching something holy, and raising it he kissed it with reverence. His dark eyes were sorrowful. Long and ardently he pressed the little trinket to his lips, then concealed it under the white robe which he wore and turned to Stuart. His eyes were sorrowful no more, but fierce as the eyes of a tiger.
"Follow!" he said.
He unlocked a door and stepped out into a neglected garden, Stuart close at his heels. The sky was cloudy, and the moon obscured. Never glancing back, Chunda Lal led the way along a path skirting a high wall upon which climbing fruit trees were growing until they came to a second door and this also the Hindu unlocked. He stood aside.
"To the end of this lane," he said, in his soft queerly modulated voice, "and along the turning to the left to the river bank. Follow the bank towards the palace and you will meet them."
"I owe you my life," said Stuart.
"Go! you owe me nothing," returned the Hindu fiercely.
Stuart turned and walked rapidly along the lane. Once he glanced back. Chunda Lal was looking after him … and he detected something that gleamed in his hand, gleamed not like gold but like the blade of a knife!
Turning the corner, Stuart began to run. For he was unarmed and still weak, and there had been that in the fierce black eyes of the Hindu when he had scorned Stuart's thanks which had bred suspicion and distrust.
From the position of the moon, Stuart judged the hour to be something after midnight. No living thing stirred about him. The lane in which now he found himself was skirted on one side by a hedge beyond which was open country and on the other by a continuation of the high wall which evidently enclosed the grounds of the house that he had just quitted. A cool breezed fanned his face, and he knew that he was approaching the Thames. Ten more paces and he came to the bank.
In his weak condition the short run had exhausted him. His bruised throat was throbbing painfully, and he experienced some difficulty in breathing. He leaned up against the moss-grown wall, looking back into the darkness of the lane.
No one was in sight. There was no sound save the gently lapping of the water upon the bank.
He would have like to bathe his throat and to quench his feverish thirst, but a mingled hope and despair spurred him and he set off along the narrow path towards where dimly above some trees he could discern in the distance a group of red-roofed buildings. Having proceeded for a considerable distance, he stood still, listening for any sound that might guide him to the search-party—or warn him that he was followed. But he could hear nothing.
Onward he pressed, not daring to think of what the future held for him, not daring to dwell upon the memory, the maddening sweetness, of that parting kiss. His eyes grew misty, he stumbled as he walked, and became oblivious of his surrounding. His awakening was a rude one.
Suddenly a man, concealed behind a bush, sprang out upon him and bore him irresistibly to the ground!
"Not a word!" rapped his assailant, "or I'll knock you out!"
Stuart glared into the red face lowered so threateningly over his own, and:
"Sergeant Sowerby!" he gasped.
The grip upon his shoulders relaxed.
"Damn!" cried Sowerby—"if it isn't Dr. Stuart?"
"What is that!" cried another voice from the shelter of the bush."Pardieu!say it again! … Dr. Stuart!"
And Gaston Max sprang out!
"Max!" murmured Stuart, staggering to his feet—"Max!"
"Nom d'un nom!Two dead men meet!" exclaimed Gaston Max. "But indeed"—he grasped Stuart by both hands and his voice shook with emotion—"I thank God that I see you!"
Stuart was dazed. Words failed him, and he swayed dizzily.
"I thoughtyouwere murdered," said Max, still grasping his hand, "and I perceive that you had made the same mistake about me! Do you know what saved me, my friend, from the consequences of that frightful blow? It was the bandage of 'Le Balafre'!"
"You must possess a skull like a negro's!" said Stuart feebly.
"I believe I have a skull like a baboon!" returned Max, laughing with joyous excitement. "And you, doctor, you must possess a steel wind-pipe; for flesh and blood could never have survived the pressure of that horrible pigtail. You will rejoice to learn that Miguel was arrested on the Dover boat-train this morning and Ah-Fang-Fu at Tilbury Dock some four hours ago. So we are both avenged! But we waste time!"
He unscrewed a flask and handed it to Stuart.
"A terrible experience has befallen you," he said. "But tell me—do you know where it is—the lair of 'The Scorpion'?"
"I do!" replied Stuart, having taken a welcome draught from the flask. "Where is Dunbar? We must carefully surround the place or he will elude us."
"Ah! as he eluded us at 'The Pidgin House'!" cried Max. "Do you know what happened? They had a motorboat in the very cellar of that warren. At high tide they could creep out into the cutting, drawing their craft along from pile to pile, and reach the open river at a point fifty yards above the house! In the damnable darkness they escaped. But we have two of them."
"It was all my fault," said Sowerby guiltily. "I missed my spring when I went for the Chinaman who came out first, and he gave one yell. The old fox in the shop heard it and the fat was in the fire."
"You didn't miss your spring at me!" retort Stuart ruefully.
"No," agreed Sowerby. "I didn't mean to miss a second time!"
"What's all this row," came a gruff voice.
"Ah! Inspector Dunbar!" said Max.
Dunbar walked up the path, followed by a number of men. At first he did not observe Stuart, and:
"You'll be waking all the neighborhood," he said. "It's the next big house, Sowerby, the one we thought, surrounded by the brick wall. There's no doubt, I think … Why!"
He had seen Stuart, and he sprang forward with outstretched hand.
"Thank God!" he cried, disregarding his own counsel about creating a disturbance. "This is fine! Eh, man! but I'm glad to see you!"
"AndIam glad to be here!" Stuart assured him.
They shook hands warmly.
"You have read my statement, of course?" asked Stuart.
"I have," replied the Inspector, and gave him a swift glance of the tawny eyes. "And considering that you've nearly been strangled, I'll forgive you! But I wish we'd known about this house——"
"Ah! Inspector," interrupted Gaston Max, "but you have never seenZara el-Khala! I have seen her—andIforgive him, also!"
Stuart continued rapidly:
"We have little time to waste. There are only three people in the house, so far as I am aware: Miska—known to you, M. Max, as Zara el-Khala—the Hindu, Chunda Lal, and—Fo-Hi——"
"Ah!" cried Max—"'The Scorpion.' Chunda Lal, for some obscure personal reason, not entirely unconnected with Miska, enabled me to make my escape in order that I might lead you to the house. Therefore we may look upon Chunda Lal, as well as Miska, in the light of an accomplice——"
"Eh, bien!a spy in the camp! This is where we see how fatal to the success of any enterprise, criminal or otherwise, is the presence of a pretty woman! Proceed, my friend!"
"There are three entrances to the apartment in which Fo-Hi apparently spends the greater part of his time. Two of these I know, although I am unaware where one of them leads to. But the third, of which he alone holds the key, communicates with a tunnel leading to the river bank, where a motorboat is concealed."
"Ah, that motor-boat!" cried Max. "He travels at night, you understand——"
"Always, I am told."
"Yes, always. Therefore, once he is out on the river, he is moderately secure between the first lock and the Nore! When a police patrol is near he can shut off his engine and lie under the bank. Last night he crept away from us in that fashion. Tonight is not so dark, and the River Police are watching all the way down."
"Furthermore," replied Stuart, "Chunda Lal, who acts as engineer, has it in his power to prevent Fo-Hi's escape by that route! But we must count upon the possibility of his attempting to leave by water. Therefore, in disposing your forces, place a certain number of men along the bank and below the house. Is there a River Police boat near?"
"Not nearer than Putney Bridge," answered Dunbar. "We shall have to try and block that exit."
"There's no time to waste," continued Stuart excitedly—"and I have a very particular request to make: that you will take Fo-Hialive."
"But of course," said Gaston Max, "if it is humanly possible."
Stuart repressed a groan; for even so he had little hope of inducing the awful veiled man to give back life to the woman who would have been instrumental in bringing him to the scaffold … and no compromise was possible!
"If you will muster your men, Inspector," he said, "I will lead you to the spot. Once we have affected an entrance we must proceed with dispatch. He has alarm-bells connected with every possible point of entry."
"Lead on, my friend," cried Gaston Max. "I perceive that time is precious."