Events now began to move with an almost bewildering rapidity, at least, so far as they affected the immediate temporal concerns of Nitocris and her father. For days and weeks a furious storm raged round the famous lecture, and the atmosphere of the scientific world was thick with figures and formulæ, diagrams and disquisitions; but since none of the learned disputators proved himself capable of detecting the slightest flaw in the lecturer's mathematics, it had very little interest for him, and therefore has none for us. In fact, so little did he seem concerned with the tempest he had raised, that a few days later, to the astonishment and chagrin of his baffled critics, he and Nitocris bade adieu to their more intimate friends and disappeared on a wandering trip of undetermined destination for change of air and scene and a much-needed holiday for the over-worked Professor. At least, that is the reason which Nitocris gave to Lord Leighton and the Van Huysmans, and the few others to whom she thought it necessary to give any explanation at all.
The day before they left, Merrill lunched at "TheWilderness," took a fitting leave of his lady-love and his prospective father-in-law, and departed to join his ship, slightly mystified, perhaps, by recent happenings, but still believing himself with sufficient reason to be the happiest and most fortunate Lieutenant-Commander in the British Navy.
The true reasons for the sudden departure of the now more than ever famous Professor and his beautiful daughter from the scene of his latest and most marvellous triumph may be set forth as follows:
On the evening of the third day after the lecture Franklin Marmion was going back by train to Wimbledon after a long day at the British Museum among the relics of Egyptian antiquity—which, as may well be understood, he studied now with an interest of which no other man living could have been capable; and as soon as he was seated in a comfortable corner, and had his pipe going, he opened hisPall Mall Gazette, and, as was his wont on such occasions, began with the leading article and read straight along through the Special Article and the Occ. Notes, until he came to the news of the day, skipping only the financial news and quotations, which, under his present changed conditions of existence, he dare not trust himself to read lest he might be tempted by the unrighteousness of Mammon, a form of idolatry which he had always heartily despised.
The first item on the news page was headed in bold type:
"MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF ARULING GERMAN PRINCE."SUSPICION OF FOUL PLAY."IMPORTANT STATE PAPERS VANISH WITHHIM.—SPECIAL."In spite of the most rigorous censorship of the Press Bureau, it has now become a matter of practical certainty that Prince Emil Rudolf von Zastrow, the youthful and very capable ruler of Boravia, who, during the last two or three years, has become one of the most brilliant figures in European society, has disappeared under circumstances so strangely mysterious as to suggest some analogy with the tragedy of which the unhappy Prince Alexander of Bulgaria was the central figure."The facts, so far as they have been ascertained, are briefly as follows:—Up to about a fortnight ago, the Prince was living in semi-retirement with his consort, the Princess Hermia, in his picturesque Castle of Trelitz, which, as every one knows, looks down over the waters of the Baltic from a solitary eminence of rock which rises out of the vast forests that cover the rolling plains for leagues on the landward sides. It will be remembered that every year since his accession, the Prince has been wont to retire to this famous hunting-ground of his to enjoy at once the pleasures of the chase and the society of his beautiful young consort in peace and solitude after the whirl of the European winter season. As far as is known, the only guests at the Castle were the Count Ulik von Kessner, High Chamberlain of Boravia, who is believed to have been present on business of State, and Captain Alexis Vollmar, of the 55th CaucasusRegiment, at present attached to the Imperial Headquarter Staff at St Petersburg. Captain Vollmar, in addition to being a brilliant young officer, is also a scion of two of the wealthiest and most aristocratic families in Russia."It is now fully established that on the evening of the 6th of this month—that is to say, nearly three weeks ago—the Prince and his two guests returned after a long day in the forest, and that the Prince retired to rest very shortly before supper. From that day to this he has never been seen, either at home or in society. What makes the disappearance more strangely striking is the fact that the Prince, who is Colonel of the 28th Pommeranian Regiment, did not put in an appearance at the recent review in the Kaiserhof when the German Emperor held his usual inspection. Although it was obvious that His Majesty was both puzzled and annoyed by his absence, no official explanation of it has been given, and all information on the subject is rigidly withheld. Our own comes from a personal friend, and, as far as it goes, may be absolutely relied upon."
"In spite of the most rigorous censorship of the Press Bureau, it has now become a matter of practical certainty that Prince Emil Rudolf von Zastrow, the youthful and very capable ruler of Boravia, who, during the last two or three years, has become one of the most brilliant figures in European society, has disappeared under circumstances so strangely mysterious as to suggest some analogy with the tragedy of which the unhappy Prince Alexander of Bulgaria was the central figure.
"The facts, so far as they have been ascertained, are briefly as follows:—Up to about a fortnight ago, the Prince was living in semi-retirement with his consort, the Princess Hermia, in his picturesque Castle of Trelitz, which, as every one knows, looks down over the waters of the Baltic from a solitary eminence of rock which rises out of the vast forests that cover the rolling plains for leagues on the landward sides. It will be remembered that every year since his accession, the Prince has been wont to retire to this famous hunting-ground of his to enjoy at once the pleasures of the chase and the society of his beautiful young consort in peace and solitude after the whirl of the European winter season. As far as is known, the only guests at the Castle were the Count Ulik von Kessner, High Chamberlain of Boravia, who is believed to have been present on business of State, and Captain Alexis Vollmar, of the 55th CaucasusRegiment, at present attached to the Imperial Headquarter Staff at St Petersburg. Captain Vollmar, in addition to being a brilliant young officer, is also a scion of two of the wealthiest and most aristocratic families in Russia.
"It is now fully established that on the evening of the 6th of this month—that is to say, nearly three weeks ago—the Prince and his two guests returned after a long day in the forest, and that the Prince retired to rest very shortly before supper. From that day to this he has never been seen, either at home or in society. What makes the disappearance more strangely striking is the fact that the Prince, who is Colonel of the 28th Pommeranian Regiment, did not put in an appearance at the recent review in the Kaiserhof when the German Emperor held his usual inspection. Although it was obvious that His Majesty was both puzzled and annoyed by his absence, no official explanation of it has been given, and all information on the subject is rigidly withheld. Our own comes from a personal friend, and, as far as it goes, may be absolutely relied upon."
For some reason or other, which, after his recent experiences, he thought it would be as well not to try and fathom for the present, these few paragraphs made a strangely persistent impression on him. When he got home he gave his evening papers as usual to his daughter, and at dinner the Zastrow mystery was the chief, in fact almost the only, topic of conversation.
"Yes, it certainly is very extraordinary," said Nitocris. "The papers make mysteries enough out of the disappearance, of the most everyday,insignificant persons, who were probably only running away from their debts or their domestic troubles, but for a real Prince to utterly vanish like this—that certainly looks like a little more than an ordinary mystery. And I suppose," she went on, after a little interval of silence, "if there really has been foul play—I mean, granted that Prince Charming, as all the Society papers got to call him, has been spirited away for some hidden reason of State or politics and is never intended to see the light of day again, who knows how many secrets may be connected with this affair which might be like matches in a powder magazine? And—Oh yes—why, Dad, it was this same Prince Zastrow who has been mentioned by most of the best European papers as the only possible Elective Tsar of Russia if the Romanoffs are driven out by the Revolution, and the people go back to the old Constitution. In fact, some of them went so far as to say that nothing but his selection could prevent a scramble for the fragments of Russia which could only end in general conflagration."
"Yes, of course I do," replied her father. "But what an atrocious shame, if it is so! One of the most popular of the minor princes of Europe spirited away, and perhaps either murdered or thrown into some prison or fortress, where he will drag out his days and nights in solitude until he goes mad: a young, bright, promising life ruined, just because he happens to stand in the way of some unscrupulous ambition, or vile political intrigue!
"It would be a crime of the very first magnitude, that is to say, of the most villainous description, and all the more horrible because it would be committed by people in the highest of places. Really, Niti, it is enough to make one think that there ought to be some higher power in the world capable of making these political crimes impossible. The inner history of European politics—I mean, the history that doesn't get into books or newspapers—would, I am certain, prove that quite half the wars of the world, at least during the period of what we are pleased to call civilisation, would have been avoided if some means could have been found of putting an end to the miserable personal ambitions and jealousies which have never anything to do with the welfare of nations, but quite the reverse. I shouldn't wonder if poor Prince Zastrow has been the victim of something of the sort. It is quite possible that expiring Tsardom had a finger in the pie. At any rate, there was a Russian officer in the Castle the day he disappeared. I should very much like to see the sort of explanationhecould give of the affair, if he chose."
"But is there not such a power in the world now, Dad?" asked Nitocris, looking across the table at him with a peculiar smile.
He looked back in silence for a moment or two. Then he replied slowly:
"I see what you mean, Niti. Of course, I suppose we shall be able to read each other's thoughts now, or even converse without speaking,or when we are out of earshot of each other. The same idea came to me while I was reading the account of this affair in the train; but should I, or, rather we, be doing right in interfering actively in the transactions, political and otherwise, of the world—by which I mean, of course, the state of three dimensions? It would be a terrific responsibility. Remember what tremendous powers we are capable of wielding by simply—it is so very simple now—simply transferring our personalities to the higher plane. What if we were to do wrong? We might involve the whole world in some unspeakable catastrophe."
"And which doyouconsider to be the greatest catastrophe, or, perhaps I ought rather to say the greatest evil, that has ever afflicted the world, Dad?" she asked, with just a suspicion of a smile in her eyes, though her lips were perfectly serious.
"Oh, war, of course!" he replied, with his usual emphasis when he got on to that topic. "What was I saying only just now about personal intrigues and ambitions that make war? What have I always thought about war? It is the most appalling curse——"
"Then, Dad," she interrupted in her sweetest tones, "do you think that, supposing we possess these wonderful powers, they could be better used than in preventing any war which may possibly arise out of this disappearance of Prince Zastrow, and so convincing those who are wicked enough to plunge the human race into blood and miserythat henceforth all wars of aggression and ambition will be impossible?"
"Yes, you are right as usual, Niti," he exclaimed, getting up. "Now you go and think about it all, and give me your advice in the morning. I want to get away now and work out an intelligible solution of those three problems—if I can make it so—for the benefit of Van Huysman and the rest of my respected critics. When I've done that, we'll be off to the Continent or somewhere——"
"And see what we can make of the Zastrow Mystery, perhaps!" said Nitocris. "Good-night, Dad. I want to do some thinking, too."
He went to his study and set to work upon a development of the demonstrations with which he had astounded not only London, but the whole civilised world.
But it was no good to-night. The ideas would not come. Over and over again he picked up the threads of his arguments, only to drop them again. At last, in something like wondering despair, he muttered:
"Confound the thing! I almost had it last night, and now I seem as far away from it as ever. What on earth can be the matter with me?"
He put his elbows on the table, took his head between his hands, and stared down at the pages covered with angles and circles, chords and curves, and wildernesses of symbols, which were scattered about his desk. As he stared at them they seemed somehow to come together, and the lines and curves arranged themselves in symmetrical shapes,until they developed from diagrams into pictures; and as they did so he found himself forgetting all about the problems, and thinking only of the strange vision which seemed to be unfolding itself among the scattered papers before him. The straight lines became the walls and turrets of one of those two-or three-hundred-year-old German country houses, half castle, half mansion, which every explorer of the bye-paths of the Fatherland has seen and admired so often. The curves became long, sweeping stretches of sandy bays, fringed with other curves of breaking rollers; and as the picture grew more distinct, one great circle embraced a whole perfect picture of land and seascape—land dusky and forest-covered in the southward half; and the misty sea, island-dotted, wind-whipped, and foam-flecked, to the northward.
The castle stood on the top of a somewhat steeply sloping hill about five hundred feet above the sandy shore, on which the breakers were curling a couple of miles away. The hill was covered with thick-growing firs from the plain to the castle wall, but two broad avenues ran in straight lines, one to seaward, and the other down into the depths of the vast forest, until it opened on to the post road, which afforded the only practicable carriage route to the station of Trelitz on the main Berlin-Königsberg Railway.
The longer he looked, the more surprisingly distinct the picture became, and, curiously enough, the less his wonder grew. He saw three men on horseback riding at a canter up the avenue fromthe forest. Their costumes showed plainly enough that they had just come back from the chase. As they rode on they seemed to come quite close to him, until he could see their features with perfect distinctness. By the changing expression of their faces he could tell they were laughing and chatting; but, singularly enough, he could not hear a word that they were saying, which, considering the minuteness with which he saw everything, struck him as being distinctly curious.
He watched them ride up to the old Gothic gateway in the wall which ran round the castle, suiting itself to the irregularities of the hill. They crossed the courtyard and dismounted. The grooms led their horses away, and, as the big double doors opened, they went in, one of them, standing aside for the younger of his companions but entering before the other. In the great hall whose walls were adorned with horns and heads and tusks, and whose floor was almost completely carpeted with skins, they gave their weapons to a couple of footmen; and as they did so he saw the slim and yet stately figure of a woman coming down the winding stair which led into the hall from a broad gallery running round it. As she reached the bottom of the stairway she threw her head back a little, and held out both her hands towards the man who had come in second. As the light of a great swinging lamp above the stairway fell upon her upturned face, he recognised the Countess Hermia von Zastrow, the reigning European beauty whose portrait in theillustrated papers, and in the great photographer's windows, was almost as familiar as that of Queen Alexandra.
The Count—for the handsome young hunter who now took her hands could now be no other than the Prince of Boravia-Trelitz—raised her right hand in courtly fashion to his lips. The other two bowed low before her, and then she led the way up the stairs.
He saw all this as distinctly as though he had been actually present, and yet none of the party seemed to take the slightest notice of him. But he was getting quite accustomed to miracle-working now, and so he accepted the extraordinary conditions of his visions, or whatever it was, with more interest than astonishment. He followed them up the stairs and along the right hand side of the gallery. The Count opened a door of heavy black oak and stood aside for his Countess to enter. Again the younger of his companions went first, and again he followed; then, as the elder man entered and closed the door, the scene was blotted out as though a sudden darkness had fallen upon his eyes.
"Dear me!" he said, getting up and rubbing his temples with both hands. "If I hadn't had so many extraordinary experiences since my promotion to the plane of N^4, I should probably be a little scared as well. But it is really astonishing how soon the trained intellect gets accustomed to anything—even the eccentricitiesof the fourth dimensional world. Well, well! I hope that's not the end of the adventure, I was getting quite interested. I suppose this must be in some obscure way the reason why those paragraphs in thePall Mallinterested me so strangely."
He walked towards the window, pulled the blind aside and looked out. But instead of his own tree-shaded lawn and the wide expanse of moonlit common beyond which he expected to see, he found himself looking, as it were, through a window from the outside into a great, oak-panelled sleeping chamber, lighted by a huge silver lamp hanging from the middle of the painted and corniced ceiling. Against the middle of the left hand side wall, as he was looking into the room, stood one of the huge, heavily-draped, four-post bedsteads in which the great ones of the earth were wont to take their rest a couple of hundred years ago. The curtains were drawn back on both sides. In the middle of the bed lay Count Zastrow, deathly white, with fast-closed eyes and lips, breathing heavily as the rise and fall of the embroidered sheet and silken coverlet which lay across his chest showed. On the right hand side stood the Countess and the two men whom he had seen before; on the other side stood a tall, strikingly handsome woman, whose dark imperious features seemed strangely at variance with the severely fashioned grey dress and the plainly arranged hair which proclaimed her either a nurse or an upper servant.
He saw the elder of the two men lean over the bed and raise one of the sleeper's eyelids with his thumb. The nurse took up a lighted taper by the table beside her and passed it in front of the opened eye. The man closed the eyelid, and turned and said something to the Countess and the other man. The Countess nodded and smiled, not quite as a man likes to see a woman smile, and, with a swift glance at the motionless figure on the bed, turned away and left the room. The nurse said something to the two men, and as the door closed behind her the scene changed again.
This time he was not looking into a window, but out of one. He was gazing over a vast expanse of forest pierced by a broad, straight road which led for several miles, as it seemed to him, between two dark walls of thickly-growing pines until it ended abruptly with the forest and opened out on a tiny sand-fringed inlet whose narrow mouth was guarded by two little outcrops of rock half a mile to seaward.
A carriage drawn by four black horses rolled rapidly along the road, swung out on to the beach, and stopped. Almost at the same moment a grey-painted, six-oared boat grounded on the sandy beach. A couple of men landed from her, and as the carriage door opened, they saluted. The Count's two guests got out and the others entered the carriage, then one of them got out again followed by the other, and between them they carried a limp, motionless human form completely covered by a great rug of dark fur.It was taken to the boat. All embarked, and the pinnace shot away out through the little headlands. A mile out to seaward lay the long black shape of a torpedo destroyer. The pinnace ran alongside and they all went on board, two of the sailors carrying the body as before.
Professor Marmion found himself accompanying them. The body was taken into a little cabin and laid in a berth. The rug was turned down from the face, and he recognised Prince Zastrow. A few minutes later he found himself in the main cabin of the destroyer. The two men who had come in the carriage were sitting at a little table with a man in mufti. This man raised his head and said something. He did not hear the words—but, to his amazement, he recognised the handsome face as that of Prince Oscarovitch, whom he had never seen before he came as his guest to the garden-party at "The Wilderness."
On the bulkhead of the cabin at the Prince's head there hung a little block-calendar, and the exposed leaf showed the date, Monday, 6th June. As he read it an impulse caused him to look round at the calendar standing upon his own mantel-shelf. It showed the date, Friday, 24th June. He turned back to the window and saw nothing but his own lawn and the moonlit Common beyond.
Franklin Marmion sat down and began to think the situation over. It was not an easy one, for, as it appeared to him, it would be very difficult, if not impossible, for Nitocris and himself to help in the elucidation of the Zastrow mystery, and the prevention of any European complications that might arise out of it, on both the higher and the lower planes of existence. Of course, it would have been perfectly easy to do so in one sense, for now, practically nothing in human affairs was impossible of achievement to them; but, on the other hand, it would never do to allow people on the lower plane to become aware of their extra-human powers. This was out of the question for many reasons, not the least of which was that they had their lives to live under the ordinary conditions of time and space and among their fellow-mortals, every one of whom would shun them in fear, perhaps even horror, if they knew their secret. What, for instance, would happen to Nitocris in her temporal state if even only Merrill came to know it? No,the idea was certainly beyond the possibility of consideration.
At the same time, it was to some extent necessary that they should work on both planes if they were to reap the full advantage of their recently acquired powers, and out of this dilemma there appeared to be only one way open to the Professor: he must have the assistance of others to do on the lower plane the work that he would, as it were, direct from the higher. The question was, who? Obviously it must be some one upon whose discretion absolute reliance could be placed. He must be highly skilled in police work, and have a reputation to enhance or lose as the result might decide. Suddenly a name occurred to him. A short time ago his friend the President had been telling him the inner story of a very intricate case which had involved a scandal of two Courts. Only the most meagre details had obviously been permitted to appear in the papers, but His Lordship had told him that it had been solved and settled almost entirely by the skill and diplomacy of a M. Nicol Hendry, who held the little advertised but highly responsible position of Head of the English Department of the International Police Bureau.
"That's the very man," he said, "the very man, and I shouldn't wonder if he's engaged on this particular case. It's too late to wire, and, besides, that would look suspicious. I could telephone to Scotland Yard, but I don't want even the police to know I want him until I've seen him. No,I'll write a note: it will go by the early post, and no one will know where it comes from."
Just as lunch was over the next day the front door bell tingled, and presently the parlour-maid knocked, and came in with a card on a silver salver:
"I have shown the gentleman into the drawing-room, sir. He says that he has an appointment with you for half-past two."
"Very well: I will be up in a moment, Annie." Then, as she closed the door, he gave Nitocris the card, and continued: "Our ally on the lower plane that may be. You say you wouldn't care to be present and help me with your opinion?"
"Oh no, Dad. I don't want any one to know that I am taking any part in this little adventure. But if you will introduce him afterwards, I'll tell you what I think. You know, women generally judge other people that way."
"Very well," laughed her father, as he turned to the door, "that will be best. If everything goes right and I think I can work with him, I shall bring him upstairs and you can give him a cup of tea. If I don't, you will know that he won't do."
"Good-bye, then, for the present," she smiled, "and don't frighten the poor man, if you can help it. I dare say he's only an exaggerated policeman, after all."
But it was a very different sort of person whom Franklin Marmion greeted in the drawing-room. M. Nicol Hendry was a slimly but strongly-built man of about forty. His high, somewhat narrowforehead was framed with close-cut, crinkly, reddish-brown hair. Under well-defined brown eyebrows shone a pair of alert steel-grey eyes of almost startling brilliancy. His nose was a trifle long and slightly aquiline. A carefully-trained golden-brown moustache half-concealed firm, thinly-cut lips, and a closely-trimmed, pointed beard just revealed the strength of the chin beneath. He was dressed in a dark grey frock-coat suit, and wore a pinky-red wild rose, which he had plucked on the Common, in his button-hole. As he shook hands with him the Professor made a mental note of him as an embodiment of strength, keenness, and quiet inflexibility: a summing-up which was pretty near the truth.
"Good afternoon, M. Hendry," he said, as the hands and eyes met.
"Good afternoon, Professor," returned the other in a gentle voice, and almost perfect English. "May I ask to what happy circumstance—at least, I hope it is a happy one—I owe the honour of making the acquaintance of the gentleman who has succeeded in mystifying all the mathematicians of Europe?"
"Well," said Franklin Marmion with a smile, "I don't know whether there is so very much honour about that, but I do know that your time is very valuable and that I have already taken up a good deal of it by bringing you all the way out here, so I will come to the point at once. But wait a moment. Come down into my study. We can talk more comfortably there." When the Professorhad given his guest a cigar and lit his pipe, he said quite abruptly: "It is about the Zastrow affair."
If he had said it was about the last Grand Ducal plot in the Peterhof, M. Hendry could not have been inwardly more astonished. Outwardly the Professor might have mentioned the last commonplace murder. Only his eyelids lifted a little as he replied:
"Ah, indeed? Well, really, Professor, you must forgive me for saying that that is about the very last matter I should have expected you to have brought up. All the world knows you as one of its most distinguished men of science, now, of course, more distinguished than ever; but I hardly think any one would have expected you to interest yourself in political mysteries. I have a recollection of hearing or reading somewhere that politics were your pet aversion."
"So they are," replied Franklin Marmion, with a short laugh. "I consider ordinary politics—juggling with phrases to delude the ignorance and flatter the prejudices of the mob, and bartering principles for place and power—to be about the most contemptible vocation a man can descend to, but those are low politics in more senses than one. Now high politics, as a psychological study, to an outsider are a very different matter. But I am digressing. I did not invite you here to discuss trivialities like these. I want to ask you—of course, you will not answer me unless you like—whether you are connected, professionally or otherwise, with the Zastrow affair?"
M. Hendry looked down at the toes of his perfectly-shaped boots for a moment or two. Then he raised his head and said good-humouredly:
"Professor, I know that there is no more honourable man in the world than you, but even from you I must ask frankly your reasons for asking that question?"
"You have a perfect right to do that, my dear sir," was the quiet reply. "If you say 'yes,' I am anxious to help you: if you say 'no,' I should like you to help me: if you don't care to answer, there is an end of the matter. Those are my reasons."
It took a good deal to astonish Nicol Hendry, but he was considerably astonished now. Yet it was impossible to have the remotest doubt of Franklin Marmion's absolute earnestness. But why should he of all men on earth want to unravel the Zastrow mystery? What interest save the merest curiosity could he have in the matter? And yet he was by no means the sort of man to be merely curious. The very strangeness of his proposition half-convinced him that there must be some other very strong reason underlying those which he had given. Again, he was to be perfectly trusted, so no harm could be done trying to discover if this was so, since if he could help he would do so loyally. So he told him.
"Yes, Professor," he said, looking keenly into his eyes, "I am interested in theaffaire, professionally interested, and, I may add, very deeply interested, to boot."
"I am glad to hear that," said Franklin Marmion with unexpected earnestness. "Now, the next question is: Will you accept my assistance, whatever it may be, under my own conditions, which are these: No one but yourself shall know that I am helping you, and you yourself will not ask me how I help you."
Once more a puzzle. Nicol Hendry thought for a few seconds before he replied slowly:
"Yes, Professor. As long as you do help us I don't care either why or how, for, as I may now be quite frank with you, we certainly want help of some sort very badly. The papers are quite right for once. Neither here nor on the Continent have we found a single clue worth picking up. It is humiliating, but it is true."
"Then before you go I hope I shall be able to give you some that will be worth picking up, and keeping too," said the scientist with a faint smile; "at any rate, I think I can put you upon certain lines of enquiry which you will find it profitable to trace out."
Nicol Hendry was an ambitious man, and he would have given a good deal to have known what was passing in the other's mind just then, but his expression betrayed nothing more than interested anticipation.
"We shall be entirely grateful to you if you will, Professor," he murmured.
"I have no doubt of that, my dear sir. Now, to begin with: I presume that there are photographs of the persons mentioned in the newspapersas being in the Castle of Trelitz with the Prince on the last day that he was known to be there?"
"Certainly; we should scarcely leave a simple preliminary like that neglected," smiled Nicol Hendry. "With the exception of the Fraülein Hulda von Tyssen, the Princess' Lady of the Bedchamber, all have been photographed for publication, and hers we have got through a private source. The Chief of each of our Departments has a copy of them, and I happen to have mine in my pocket now, if you would like to see them. The Princess, of course, you must have seen. She is in every photographer's window in the West End."
"Oh yes, I have seen her. Who has not? She is a singularly beautiful woman. But I should very much like to see the others, if I may."
The Chef de Bureau looked at him sharply as he took a small square morocco case out of his inner pocket and opened it. Going to a little table he spread out five small unmounted photographs upon it. He put two of them on one side, saying:
"Those, of course, you know; they are the Prince and Princess. This one is Count Ulik von Kessner, High Chamberlain of Boravia; this, Captain Alexis Vollmar; and this is Fraülein von Tyssen."
Franklin Marmion looked at them with much more than ordinary interest, for he recognised all five as clearly as though he had just left them in his own dining-room.
"There are no suspicions attaching to any of these people, I suppose?" he said carelessly.
"My dear Professor," replied Nicol Hendry a little coldly, "those who write stories about our profession always say that it is our invariable rule to suspect everybody, but we have a little common-sense, and we know the records of these ladies and gentlemen in the minutest detail from the Prince himself to Fraülein Hulda. We have not the slightest reason to suspect any of them."
"Ah, just so," said the other musingly; "no, of course you wouldn't have, and, unfortunately, I cannot tell you why you should. But I'll tell you this: if you ever do find cause to suspect any of these persons, you will find that this group is not complete. It ought to contain the photograph of Prince Oscar Oscarovitch."
"Prince Oscar Oscarovitch!" exclaimed Nicol Hendry, staring at him this time with wide-open eyes. "Why on earth should you——"
"Pardon me, my dear sir," interrupted Franklin Marmion gently, "remember that you are not supposed to care anything about the why or the how. I have already explained that I cannot explain."
"A thousand pardons, Professor. I don't often forget myself, but I did then. You took me so utterly by surprise."
"I fancy that you will be a good deal more surprised before you have come to the end of this affair," was the smiling but almost exasperating reply; "but, as I implied, I can only give youclues. I cannot even tell you how I get them, and it is for you to follow them or not as your judgment dictates. Now, here are one or two to go on with. Try and find out whether or not there was a four-funnelled Russian destroyer anywhere in the neighbourhood of Trelitz on the night of the 6th. Trace as closely as you can the movements of Prince Oscarovitch on that and the two preceding days. Try and find out whether or not a large closed chariot something like a barouche, drawn by four black horses, went from anywhere in the direction of the Castle on that day. And lastly, keep a very close eye upon the Egyptian Adept, as he calls himself—his name is Phadrig Amena—who worked those alleged miracles at my daughter's garden-party the other day. The Prince practically invited himself, and brought this fellow with him. If you can find out the true relationship between them I think you will have found out enough to keep you rather busy for the present. If you do think anything of these little points and examine them, let me know how you get on. We are going abroad for a bit of a holiday, but I will send you my address every now and then. Now, let us go back into the drawing-room, and my daughter will give us some tea."
When Nicol Hendry left "The Wilderness" that afternoon he was about the most mystified man in London. After he had gone, Franklin Marmion said to Nitocris:
"Well, Niti, what do you think of our gimlet-eyed friend? Will he do?"
"Yes, Dad; I like his manner, and he seems very clever in his own way. Quite a gentleman, too," she replied.
"I'm glad you think that," he added; "but what a pity it is that we could not get the world to accept fourth dimensional evidence without turning the said world inside out. We could clear up the wholeaffaireZastrow in a week then."
"But we shouldn't enjoy our holiday as much, I'm afraid, it would be too exciting," concluded Nitocris.
Two days later the Marmions left London for Copenhagen, whence they intended to take a trip among the Baltic Islands, now looking their brightest and prettiest, then up along the Norwegian Fiords, just before the tourist rush began, and finally across from Trondjem to Iceland. They were both excellent sailors, and both disliked crowds, especially when the said crowds were pleasure-hunting. Moreover, they had now a particular reason for being alone that they might enjoy together—they, the only two mortals who could do so—the countless marvels of that new existence which had now become possible for them. Where, too, could they do this to more advantage than in the ancient Northland, whose marvellous past would now be to them even as the present of their own temporal lives?
The Van Huysmans, and, of course, Lord Lester Leighton, were to remain in London until the end of the Season. Uncle Ephraim had cabled warm congratulations and large credits, and so Brenda, very naturally as a newly-engaged girl and a prospective Countess, wanted all that London andRanelagh and Henley, Ascot and Goodwood and Cowes, could give her before her devoted lover's yacht carried them off to the Mediterranean. Later in the autumn they were all to go over to the States to spend the winter in Washington and New York, whence they were to return to London for the wedding in May: surely as pleasant a programme—I fear that Miss Brenda spelt it "program"—as could be desired even by a fair maiden upon whom the kindly Fates had already showered their choicest gifts. The only bitter drop in the family cup of content was the fact that Professor van Huysman was as far away as ever from the exposure of the fallacy which, as he was immovably convinced, those abominable demonstrationsmustcontain.
After due consultation between Nicol Hendry and his colleagues of France, Germany, and Russia, it was decided to follow up the clues which he had so mysteriously received. The others would, of course, have been very glad to know where and how he got them, but at the outset he had put them on their honour not to ask, and so professional etiquette made it impossible for them to do anything but accept his assurance that he had received them from a source which was quite beyond reproach. Once they accepted the situation, they got to work with a quiet thoroughness which resulted in the spreading of an invisible but unbreakable net round the footsteps of every one of the suspects from the great Oscarovitch himself to the humble seller of curios in Candler'sCourt, and his still humbler friends Pent-Ah and Neb-Anat, who were known to the few who knew them as Mr and Mrs Pentana, renovators, and, possibly manufacturers, of ancient gems and relics.
But to one pair of eyes, at least, the police-net was as plainly visible as a spider's web hanging in the sunlight.
Within three days Phadrig received a visit from a shabbily-dressed but well-to-do Jew trader with whom he had done business before, who wanted to know if he could put him in the way of getting some really good old Egyptian gems and jewellery to show on approval to a wealthy patron who wanted to give his daughter a set of rare and uncommon ornaments on her wedding day. It was by this means, by acting as an intermediary between those who had something to sell and those who wished to buy, that Phadrig was supposed to make his modest living. His knowledge of Eastern antiquities was admittedly great, though, of course, no one knew how great, and he had often been asked why, instead of living in such a wretched way, he did not start a little business for himself; to which he always replied that he had no capital, and that he preferred independence, however poor, to the cares and ties of regular trading.
When the Jew had stated his business, Phadrig looked at him with sleepy eyes with a strange expression in them which, for some reason or other, held his visitor's usually shifty gaze fixed, and said in a slow, gentle voice:
"It is very kind of you, Mr Josephus, to bring me all these nice little commissions. They are of much benefit to a poor student of antiquities like myself, although I do not like trading in things that I love. Still, one must live if one would study. Now, I had a gem sent to me the other day which I would dearly love to possess, but, alas! as well might I long for the Koh-i-Noor itself. Moreover, it is already promised—nay, as good as sold. But what have the poor to do with such splendours save to help the rich to buy them!"
The Jew's prominent eyes shone with an inward light at the mention of the gem, and he said in a coaxing voice:
"My dear Phadrig, we have always been friends for ever so long, and you say I've been a good customer to you. Might I have a look at that gem? You know how fond I am of the pretty things. Have you got it here?"
"Yes, and you shall see it with pleasure, my good Josephus," replied Phadrig, well knowing the thought that was in his mind when he asked if he had the gem there in that shabby, unprotected room.
He went to the old oak secretaire, unlocked a cupboard at the side, and then a drawer within it, followed in every motion by the gleaming eyes of the Jew, and took from it a leather parcel. He undid this and produced a box, about four inches long and three wide, of plain black polished wood. It looked solid, but Phadrig made a swift motion with his fingers, and one half of it slid off the other. He held it towards his visitor, and said:
"What do you think of that as a specimen of ancient art, Mr Josephus?"
The Jew looked. The inside of the box seemed filled with green light tinted with yellow. Out of the midst of it began to shine a deeper green light which crystallised into the most glorious emerald that he had ever even dreamt of. It was fully an inch square, flawless, and of perfect colour. The yellow sheen came from a framework of heavy, exquisitely-wrought gold. Phadrig took it out and held it before him, and the green light seemed to radiate through the dull atmosphere of the room. The Jew stared at it with bulging eyes and trembling under-lip, and his hands went out towards it with a gesture which seemed like worship.
"God of Israel," he gasped, "was anything so splendid ever seen before! Mr Phadrig, is it—is it real?"
"Real?" echoed the Egyptian scornfully. "Did you ever see light like that come out of a sham stone? You should know more about gems than that, Mr Josephus."
"Ah yes, yes, of course. It is glorious; it is worthy to shine on the breastplate of the High Priest—and what a price it must be! Is it allowed to ask the name of the great millionaire for whom it is destined?"
"Yes. It will in a few hours be the property of Prince Oscar Oscarovitch."
As Phadrig spoke he hid the gem in his hand. His voice was so changed that the Jew looked up at him. His eyes were wide open now, and glowing with a fire that made them look almost dull red. They seemed to see right through his eyeballs and look into his brain. Josephus started as though he had been struck. He tried to turn his head away, but the terrible eyes held him. His fat, greasy, olive face grew grey and dry, and his head shook from side to side.
"What is the matter, my dear Mr Josephus?" asked Phadrig, in slow, stern tones. "The mention of the Prince seems to have affected your nerves. Are you acquainted with His Highness?"
"Me? I? Why, how should I know a great man like the noble Prince? No, no; of course I know him as a very grand and great gentleman, but that is all, really all, my dear Phadrig."
"Yes, yes, of course," said the Egyptian, once more in his gentle voice; "would not be likely, would it? Now, if you would like to look at the gem more closely, go and sit down there by the light and take it in your hand. You will see that it is engraved with hieroglyphics. They say that this jewel was once the property of Rameses the Great of Egypt, and was given by him to his daughter Nitocris."
This information did not interest the Jew in the slightest, since he had never heard the names in his life; but the delight and honour of holding such a glorious gem in his hand even for a few minutes was ecstasy to him. He sat down, and held out his fat, trembling hand greedily. With a smile of contempt Phadrig placed the jewel in it, and said:
"Examine it closely, my friend. It is well worth it, and it may be long before you see another like it."
"Like—likeit, likethis! By the beard of Father Moses, I should think not—I should think—I should—oh, beautiful—glor—glorious—splendid—did—splen—oh, what a light—li—light—li—oh——!"
As each of the disjointed syllables came from his shaking lips he mumbled more and more, and his head sank lower towards the priceless thing in his palm. As he gazed, the stone grew round and bigger and brighter, till it seemed like a great green-blazing eye glaring into the utmost depths of his being. Then the light suddenly went out, his head fell on his breast, and as his hand sank, Phadrig caught it and took away the jewel. Then he put the Jew back in the chair, and standing in front of him began in a slow, penetrating voice:
"Isaac Josephus, thou hast gazed upon the Horus Stone, and he who doeth that may not answer the questions of an Adept with lies save at the price of his life. Now answer me truly, or to-morrow morning those of thine household shall find thee dead in thy bed."
Wide open the eyes of the hypnotised man stared at him, and the loose lips quivered, but these were the only signs of life.
"Thou art not only a dealer in gems and curious things: thou art also a spy of the police; is not that so?"
"Yes."
"Believing that I am a very poor man, yet knowing that I dealt with objects of value, they thought me to be one who receives such things from thieves to sell them again, since they could not. Is that so?"
"Yes."
"And, believing this, and knowing thee to have dealings with me, they bribed thee to come here as my friend and fellow-dealer and spy upon my actions, so that they might have evidence against me and cast me into prison. Is that so?"
"Yes."
"Late on the last night but one thou didst go to the house of Nicol Hendry, who is no common catcher of thieves, but a spy of nations whose business is with the great ones of the earth. Tell me: whom did thy business with him concern?"
"Prince Oscarovitch and yourself."
"What were his orders?"
"To watch you both, especially you, and find out when you went to him, and why you were sometimes a poor devil in a miserable hole like this, and sometimes a swell going to swagger places with him."
"How were you going to do this?"
"I know your servant or chum, Mr Pentana. I've lent him money: and Peter Petroff, the Prince's particular servant, gambles like a lord, and he owes me and a friend of mine a lot of money. We were going to work through them."
"It is enough; and well for you that you haveanswered truthfully. Now tell me: do you know how to use a revolver?"
"Never fired a shot in my life."
Phadrig went to the secretaire and took a common, cheap revolver, identical with thousands of others which our criminally careless Government allows to be bought every day without the production of a licence—just a hooligan's weapon, in fact—went back and put it into the Jew's hand. He raised the hand several times, and pointed the muzzle to the temple, keeping the forefinger on the trigger. At length he let go the wrist, and said in a gentle, persuading tone:
"That is the way to handle a revolver when you are going to shoot, my dear Josephus. Now, let me see if you can do it by yourself."
With mechanical precision the Jew's arm went up until the muzzle touched his temple. Again and again he did the same thing at Phadrig's bidding, till at length he said rather more peremptorily:
"Now pull the trigger!"
The finger tightened and the hammer clicked. Five times more was the operation repeated, and then Phadrig gently took the revolver and laid the hand down. He went to the secretaire and loaded the six chambers, cocked the weapon and put it into the right hand side-pocket of the lounge jacket which Josephus was wearing, and said deliberately:
"Now remember, my dear Josephus: you will go straight back to your office in Waterloo Roadand let yourself in with your key. In your private room you will see a man who wants to rob you of some valuable papers. You will be ruined if he gets them, so you must take your pistol out of your pocket and shoot him. Do you quite understand me?"
"Yes; I am to shoot him."
"That is right. Now, if you do not go he will have them before you get there. Get up and we will say good-night. You must not put your hand in your pocket until you see the man who wants to rob you. Good-night. There is your hat."
"Good-night!"
Mr Isaac Josephus put on his hat and walked away to his death with the motions of a mechanical doll.
An hour later Phadrig, the poor curio dealer, had disappeared, and Mr Phadrig Amena, the wonder-working Adept, clad in evening clothes and a light overcoat, alighted from a hansom at the great entrance to the Royal Court Mansions. The huge, gorgeously uniformed guardian of the Gilded Gates was saluting at his elbow in an instant, for a friend of Princes is a very great man in the eyes of even such dignitaries as he.
"The Prince expects you, sir," he said, loud enough to make the title heard by those who were standing by. "Will you be good enough to walk in? I will discharge the cab."
He stood aside with a bow and another salute, and Phadrig walked lightly up the broad steps. Peter Petroff opened the door of the flat, bowing low, and conducted him to his master's sanctum. Evidently he was expected, for the coffee apparatus stood ready on the Moorish table beside the cosy chair which he was wont to occupy. The Prince, who was standing on a white bear's skin by the mantel, motioned him to it, saying:
"Ah, Phadrig, my friend, punctual, of course; and equally, of course, you have something important to impart. Your wire just caught me in time to put off an engagement which, happily, is of no great consequence. There's the coffee, and you'll find the cigars you like in the second drawer. Now, what is the news?"
His guest filled a cup of coffee and took a cigar and lit it before he replied. Then, turning to the Prince, he said in his usual slow, even tone:
"Highness, I regret to say that my news is both urgent and bad."
"It would naturally be urgent," said the Prince, turning quickly towards him, "but bad I hardly expected. Well, all news cannot be good. What is it?"
"I fear that my warning was even more urgent than I thought it myself—I mean, in point of time. Your Highness is already being watched."
"What! A Prince of the Empire, the man whom they call the Modern Skobeleff, an intimate of Nicholas! What should I be watched for?" exclaimed the Prince, half angry and half astonished. "The thing is ridiculous; another of your dreams!"
"Ridiculous it may be, Highness," replied Phadrig, quite unruffled, "but it is no dream; and, moreover, the eyes which are watching you are keen ones—and they are everywhere. You are under the surveillance of the International Police."
These were not words which even a Prince of the Holy Russian Empire cared to hear. Oscarovitch was silent for a few moments, for the earnestness, and yet the calmness, with which they were spoken made it impossible for him to doubt them. As he had asked, what could such a man as he be watched for by this thousand-eyed organisation of which he himself was one of the supreme Directors? It was impossible that these people could suspect his great scheme of treachery and self-aggrandisement. That was known to only three persons in the world—himself, Phadrig, and the Princess Hermia; and the Princess, the woman who had willingly sacrificed her brilliant young husband to her guilty love and her boundless ambition—no, she could be no traitress. It must be something else: and yet what?
He took two or three rapid turns up and down the room, chewing and puffing at his cigar, until he stopped before Phadrig, and said quietly, but with angry eyes:
"Very well, we will grant that I am watched by the International. Tell me how you came to know it."
The Egyptian took a few sips of his coffee, and then related almost word for word his interview with Josephus. He ended by saying:
"Your Highness may believe or not now as you please, but I presume you will when you read in your paper to-morrow morning of the suicide of a respectable Hebrew merchant named Isaac Josephus at the address which I have mentioned."
Oscarovitch had pretty strong nerves, and he was well accustomed to regard any kind of crime as a quite proper means of furthering politicalends: but there was something in this man's utter soullessness and the weird horror of the crime which he had just accomplished—for by this time his victim would be already lying self-slain on the floor of his own spider's lair—that chilled him, cold-blooded as he was. He looked at him lounging in his chair and calmly puffing the smoke from his half-smiling lips as though he hadn't a thought beyond the little blue rings that he was making.
"That was a devilish thing to do, Phadrig!" he said, a little above a whisper.
"Devilish, possibly, Highness, but necessary, of a certainty," was the quiet reply. "You will agree with me that Nicol Hendry is a dangerous antagonist even for you, and as for me—no doubt he thinks that he can crush me under his foot whenever he chooses to put it down. I should like to know his feelings as he reads of his spy's suicide when he had only just got to work."
"It will certainly be somewhat of a shock to him and his colleagues, and for that reason I am inclined, on second thoughts, to agree that it was necessary, and ghastly, as I confess; it seems to me, I think, that you took the best means to give them a salutary warning. After all, the life of an individual, and that individual a Jew, does not count for much when the fate of empires is at stake. What puzzles me is how these fellows came to suspect me, and what do they suspect me of. I suppose you have no idea on the subject, have you?"
He looked at him keenly as he spoke, but he might as well have looked at the face of a graven image. Then, like a flash of inspiration, the Zastrow affair leapt into his mind. Had his connection with that, by any extraordinary chance, come to the knowledge of the International? The thought was distinctly disquieting. Phadrig had helped in this with his strange arts. He would discuss this phase of the matter with him afterwards.
Phadrig replied, returning his glance:
"Highness, I have only one explanation to offer, and that you have already refused. Were I to speak of any other it would only be vain invention."
"You mean about Professor Marmion and his mathematical miracles?" said the Prince somewhat uneasily.
"I do," replied the Egyptian firmly. "I say now what I thought when I saw him work them. I did not believe that any man could have done what he did unless he had attained to what we styled in the ancient days the Perfect Knowledge, or, as they term it to-day, passed the border between the states of three and four dimensions. If Professor Marmion has achieved that triumph of virtue and intelligence—and in the days that I can remember there were more than one of the adepts who had done so—then Your Highness's Imperial designs must be as well known to him as to yourself: nay, better, for, while you can see only a part, the beginning and a little way beyond,he can see the whole, even to the end; for in that state, as we were taught, past, present, and future are one. Now, only three persons know of the project, and treason among them is not within the limits of reason, wherefore I would again ask Your Highness to believe that such information as the International may have has been given them directly or indirectly by Professor Marmion."
"But," said the Prince, who was now evidently wavering in his scepticism, since Phadrig's explanation of the mystery really seemed to be the only feasible one, impossible as it looked to him, "granted all you say, what possible interest could Professor Marmion, whether he's living in this world or the one of four dimensions, have in interfering in such a project, even if he did know all about it, especially as every educated Englishman admits that the state of affairs in Russia could hardly be worse than it is? I cannot see what conceivable interest he can have in the matter."
"But, Highness, his interest may be a private and not a public one."
"What do you mean by that, Phadrig?" asked the Prince sharply.
"As I have said," replied the Egyptian slowly, "it may be that his daughter, who was once the Queen, has also attained to the Knowledge. In that case the love which Your Highness so suddenly conceived for her would instantly bring you within the sphere of his and her influence and power. Now, she, as Nitocris Marmion, the mortal, isbetrothed to the English officer, Merrill. She loves him, and therefore, since you are great and powerful in the earth-life, your ruin, or even your death, might seem necessary to remove you from her path."
Oscarovitch shivered in spite of all his courage and self-control. The idea of fearing anything human had never occurred to him after his first battle; but this, if true, was a very different matter. To be threatened with ruin or death by a power which he could not even see, to contend against enemies who could read his very thoughts, and even be present in a room with him without his knowing it—as Phadrig had assured him more than once that they could be—was totally beyond the power of the bravest or strongest of men. No, it was impossible: he could not, would not, believe that, such a thing could be. His invincible materialism came suddenly to his aid, and saved him from the reproach of fear in his own eyes.
"No, Phadrig," he said, with a gesture of impatience, "that is not to be credited. To you it may seem a reality: to me it can never be anything more than a phantasy of intellect run mad on a single point—which, I need hardly remind you, is a by no means uncommon failing of the greatest of minds. Another reason has just occurred to me which would need no such fantastic explanation."
"And that, Highness?" queried Phadrig, looking up with an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders.
"The Zastrow affair. Unlikely as it seems,it is not impossible that there has been treason there. I have many enemies in both Russia and Germany, and it is well known that Zastrow and I were rivals once. Yes, that is it: it must be so, and therefore we must prepare to fight the International; and with such weapons as you are able to use there is not much reason why we should fear them."
He dismissed the subject with an imperious wave of his hand, and continued in an altered tone:
"And now,àproposof your weapons. Tell me something about this wonderful gem with which you hypnotised the Jew."
"I will not only tell you about it, Highness, I will show it to you, if you desire to see it," replied Phadrig, who now fully recognised the hopelessness of overcoming the blind materialism which was, of course, inevitable to the life-condition in which the Prince had his present being.
"What! you have brought it with you! Excellent! Now I think we shall be able to talk on pleasanter subjects than conspiracies and such phantasms as the Fourth Dimension!" exclaimed Oscarovitch, who, like all Russians, was almost passionately fond of gems. "Fancy asking a Russian if he desires to see such a thing as that!"
"Your Excellency must be careful not to look at it too long or closely," said Phadrig, putting his hand down inside his waistcoat and drawing out a wash-leather bag. "As I have told you, it possesses certain qualities which are not to be trifled with. You are, of course, aware thatmany Eastern gems are credited with hypnotic powers. This one undoubtedly has them."
As he spoke he drew out the emerald, and held it by the clasp under a cluster of electric lights.
"What a glorious gem!" exclaimed the Prince, starting forward to look at it more closely. "There is nothing to compare with it even among the Imperial jewels of Russia."
"Have a care, Highness," said the Egyptian, raising his left hand, "unless you wish to fall under its influence. Once it seized your gaze you could not withdraw it without the permission of its possessor, and meanwhile he would have complete mastery of you. I am your faithful servant, and therefore I warn you."
Was there just the faintest suspicion of a sneer in his voice as he said this? If there was, Oscarovitch did not notice it. He was already too much under the charm of the Horus Stone. Phadrig suddenly put his hand over the gem and went on. "The story of this jewel, Highness, is that many ages ago, before the beginning of the First Dynasty, a little raft of a strange wood, as white as ivory and shaped like a river-lily, came floating down the Nile at full flood-time and drifted to the shore in front of the house of a wise and holy man who was reputed to hold perpetual communion with the gods. On the raft was a cradle of white wicker-work lined with down, upon which lay a man-child of such exquisite beauty that he could scarce have been born of mortal parents. His body was bare, butround his neck was a glistening chain of marvellously wrought gold, fastened to which was this gem lying on his breast. This was doubtless the origin of the Hebrew fable of the finding of Moses, who, as all scholars know, was not a Hebrew, but an Egyptian priest in the House of Ra.
"The holy man took him into his home, burying the chain and gem, lest it might bring temptation to those who saw them; and as the boy grew to manhood he taught him all his lore, until he, too, was wise enough to be admitted into the communion of the gods, which afterwards was called by the adepts the Perfect Knowledge. On the gem are engraved the three symbols by which the Trinity—Osiris, Isis, and Horus; Father: Mother, and Child, the antetype of Humanity—became known and worshipped. The holy man divined that the boy was the incarnation of Horus sent thus to earth to teach men the way of knowledge, which is the only righteousness, since those who know all cannot sin. Where his house stood was built the first Temple of the Divine Trinity, and of this Horus became High Priest. He crowned the King in the land, and hung this gem round his neck as the symbol of his kingship and the approval of the gods.
"From the first king it was handed down from monarch to monarch through all the changes of dynasties, until it hung from the royal chain of the great Rameses; and by him it was given to his daughter Nitocris, thereby making her Queen of Egypt after him; and she wore it on that fatalnight of the death-bridal when, rather than wed with you, who were then Menkau-Ra, Lord of War, she flooded the banqueting hall of Pepi and drowned herself and all her guests—which, Highness, is an omen that it were well for you not to forget should you persist in your pursuit of the daughter of Professor Marmion."
Oscarovitch was a man of vivid imagination, as all great soldiers and statesmen must be, and so the story of the Horus Stone appealed strongly to him; but what interested him perhaps even more was the spectacle of this man, who had just been guilty of a peculiarly ghastly form of murder, sitting there and telling with simple eloquence and evident reverence the sacred Myth out of which what was perhaps the most ancient religion in the world had evolved. He heard him with a silence of both interest and respect until his last sentence. Then he got up and stretched his arms out and said with a laugh:
"Omen, Phadrig! Your tale of the stone has interested me deeply, but I believe no more in the omen than I do in the story. Ay, and even if I did, I would dare all the omens that wizards ever invented for their own profit in trying to make Nitocris Marmion what I want her to be, and what she shall be unless she is the cause of my first failure to achieve what I had set my heart upon. But you have not finished your story. Tell me now how the stone came into your possession, seeing that it was swept out into the Nile hanging on the breast of the Royal Nitocris."
"The next season of Flood, so the records ran, Highness, the skeleton of a woman was washed up to the foot of the river stairs of the House of Ptah, and the stone and chain were found among the weeds which filled the cavity of the chest. They were taken with all reverence to the High Priest, who bore them to the Pharaoh, and, amidst great rejoicing, hung them round his neck. Then from Pharaoh to Pharaoh it came down through the centuries until it fell into the possession of her who wrought the ruin of the Ancient Land. She gave the stone to her lover, and from his body it was taken by a priest of the Ancient Faith who once was Anemen-Ha, and is now Phadrig Amena, the degenerate worker of mean marvels which the ignorant of these days would call miracles did they not take them for conjuring tricks.
"Since then it remained hidden, seen only by the successors of him who rescued it from the plunderers of the body of Antony, until, seemingly in the way of trade, yet doubtless for some deep reason which is not revealed to me, it came back into my hands again. Such so far, Highness, is the end of the story of the Stone of Horus."
"And doubtless more yet remains to be written or told," said the Prince seriously, for he was really impressed in spite of his scepticism. Then, after a little pause, he continued: "Phadrig, you have said that the stone is dangerous to any but its possessor. I wish to possess it. Name your price, and, to half my fortune, you shall have it."
"The stone, Highness," replied the Egyptian,with the shadow of a smile flickering across his lips, "never has been, and never can be, sold for money, so I could not sell it, even if money had value for me, which it has not. There is only one price for it."
"And what is that?"
"A human life—perchance many lives—but all to be paid in succession by him or her who buys it, unless he or she shall attain to the Perfect Knowledge."
"Give it to me, then!" exclaimed Oscarovitch, holding out his hand. "The life I have I will gladly pay for it in the hope of laying it on the breast of the living Nitocris. As I do not believe in any others, I will throw them in. Give it to me!"
"It is a perilous possession, Highness, for one who has not even attained to the Greater Knowledge, as I have. Let me warn you to think again, for once you take it from me the price must be paid to the uttermost pang of the doom that it may bring with it."
"I care nothing about your knowledges, Phadrig," laughed the Prince, still holding out his hand. "It is enough for me to know that it is the most glorious gem on earth, and that it shall help me to win the divinest woman on earth. So, once more, give it to me!"
"Take it, then, Highness," said the Egyptian, with a ring of solemnity in his voice. "Take, and with it all that the High Gods may have in store for you!"
He dropped the more than priceless gem intohis hand with as little reluctance as he would have given him a brass trinket. Then he turned away to take another cigar, leaving Oscarovitch gazing in silent ecstasy at, as he thought, his easily-come-by treasure. Then the Prince went to a large panel picture fixed to the wall on the left-hand side of the fireplace, touched it with his finger, and it swung aside, disclosing the door of a small safe built into the wall. He unlocked this, placed the stone in an inner drawer, closed the safe, and put the picture back in its place.
When he sat down again, he said:
"My good friend, I know that it is useless for me to thank you, for even if you wanted thanks I could not do justice to the occasion, as they say in speeches: but I want to ask you just one more question, and then I won't keep you any longer from that delightful Oriental Club of yours which I suppose you are bound to. Now that I have got the stone I am, as you may well believe, more than anxious to find the lady to whom it shall belong—again, as I suppose you would say. To my great disgust, the Professor and his daughter have disappeared from the sphere of London society for a holidayà deux, and have, apparently with intent, left all their friends in ignorance of their destination. Have you any idea of it? I know that that Coptic woman whom you employ has been ordered to keep a sharp watch on the movements of Miss Nitocris."
"Yes, Highness," replied Phadrig, "and she has obeyed her orders. The day before they left shewaylaid that pretty maid of Miss Marmion's on the Common, and told her fortune. Of course, she talked the usual jargon about lovers and letters and going on a journey, and the maid quite innocently let out that she was going with her master and mistress by steamer to Denmark and up the coast of Norway, and then over to Iceland by the passenger steamers, and that she did not like the idea at all, because she knew that she would be very seasick."