The Sins of Séverac Bablon

by Sax Rohmer

  CHAPTER XI

  MR. SANRACK VISITS THE HOTEL ASTORIA

  Mr. J. J. Oppner and his daughter sat at breakfast the next morning atthe Astoria. Oppner was deeply interested in the _Gleaner_.

  "Zoe," he said suddenly. "This is junk--joss--ponk!"

  His voice had a tone quality which suggested that it had passed throughhot sand.

  Zoe looked up. Zoe Oppner was said to be the prettiest girl in theUnited States. Allowing that discount necessary in the case of JohnJacob Oppner's daughter, Zoe still was undeniably very pretty indeed.She looked charming this morning in a loose wrap from Paris, which hadcost rather more than an ordinary, fairly well-to-do young lady,residing, say, at Hampstead, expends upon her entire toilette in twelvemonths.

  "What's that, Pa?" she inquired.

  "What but this Severac Bablon business!"

  Assisted by her father, she had diligently searched that morning throughstacks of daily papers for news of the robbery in Victoria Street. Butin vain.

  "Guess it's a false alarm, Zoe!" Mr. Oppner had drawled, in his dustyfashion. "Some humorist got a big hustle on him last night. Like enoughMr. Megger was guyed by the same comic that sent _me_ on a pie-chase!"

  Zoe thought otherwise, preferring to believe that Inspector Pepys hadsuppressed the news; now she wondered if, after all, they had overlookedit.

  "Is there something about Severac Bablon in the paper?" she askedinterestedly. "_I_ can't find anything."

  "Nope?" drawled Oppner. "Nope? H'm! Then what about all this front page,with Julius Rohscheimer sitting in his _pie_-jams and the Marquess ofEvershed talking at him? Ain't that Severac Bablon? Sure! Did you thinkthat Julius found it good for his health to part up a cool hundredthou.? And look at Hague up in the corner--and Elschild in the othercorner! There's only one way to open the cheque-books of either of themguys; with a gun!"

  "Oh!" cried Zoe--"how exciting!"

  "I'm with you," drawled her father. "It's as thrilling as having allyour front teeth out."

  "Do you mean, Pa, that this is something to do with the card----"

  "There's me and Jesson to shell out yet. That's what I mean! He's raisedtwo hundred thousand. I'm richer'n any of 'em and he'll mulct me on myCanadian investments for the balance of half a million! Or maybe he'llsplit it between me and Jesson and Hohsmann!"

  "Oh!" said Zoe, "what a pity! And I was going to ask you to buy me twonew hats!"

  Her father looked at her long and earnestly.

  "You haven't got any proper kind of balance where money is concerned,Zoe," he drawled. "Your brain pod ain't burstin' with financial genius.You don't seem to care worth a baked bean that I'm bein' fleeced ofthousands! That hog Bablon cleaned me out a level million dollars whenhe burned the Runek Mills, and now I know, plain as if I saw him, he'sgot me booked for another pile! Where d'you suppose money comes from?D'you think I can grab out like a coin manipulator, and my hand comesback full of dollars?"

  Zoe made no reply. She was staring, absently, over her father's head,into a dream-world. Had Mr. Oppner been endowed with the power to readfrom another's eyes, he would have found a startling story written inthe beautiful book fringed by Zoe's dark lashes. She was thinking ofSeverac Bablon; thinking of him, not as a felon, but as he had beendepicted to her by the strange man whom she had met at LordVignoles'--the man who pursued him, yet condoned his sins.

  Her father's sandy voice broke in upon her reverie:

  "Where I'm tied up--same with Rohscheimer and the rest--I don't knowthis thief Bablon when I see him."

  "No," said Zoe. "Of course."

  Mr. Oppner stared. His daughter's attitude was oddly unemotional, whollydetached and impersonal.

  "H'm!" he grunted dryly. "I've got to see Alden, the Agency boy,upstairs. I'll be pushing off."

  He "pushed off."

  Almost immediately afterwards, Zoe's maid entered. There was a gentlemanto see her. He would not give his card.

  "Show him into the next room," said Zoe, full of excitement, "and if Mr.Oppner comes back, tell him I am engaged."

  She entered the cosy reception-room, feeling that she was about to beadmitted behind the scenes, and, woman-like, delightfully curious. Amoment later, her visitor arrived.

  "I have kept my promise, Miss Oppner!"

  She turned, to greet him--and a little, quick cry escaped her.

  For this was not Detective-Inspector Pepys who stood, smiling, in thedoorway!

  It was a man who was, or who seemed to be, taller than he; a slim man,having but one thing in common with the detective: his blackmorning-coat fitted him as perfectly as the dress-coat had fitted theinspector. An irreproachably attired man is a greater rarity than mostpeople realise; and Zoe Oppner wondered why, even in that moment ofamazement, she noted this fact.

  Her visitor was singularly handsome. She knew, instantly, that she hadnever seen one so handsome before. He was of a puzzling type, whollyunlike any European she had met, though no darker of complexion thanmany Americans. With his waving black hair, extraordinarily perfectfeatures, and the light of conscious power in his large eyes, he awokesomething within her that was half memory--yet not wholly so.

  She was vaguely afraid, but strongly attracted towards this mysteriousstranger.

  "But," she said, staring the while as one fascinated, "you--are notInspector Pepys!"

  "True!" he answered smilingly. "I am not Inspector Pepys; nor is thereany such person!"

  The voice was different, yet somehow reminiscent. Only now, a faint,indefinable accent had crept into it.

  "What do you mean?"

  Zoe, at the idea that she had been imposed upon, grew regally indignant.She was a lovely woman, and accustomed to the homage which mankind paysto beauty. Her naturally frank, laughter-loving nature made her acharming companion; but she could be distant, scornful--could crush themost presumptuous with a glance of her eyes.

  Now she looked at her strange visitor with frigid dignity, and he merelysmiled amusedly, as one smiles at a pretty child.

  "Be good enough to explain yourself. If you dared to impose upon LadyVignoles last night--if you are not really a detective--what are you?"

  "That question would take too long to answer, Miss Oppner!"

  "I demand an answer! Who are you?"

  "That is another question," replied the stranger, in his soft, musicalvoice, "and I will try to answer it. At dinner last night I told you ofa man whose fathers saw the Great Pyramid built, whose race was old whenthat pyramid was new. I told you of an unbroken line of kings--of kingswho wore no crowns, whose throne was lost in the long ago."

  She closed and re-opened her right hand nervously, and a new light cameinto her eyes. His words had touched again, as the night before, thehidden deeps of her nature, quickening into life the mysticism that laythere. She would have spoken, but he quietly motioned her tosilence--and she was silent.

  "I said that the time approached when that ancient line again shouldclaim place among the monarchies of the world. I said that millions ofmen and women, in every habitable quarter of the globe, owed allegianceto that man who was, by divine right, their king!"

  His face lighted up with a wild enthusiasm. To the beautiful girl wholistened, spell-bound, he seemed as one inspired.

  "Upon his people lay a cloud--a tainting shadow grown black through thecenturies. He must disperse it, proclaiming to the world that his was anoble people, a nation with a mighty soul! The evil came not fromwithout but from within. The worst enemies of the Jews are the Jews. Inattacking those enemies of his people, inevitably he would come intocollision with many governments. But he would do them no wrong, save inshowing them powerless to protect the traitors from his righteouswrath!"

  For a long moment she watched him, and no words came to her. That thissplendid man was mad flashed through her mind as a possible thing; butthat thought she dismissed, and remained bewildered.

  "Is it true?" she asked, in a pleading voice; "or are you jesting withme?"

  He smiled, ha
ving resumed his habitual calm.

  "It is true!" he answered. "Upon the word of a rogue--a thief--upon thehonour of Severac Bablon!"

  Zoe started, yet she was not afraid; for something had told her almostfrom his entrance that this was he--the man whose name at that very hourglared from countless placards, upon a great part of the civilisedworld; whose deeds at that moment were being babbled of in every tonguefrom Chinese to Italian.

  "But, if you are that man, and----" She hesitated. "You are wrong, I amsure! Oh! indeed, truly, I think you are wrong! Not in your aims, but inmaking so many new enemies! You have placed yourself outside all laws!You may be arrested at any hour!"

  "That phase of my campaign will pass. I shall meet the Ministers of allthe Powers upon equality--as the plenipotentiary of eight millionpeople! All that I have done will be forgotten in the light of what I_shall_ do!"

  "I cannot understand about last night. Your presence was anaccident----"

  He laughed softly.

  "I knew that Lady Vignoles' party numbered fourteen. I caused yourfather to be detained. One of my friends--I will not name him--suggesteda novel mode of seeking a guest: I caused Megger's man to be absentwhilst another of my friends, imitating his speech, sent the telephonemessage! Is that accident?"

  "It is----"

  "Unworthy, you would say? The work of a common cracksman? But, by thoselowly means I secured proof that Bernard Megger, director of the UitlandRands Consolidated Mines Syndicate, and Isaac Jacobsen, the Kimberleymail robber, were one and the same! He has escaped the laws of England,but he cannot escape me!"

  She shrank involuntarily, her now frightened eyes fixed upon the face ofthis man, whose patriotism, whose zeal, whose incredibly lofty purposeshe did not, could not, doubt, but whose methods she could, notcondone--by whose will her own father had suffered. Then, in a quicklyimperious yet kindly manner, he placed both his hands upon hershoulders, looking, with earnest, searching eyes, deep into her own.

  "What would you desire me to do that half a million pounds can compass?"he asked.

  "Return it to those it belongs to, if you can, and, with any that youcannot return, endow homes by the shore for sick slum children!"

  He moved his left hand, and she saw dully gleaming upon his finger, agreat green stone, bearing a strange device. In some weird fashion itseemed to convey a message to her--intimate, convincing. Within thosegreen depths there dwelt a mystery. She felt that the ring wasincalculably old, and that its wearer must wield almost limitless power.It was an uncanny idea, but she lived to know that her instincts had notwholly misled her.

  "It shall be done!" said Severac Bablon. "And you will be my friend?"

  "I will try!" whispered Zoe, "if you wish. But, oh, believe me! You arewrong! You are wrong! There is, there _must_ be some better way!"

  As he removed his hands from her shoulders she turned aside and glancedthrough the open window, seeing nothing of the panorama of London below,but seeing only a great throne, and upon it a regal figure, his headcrowned with the ancient crown of the Jewish kings. When she turnedagain her father stood behind her. But Severac Bablon was gone!

  "Thought you had a visitor, Zoe?" said Mr. Oppner. "There's a gentlemanhere would like to have a look at him!"

  He turned to a big, burly man, dressed in neat serge, who bowedawkwardly and immediately took a sharp look around the room. Mr. Oppnereyed his daughter with grim suspicion.

  "Inspector Sheffield would like to ask you something!"

  "Sorry to trouble you, miss," said the inspector, misinterpreting thesudden, strained look that had come into her eyes, and smiling in kindlyfashion. "But I've been following a man all the morning, and I ratherthink he came into this hotel! Also--please excuse me if I'm wrong--Irather fancy he came up here!"

  "What is he like--this--man?" she asked mechanically, looking away fromthe detective.

  "This morning he was like the handsomest gentleman in Europe, miss! Buthe may have altered since I saw him last! He's the latest thing inquick-change artists I've met to date!"

  "What do you want him for?"

  Sheffield raised his eyebrows.

  "He's Severac Bablon!" he said simply. "Does your late visitor answer tothe description?"

  "My visitor was a gentleman who wanted funds for building a home forinvalid children!"

  "You're sure it wasn't our man, miss?"

  ("And you will be my friend" he had asked. "I will try," had been herpromise.)

  "I am quite sure my visitor was not a criminal of any kind!" sheanswered. "You have made a strange mistake!"

  The inspector bowed and quitted the room immediately. Mr. Oppner stoodfor some moments watching his daughter--and then followed the officer.Zoe went to her room, and allowed her maid to dress her, withoutproposing a solitary alteration in the scheme. She was very preoccupied.In the lounge she found her father deep in conversation with aclean-shaven man who had the features and complexion of a Sioux, andwore a tweed suit which to British eyes must have appeared several sizestoo large for him. His Stetson was tilted well to the rear of his skull,and he lay back smoking a black cheroot. This was Aloys X. Alden ofPinkerton's. Zoe hesitated. The conversation clearly was a business one.

  And, at that moment, a tall figure appeared beside her.

  Zoe drew a sharp breath--almost a breath of pain. She glanced toward thegroup of two in the distant corner. They were discussing, as she knewquite well, various plans for the apprehension of the man who had becomea nightmare to certain capitalists. They were devising, or seeking todevise, schemes for penetrating the secret of his real identity--forpeering beneath the mask of the real man.

  And here, by her side, stood Severac Bablon!

  "Pray, pray go!" she whispered tremulously. "I thought you had left thehotel. For your own sake, if not for mine, you should have done so."

  "But if it happens that I am staying here?"

  "Please go! There--with my father--is a detective----"

  "I know him well!" was the reply. Severac Bablon's melodious voice wascalm. He smiled serenely. "But, fortunately, he does not know me! Myname, then, for the present, is Mr. Sanrack; and I have taken thisrisk--though believe me it is not so great as you deem it--because Ihave something more to say. I was interrupted by the arrival ofInspector Sheffield."

  "He may come in at any moment!"

  "Then, _I_ shall go out! But first I wish to tell you that I consider itmy duty to force your father's hand in regard to a large sum of money!"

  Zoe's little foot tapped the floor nervously.

  "How do you dare?" she said. "How do you dare to tell _me_ such athing?"

  "I dare, because what I do is right and just," he resumed; "and because,although I know that its justice will be apparent to you, I am anxiousto have your personal assurance upon that point."

  "My assurance that I think you are right in robbing my father!"

  "I could scarcely expect that; I certainly should not ask for it. Butyou know that despite enormous benefactions, the Jews as a race bear thestigma of cupidity and meanness. It is wholly undeserved. The sumsannually devoted to charitable purposes, by such a family as theElschilds--my very good friends--are truly stupendous. But the Elschildsdo not seek the limelight. Mr. Rohscheimer, Baron Hague, Sir LeopoldJesson, Mr. Hohsmann--and your father, are celebrated only for theirunscrupulous commercial methods in the formation of combines. They donot distribute their wealth. Is it not true?"

  Zoe nodded. Vaguely, she felt indignant, but Severac Bablon was entirelyunanswerable. Then:

  "Heavens!" she whispered--"here comes my father!"

  It was true. Mr. Oppner and the detective were approaching.

  "I wish to meet your father," whispered Severac Bablon. "Remember, I amMr. Sanrack!"

  As he spoke, he watched her keenly. It was a crucial test, and both knewit. Zoe was slightly pale. She fully realised that to conform now toSeverac Bablon's wishes was tantamount to becoming a member of hisorganisation (which operated against her father!)--was to t
ake apossibly irrevocable step in the dark.

  Whilst in many respects she disagreed with Severac Bablon's wildlyunlawful methods, yet, knowing something of his exalted aims she couldnot--despite all--withhold her sympathy. In some strange fashion, thewishes of this fugitive from the law partook of the nature of commands.But she could have wished to be spared this trial.

  Oppner came up.

  "Oh, father," began Zoe, striving to veil her confusion, "I don't thinkyou have met Mr. Sanrack before? This is my father, Mr. Sanrack--Mr.Alden."

  The millionaire stared, ere nodding shortly. The detective showed noemotion whatever.

  "There is something which I am particularly anxious to explain to you,Mr. Oppner," began Sanrack, having acknowledged the introductions witheasy courtesy. "It has reference to Severac Bablon!"

  Zoe held her breath. Alden moved his cheroot from the left corner of hismouth to the right. Mr. Oppner wrinkled up his eyes and scrutinised thespeaker with a blank astonishment.

  "I hold no brief for Severac Bablon," continued the fascinating voice.

  "Nope?" drawled Oppner.

  "His deeds must speak for themselves. But on behalf of an importantfinancial group I have a proposition to make."

  Mr. Oppner took a step forward.

  "What group's that?"

  "Shall I say, simply, the most influential in Europe?"

  "The Elschilds?"

  "If you consider them to be so, you may construe my words in that way."

  "Mr. Antony Elschild has been pulling my leg with some fool propositionabout whitewashing the millionaire, or something to that effect. It'salways seemed to me he's got more money than sense. He's passed out acheque to this _Gleaner_ fund big enough to build a soap factory!"

  "So has Mr. Rohscheimer, and so has Baron Hague!"

  "I'm not laughin'! They were held up! Why they don't say so, straightout, is their business. Jesson and Hohsmann will part out next, Isuppose, if it ain't me. But if I subscribe it will be because I had agun screwed in my ear while I wrote the cheque!"

  "That is what my friends so deeply lament!"

  "It is, eh? Yep? They'd like to see me paperin' all the workhouses withten-dollar bills, I reckon? Mr. Ransack, I've got better uses for mymoney. It ain't my line of business buyin' caviare for loafers, and Idon't consider it's up to me to buy airships for Great Britain! When yousee me start in buyin' airships it's time to smother me! It means I'mtoo old and silly to be trusted with money!"

  "My friends and myself--for I take a keen interest in everythingappertaining to the Jewish nation--are anxious to save you from theignominy of being compelled to subscribe!"

  "That's thoughtful! Can your friends and yourself find any reason why aUnited States citizen should buy airships for England? If I got a rushof dollars to the head and was anxious to be bled of half a million, Imight as well buy submarines for China, for all the good it'd do me!"

  "On the contrary! So far as my knowledge goes you derive no part of yourincome from China, whereas your interests throughout Greater Britain areextensive. Thus, by becoming a subscriber, you would be indirectlyprotecting yourself, in addition to establishing a reputation which,speaking sordidly, would be of inestimable value to you throughout theBritish dominions."

  Mr. Oppner nodded.

  "It's good of you to drop in and deputise for my Dutch uncle!" he said."Though no more than I might expect from a friend of my daughter's. Butyour arguments strike me as the foolishest I ever heard out of any man'smouth. As an old advertiser, I reckon your proposition ain't worth arat's whiskers!"

  Mr. Sanrack smiled. Alden was closely observing him.

  "You are quite entitled to your opinion. My friends are anxious to learnif there be any purely philanthropic cause you would prefer to support.The mere interest on your capital, Mr. Oppner, is more than you can everhope to spend, however lavish your mode of living."

  "Thanks," drawled Oppner. "For a brand-new acquaintance you're nice andchatty and confidential. Your friends are such experts at spending theirown money that it's not surprisin' they'd like to teach me a thing ortwo. But during the last forty years I haven't found any cause betterworthy of support than my own. Give my love to Mr. Elschild. Goodmorning!"

  He moved off, with the stoical Alden.

  "You see," said Severac Bablon to Zoe, who lingered, "your father isimpervious to the demands of Charity!"

  "Is that why you did this? Were you anxious to bring out Pa's meannessas a sort of excuse for what you contemplate?"

  "Partly, that was my motive. A demand upon an American citizen to founda British air fleet is extravagant--in a sense, absurd. But I wasanxious to offer Mr. Oppner one more opportunity of distributing some ofthe vast sum which he has locked up for his own amusement--financialchess."

  "You have placed me in an impossible situation."

  "Why? If you consider me to be what I have been accused of being--athief--an incendiary--an iconoclast--denounce me--to whom you will! Atany time I will see you, and any friend you may care to bring, be itInspector Sheffield of New Scotland Yard, at Laurel Cottage, DulwichVillage. I impose no yoke upon you that you cannot shake off!"

  But as Zoe Oppner looked into the great luminous eyes she knew that hehad imposed upon her the yoke of a mysterious sovereignty.

  From the foyer came a sound, unfamiliar enough in the Astoria--the soundof someone whistling. Even as Zoe started, wondering if she could trusther ears, Severac Bablon took both her hands, in the impulsive andstrangely imperious way she knew.

  "Good-bye," he said. "Perhaps I am wrong and you are right. Time willreveal that. If you ever wish to see me, you know where I may be found.Good-bye!"

  He turned abruptly and ascended the stairs. He had but just disappearedwhen Inspector Sheffield entered!

  Zoe felt that her face turned pale; but she bravely smiled as theScotland Yard man approached her.

  "You see, I am back again, Miss Oppner! Do you know if Mr. Oppner hasgone out?"

  "I am not sure. But I think he went out with Mr. Alden."

  Sheffield's face clouded. This employment of a private detective was asore point with the Inspector. It seemed strangely like a slight uponthe official service. Not that Sheffield was on bad terms with Alden. Hewas too keen a diplomat for that. But he went in hourly dread that thePinkerton man would forestall Scotland Yard.

  To Sheffield it appeared impossible that Severac Bablon could muchlonger evade arrest. In fact, it was incomprehensible to him how thiselusive character had thus far remained at large. Slowly, and by painfuldegrees, Sheffield was learning that Severac Bablon's organisation wasmore elaborate and far-reaching, and embraced more highly placedpersons, than at one time he could have credited.

  It would appear that there were Government officials in the group whichsurrounded this man, pointing to ramifications which sometimes thedetective despaired of following. News from Paris, received only thatmorning, would seem to indicate that a similar state of affairsprevailed in the French capital. With whom, Sheffield asked himself, hadhe to deal? Who _was_ Severac Bablon? That he was in some way associatedwith Jewish people and Jewish interests the Yard man was convinced. Buthe could not determine, to his own satisfaction, if Severac Bablon'sactivities were inimical to Juda or otherwise. It was a bewilderingcase.

  "I hope Mr. Oppner hasn't gone out," he said, after a pause. "Iparticularly wanted to see him again."

  "Is there some new clue?" asked Zoe eagerly.

  Inspector Sheffield was nonplussed. Here was the daughter of J. J.Oppner, the last girl in the world whom any sane man would suspect ofcomplicity in the Severac Bablon outrages; yet, for reasons of his own,Sheffield wondered if she were as wholly ignorant of Bablon's identityas the rest of the world. He distrusted everyone. He had said toDetective-Sergeant Harborne, who was associated with him in the case,"Where Severac Bablon is concerned, I wouldn't trust the Lord Mayor ofLondon--no, nor the Archbishop of Canterbury."

  Accordingly, he replied, "I think not, Miss Oppner. I'll just runu
pstairs and see if there's anybody about."