The City in the Clouds

by Guy Thorne

  CHAPTER NINE

  It was four o'clock in the morning. A bitter wind had risen and waswailing around the "Golden Swan," interspersed with heavy storms of hailwhich rattled on roof and windows. Outside the tempest shrieked and wasaccompanied by a vast, humming, harp-like noise as it flung itselfagainst the lattice-work of the towers and vibrated over Richmond like achorus of giant AEolian harps. Arthur and I sat in the shabbysitting-room, which had been the theater of so much emotion that night,and stared at each other with troubled faces.

  There was a little pattering noise, and Bill Rolston came in, closingthe door carefully behind him.

  "He wants you to go up to him, Sir Thomas. You told me to use my owndiscretion. Since we carried him up and I gave him the bromides, Ihaven't left his bedside. I talked to him in his own language, but hewouldn't say a word until I threw off every disguise and told him who Ireally was and who you were also."

  "But, Rolston, you may have spoiled everything!"

  He shook his head.

  "You don't know what I know. Now that he's aware you are of his ownrank, and that I am your lieutenant, his life is absolutely yourforfeit. If you were to tell him to commit suicide he would do it atonce as the most natural thing in the world, to preserve his honor. Heis your man from this moment, Sir Thomas, just as I am."

  "Then I'll go up. Arthur, you don't mind?"

  "Mind! I thought I brought a bomb-shell into your house to-night, and soI have too, but to find all this going on simply robs me of speech.Meanwhile, if you will introduce me to this Asiatic gentleman who speakssuch excellent English, and whom, from repute I guess to be Mr. WilliamRolston, I daresay we can amuse ourselves during the remainder of thisastonishing night. And," he continued, "if there is such a thing as aham upon the premises, some thick slices grilled upon this excellentfire, and some cool ale in a pewter--"

  I left them to it and went upstairs to my chamber. It was lit with twoor three candles in silver holders--I had made the place quite habitableby now--and lying on my bed, covered with an eiderdown, his eyesfeverish, his face flushed, lay the Mandarin.

  His eyes opened and he smiled. It was the first time I had seen thedelicate, melancholy lips light up in a real smile.

  "What's that for?" I said, as I sat down by the bedside.

  "You are so big, and strong, Prince," he replied, "and large andconfident; and your disguise fell from you as you came in and I saw youas you were."

  I knelt beside the bed and my breath came thick and fast.

  "For God's sake don't play with me," I said, "not that you are doingthat. You have met Her--Miss Morse I mean, my Juanita?"

  "Prince, she has deigned to give me her confidence in some degree. I domy work in the wonderful library that Mr. Morse has built. It's a greathall, full of the rarest volumes; and there are long windows from whichone can look down upon London and gaze beyond the City to where thewrinkled sea beats around the coast. And, day by day, in her loneliness,the Fairest of Maidens has come to this high place and taken a book ofpoems, sat in the embrasure, and stared down at the world below."

  He raised a thin hand and held it upright. It was so transparent thatthe light of a candle behind turned it to blood red.

  "Let my presumptuous desires be forever silent," he chanted. "'East iseast and west is west,' and I erred gravely. But, worship is worship,and worship is sacrifice."

  I could hardly speak, my voice was hoarse, his words had given me such apicture of Juanita up there in the clouds.

  "Prince--"

  "I am not a Prince, I only have a very ordinary title. If you knowEngland, you understand what a baronet is."

  "I know England. Prince, your Princess is waiting for you and sighingout her heart that you have not come to her."

  I leapt to my feet and swore a great oath that made the attic roomring.

  "_You mean?_" I shouted.

  "Prince, the Lily of all the lilies, the Rose of all the roses, alone,distraught, another Ophelia--no, say rather Juliet with her nurse--hashonored me with the story of her love. She never told me whom she longedfor, but I knew that it was some one down in the world."

  I staggered out a question.

  "It is my humble adoration for her which has sharpened all my wits," heanswered. "It seemed an accident--though the gods designed it withoutdoubt--that made you save my life to-night, but now I know you are thelover of the Lily. And I am the servant--the happy messenger--of youboth."

  "You can take a letter from me to her?"

  "Indeed, yes."

  "My friend, tell me, tell me all about her. Is she happy?--no, I knowshe cannot be that--but--"

  He lifted himself up in the bed, and there was something priest-like inhis attitude as he folded his thin hands upon his breast and spoke.

  "Two thousand feet above London there is a Palace of all delights.Immeasurable wealth, the genius of great artists have been combined tomake a City of Enchantment. And in every garden with its plashingfountains, in its halls of pictures and delights, upon its aerialtowers, down its gilded galleries, lurking at the banquet, mingling withthe music, great shapes of terror squeak and gibber like the ghostsShakespeare speaks of in ancient Rome."

  "Morse?"

  "There is a noble intellect overdone and dissolved in terror. In allother respects sane as you or I, my savior and benefactor, Gideon Morseis a maniac whose one sole idea is to preserve himself and his daughterfrom some horror, some vengeance which surely cannot threaten him."

  Twice, thrice I strode the attic.

  Then at last I stopped.

  "Will you help me now, Pu-Yi, will you take a letter from me, will youhelp me to meet Her, and soon?"

  He bowed his head for answer, and then, as he looked up again his facewas suffused with a sort of bright eagerness that touched me to theheart.

  "I am yours," he said.

  "Then quickly, and soon, Pu-Yi, for you are only half informed. GideonMorse may be driven mad by fear, no doubt he is. But it is _not_ animaginary fear. It is a thing so sinister, so real and terrible, that Icannot tell you of it now. I am too exhausted by the events of thisnight. I will say only this, that within the last hour a faithful friendof mine has returned from the other side of the world and brings meominous news."

  * * * * *

  I believe that Pu-Yi, whose movements were, of course, not restrictedlike those of the lower officials, returned to the towers in the earlymorning. As for me, I caught a workmen's train from Richmond station,slunk in an early taxi to Piccadilly with Arthur Winstanley, and slippedinto lavender-clean sheets and silence till past noon, when CaptainPatrick Moore arrived to an early lunch. Dressed again in properclothes, with dear old Preston fussing about me with tears in his eyes,I felt a thousand times more confident than before. Old Pat had to beinformed of everything, and as a preliminary I told him my whole story,from the starting-point of the "Golden Swan."

  "And now," I said, "here's Arthur, who has traveled thousands of milesand who has come back with information that fits in absolutely witheverything else. He gave me an epitome last night, under strange andfantastic circumstances. Now then, Arthur, let's have it all clearly,and then we shall know where we are."

  Arthur, whose face was white and strained, began at once.

  "I went straight to Rio," he said, "and of course I took care that I wasaccredited to our Legation. As a matter of fact the Minister to theBrazilian Government is my cousin. The news about the towers was allover Brazil. Everybody there knows Gideon Mendoza Morse. He's been by along way the most picturesque figure in South America during the lasttwenty years. He has been President of the Republic. Of course, I hadthe freshest news. My mother had given a party to introduce Juanita toLondon society. I had danced with her. I had talked to her father--I wasthe young English society man who brought authentic news. I told all Iknew, and a good bit more, and I sucked in information like avacuum-cleaner. I learnt a tremendous lot as to the sources of Morse'senormous wealth. I was glad to find that there wer
e no allegationsagainst him of any trust methods, any financial tricks. He had got richlike one of the old patriarchs, simply by shrewdness and longaccumulation and rising values. But I had to go a good deal farther backthan this, I had to dive into obscure politics of South America, andthen--it was almost like a punch on the jaw--I stumbled against theSanta Hermandad."

  Pat Moore and I cried out simultaneously.

  "What on earth do you mean?"

  "Our League?"

  "It's sheer coincidence," he answered. "I hope it's not a bad omen.During the time when the last Emperor of Brazil, Pedro II, was reigning,it was seen by all his supporters, both in Brazil and in Spain, that hispower was waning and a crash was sure to come. In order to preserve thePrinciple of the Monarchy, a powerful Secret Society was started, underthe name of the Holy Brotherhood or Santa Hermandad. Gideon Morse, thena young and very influential man, became a member of this Society. But,after the Emperor was deposed, and a Republic declared, Morse threw inhis lot with the new regime. I have gathered that he did so out of purepatriotism; he realized that a Republic was the best thing for hiscountry, and had no personal ax to grind whatever. He prosperedexceedingly. As you know he has, in his time, been President of theRepublica dos Estados Unidos de Brazil, and has contributed more to thesuccess of the country than any other man living."

  "Fascinatin' study, history," said Captain Moore, "for those that likeit. Personally, I am no bookworm; cut the cackle, Arthur, old bean, andcome to the 'osses."

  "Peace, fool!" said Arthur, "if you can't understand what I say, Tomwill explain to you later, though I'll be as short as I jolly-well can."

  He turned to me.

  "When this Secret Society failed, Tom--the Hermandad, I mean--it wasn'tdissolved. It was agreed by the Inner Circle that it was only suspended.But as the years went by, nearly all the prominent members died, and theRepublic became an assured thing. But a few years ago the Society wasrevived, not with any real hope of putting an Emperor on the throneagain but as a means to terrorism and blackmail. All the most lawlesselements of Spanish South America became affiliated into a new andsinister confederation. You've heard of the power of the Camorra inItaly--well, the Hermandad in Brazil is like that at the present time.It has ramifications everywhere, the police are becoming powerless tocope with it, and a secret reign of terror goes on at this hour.

  "These people have made a dead shot for Gideon Morse. He has defied themfor a long time, but their power has grown and grown. I understand thattwo years ago the Hermandad fished out of obscurity an old Spanishnobleman, the Marquis da Silva, who was one of the original, chivalrousmonarchists. He was about the only surviving member of the oldFraternity, and they got him to produce its constitutions. He came uponthe scene some two years ago and Morse was given just that time to fallin with the plans of the modern Society, or be assassinated togetherwith his daughter."

  He stopped, and it was dear old Pat Moore who shouted withcomprehension.

  "Why, now," he bellowed, "sure and I see it all. That's why he built theTower of Babel and went to live on the top, and drag his daughter withhim--so that these Sinn Feiners should not get at 'm."

  "Yes, Pat, you've seen through it at a glance," said Arthur, with aprivate grin to me.

  Pat was tremendously bucked up at the thought that he had solved aproblem which had been puzzling both of us.

  "All the same," he said, "the place is too well guarded for any Spanishmurderer to get up. Besides, Tom here is makin' all his arrangements andhe'll have Miss Juanita out of it in no time."

  "The circumstances," Arthur went on calmly, "are perfectly well known toa few people at the head of the Government in Brazil. I had a long andintimate conversation with Don Francisco Torrome, Minister of Police tothe Republic. He told me that the Hermandad is intensely revengeful,wicked, and unscrupulous. Moreover, it's rich; and money wouldn't beallowed to stand in the way of getting at Morse. What is lacking isenergy. These people make the most complete and fiendish plans, theydream the most fantastic and devilish dreams, and then they say'Manana'--which means, 'It will do very well to-morrow'--and go to sleepin the sun."

  "Then after all, Morse is in no danger!" I cried, immensely relieved."You said the danger was real, but you spoke figuratively."

  "Sorry, old chap, not a bit of it. There's some one on the track withenergy enough to pull the lid off the infernal regions if necessary. Inshort, the Hermandad have engaged the services of an internationalscoundrel of the highest intellectual powers, a man without remorse, anartist in crime--I should say, and most Chiefs of Police in the kingdomsof the world would agree with me--the most dangerous ruffian at large.You've seen him, Tom, I pointed him out to you at a little Sohorestaurant where we dined once together. His name is Mark AntonyMidwinter, and _he traveled from Brazil, together with a friend, by thesame boat that I did_."

  "Then he must be in London now!" said Pat Moore, with the air ofannouncing another great discovery.

  "But look here!" I cried. "I told you, before you sailed for SouthAmerica, I told you what I saw at the Ritz Hotel that night. It was thevery same man, Mark Antony Midwinter, as you call him, running like ahare from old Morse, who was shooting fireworks round him with a smileon his face. _That's_ not the man you think he is. He may be a devil,but that night he was a devil of a funk."

  "Wait a bit, my son," said Arthur. "I have thought about that incidentrather carefully. Remember that Morse was given a certain time in whichto come in line and join the Hermandad. From what I have heard of thepunctilious, senile Marquis da Silva, he wouldn't have allowed thecampaign against Morse to be started a moment before the time ofimmunity was up. Might not Midwinter at that time, quite ignorant thatthe towers were being built as a refuge for Morse, have tried to gobehind his own employers and offer to betray them, and to drop the wholebusiness for a million or so? From what I know of the man's career Ishould think it extremely probable."

  I whistled. Arthur seemed to have penetrated to the center of thatnight's mystery. There was nothing more likely. I could imagine thewhole scene, the panther man laying his cards on the table and offeringto save Morse and Juanita from certain death--Morse, already halfmaddened by what hung over him, chuckling in the knowledge that he hadbuilt an impregnable refuge, dismissing the scoundrel with utterfirmness and contempt.

  "I believe you've hit it, Arthur," I said. "It fits in like the last bitof a jig-saw puzzle."

  "I'm pretty sure myself, but even now you don't know all. Quite early inhis life, when Midwinter--he's the last of the Staffordshire Midwinters,an ancient and famous family--was expelled from Harrow, he went out toSouth America. Morse was at that time in the wilds of Goyaz, where hewas developing his mines. There was a futile attempt to kidnap thechild, Juanita, who was then about two years old, and Midwinter was init. The young gentleman, I understand, was caught. Morse was then, asdoubtless he is now, a man of a grim and terrible humor. He took youngMidwinter and treated him with every possible contemptuous indignity.They say his head was shaved; he was birched like a schoolboy by Morse'speons; he was branded, tarred and feathered, and turned contemptuouslyadrift. The fellow came back to Europe, married a celebrated actress inParis, who is now dead, and has been, as I say, one of the mostsuccessful uncaught members of the higher criminal circles that everwas. He made an attempt at the Ritz, swallowing his hatred. It failed.His employers in Brazil know nothing of it. He is here in London--as Patso wonderfully discovered--supplied with unlimited money, burning with ahatred of which a decent man can have no conception, and confronted withhis last chance in the world."

  As he said this, Arthur got up, bit his lip savagely and left the room.

  It was about two-thirty in the afternoon.

  Though he closed the door after him, I heard voices in the corridor, andthe door reopened an inch or two as if some one was holding it beforecoming in.

  "You are not well, my lord?"

  "Oh, I'm all right, Preston; just feeling a little faint, that's all.Sorry to nearly have barged into yo
u; I'll go and lie down for half anhour."

  The door opened and Preston came in with a telegram.

  I opened it immediately and felt three or four flimsy sheets ofGovernment paper in my hand.

  The telegram was in the special cipher of the _Evening Special_, and wasfrom Rolston.

  * * * * *

  "The tower top is connected with Richmond telephone exchange by privatewire. I have been rung up and in long conversation with Pu-Yi. Early inthe evening you will receive a letter from certain lady. Owing tocertain complication of circumstances your attempt at storming thetower and seeing lady must be carried out to-night. Our friend is makingall possible arrangements to this end and urgently begs you to beprepared. He implicitly urges me to warn you the attempt is not withoutgrave danger. Please return to 'Swan' at once. There is much to bearranged, and at lunch time two strange-looking customers were in thebar whose appearance I didn't like at all. Also Sliddim thinks herecognized one of them as an exceedingly dangerous person."

  * * * * *

  For to-night! At last the patient months of waiting were over and it hadall narrowed down to this. To-night I should win or lose all that madelife worth living; and the fast taxi that took me back to Richmondwithin twenty minutes of receiving the telegram, carried a man singing.