by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER XXX
MEDUSA
Legal business, connected with the estate of a distant relative,deceased, necessitated my sudden departure from London, withintwenty-four hours of the events just narrated; and at a time whenLondon was for me the center of the universe. The business beingterminated--and in a manner financially satisfactory to myself--Idiscovered that with luck I could just catch the fast train back.Amid a perfect whirl of hotel porters and taxi-drivers worthy ofNayland Smith I departed for the station ... to arrive at theentrance to the platform at the exact moment that the guard raisedhis green flag!
"Too late, sir! Stand back, if you please!"
The ticket-collector at the barrier thrust out his arm to stay me. TheLondon express was moving from the platform. But my determination totravel by that train and by no other over-rode all obstacles; If Imissed it, I should be forced to wait until the following morning.
I leapt past the barrier, completely taking the man by surprise, andwent racing up the platform. Many arms were outstretched to detain me,and the gray-bearded guard stood fully in my path; but I dodged themall, collided with and upset a gigantic negro who wore a chauffeur'suniform--and found myself level with a first-class compartment; thewindow was open.
Amid a chorus of excited voices, I tossed my bag in at the window,leapt upon the footboard and turned the handle. Although the entranceto the tunnel was perilously near now, I managed to wrench the dooropen and to swing myself into the carriage. Then, by means of thestrap, I reclosed the door in the nick of time, and sank, panting,upon the seat. I had a vague impression that the black chauffeur,having recovered himself, had raced after me to the uttermost pointof the platform, but, my end achieved, I was callously indifferent tothe outrageous means thereto which I seen fit to employ. The expressdashed into the tunnel. I uttered a great sigh of relief.
With Karamaneh in the hands of the Si-Fan, this journey to the northhad indeed been undertaken with the utmost reluctance. Nayland Smithhad written to me once during my brief absence, and his letter hadinspired a yet keener desire to be back and at grips with the Yellowgroup; for he had hinted broadly that a tangible clue to thewhereabouts of the Si-Fan head-quarters had at last been secured.
Now I learnt that I had a traveling companion--a woman. She was seatedin the further, opposite corner, wore a long, loose motor-coat, whichcould not altogether conceal the fine lines of her lithe figure, and athick veil hid her face. A motive for the excited behavior of thenegro chauffeur suggested itself to my mind; a label; "Engaged," waspasted to the window!
I glanced across the compartment. Through the closely woven veil thewoman was watching me. An apology clearly was called for.
"Madame," I said, "I hope you will forgive this unfortunate intrusion;but it was vitally important that I should not miss the London train."
She bowed, very slightly, very coldly--and turned her head aside.
The rebuff was as unmistakable as my offense was irremediable. Nor didI feel justified in resenting it. Therefore, endeavoring to dismissthe matter from my mind, I placed my bag upon the rack, and unfoldingthe newspaper with which I was provided, tried to interest myself inthe doings of the world at large.
My attempt proved not altogether successful; strive how I would, mythoughts persistently reverted to the Si-Fan, the evil, secret societywho held in their power one dearer to me than all the rest of theworld; to Dr. Fu-Manchu, the genius who darkly controlled my destiny;and to Nayland Smith, the barrier between the White races and thedevouring tide of the Yellow.
Sighing again, involuntarily, I glanced up ... to meet the gaze of apair of wonderful eyes.
Never, in my experience, had I seen their like. The dark eyes ofKaramaneh were wonderful and beautiful, the eyes of Dr. Fu-Manchusinister and wholly unforgettable; but the eyes of this woman wereincredible. Their glance was all but insupportable; the were the eyesof a Medusa!
Since I had met; in the not distant past, the soft gaze of Ki-Ming,the mandarin whose phenomenal hypnotic powers rendered him capable oftranscending the achievements of the celebrated Cagliostro, I knewmuch of the power of the human eye. But these were unlike any humaneyes I had ever known.
Long, almond-shaped, bordered by heavy jet-black lashes, arched overby finely penciled brows, their strange brilliancy, as of a firewithin, was utterly uncanny. They were the eyes of some beautifulwild creature rather than those of a woman.
Their possessor had now thrown back her motor-veil, revealing a faceOrientally dark and perfectly oval, with a clustering mass of dullgold hair, small, aquiline nose and full, red lips. Her weird eyes metmine for an instant, and then the long lashes drooped quickly, as sheleant back against the cushions, with a graceful languor suggestive ofthe East rather than of the West.
Her long coat had fallen partly open, and I saw, with surprise, thatit was lined with leopard-skin. One hand was ungloved, and lay on thearm-rest--a slim hand of the hue of old ivory, with a strange, ancientring upon the index finger.
This woman obviously was not a European, and I experienced greatdifficulty in determining with what Asiatic nation she could claimkinship. In point of fact I had never seen another who remotelyresembled her; she was a fit employer for the gigantic negro with whomI had collided on the platform.
I tried to laugh at myself, staring from the window at the moon-bathedlandscape; but the strange personality of my solitary companion wouldnot be denied, and I looked quickly in her direction--in time todetect her glancing away; in time to experience the uncannyfascination of her gaze.
The long slim hand attracted my attention again, the green stone in thering affording a startling contrast against the dull cream of the skin.
Whether the woman's personality, or a vague perfume of which I becameaware, were responsible, I found myself thinking of a flower-bedeckedshrine, wherefrom arose the smoke of incense to some pagan god.
In vain I told myself that my frame of mind was contemptible, that Ishould be ashamed of such weakness. Station after station was leftbehind, as the express sped through moonlit England towards the smokymetropolis. Assured that I was being furtively watched, I became moreand more uneasy.
It was with a distinct sense of effort that I withheld my gaze,forcing myself to look out of the window. When, having reasonedagainst the mad ideas that sought to obsess me, I glanced again acrossthe compartment, I perceived, with inexpressible relief, that mycompanion had lowered her veil.
She kept it lowered throughout the remainder of the journey; yetduring the hour that ensued I continued to experience sensations ofwhich I have never since been able to think without a thrill of fear.It seemed that I had thrust myself, not into a commonplace railwaycompartment, but into a Cumaean cavern.
If only I could have addressed this utterly mysterious stranger, haveuttered some word of commonplace, I felt that the spell might havebeen broken. But, for some occult reason, in no way associated withmy first rebuff, I found myself tongue-tied; I sustained, for an hour(the longest I had ever known), a silent watch and ward over my reason;I seemed to be repelling, fighting against, some subtle power thatsought to flood my brain, swamp my individuality, and enslave me toanother's will.
In what degree this was actual, and in what due to a mind overwroughtfrom endless conflict with the Yellow group, I know not to this day,but you who read these records of our giant struggle with Fu-Manchuand his satellites shall presently judge for yourselves.
When, at last, the brakes were applied, and the pillars and platformsof the great terminus glided into view, how welcome was the smokyglare, how welcome the muffled roar of busy London!
A huge negro--the double of the man I had overthrown--opened the doorof the compartment, bestowing upon me a glance in which enmity andamazement were oddly blended, and the woman, drawing the cloak abouther graceful figure, stood up composedly.
She reached for a small leather case on the rack, and her loose sleevefell back, to reveal a bare arm--soft, perfectly molded, of the evenhue of old ivory. Just below th
e elbow a strange-looking snake bangleclasped the warm-flesh; the eyes; dull green, seemed to hold aslumbering fire--a spark--a spark of living light.
Then--she was gone!
"Thank Heaven!" I muttered, and felt like another Dante emerging fromthe Hades.
As I passed out of the station, I had a fleeting glimpse of a grayfigure stepping into a big car, driven by a black chauffeur.
