by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER III. KAZMAH
Mrs. Monte Irvin entered the inner room. The air was heavy with theperfume of frankincense which smouldered in a brass vessel set upon atray. This was the audience chamber of Kazmah. In marked contrast to theovercrowded appointments, divans and cupboards of the first room, itwas sparsely furnished. The floor was thickly carpeted, but save for anornate inlaid table upon which stood the tray and incense-burner, anda long, low-cushioned seat placed immediately beneath a hanging lampburning dimly in a globular green shade, it was devoid of decoration.The walls were draped with green curtains, so that except for thepresence of the painted door, the four sides of the apartment appearedto be uniform.
Having conducted Mrs. Irvin to the seat, the Egyptian bowed and retiredagain through the doorway by which they had entered. The visitor foundherself alone.
She moved nervously, staring across at the blank wall before her. Withher little satin shoe she tapped the carpet, biting her under lip andseeming to be listening. Nothing stirred. Not even an echo of busy BondStreet penetrated to the place. Mrs. Irvin unfastened her cloak andallowed it to fall back upon the settee. Her bare shoulders looked waxenand unnatural in the weird light which shone down upon them. She wasbreathing rapidly.
The minutes passed by in unbroken silence. So still was the room thatMrs. Irvin could hear the faint crackling sound made by the burningcharcoal in the brass vessel near her. Wisps of blue-grey smoke arosethrough the perforated lid and she began to watch them fascinatedly,so lithe they seemed, like wraiths of serpents creeping up the greendraperies.
So she was seated, her foot still restlessly tapping, but her gazearrested by the hypnotic movements of the smoke, when at last a soundfrom the outer world, penetrated to the room. A church clock struck thehour of seven, its clangor intruding upon the silence only as a muffledboom. Almost coincident with the last stroke came the sweeter note of asilver gong from somewhere close at hand.
Mrs. Irvin started, and her eyes turned instantly in the directionof the greenly draped wall before her. Her pupils had grown suddenlydilated, and she clenched her hands tightly.
The light above her head went out.
Now that the moment was come to which she had looked forward withmingled hope and terror, long pent-up emotion threatened to overcomeher, and she trembled wildly.
Out of the darkness dawned a vague light and in it a shape seemed totake form. As the light increased the effect was as though part of thewall had become transparent so as to reveal the interior of an innerroom where a figure was seated in a massive ebony chair. The figure wasthat of an oriental, richly robed and wearing a white turban. His longslim hands, of the color of old ivory, rested upon the arms ofthe chair, and on the first finger of the right hand gleamed a bigtalismanic ring. The face of the seated man was lowered, but from underheavy brows his abnormally large eyes regarded her fixedly.
So dim the light remained that it was impossible to discern the detailswith anything like clearness, but that the clean-shaven face of the manwith those wonderful eyes was strikingly and intellectually handsomethere could be no doubt.
This was Kazmah, "the dream reader," and although Mrs. Irvin had seenhim before, his statuesque repose and the weirdness of his unfalteringgaze thrilled her uncannily.
Kazmah slightly raised his hand in greeting: the big ring glittered inthe subdued light.
"Tell me your dream," came a curious mocking voice; "and I will read itsportent."
Such was the set formula with which Kazmah opened all interviews. Hespoke with a slight and not unmusical accent. He lowered his hand again.The gaze of those brilliant eyes remained fixed upon the woman's face.Moistening her lips, Mrs. Irvin spoke.
"Dreams! What I have to say does not belong to dreams, but to reality!"She laughed unmirthfully. "You know well enough why I am here."
She paused.
"Why are you here?"
"You know! You know!" Suddenly into her voice had come the unmistakablenote of hysteria. "Your theatrical tricks do not impress me. I know whatyou are! A spy--an eavesdropper who watches--watches, and listens! Butyou may go too far! I am nearly desperate--do you understand?--nearlydesperate. Speak! Move! Answer me!"
But Kazmah preserved his uncanny repose.
"You are distracted," he said. "I am sorry for you. But why do you cometo me with your stories of desperation? You have insisted upon seeingme. I am here."
"And you play with me--taunt me!"
"The remedy is in your hands."
"For the last time, I tell you I will never do it! Never, never, never!"
"Then why do you complain? If you cannot afford to pay for youramusements, and you refuse to compromise in a simple manner, why do youapproach me?"
"Oh, my God!" She moaned and swayed dizzily--"have pity on me! Who areyou, what are you, that you can bring ruin on a woman because--" Sheuttered a choking sound, but continued hoarsely, "Raise your head. Letme see your face. As heaven is my witness, I am ruined--ruined!"
"Tomorrow--"
"I cannot wait for tomorrow--"
That quivering, hoarse cry betrayed a condition of desperate febrileexcitement. Mrs. Irvin was capable of proceeding to the wildestextremities. Clearly the mysterious Egyptian recognized this to be thecase, for slowly raising his hand:
"I will communicate with you," he said, and the words were spoken almosthurriedly. "Depart in peace--"; a formula wherewith he terminated everyseance. He lowered his hand.
The silver gong sounded again--and the dim light began to fade.
Thereupon the unhappy woman acted; the long suppressed outburst came atlast. Stepping rapidly to the green transparent veil behind which Kazmahwas seated, she wrenched it asunder and leapt toward the figure in theblack chair.
"You shall not trick me!" she panted. "Hear me out or I go straight tothe police--now--now!" She grasped the hands of Kazmah as they restedmotionless, on the chair-arms.
Complete darkness came.
Out of it rose a husky, terrified cry--a second, louder cry; and then along, wailing scream... horror-laden as that of one who has touched someslumbering reptile....
