The Plague, Pestilence & Apocalypse MEGAPACK™

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The Plague, Pestilence & Apocalypse MEGAPACK™ Page 47

by Robert Reed


  pooh-poohed, and had been discussed by Government officials as a

  problem which called for immediate solution .

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  The “Red Hand” had acted swiftly . Three days after the locket

  had disappeared from Burboro’ a startling proclamation of the “Red

  Hand,” printed in blood-red characters, had covered the hoardings

  and the walls of London. Then it was for the first time that England

  woke to a realization of the terrible danger which threatened her . It

  was incomprehensible, unbelievable . It was almost fantastic . Men

  who read it smiled helplessly as though they were reading something

  which was beyond their understanding . And yet the proclamation

  was clear enough . It ran:—

  To the People of London .

  We, the Directors of the “Red Hand,” demand of the English

  Government—

  (a) The sum of Ten Million Pounds .

  ( b) An act of indemnity releasing every member of the Fraternity

  from all and every penalty to which he may be liable as a result of

  his past actions .

  (c) A safe conduct to each and every Member of the “Red Hand,”

  and facilities, if so required, for leaving the country .

  In the event of the Government’s refusing, after ten days’ grace,

  we, the Directors of the “Red Hand,” will spread in London the

  Plague which was known as the Fourth Plague, and which destroyed

  six hundred thousand people in the year 1500 . The bacillus of that

  plague is in our possession and has been synthetically prepared and

  tested .

  Citizens! Bring pressure on your Government to accede to our

  demands, and save us the necessity for inflicting this terrible disease

  upon you!

  It bore no signature or seal . It was absurd, of course . Evening

  papers, necessarily hurried and having little time to analyse its true

  meaning, made fun of it . But a different note appeared in the com-

  ments of the morning papers . Every known scientist and doctor of

  note who was reachable had been interviewed, and they one and all

  agreed that there was more than an idle threat in the pronouncement .

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  The papers called it variously, “The Terror,” “The Threat of the

  ‘Red Hand,’” “Blackmailing London,” and their columns were filled

  with every available piece of data concerning the terrible scourge

  which had swept through Italy and Ireland in the year of desolation .

  “It’s a terrible business,” said Mansingham again . “I am afraid

  there is something in it .”

  The girl nodded .

  With a courtesy which is not usually found in men of his class, he

  accompanied her to the end of the field, and assisted her across the

  rough stile leading on to the road . She had made a detour from the

  little station to speak to Mansingham . She was interested in him, and

  it was a pact between the barrister and herself that she should keep,

  as he put it, a friendly eye upon his protégé .

  It was a glorious morning; the world was flooded with the lemon

  sunlight of early spring . The trees were bright with vivid green, and

  primroses and wild violets flowered profusely by the hedgerows.

  She shook away the gloom and depression to which the thought of

  this terrible menace had subjected her, and stepped out briskly, hum-

  ming a little tune .

  Half-way across the field, Mansingham, retracing his steps,

  picked up one of the papers she had been carrying, and hurried after

  her .She had a twenty minutes’ walk before she reached Highlawns,

  which stood some quarter of a mile from the town’s limits, but she

  was of an age, and it was such a morning, when one’s feet seem to

  move without effort, and song comes unbidden to the lips .

  She heard the whirl of a motor-car behind her, and moved closer

  to the hedge to allow it to pass . Unconsciously she turned to see who

  was the occupant . At that moment the car jarred itself to a standstill

  at her side . A young man, dressed from head to foot in a white linen

  dust-coat, sprang out .

  “Count Festini!” she cried in amazement .

  “Count Festini,” he repeated, with his most charming smile . “I

  wanted to see you, won’t you get in? I am going up to the house?”

  he said .

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  She hesitated . She would much rather have walked that morning .

  But it would have been an act of rudeness to have refused his offer

  of a lift, and besides, it occurred to her that she was already overdue

  for breakfast, and Sir Ralph’s temper of late had not been of the best .

  She stepped into the car, and at that moment Mansingham, a little

  out of breath, broke through the hedge behind it .

  “What a curious idea,” Marjorie said, as Festini took his place

  beside her .

  “What is a curious idea?” he asked .

  “A closed car on a day like this,” she said . “Why, I thought you

  Italians loved the sun .”

  “We love the sun,” he said, “untempered by such winds as you

  seem to produce exclusively in England .”

  He stepped forward and pulled down a red blind which hid the

  chauffeur and the road ahead from view . She watched him without

  understanding the necessity for his act . Then with a quick move he

  pulled the blinds down on each side of the car . It was now moving

  forward at a great pace . At this rate, she felt, they must be very near

  indeed to Highlawns . They had, in fact, passed the house, as the

  embarrassed Mansingham, clinging to the back of the car and wait-

  ing for it to slow up so that he could restore the girl’s paper, saw to

  his bewilderment .

  “Why do you do that?” the girl asked coldly . “If you please,

  Count Festini, let those blinds up .”

  “In a little while,” he said .

  “I insist,” she stamped her foot . “You have no right to do such a

  thing .”

  She was hot and angry in a moment as the full realization of his

  offence came to her .

  “In a moment,” he repeated; “for the present we will have the

  blinds down, if you don’t mind .”

  She stared at him in amazement .

  “Are you mad?” she asked, angrily .

  “You look very pretty when you’re angry,” he smiled .

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  The insolent assurance in his tone made her feel a sudden giddi-

  ness . They must have passed Highlawns by now .

  “Stop the car,” she demanded .

  “The car will stop later,” he said; “in the meantime,” he caught

  her hand as she attempted to release the blind, “in the meantime,” he

  repeated, holding her wrist tightly, “you will be pleased to consider

  yourself my prisoner .”

  “Your prisoner!” exclaimed the affrighted girl . Her face had gone

  very white .

  “My prisoner,” said Festini, pleasantly . “I am particularly desir-

  ous of holding you to ransom . Don’t you realize,” his eyes were

  blazing with excitement, “don’t you
realize,” he cried, “what you

  are to me? I do . In these last few days,” he went on, speaking rap-

  idly, “I have seen all the wealth that any man could desire . And it is

  nothing to me . Do you know why? Because there is one thing in the

  world that I want more than anything, and you are that thing .”

  Both his hands were holding her now . She could not move . She

  was as much fascinated by his deadly earnestness as paralysed by

  the grip on her arms .

  “I desire you,” he said . His voice dropped until it thrilled . “You,

  more than anything in the world—Marjorie . You are unattainable

  one way; I must secure you in another .”

  The girl shrank back into a corner of the car, watching the man,

  fascinated . She tried to scream, but no sound came . Festini watched

  her, his eyes glowing with the fire of his passion. His hot hand was

  closed over hers almost convulsively .

  “Do you know what I’m doing!” he said, speaking rapidly, “do

  you know what I’m risking for you? Can’t you realize that I am

  imparting a new danger to myself and to my organization by this

  act? But I want you; I want you more than anything in the world,”

  he said passionately .

  She found her voice .

  “You are mad,” she said, “you are wickedly mad .”

  He nodded .

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  “What you say is true,” he answered moodily, “yet in my mad-

  ness I am obeying the same laws which govern humanity . Something

  here,” he struck his breast, “tells me that you are the one woman for

  me . That is an instinct which I obey . Is it mad? Then we are all mad;

  all animated creation is mad .”

  The fierce joy of possession overcame him; she struggled and

  screamed, but the whir of the engine drowned her voice . In a mo-

  ment she was in his arms, held tightly to him, his hot lips against her

  cheeks . He must have caught a glimpse of the loathing and horror in

  her face, for of a sudden he released her, and she shrank back, pale

  and shaking .

  “I’m sorry,” he said, huskily, “you—you say I am mad—you

  make me mad .”

  His moods changed as swiftly as the April sky . Now he was

  pleading; all the arguments he could muster he advanced . He was

  almost cheerful, he swore he would release her, reached out his hand

  to signal the driver, and repented his generosity .

  Then he spoke quickly and savagely of the fate which would be

  hers if she resisted him . It was the memory of that tall, handsome

  lover of hers that roused him to this fury . He was as exhausted as

  she when the car turned from the main road, as she judged by the

  jolting of the wheels . After ten minutes’ run, it slowed down and

  finally stopped.

  He jumped up, opened the carriage door and sprang out, then

  turned to assist her . A cold, sweet wind greeted her, a wind charged

  with the scent of brine . She stood upon a rolling down, within a

  hundred yards the sea stretched greyly to the horizon . There was

  no house in sight save one small cottage . About the cottage stood

  two or three men . She uttered a cry of thankfulness and started off

  towards them, when a laugh from Festini stopped her .

  “I’ll introduce you myself,” he said sarcastically .

  She turned to run towards the sea, but in two strides he was up

  to her and had caught her by the arm . Then a huge hand gripped his

  neck, with a quick jerk he was spun round . His eyes blazing with

  anger, he turned upon his assailant . George Mansingham, tall and

  THE 4TH PLAGUE, by Edgar Wallace (Part 2) | 375

  broad, grimed with the dust of the road, for he had maintained an

  uncomfortable position hanging on to the back of the car for two

  hours, met the vicious charge of Festini with one long, swinging

  blow, and the Italian went down to the ground stunned .

  The girl was dazed by the suddenness of the rescue, until Man-

  singham aroused her to action .

  “This way, miss!” he said .

  He caught her unceremoniously round the waist, swung her up

  as if she were a child, and leapt across a ditch which drained this

  section of the downs .

  “Run!” he whispered . He too had seen the men and guessed

  they were in the confederacy . The girl gathered up all her reserve

  of strength and ran like the wind, Mansingham loping easily at her

  side .

  The wind carried the voices of their pursuers . One staccato shot

  rang out, a bullet whistled past them, then some one in authority

  must have given the order to stop firing. And indeed it was more

  dangerous for the men than for the fugitives .

  There was a coastguard station half a mile along the cliff road,

  and, although neither the girl nor Mansingham realized the fact, they

  instinctively felt that the coastline offered the best means of escape .

  Then suddenly Marjorie tripped and fell . Mansingham stopped in

  his stride and turned to lift her . As he raised her to her feet he uttered

  an exclamation of despair .

  Facing him were two men, indubitably Italians, and their revolv-

  ers covered him . He had come against the “Red Hand” outpost .

  It was all over in ten minutes . The pursuers came up, the girl was

  snatched from his protecting arms . He fought well; man after man

  fell before his huge fists. Then a knife, deftly thrown, struck him by

  the haft full between the eyes and he went down like a log .

  Festini, breathless, his face marred by an ugly redness which was

  fast developing into a bruise, directed operations .

  “If you make a sound,” he said, “or attempt to attract the attention

  of any person you see, you will have that person’s death on your

  hands, and probably your own .”

  THE 4TH PLAGUE, by Edgar Wallace (Part 2) | 376

  He spoke curtly, impersonally, as though she herself were Man-

  singham .

  “Do not hurt him,” she gasped . She referred to the prostrate form

  of the farm-labourer, now stirring to life . Festini made no answer .

  He was of a race which did not readily forgive a blow .

  “Take her away,” he said .

  He remained behind with his two familiars . “I think we will cut

  his throat, Signor,” said Il Bue, “and that will be an end to him .”

  “And an end to us,” said Festini; “this coast is patrolled, the man

  will be found, and the whole coastline searched .”

  He walked a dozen paces to the edge of the cliff and looked down .

  There was a sheer fall here of two hundred feet, and the tide was in .

  “There is twenty feet of water here,” he said, significantly.

  They carried the reviving man by the head and feet to the edge

  of the cliff . They swung him twice and then released their hold,

  his arms and legs outstretched like a starfish. Round and round he

  twirled in that brief space of time, Festini and the other watching .

  Then the water splashed whitely and the dark figure disappeared.

  They waited a little while, there was no reappearance, and Festini

  and his lieutenant retraced their footsteps to the cottage,
the third

  man following .

  CHAPTER XIV

  TILLIZINI LEAVES A MARK

  The period of ultimatum was drawing to a close . For four days

  longer England had the opportunity of agreeing to the terms which

  the “Red Hand” had laid down .

  In his big library at Downing Street, occupying the chair which

  great and famous men had occupied for the past century, the Prime

  Minister, grave and preoccupied, sat in conference with Tillizini .

  The Italian was unusually spick and span that morning . He had

  dressed himself with great care, an ominous sign for the organi-

  zation he had set himself to exterminate . For this was one of his

  THE 4TH PLAGUE, by Edgar Wallace (Part 2) | 377

  eccentricities, and it had passed into a legend among the criminal

  classes in Italy, that a neat Tillizini was a dangerous Tillizini . There

  is a saying in Florence, “Tillizini has a new coat—who is for the

  galleys?”

  The Prime Minister was fingering his pen absently, making im-

  possible little sketches upon his blotting pad .

  “Then you associate the disappearance of Miss Marjorie Meagh

  with the operations of the ‘Red Hand’?”

  “I do,” said the other .

  “And what of the man, Mansingham?”

  “That, too,” said Tillizini. “They were seen together in a field

  where Mansingham was working, his book and his coat were found

  as he had left them, and then he and she walked together to the

  stile . He is seen by another labourer to walk back slowly across the

  field, to suddenly stoop and pick up something, probably the lady’s

  handkerchief or bag, it is immaterial which . He runs back to the

  stile, jumps over, and evidently follows the lady . From that moment

  neither he nor she are seen again . One woman I questioned at a cot-

  tage by the roadside remembers a big car passing about that time . I

  place the three circumstances together .”

  “But surely,” said the Prime Minister, “they would hardly take

  the man . What object had they? What object in taking the lady so far

  as that was concerned?” Tillizini looked out of the window . From

  where he sat he commanded a view of Green Park, a bright and

  spirited scene . The guard had just been relieved at the Horse Guards,

  and they were riding across the parade ground, their cuirasses glit-

  tering in the sun, their polished helmets so many mirrors reflecting

 

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