by Sax Rohmer
“O Es-Samit!” I said, “this is the reward of him whom love leads to the house of the Walî!”
I felt certain that my destruction approached. The intoxication of love now ceased in me, and reflection came in its place. I repented of what I had done, and prayed a happy solution of my dangerous case.
Whether as a result of my prayers, I know not, but some arrangement was come to, and the porter once more raised the chest, and, striking my head upon the end of it at each step, bore me up to the apartments of Jullanar, which I thus entered feet first.
He deposited the box, lid downward, upon the soft mattress of a dîwan, so that I found myself upon all fours, like a mule with my face between my hands! Ere I could break my habitual silence, he lifted some heavy piece of furniture — I know not what — and placed it on top of the box!
A voice sweeter than the songs of the Daood spoke:
“Slave! what art thou doing!”
“I am thy slave!” spoke another voice, at the accursed sound whereof I almost died of spleen. “Knowest thou me not, my beloved? I have devised a new stratagem and come to thee in the guise of a porter! But lo! beneath my uncomely garments, I am Ahzab, thy lover!”
III
As a man who sleeps ill after a protracted feast, I heard her answer, saying:
“Is it true thou hast come to me, or is this a dream?”
“Verily, it is true!” answered the accursed, the vile, the unspeakable Ahzab, my brother — for it was he. “From the time when I first saw thee, neither sleep hath been sweet to me, nor hath wine possessed the slightest flavor! I have come to thee thus, fragrant bloom of the pomegranate, because I would not have thee see me in a posture so undignified as that of one crouched in a box! So that thy people might be compelled to give me access to thine apartments, I have put a mendicant in my place, rendering the chest heavy!”
And she said, “Thou art welcome!” and embraced him.
By Allah (whose name be exalted), I gnawed my beard until I choked!
“Thou art changed, beloved!” she said to him; “thou art always beautiful, but to-day thou seemest less rosy-cheeked to mine eyes!”
The accursed Ahzab, like an enraged mule, kicked the box wherein I dissolved in flames of wrath.
“I am burnt up with love and longing for thee!” he replied. “O my love! how beautiful thou art!”
Whereat my command of silence forsook me! As Allah is the one god, and Mohammed his only Prophet, I became as one possessed of a devil!
“Robber!” I cried; and my words lost themselves within the box. “Cheat! accursed disgrace of my father! infamy of my race! O dog! O unutterable dirt!”
Jullanar cried out in fear, but my accursed brother took her in his bosom, soothing her with soft words.
“Fear not, O my beloved!” he said. “I gave the mendicant wine that his heart might warm to his lowly task, but I fear he has become intoxicated!”
“O thou liar!” I cried. “O malevolent scoundrel! O son of a disease!” And with all my strength I sought to raise the weight that bore me down; but to no purpose.
“Know, my beloved,” continued my thrice-accursed brother, “what I have suffered on thy account. But three days since I was attacked by four gigantic negro assassins despatched by Abu-el-Hassan to slay me! But I vanquished them, killing one and maiming a second, whilst the others escaped and ran back to their wretched master.”
“O unutterable liar!” I groaned. For I was near to hastening my predestined end both from suffocation and consuming rage. “Thou didst fly, thou jackal! from that peril, and reapest the fruits of my courage and dexterity! O, mud! O, stench!”
“Lest he should despatch a number too great for me to combat, I have lurked in hiding, delight of souls! in a most filthy hovel belonging to a barber!”
“May thy tongue turn into a scorpion and bite thee!” I cried. “My abode is as clean as the palace of the Khedive! Thou hast never entered it, O thou gnat’s egg! Thou hast hidden in I know not what hole, like the unclean insect thou art, until thy steward (may his beard grow backward and smother him!) informed thee of this! O Allah! (to whom be ascribed all might and glory) give me strength to move this accursed box that I may crush him!”
Scarce had I uttered the last word, when a girl came running into the apartment, crying: “Fly, my master! O my mistress! The Walî! the Walî!”
Upon hearing these words, my rage departed from me and in its place came excessive fear. My breath left my body, and my heart ceased to beat.
“He that falleth in the dirt be trodden on by camels,” I reflected. “It is not enough, O Es-Samit, that thou hast suffered the attack of the assassin; that thou hast all but died of fear at the door of the Walî’s house; that thou hast been torn from the arms of the loveliest creature God hath created; thou are destined, now, O most unfortunate of men, to be detected by the Walî in his daughter’s apartments, concealed in a box!”
And I pronounced the Takbîr, crying, “O Allah! thy ways are inscrutable!”
“Fly, my beloved!” cried Jullanar to Ahzab. “My women will conceal thee!” Wherewith she swooned and fell upon the floor senseless.
“Quick! follow me closely, O my master!” cried the girl, and I heard my perfidious brother depart from the room by one door, as the Walî entered by another.
“Ah!” cried the Walî, clapping his hands. “Slaves! what is this?”
And people came running to his command; some carrying out the lady Jullanar to her sleeping apartment, and sprinkling rose-water upon her, and some remaining.
“What is in this box upon the dîwan!” demanded the Walî. “Bring it hither and open it!”
At that I knew that I was lost, and my soul as good as departed, and I bade farewell to life and invoked Mohammed (whom may God preserve) to intercede for me that I might die an easy death.
The chest was dragged into the middle of the floor and thrown open.
“Name of my mother!” exclaimed the Walî. “It is Ahzab the Merchant! It is the villain who hath presumed to make love to my daughter! O Allah! my daughter hath disgraced me! By the beard of the Prophet, I can no more hold up my head among honest men!”
And he slapped his face and plucked his beard, and fell insensible upon the floor. As he did so, I leaped from the box and would have escaped, but two blacks seized me; and the noise, or the refreshing quality of the rose-water with which the women were sprinkling him, revived the Walî, who recovered, fixing upon me a terrible gaze.
“O thou dog!” he said; “thou who hast wrought my disgrace! As thou didst enter my house in yonder box, in yonder box shalt thou quit the world! Cast him back again, fasten the box with ropes, and throw it into the Nile at nightfall!”
IV
Now were my powers of silence most surprisingly displayed. For I spoke no word, but dumb as a tongueless man, I allowed myself to be knocked backward into the box. The lid closed upon me, ropes bound about the box, and the seal of the Walî affixed to it. Negroes carried it out, and threw it into some cellar to await nightfall.
“O Es-Samit!” I said, “this is the end that was appointed to thy father’s wisest son! To this pass thy silence and wisdom have brought thee! O Allah (to whom be all glory), grant that one of the fishes that eat me in the Nile shall be served up to Ahzab, my twin brother, and choke him!”
And then my thoughts turned to Jullanar, and I sighed and groaned; and the torments I suffered through lying drawn up in the box were delights to the agonies that my reflections respecting her case occasioned in me; so that, with the excess of my woe and misery, I became insensible. How long I remained so I know not, but I was awakened by a knocking at the lid of the box, and the voice of the Walî spoke, saying:
“Prepare to die, O wretch! for my servants are about to convey thee to the river and cast thee in! Thou dog! who didst presume to raise thine eyes to my daughter! — know that this is the reward of such malefactors; for assuredly if thou escapest alive, thou shalt wed Jullanar!”
Whereat he laughed until he almost swooned and kicked the box until I thought he had burst it. Blacks raised me, and I was borne down a long flight of steps and onward in I know not what direction.
“From here?” said one of them, and through a crack in the lid, I saw the light of a torch, and the whispering of the river came to my ears.
“Yes!” replied another.
And I commended my soul to Allah as the box was swung to and fro and hurled through the air. With a sound in my ears as of the shrieking of ten thousand efreets, I was plunged into the water!
Far under the surface I went and knew all the agonies of dissolution; but the box was strongly and cunningly made and rose again; then it began to fill and sink once more, and again I tasted of the final pangs. Throughout all this time, a strong current was bearing the box along, and presently, as, for the fiftieth occasion, I was seeking to die and to end my misery, I heard voices.
The most miserable life is sweet to him who feels it slipping from his grasp, and I summoned sufficient strength to raise a feeble cry.
“O Allah!” I cried, “if it be thy will, grant that these persons whose voices I hear take pity upon my unfortunate condition, and draw me forth.”
Even as I spoke, something stayed the onward progress of the box. It was a fisherman’s net! And the fishermen began to draw me into the boat, I praising Allah the while.
But when they had the box upon the edge of the boat, and heard my voice proceeding from within, and saw the Walî’s seal upon the lid— “By the beard of the Prophet!” cried one, “this is some evil ginn or magician whom the Walî hath imprisoned in this chest! Allah avert the omen! Cast him back, comrades!”
Alas! I could find no words wherewith to entreat them to take pity; never had paucity of speech served me so ill! A great groan issued from my bosom as I was consigned again to the Nile!
Allah is great, and it was not written that I should perish in that manner. For another current now seized upon the box, and just as I was on the point of dissolution, cast it upon a projecting bank, where it was perceived by a band of four robbers, who derived a livelihood from plundering such vessels as lay unprotected in the river.
These waded out and dragged the box ashore. I was too near my end to have spoken had I desired to speak, but from my unfortunate adventure with the fishermen, I had learned that silence was wisdom, now as always. Thus I lay in the box like a dog that has been all but drowned, and listened to the words of my rescuers.
These were arguing respecting the contents and value of the box, one holding this opinion and another that. One, who seemed to be their leader, was about to unfasten the ropes, but another claimed that this was his due. So, from angry words, they came to blows, and by the grace of God (whose name be exalted) they drew their knives, and three of the four were slain. The fourth removed the ropes and opened the box, thinking to enjoy, alone, the treasures which he supposed it to contain.
Whereupon I uprose and looked up to where Canopus shone, and said:
“There is no God but God! Praise be to Allah who has preserved me from an unfortunate and unseemly end!”
At that, the robber, with wild cries of fear, turned and ran, and I saw him no more. Such, O bountiful patron, is the disgraceful story of the dog Ahzab, my seventh and twin brother. But all that which I endured happened by Fate and Destiny, and from that which is written there is no escape nor flight.
* * * * * *
Our worthy host (concluded Hassan) laughed heartily at this story, saying:
“O Es-Samit, it is evident to me that thy paucity of speech alone preserved thee from drowning! But acquaint us, I beg, with the fate of thy dog of a brother, and of thy beautiful Pomegranate Flower.”
“O glory of beholders!” replied the barber, “by the mouth of the girl who was in Jullanar’s confidence — Ahzab, that shame of mules, learned, whilst in hiding, how the Walî had said in the presence of many witnesses: ‘Assuredly if thou escapest alive, thou shalt wed Jullanar.’”
“Tellest thou me that he had the effrontery to demand the fulfilment of a pledge so spoken, O Es-Samit?”
“Alas!” replied the barber, with tears pouring like rain down the wrinkles of his aged cheek, “he lived with her the most joyous, and most agreeable, and most comfortable, and most pleasant life, until they were visited by the terminator of delights, and the separator of companions!”
THE END
THE DREAM DETECTIVE, BEING SOME ACCOUNT OF THE METHODS OF MORIS KLAW
CONTENTS
First Episode. CASE OF THE TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM
Second Episode. CASE OF THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
MR. CLIFFORD’S STORY OF THE EGYPTIAN POTSHERD
(CONCLUSION OF MR. CLIFFORD’S ACCOUNT)
Third Episode. CASE OF THE CRUSADER’S AXE
THE MURDER AT CRESPIE HALL
Fourth Episode. CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE
Fifth Episode. CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
Sixth Episode. CASE OF THE WHISPERING POPLARS
Seventh Episode. CASE OF THE HEADLESS MUMMIES
Eighth Episode. CASE OF THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE
Episode IX
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
First Episode. CASE OF THE TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM
I
When did Moris Klaw first appear in London? It is a question which I am asked sometimes and to which I reply: To the best of my knowledge, shortly before the commencement of the strange happenings at the Menzies Museum.
What I know of him I have gathered from various sources; and in these papers, which represent an attempt to justify the methods of one frequently accused of being an insane theorist, I propose to recount all the facts which have come to my knowledge. In some few of the cases I was personally though slightly concerned; but regard me merely as the historian and on no account as the principal or even minor character in the story. My friendship with Martin Coram led, then, to my first meeting with Moris Klaw — a meeting which resulted in my becoming his biographer, inadequate though my information unfortunately remains.
It was some three months after the appointment of Coram to the curatorship of the Menzies Museum that the first of a series of singular occurrences took place there.
This occurrence befell one night in August, and the matter was brought to my ears by Coram himself on the following morning. I had, in fact, just taken my seat at the breakfast table, when he walked in unexpectedly and sank into an armchair. His dark, clean shaven face looked more gaunt than usual and I saw, as he lighted the cigarette which I proffered, that his hand shook nervously.
“There’s trouble at the Museum!” he said abruptly. “I want you to run around.”
I looked at him for a moment without replying, and, knowing the responsibility of his position, feared that he referred to a theft from the collection.
“Something gone?” I asked.
“No; worse!” was his reply.
“What do you mean, Coram?”
He threw the cigarette, unsmoked, into the hearth. “You know Conway?” he said; “Conway, the night attendant. Well — he’s dead!”
I stood up from the table, my breakfast forgotten, and stared incredulously. “Do you mean that he died in the night?” I inquired.
“Yes. Done for, poor devil!”
“What! murdered?”
“Without a doubt, Searles! He’s had his neck broken!”
I waited for no further explanations, but, hastily dressing, accompanied Coram to the Museum. It consists, I should mention, of four long, rectangular rooms, the windows of two overlooking South Grafton Square, those of the third giving upon the court that leads to the curator’s private entrance, and the fourth adjoining an enclosed garden attached to the building. This fourth room is on the ground floor and is entered through the hall from the Square, the other three, containing the principal and more valuable exhibits, are upon the first floor and are reached by a flight of stairs from the hall. The remainder of the building is occupied by an off
ice and the curator’s private apartments, and is completely shut off from that portion open to the public, the only communicating door — an iron one — being kept locked.
The room described in the catalogue as the “Greek Room” proved to be the scene of the tragedy. This room is one of the two overlooking the Square and contains some of the finest items of the collection. The Museum is not open to the public until ten o’clock, and I found, upon arriving there, that the only occupants of the Greek Room were the commissionaire on duty, two constables, a plain-clothes officer and an inspector — that is, if I except the body of poor Conway.
He had not been touched, but lay as he was found by Beale, the commissionaire who took charge of the upper rooms during the day, and, indeed, it was patent that he was beyond medical aid. In fact, the position of his body was so extraordinary as almost to defy description.
There are three windows in the Greek Room, with wall-cases between, and, in the gap corresponding to the east window and just by the door opening into the next room, is a chair for the attendant. Conway lay downward on the polished floor with his limbs partly under this chair and his clenched fists thrust straight out before him. His head, turned partially to one side, was doubled underneath his breast in a most dreadful manner, indisputably pointing to a broken neck, and his commissionaire’s cap lay some distance away, under a table supporting a heavy case of vases.
So much was revealed at a glance, and I immediately turned blankly to Coram.
“What do you make of it?” he said.
I shook my head in silence. I could scarce grasp the reality of the thing; indeed, I was still staring at the huddled figure when the doctor arrived. At his request we laid the dead man flat upon the floor, to facilitate an examination, and we then saw that he was greatly cut and bruised about the head and face, and that his features were distorted in a most extraordinary manner, almost as though he had been suffocated.
The doctor did not fail to notice this expression. “Made a hard fight of it!” he said. “He must have been in the last stages of exhaustion when his neck was broken!”
