The Quest of the Sacred Slipper

by Sax Rohmer

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  CARNETA

  "I am entirely at your mercy; you can do as you please with me. Butbefore you do anything I should like you to listen to what I haveto say."

  Her beautiful face was pale and troubled. Violet eyes looked sadlyinto mine.

  "For nearly an hour I have been waiting for this chance--until Iknew you were alone," she continued. "If you are thinking of givingme up to the police, at least remember that I came here of my ownfree will. Of course, I know you are quite entitled to takeadvantage of that; but please let me say what I came to say!"

  She pleaded so hard, with that musical voice, with her evidenthelplessness, most of all with her wonderful eyes, that I quiteabandoned any project I might have entertained to secure her arrest.I think she divined this masculine weakness, for she said, withgreater confidence--

  "Your friend, Professor Deeping, was murdered by the man calledHassan of Aleppo. Are you content to remain idle while his murdererescapes?"

  God knows I was not. My idleness in the matter was none of mychoosing. Since poor Deeping's murder I had come to handgripswith the assassins more than once, but Hassan had proved too cleverfor me, too clever for Scotland Yard. The sacred slipper was oncemore in the hands of its fanatic guardian.

  One man there was who might have helped the search, Earl Dexter.But Earl Dexter was himself wanted by Scotland Yard!

  From the time of the bank affair up to the moment when thisbeautiful visitor had come to my chambers I had thought Dexter, aswell as Hassan, to have fled secretly from England. But the momentthat I saw Carneta at my door I divined that The Stetson Man muststill be in London.

  She sat watching me and awaiting my answer.

  "I cannot avenge my friend unless I can find his murderer."

  Eagerly she bent forward.

  "But if I can find him?"

  That made me think, and I hesitated before speaking again.

  "Say what you came to say," I replied slowly. "You must know thatI distrust you. Indeed, my plain duty is to detain you. But I willlisten to anything you may care to tell me, particularly if itenables me to trap Hassan of Aleppo."

  "Very well," she said, and rested her elbows upon the table beforeher. "I have come to you in desperation. I can help you to findthe man who murdered Professor Deeping, but in return I want you tohelp me!"

  I watched her closely. She was very plainly, almost poorly, dressed.Her face was pale and there were dark marks around her eyes. Thisbut served to render their strange beauty more startling; yet Icould see that my visitor was in real trouble. The situation was anodd one.

  "You are possibly about to ask me," I suggested, "to assist EarlDexter to escape the police?"

  She shook her head. Her voice trembled as she replied--

  "That would not have induced me to run the risk of coming here. Icame because I wanted to find a man who was brave enough to help me.We have no friends in London, and so it became a question of terms.I can repay you by helping you to trace Hassan."

  "What is it, then, that Dexter asks me to do?"

  "He asks nothing. I, Carneta, am asking!"

  "Then you are not come from him?"

  At my question, all her self-possession left her. She abruptlydropped her face into her hands and was shaken with sobs! It wasmore than I could bear, unmoved. I forgot the shady past, forgotthat she was the associate of a daring felon, and could only realizethat she was a weeping woman, who had appealed to my pity and whoasked my aid.

  I stood up and stared out of the window, for I experienced a notunnatural embarrassment. Without looking at her I said--

  "Don't be afraid to tell me your troubles. I don't say I should goout of my way to be kind to Mr. Dexter, but I have no wish whateverto be instrumental in"--I hesitated--"in making you responsiblefor his misdeeds. If you can tell me where to find Hassan ofAleppo, I won't even ask you where Dexter is--"

  "God help me! I don't know where he is!"

  There was real, poignant anguish in her cry. I turned andconfronted her. Her lashes were all wet with tears.

  "What! has he disappeared?"

  She nodded, fought with her emotion a moment, and went on unsteadily,

  "I want you to help me to find him for in finding him we shall findHassan!"

  "How so?"

  Her gaze avoided me now.

  "Mr. Cavanagh, he has staked everything upon securing the slipper--andthe Hashishin were too clever for him. His hand--thoseEastern fiends cut off his hand! But he would not give in. Hemade another bid--and lost again. It left him almost penniless."

  She spoke of Earl Dexter's felonious plans as another woman mighthave spoken of her husband's unwise investments! It was fantastichearing that confession of The Stetson Man's beautiful partner, andI counted the interview one of the strangest I had ever known.

  A sudden idea came to me. "When did Dexter first conceive the planto steal the slipper?" I asked.

  "In Egypt!" answered Carneta. "Yes! You may as well know! He isthoroughly familiar with the East, and he learned of the robbery ofProfessor Deeping almost as soon as it became known to Hassan. Iknow what you are going to ask--"

  "Ahmad Ahmadeen!"

  "Yes! He travelled home as Ahmadeen--the only time he ever useda disguise. Oh! the thing is accursed!" she cried. "I begged him,implored him, to abandon his attempts upon it. Day and night wewere watched by those ghastly yellow men! But it was all in vain.He knew, had known for a long time, where Hassan of Aleppo was inhiding!"

  And I reflected that the best men at New Scotland Yard had failedto pick up the slightest clue!

  "The Hashishin, of whom that dreadful man is leader, are rich, orhave supporters who are rich. The plan was to make them pay forthe slipper."

  "My God! it was playing with fire!"

  She sat silent awhile. Emotion threatened to get the upper hand.Then--

  "Two days ago," she almost whispered, "he set out--to ... get theslipper!"

  "To steal it?"

  "To steal it!"

  "From Hassan of Aleppo?"

  I could scarcely believe that any man, single-handed, could havehad the hardihood to attempt such a thing.

  "From Hassan, yes!"

  I faced her, amazed, incredulous.

  "Dexter had suffered mutilation, he knew that the Hashishin soughthis life for his previous attempts upon the relic of the Prophet,and yet he dared to venture again into the very lions' den?"

  "He did, Mr. Cavanagh, two days ago. And--"

  "Yes?" I urged, as gently as I could, for she was shaking pitifully.

  "He never came back!"

  The words were spoken almost in a whisper. She clenched her handsand leapt from the chair, fighting down her grief and with such astark horror in her beautiful eyes that from my very soul I longedto be able to help her.

  "Mr. Cavanagh" (she had courage, this bewildering accomplice of acracksman), "I know the house he went to! I cannot hope to make youunderstand what I have suffered since then. A thousand times I havebeen on the point of going to the police, confessing all I knew, andleading them to that house! O God! if only he is alive, this shallbe his last crooked deal--and mine! I dared not go to the police,for his sake! I waited, and watched, and hoped, through two suchnights and days ... then I ventured. I should have gone mad if Ihad not come here. I knew you had good cause to hate, to detest me,but I remembered that you had a great grievance against Hassan. Notas great, O heaven! not as great as mine, but yet a great one. Iremembered, too, that you were the kind of man--a woman can cometo..."

  She sank back into the chair, and with her fingers twining anduntwining, sat looking dully before her.

  "In brief," I said, "what do you propose?"

  "I propose that we endeavour to obtain admittance to the house ofHassan of Aleppo--secretly, of course, and all I ask of you inreturn for revealing the secret of its situation is--"

  "That I let Dexter go free?"

  Almost inaudi
bly she whispered: "If he lives!"

  Surely no stranger proposition ever had been submitted to alaw-abiding citizen. I was asked to connive in the escape of anotorious criminal, and at one and the same time to embark upon anexpedition patently burglarious! As though this were not enough,I was invited to beard Hassan of Aleppo, the most dreadful being Ihad ever encountered East or West, in his mysterious stronghold!

  I wondered what my friend, Inspector Bristol, would have thought ofthe project; I wondered if I should ever live to see Hassan meet hisjust deserts as a result of this enterprise, which I was forced toadmit a foolhardy one. But a man who has selected the career of awar correspondent from amongst those which Fleet Street offers, isthe victim of a certain craving for fresh experiences; I suppose,has in his character something of an adventurous turn.

  For a while I stood staring from the window, then faced about andlooked into the violet eyes of my visitor.

  "I agree, Carneta!" I said.