by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER XXX
AT THE GATE HOUSE
From sunset to dusk I lurked about the neighbourhood of the GateHouse with my beautiful accomplice--watching and waiting: a manbound upon stranger business, I dare swear, than any other in thecounty of Kent that night.
Our endeavour now was to avoid observation by any one, and in this,I think, we succeeded. At the same time, Carneta, upon whoseexperience I relied implicitly, regarded it as most important thatwe should observe (from a safe distance) any one who entered orquitted the gates.
But none entered, and none came out. When, finally, we made alongthe narrow footpath skirting the west of the grounds, the night wassilent--most strangely still.
The trees met overhead, but no rustle disturbed their leaves and ofanimal life no indication showed itself. There was no moon.
A full appreciation of my mad folly came to me, and with it a senseof heavy depression. This stillness that ruled all about the housewhich sheltered the awful Sheikh of the Assassins was ominous, Ithought. In short, my nerves were playing me tricks.
"We have little to fear," said my companion, speaking in a hushedand quivering voice. "The whole of the party left England somedays ago."
"Are you sure?"
"Certain! We learned that before Earl made his attempt. Hassanremains, for some reason; Hassan and one other--the one who drivesthe car."
"But the slipper?"
"If Hassan remains, so does the slipper!" From the knapsack, which,as you will have divined, did not contain a camera, she took out anelectric pocket lamp, and directed its beam upon the hedge above us.
"There is a gap somewhere here!" she said. "See if you can find it.I dare not show the light too long."
Darkness followed. I clambered up the bank and sought for theopening of which Carneta had spoken.
"The light here a moment," I whispered. "I think I have it!"
Out shone the white beam, and momentarily fell upon a black hole inthe thickset hedge. The light disappeared, and as I extended myhand to Carneta she grasped it and climbed up beside me.
"Put on your rubber shoes," she directed. "Leave the others here."
There in the darkness I did as she directed, for I was provided witha pair of tennis shoes. Carneta already was suitably shod.
"I will go first," I said. "What is the ground like beyond?"
"Just unkempt bushes and weeds."
Upon hands and knees I crawled through, saw dimly that there was ashort descent, corresponding with the ascent from the lane, andturned, whispering to my fellow conspirator to follow.
The grounds proved even more extensive than I had anticipated. Wepressed on, dodging low-sweeping branches and keeping our arms up toguard our faces from outshoots of thorn bushes. Our progressnecessarily was slow, but even so quite a long time seemed to haveelapsed ere we came in sight of the house.
This was my first expedition of the kind; and now that my goal wasactually in sight I became conscious of a sort of exultation hardto describe. My companion, on the contrary, seemed to have becomeicily cool. When next she spoke, her voice had a businesslike ring,which revealed the fact that she was no amateur at this class ofwork.
"Wait here," she directed. "I am going to pass all around thehouse, and I will rejoin you."
I could see her but dimly, and she moved off as silent as an Indiandeer-stalker, leaving me alone there crouching at the extreme edgeof the thicket. I looked out over a small wilderness of unkemptflower-beds; so much it was just possible to perceive. The plantsin many instances had spread on to the pathways and contestedsurvival with the flourishing weeds. All was wild--deserted--eerie.
A sense of dampness assailed me, and I raised my eyes to thelow-lying building wherein no light showed, no sign of life wasevident. The nearer wing presented a verandah apparently overgrownby some climbing plant, the nature of which it was impossible todetermine in the darkness.
The zest for the nocturnal operation which temporarily had thrilledme succumbed now to loneliness. With keen anxiety I awaited thereturn of my more experienced accomplice. The situation wasgrotesque, utterly bizarre; but even my sense of humour could notsave me from the growing dread which this seemingly deserted placepoured into my heart.
When upon the right I heard a faint rustling I started, and graspedthe revolver in my pocket.
"Not a sound!" came in Carneta's voice. "Keep just inside thebushes and come this way. There is something I want to show you."
The various profuse growths rendered concealment simple enough--ifindeed any other concealment were necessary than that which thestrangely black night afforded. Just within the evil-smellingthicket we made a half circuit of the building, and stopped.
"Look!" whispered Carneta.
The word was unnecessary, for I was staring fixedly in the directionof that which evidently had occasioned her uneasiness.
It was a small square window, so low-set that I assumed it to bethat of a cellar, and heavily cross-barred.
From it, out upon a tangled patch of vegetation, shone a dull redlight!
"There's no other light in the place," my companion whispered."For God's sake, what can it be?"
My mind supplied no explanation. The idea that it might be a darkroom no doubt was suggested by the assumed role of Carneta; but Iknew that idea to be absurd. The red light meant something else.
Evidently the commencing of operations before all lights were outwas irregular, for Carneta said slowly--
"We must wait and watch the light. There was formerly a moataround the Gate House; that must be the window of a dungeon."
I little relished the prospect of waiting in that swamp-like spot,but since no alternative presented itself I accepted the inevitable.For close upon an hour we stood watching the red window. No soundof bird, beast, or man disturbed our vigil; in fact, it wouldappear that the very insects shunned the neighbourhood of Hassan ofAleppo. But the red light still shone out.
"We must risk it!" said Carneta steadily. "There are French windowsopening on to that verandah. Ten yards farther around the bushescome right up to the wall of the house. We'll go that way andaround by the other wing on to the verandah."
Any action was preferable to this nerve-sapping delay, and with adetermination to shoot, and shoot to kill, any one who opposedour entrance, I passed through the bushes and, with Carneta, roundedthe southern border of that silent house and slipped quietly on tothe verandah.
Kneeling, Carneta opened the knapsack. My eyes were growingaccustomed to the darkness, and I was just able to see her defthands at work upon the fastenings. She made no noise, and Iwatched her with an ever-growing wonder. A female burglar is apersonage difficult to imagine. Certainly, no one ever could havesuspected this girl with the violet eyes of being an expertcrackswoman; but of her efficiency there could be no question. Ithink I had never witnessed a more amazing spectacle than that ofthis cultured girl manipulating the tools of the house breaker withher slim white fingers.
Suddenly she turned and clutched my arm.
"The windows are not fastened!" she whispered.
A strange courage came to me--perhaps that of desperation. For,ignoring the ominous circumstance, I pushed open the nearestwindow and stepped into the room beyond! A hissing breath fromCarneta acknowledged my performance, and she entered close behindme, silent in her rubber-soled shoes.
For one thrilling moment we stood listening. Then came the whitebeam from the electric lamp to cut through the surrounding blackness.
The room was totally unfurnished!
