by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER XXXIII
HOW WE WERE REINFORCED
Hilton, I learned, was living the simple life at "Uplands." Theplace was not yet decorated and was only partly furnished. Butwith his man, Soar, he had been in solitary occupation for a week.
"Feel better now?" he asked anxiously.
I reached for my tumbler and blew a cloud of smoke into the air.I could hear Soar's footsteps as he made the round of bolts andbars, testing each anxiously.
"Thanks, Hilton," I said. "I'm quite all right. You are naturallywondering what the devil it all means? Well, then, I wired youfrom Euston that I was coming by the 6:55."
"H-- Post Office shuts at 7. I shall get your wire in the morning!"
"That explains your failing to meet me. Now for my explanation!"
"Surrounding this house at the present moment," I continued, "aremembers of an Eastern organization--the Hashishin, founded inKhorassan in the eleventh century and flourishing to-day!"
"Do you mean it, Cavanagh?"
"I do! One Hassan of Aleppo is the present Sheikh of the order,and he has come to England, bringing a fiendish company in his train,in pursuit of the sacred slipper of Mohammed, which was stolen bythe late Professor Deeping---"
"Surely I have read something about this?"
"Probably. Deeping was murdered by Hassan! The slipper was placedin the Antiquarian Museum--"
"From which it was stolen again!"
"Correct--by Earl Dexter, America's foremost crook! But the realfacts have never got into print. I am the only pressman who knowsthem, and I have good reason for keeping my knowledge to myself!Dexter is dead (I believe I saw his ghost to-day). But although,to the best of my knowledge, the accursed slipper is in the handsof Hassan and Company, I have been watched since I left Euston,and on my way to 'Uplands' my life was attempted!"
"For God's sake, why?"
"I cannot surmise, Hilton. Deeping, for certain reasons that areirrelevant at the moment, left the keys of the case at the Museumin my perpetual keeping--but the case was rifled a second time--"
"I read of it!"
"And the keys were stolen from me. I am utterly at a loss tounderstand why the Hashishin--for it is members of that awfulorganization who, without a doubt, surround this house at thepresent moment--should seek my life. Hilton, I have broughttrouble with me!"
"It's almost incredible!" said Hilton, staring at me. "Why dothese people pursue you?"
Ere I had time to reply Soar entered, arrayed, as was Hilton, inhis night attire. Soar was an ex-dragoon and a model man.
"Everything fast, sir," he reported; "but from the window of thebedroom over here--the room I got ready for Mr. Cavanagh--Ithought I saw someone in the orchard."
"Eh?" jerked Hilton--"in the orchard? Come on up, Cavanagh!"
We all ran upstairs. The moonlight was streaming into the room.
"Keep back!" I warned.
Well within the shadow, I crept up to the window and looked out.The night was hot and still. No breeze stirred the leaves, butthe edge of the frowning thunder cloud which I had noted beforespread a heavy carpet of ebony black upon the ground. Beyond, Icould dimly discern the hills. The others stood behind me,constrained by the fear of this mysterious danger which I hadbrought to "Uplands."
There was someone moving among the trees!
Closer came the figure, and closer, until suddenly a shaft ofmoonlight found passage and spilled a momentary pool of light amidthe shadows, I could see the watcher very clearly. A moment hestood there, motionless, and looking up at the window; then as heglided again into the shade of the trees the darkness becamecomplete. But I watched, crouching there nervously, for long afterhe was gone.
"For God's sake, who is it?" whispered Hilton, with a sort of awein his voice.
"It's Hassan of Aleppo!" I replied.
Virtually, the house, with the capital of the Midlands so near uponthe one hand, the feverish activity of the Black Country reddeningthe night upon the other, was invested by fanatic Easterns!
We descended again to the extemporized study. Soar entered with usand Hilton invited him to sit down.
"We must stick together to-night!" he said. "Now, Cavanagh, let ussee if we can find any explanation of this amazing business. I canunderstand that at one period of the slipper's history you were anobject of interest to those who sought to recover it; but if, asyou say, the Hashishin have the slipper now, what do they want withyou? If you have never touched it, they cannot be prompted bydesire for vengeance."
"I have never touched it," I replied grimly; "nor even anyreceptacle containing it."
As I ceased speaking came a distant muffled rumbling.
"That's the thunder," said Hilton. "There's a tremendous stormbrewing."
He poured out three glasses of whisky, and was about to speakwhen Soar held up a warning finger.
"Listen!" he said.
At his words, with tropical suddenness down came the rain.
Hilton, his pipe in his hand, stood listening intently.
"What?" he asked.
"I don't know, sir; the sound of the rain has drowned it."
Indeed, the rain was descending in a perfect deluge, its continuousroar drowning all other sounds; but as we three listened tenselywe detected a noise which hitherto had seemed like the overflowingof some spout.
But louder and clearer it grew, until at last I knew it for whatit was.
"It's a motor-car!" I cried.
"And coming here!" added Soar. "Listen! it's in the lane!"
"It certainly isn't a taxicab," declared Hilton. "None of the menwill come beyond the village."
"That's the gate!" said Soar, in an awed voice, and stood up,looking at Hilton.
"Come on," said the latter abruptly, making for the door.
"Be careful, Hilton!" I cried; "it may be a trick!"
Soar unbolted the front door, threw it open, and looked out. Inthe darkness of the storm it was almost impossible to see anythingin the lane outside. But at that moment a great sheet of lightningsplit the gloom, and we saw a taxicab standing close up to thegateway!
"Help! Open the gate!" came a high-pitched voice; "open the gate!"
Out into the rain we ran and down the gravel path. Soar had thegate open in a twinkling, and a woman carrying a brown leather grip,but who was so closely veiled that I had no glimpse of her features,leapt through on to the drive.
"Lend a hand, two of you!" cried a vaguely familiar voice--"this way!"
Hilton and Soar stepped out into the road. The driver of the cabwas lying forward across the wheel, apparently insensible, but asHilton seized his arm he moved and spoke feebly.
"For God's sake be quick, sir!" he said. "They're after us!They're on the other side of the lane, there!"
With that he dropped limply into Hilton's arms!
He was dragged in on to the drive--and something whizzed over ourheads and went sputtering into the gravel away up toward the house.The last to enter was the man who had come in the cab. As he barredthe gate behind him he suddenly reached out through the bars and Isaw a pistol in his hand.
Once--twice--thrice--he fired into the blackness of the lane.
"Take that, you swine!" he shouted. "Take that!"
As quickly as we could, bearing the insensible man, we hurried backto the door. On the step the woman was waiting for us, with herveil raised. A blinding flash of lightning came as we mounted thestep--and I looked into the violet eyes of Carneta! I turned andstared at the man behind me.
It was Earl Dexter.
Three of the mysterious missiles fell amongst us, but miraculouslyno one was struck. Amid the mighty booming of the thunder wereentered the houses and got the door barred. In the hall we laiddown the unconscious man and stood, a strangely met company,peering at one another in the dim lamplight.
"We've got to bury the hatchet, Mr. Cavanagh!" said Dexter. "It'sa case of the common enemy. I've brought you your bag!" and hepointed to the brow
n grip upon the floor.
"My bag!" I cried. "My bag is upstairs in my room."
"Wrong, sir!" snapped The Stetson Man. "They are like as two peasin a pod, I'll grant you, but the bag you snatched off the platformat New Street was mine! That's what I'm after; I ought to be onthe way to Liverpool. That's what Hassan's after!"
"The bag!"
"You don't need to ask what's in the bag?" suggested Dexter.
"What is in the bag?" ask Hilton hoarsely.
"The slipper of the Prophet, sir!" was the reply.
CHAPTER XXXIV
MY LAST MEETING WITH HASSAN OF ALEPPO
I felt dazed, as a man must feel who has just heard the deathsentence pronounced upon him. Hilton seemed to have becomeincapable of speech or action; and in silence we stood watchingCarneta tending the unconscious man. She forced brandy froma flask between his teeth, kneeling there beside him with herface very pale and dark rings around her eyes. Presently shelooked up.
"Will you please get me a bowl of water and a sponge?" she saidquietly.
Soar departed without a word, and no one spoke until he returned,bringing the sponge and the water, when the girl set to work in abusinesslike way to cleanse a wound which showed upon the man'shead.
"She's a good nurse is Carneta," said Dexter coolly. "She was theonly doctor I had through this"--indicating his maimed wrist. "Ifyou will fetch my bag down, there's some lint in it."
I hesitated.
"You needn't worry," said Dexter; "as well be hung for a sheep asa lamb. You've handled the bag, and I'm not asking you to doany more."
I went up to my room and lifted the grip from the chair upon whichI had put it. Even now I found it difficult to perceive anydifference between this and mine. Both were of identical appearanceand both new. In fact, I had bought mine only that morning, my oldone being past use, and being in a hurry, I had not left it to beinitialled.
As I picked up the bag the lightning flashed again, and from thewindow I could see the orchard as clearly as by sunlight. At thefarther end near the wall someone was standing watching the house.
I went downstairs carrying the fatal bag, and rejoined the group inthe hall.
"He will have to be got to bed," said Carneta, referring to thewounded man; "he will probably remain unconscious for a long time."
Accordingly, we took the patient into one of the few furnishedbedrooms, and having put him to bed left him in care of the beautifulnurse. When we four men met again downstairs, amazement had renderedthe whole scene unreal to me. Soar stood just within the open door,not knowing whether to go or to remain; but Hilton motioned tohim to stay. Earl Dexter bit off the end of a cigar and stood withhis left elbow resting on the mantelpiece.
His gaunt face looked gaunter than ever, but the daredevil gray eyesstill nursed that humorous light in their depths.
"Mr. Cavanagh," he said, "we're brothers! And if you'll considera minute, you'll see that I'm not lying when I say I'm on thestraight, now and for always!"
I made no reply: I could think of none.
"I'm a crook," he resumed, "or I was up to a while ago. There'sa warrant out for me--the first that ever bore my name. I'vesailed near the wind often enough, but it was desperation that gotme into hot water about that!"
He jerked his cigar in the direction of his grip, which lay now onthe rug at his feet.
"I lost a useful right hand," he went on--"and I lost every cent Ihad. It was a dead rotten speculation--for I lost my good name!I mean it! Believe me, I've handled some shady propositions in thepast, but I did it right in the sunlight! Up to the time I went outfor that damned slipper I could have had lunch with any detectivefrom Broadway to the Strand! I didn't need any false whiskers andthe Ritz was good enough for The Stetson Man. What now? I'm'wanted!' Enough said."
He tossed the cigar--he had smoked scarce an inch of it--into theempty grate.
"I'm an Aunt Sally for any man to shy at," he resumed bitterly."My place henceforth is in the dark. Right! I've finished; thebook's closed. From the time I quit England--if I can quit--I'mon the straight! I've promised Carneta, and I mean to keep myword. See here--"
Dexter turned to me.
"You'll want to know how I escaped from the cursed death-trap atHassan's house in Kent? I'll tell you. I was never in it! Iwas hiding and waiting my chance. You know what was left to guardthe slipper while the Sheikh--rot him--was away looking afterarrangements for getting his mob out of the country?"
I nodded.
"You fell into the trap--you and Carneta. By God! I didn't knowtill it was all over! But two minutes later I was inside thatplace--and three minutes later I was away with the slipper! Oh, itwasn't a duplicate; it was the goods! What then? Carneta hadhad a sickening of the business and she just invited me to say Yesor No. I said Yes; and I'm a straight man onward."
"Then what were you doing on the train with the slipper?" askedHilton sharply.
"I was going to Liverpool, sir!" snapped The Stetson Man, turningon him. "I was going to try to get aboard the Mauretania andthen make terms for my life! What happened? I slipped out atBirmingham for a drink--grip in hand! I put it down besideme, and Mr. Cavanagh here, all in a hustle, must have rushed inbehind me, snatched a whisky and snatched my grip and started forH--!"
A vivid flash of lightning flickered about the room. Then camethe deafening boom of the thunder, right over the house it seemed.
"I knew from the weight of the grip it wasn't mine," said Dexter,"and I was the most surprised guy in Great Britain and Ireland whenI found whose it was! I opened it, of course! And right on top wasa waistcoat and right in the first pocket was a telegram. Here itis!"
He passed it to me. It was that which I had received from Hilton.I had packed the suit which I had been wearing that morning andmust previously have thrust the telegram into the waistcoat pocket.
"Providence!" Dexter assured me. "Because I got on the station intime to see Hassan of Aleppo join the train for H--! I was too late,though. But I chartered a taxi out on Corporation Street andinvited the man to race the local! He couldn't do it, but we gothere in time for the fireworks! Mr. Cavanagh, there are anythingfrom six to ten Hashishin watching this house!"
"I know it!"
"They're bareheaded; and in the dark their shaven skulls look likenothing human. They're armed with those damned tubes, too. I'dgive a thousand dollars--if I had it!--to know their mechanism.Well, gentlemen, deeds speak. What am I here for, when I might beon the way to Liverpool, and safety?"
"You're here to try to make up for the past a bit!" said a soft,musical voice. "Mr. Cavanagh's life is in danger."
Carneta entered the room.
The light played in that wonderful hair of hers; and pale though shewas, I thought I had never seen a more beautiful woman.
"Tell them," she said quietly, "what must be done."
Soar glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes and shifteduneasily. Hilton stared as if fascinated.
"Now," rapped Dexter, in his strident voice, "putting aside allquestions of justice and right (we're not policemen), what do wewant--you and I, Mr. Cavanagh?"
"I can't think clearly about anything," I said dully. "Explainyourself."
"Very well. Inspector Bristol, C.I.D., would want me and Hassanarrested. I don't want that! What I want is peace; I want to beable to sleep in comfort; I want to know I'm not likely to bemurdered on the next corner! Same with you?"
"Yes--yes."
"How can we manage it? One way would be to kill Hassan of Aleppo;but he wants a lot of killing--I've tried! Moreover, directlywe'd done it, another Sheikh-al-jebal would be nominated and he'dcarry on the bloody work. We'd be worse off than ever. Right!we've got to connive at letting the blood-stained fanatic escape,and we've got to give up the slipper!"
"I'll do that with all my heart!"
"Sure! But you and I have both got little scores up against Hassan,which it's not in human nature to forget. But I'v
e got it workedout that there's only one way. It may nearly choke us to have todo it, I'll allow. I'm working on the Moslem character. Mr. Hilton,make up a fire in the grate here!"
Hilton stared, not comprehending.
"Do as he asks," I said. "Personally, I am resigned to mutilation,since I have touched the bag containing the slipper, but ifDexter has a plan--"
"Excuse me, sir," Soar interrupted. "I believe there's some coalin the coal-box, but I shall have to break up a packing-case forfirewood--or go out into the yard!"
"Let it be the packing-case," replied Hilton hastily.
Accordingly a fire was kindled, whilst we all stood about the roomin a sort of fearful uncertainty; and before long a big blaze wasroaring up the chimney. Dexter turned to me.
"Mr. Cavanagh," said he, "I want you to go right upstairs, open afirst-floor window--I would suggest that of your bedroom--andinvite Hassan of Aleppo to come and discuss terms!"
Silence followed his words; we were all amazed. Then--
"Why do you ask me to do this?" I inquired.
"Because," replied Dexter, "I happen to know that Hassan has somequeer kind of respect for you--I don't know why."
"Which is probably the reason why he tried to kill me to-night!"
"That's beside the question, Mr. Cavanagh. He will believe you--whichis the important point."
"Very well. I have no idea what you have in mind but I am preparedto adopt any plan since I have none of my own. What shall I say?"
"Say that we are prepared to return the slipper--on conditions."
"He will probably try to shoot me as I stand at the window."
Dexter shrugged his shoulders.
"Got to risk it," he drawled.
"And what are the conditions?"
"He must come right in here and discuss them! Guarantee him safeconduct and I don't think he'll hesitate. Anyway, if he does, justtell him that the slipper will be destroyed immediately!"
Without a word I turned on my heel and ascended the stairs.
I entered my room, crossed to the window, and threw it widely open.Hovering over the distant hills I could see the ominous thundercloud, but the storm seemed to have passed from "Uplands," and onlya distant muttering with the faint dripping of water from the pipesbroke the silence of the night. A great darkness reigned, however,and I was entirely unable to see if any one was in the orchard.
Like some mueddin of fantastic fable I stood there.
"Hassan!" I cried--"Hassan of Aleppo!"
The name rang out strangely upon the stillness--the name whichfor me had a dreadful significance; but the whole episode seemedunreal, the voice that had cried unlike my voice.
Instantly as any magician summoning an efreet I was answered.
Out from the trees strode a tall figure, a figure I could notmistake. It was that of Hassan of Aleppo!
"I hear, effendim, and obey," he said. "I am ready. Open thedoor!"
"We are prepared to discuss terms. You may come and gosafely"--still my voice sounded unfamiliar in my ears.
"I know, effendim; it is so written. Open the door."
I closed the window and mechanically descended the stairs.
"Mind it isn't a trap!" cried Hilton, who, with the others, hadoverheard every word of this strange interview. "They may try torush the door directly we open it."
"I'll stand the chest behind it," said Soar; "between the door andthe wall, so that only one can enter at a time."
This was done, and the door opened.
Alone, majestic, entered Hassan of Aleppo.
He was dressed in European clothes but wore the green turban of aSherif. With his snowy beard and coal-black eyes he seemed like avision of the Prophet, of the Prophet in whose name he had committedsuch ghastly atrocities.
Deigning no glance to Soar nor to Hilton, he paced into the room,passing me and ignoring Carneta, where Earl Dexter awaited him.I shall never forget the scene as Hassan entered, to stand lookingwith blazing eyes at The Stetson Man, who sat beside the firewith the slipper of Mohammed in his hand!
"Hassan," said Dexter quietly, "Mr. Cavanagh has had to promiseyou safe conduct, or as sure as God made me, I'd put a bulletin you!"
The Sheikh of the Hashishin glared fixedly at him.
"Companion of the evil one," he said, "it is not written that Ishall die by your hand--or by the hand of any here. But it hasbeen revealed to me that to-night the gates of Paradise may beclosed in my face."
"I shouldn't be at all surprised," drawled Dexter. "But it's upto you. You've got to swear by Mohammed--"
"Salla-'llahu 'aleyhi wasellem!"
"That you won't lay a hand upon any living soul, or allow any ofyour followers to do so, who has touched the slipper or hadanything to do with it, but that you will go in peace."
"You are doomed to die!"
"You don't agree, then?"
"Those who have offended must suffer the penalty!"
"Right!" said Dexter--and prepared to toss the slipper into theheart of the fire!
"Stop! Infidel! Stop!"
There was real agony in Hassan's voice. To my inexpressiblesurprise he dropped upon his knee, extending his lean brown handstoward the slipper.
Dexter hesitated. "You agree, then?"
Hassan raised his eyes to the ceiling.
"I agree," he said. "Dark are the ways. It is the will ofGod..."
Dimly the booming of the thunder came echoing back to us from thehills. Above its roll sounded a barbaric chanting to which thedrums of angry heaven formed a fitting accompaniment.
I heard Soar shooting the bolts again upon the going of ourstrange visitor.
Faint and more faint grew the chanting, until it merged into theremote muttering of the storm--and was lost. The quest of thesacred slipper was ended.
