“We all owe our lives to you, Sir Arthur. We can never repay the debt.” Doris had a sob in her voice as she spoke. She held out her hand and Sinclair took it awkwardly.
“I always said that if I couldn’t have Ronald, I’d marry Sir Arthur,” Diana said, clinging close to the man on the couch.
“I think it would be a dashed good thing if you married him, Doris,” Ralph exclaimed with a laugh.
Sinclair hastily let go the hand he had been holding ever since she had frankly held it out. The soft night was around them and purple shadows lay on the lake with its filmy mist.
“Don’t be an ass,” Doris answered from the dark.
“As for Smart,” Sinclair hurriedly went on, “we must take him back to England to stand his trial, though for the life of me I don’t see how we are going to get evidence to convict him, if he goes back on what he has told me. He’s a dangerous man to have with us, but he is being watched night and day.”
“And this place? What are we to do about it?” Ronald spoke, looking at Diana for guidance.
“You are King of the Woods, and Diana is their goddess,” Sinclair spoke. “If you go and we burn the sacred oak, and make the priests promise to cease the” old worship, the place might be opened up to the world,” Sinclair gave the advice.
“Golly, what a scheme — we’ll make it the very latest thing in health resorts — Cook’s tours, you know, and a great hotel.” Ralph was captivated with his scheme.
“I think not,” Diana said quietly. “After all, they are my people. I would rather leave them to their simplicity without their awful practices. If only someone would teach them a nobler way of life. After all, they have good qualities.”
“I have a proposition to make on that subject,” Sinclair said. “I have no ties, no relatives, and inactivity is killing to me. This problem interests me immensely. You must go — Ronald arid Diana and the rest of you, but I will stay here. I shall keep Radko and the Bulgars, and they can marry and get a better stock. I would like to make something of this people. It would be a fitting ending to my life. I am not a religious man, but I could tell them of Christianity, and possibly get a man out here who could do it better than I could. Yes, I shall stay here — and perhaps if God spares me, I will come to England now and then. But first, I must see you all safe, and settle about Smart.”
“Time for bed, especially for Ronald,” Simpson said briskly, for there seemed nothing more to say to Sinclair’s startling proposal.
They drifted off to their apartments behind the Temple, leaving Ralph to stay with Ronald.
“Where’s friend Sinclair gone to?” Simpson said to Diana as they waited in the moonlight.
“And Doris?” Diana replied. “I wonder if that fool of a brother of hers was talking sense for once in his life.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THE LAST OF SINCLAIR
The silent people had watched with fearful dread the great oak of the ancient worship being burnt in the light of day, and had seen the last branch fall into the flames and be consumed.
Nothing remained but white ash, and dismay fell on the crowds which had gathered on the lakeside.
A summons to appear at the Temple had been issued by the Priest-King — Ronald — and Diana, and the barges were busy conveying the people over the lake.
Again the great temple was filled with expectant crowds. Gone was the hideous black altar of sacrifice.
Only on the dais in plain clothes — with no vestments or attendants, Ronald and Diana with their friends were seated.
“My people,” Diana said simply, “the ancient prophecy is fulfilled. Strangers have come here and will save your race from extinction, but not by sacrifice or the old worship of false gods.
“I, Diana, am leaving you — with him who has won his title to King of the Woods, but our friend and preserver, Sir Arthur Sinclair, who is a great lord in his own land,” Sinclair blushed, “will come and govern you in a better way and show you the true worship.
“There must be no more sacrifices, for it is because of these that misfortune has fallen upon you. He will teach you many things for you to know.”
The message was received in silence — almost in apathy. Even the priests had nothing to say — their power had gone forever.
Sinclair spoke shortly, telling them that he had been delegated by Ronald and Diana to take charge. The secret of their valley would be kept, he told them, but they would learn crafts and arts from outside which would improve their lives.
On the day following the people lined the streets as a cavalcade slowly passed out. It was the first time that horses had ever entered Nemi — since they were held accursed — having brought about the death of Hippolytus in ancient days.
They lined the streets in stricken silence watching their gods depart from them — hopeless and despairing.
At the rear of the column, Smart, bound and guarded, was escorted by two Bulgars.
Radko and the rest remained, to keep order till Sinclair returned.
They went by a shorter road than that by which they came, and passed through the mountains by a rocky defile to the river valley up which they had ascended.
At one place as before they were compelled to proceed in single file. Ronald, mindful of Radko’s slip, guided Diana’s horse with great care, and Sinclair did the like for Doris.
Their attention was taken up fully with the difficult path.
There was a sudden shout behind, a sound of a falling body, and stones fell in a shower down the mountain side. A Bulgar called loudly that Smart had thrown himself from his horse over the edge.
“Don’t look,” Ronald called in alarm to Diana. “Stay quite still.” He heard the small stones falling — and a larger body bouncing from rock to rock and then a faint splash far below. Then all was silence.
“Go on till we get to a wider track,” Sinclair commanded in a strained voice.
They were all unnerved for a moment by the suddenness of the event.
Once on firm ground they dismounted and gazed with white faces at the stream far below which hid its dreadful secret.
“It was the best thing that could have happened. Better that than the public hangman.” Sinclair voiced the feelings of them all.
“God rest his soul,” Diana said with a sob. “He was a murderer and needs forgiveness — may he find it.”
“My father would have said the same,” Ronald said solemnly.
The terrible tragedy cast a gloom over them, and it was not until they emerged from the foothills and found villages and people again, that gaiety returned.
Here were peasants in the fields and children playing and country life going on. As Sinclair had said, it was best as it was. The valley behind them would now remain inviolate. The secret of the yellow mistletoe by the death of three men had been sealed forever. None need know.
At Sophia, Ronald sought out an English clergyman, and explained as much of the story as was necessary.
The wedding was to be in a quiet little church on the outskirts of the city.
They met on the eve of the day appointed, Diana radiant and happy, and looking supremely beautiful in European clothes.
Sinclair, contrary to his usual habit, appeared nervous and restless. They put it down to their coming separation. Ralph also seemed wrapped up in his own thoughts.
The dinner was a merry one — they toasted the bride and bridegroom and wished them joy. They were to catch the Orient Express next day, so there would be no wedding breakfast after the ceremony.
“We owe it all to you,” Diana said, taking the hand of the grizzled detective. “All our happiness. I wish you would come to England.”
As Smart was dead Sinclair had decided to return immediately to his small kingdom and put things in order.
“I am going back — and, by the way — I suppose I must tell you. I know you will be pleased. The fact is, Doris for some remote reason has consented to marry me. We’ve fixed it up for to-morrow with yours. I hope
you don’t mind.”
“Bravo,” Ronald exclaimed, but Diana kissed Sinclair with tears in her eyes. “I’m so glad,” she whispered.
“You keep your secrets to the last. You’ve been too clever for us,” Simpson said, grasping his hands.
There was a great deal of kissing all round and much rejoicing, but Ralph was silent. Doris was a little hurt. “Aren’t you glad, Ralph?” she asked.
“I’ve been thinking. I was a rotter at home — no use to anyone. I’ve been quite different out here — in health and everything. I don’t care to go back with a sloppy couple to England. Hanged if I do. I’m coming with you, Doris, if I may. I rather like the rotten old valley and the girls are top-hole. Will you have me, Sir Arthur — King Arthur — I beg your pardon.”
“Done,” said Sinclair, and closed the bargain.
And so the little church saw two weddings as romantic as any that Sophia had ever witnessed.
People who passed thought only a party of tourists had completed a tour in an interesting manner, but had they known the truth they would have gazed with more interest at the couples who emerged and made for the railway station.
Dr. Simpson discreetly decided to stay for a day or two and let the young couple go by themselves.
“We shall all meet again in jolly old England next year. You’ll tell our sainted mother all about it. She will be pleased.” Ralph made a face.
“She’ll be glad you’ve got a job — engineering, isn’t it? — and that you are well and strong,” Ronald said.
The doctor had the last word. “If at any time next year you should require my professional assistance — it is at your disposal,” he said gravely.
The train went out of the station before Ronald could find a suitable reply.
The End
RAMBLE HOUSE’s
Harry Stephen Keeler Webwork Mysteries
(RH) indicates the title is available ONLY in the RAMBLE HOUSE edition
The Ace of Spades Murder
The Affair of the Bottled Deuce (RH)
The Amazing Web
The Barking Clock
Behind That Mask
The Book with the Orange Leaves
The Bottle with the Green Wax Seal
The Box from Japan
The Case of the Canny Killer
The Case of the Crazy Corpse (RH)
The Case of the Flying Hands (RH)
The Case of the Ivory Arrow
The Case of the Jeweled Ragpicker
The Case of the Lavender Gripsack
The Case of the Mysterious Moll
The Case of the 16 Beans
The Case of the Transparent Nude (RH)
The Case of the Transposed Legs
The Case of the Two-Headed Idiot (RH)
The Case of the Two Strange Ladies
The Circus Stealers (RH)
Cleopatra’s Tears
A Copy of Beowulf (RH)
The Crimson Cube (RH)
The Face of the Man From Saturn
Find the Clock
The Five Silver Buddhas
The 4th King
The Gallows Waits, My Lord! (RH)
The Green Jade Hand
Finger! Finger!
Hangman’s Nights (RH)
I, Chameleon (RH)
I Killed Lincoln at 10:13! (RH)
The Iron Ring
The Man Who Changed His Skin (RH)
The Man with the Crimson Box
The Man with the Magic Eardrums
The Man with the Wooden Spectacles
The Marceau Case
The Matilda Hunter Murder
The Monocled Monster
The Murder of London Lew
The Murdered Mathematician
The Mysterious Card (RH)
The Mysterious Ivory Ball of Wong Shing Li (RH)
The Mystery of the Fiddling Cracksman
The Peacock Fan
The Photo of Lady X (RH)
The Portrait of Jirjohn Cobb
Report on Vanessa Hewstone (RH)
Riddle of the Travelling Skull
Riddle of the Wooden Parrakeet (RH)
The Scarlet Mummy (RH)
The Search for X-Y-Z
The Sharkskin Book
Sing Sing Nights
The Six From Nowhere (RH)
The Skull of the Waltzing Clown
The Spectacles of Mr. Cagliostro
Stand By—London Calling!
The Steeltown Strangler
The Stolen Gravestone (RH)
Strange Journey (RH)
The Strange Will
The Straw Hat Murders (RH)
The Street of 1000 Eyes (RH)
Thieves’ Nights
Three Novellos (RH)
The Tiger Snake
The Trap (RH)
Vagabond Nights (Defrauded Yeggman)
Vagabond Nights 2 (10 Hours)
The Vanishing Gold Truck
The Voice of the Seven Sparrows
The Washington Square Enigma
When Thief Meets Thief
The White Circle (RH)
The Wonderful Scheme of Mr. Christopher Thorne
X. Jones—of Scotland Yard
Y. Cheung, Business Detective
Keeler Related Works
A To Izzard: A Harry Stephen Keeler Companion by Fender Tucker — Articles and stories about Harry, by Harry, and in his style. Included is a compleat bibliography.
Wild About Harry: Reviews of Keeler Novels — Edited by Richard Polt & Fender Tucker — 22 reviews of works by Harry Stephen Keeler from Keeler News. A perfect introduction to the author.
The Keeler Keyhole Collection: Annotated newsletter rants from Harry Stephen Keeler, edited by Francis M. Nevins. Over 400 pages of incredibly personal Keeleriana.
Fakealoo — Pastiches of the style of Harry Stephen Keeler by selected demented members of the HSK Society. Updated every year with the new winner.
Strands of the Web: Short Stories of Harry Stephen Keeler — 29 stories, just about all that Keeler wrote, are edited and introduced by Fred Cleaver.
RAMBLE HOUSE’s Loon Sanctuary
A Clear Path to Cross — Sharon Knowles short mystery stories by Ed Lynskey.
A Jimmy Starr Omnibus — Three 40s novels by Jimmy Starr.
A Roland Daniel Double: The Signal and The Return of Wu Fang — Classic thrillers from the 30s.
A Shot Rang Out — Three decades of reviews and articles by today’s Anthony Boucher, Jon Breen. An essential book for any mystery lover’s library.
A Smell of Smoke — A 1951 English countryside thriller by Miles Burton.
A Snark Selection — Lewis Carroll’s The Hunting of the Snark with two Snarkian chapters by Harry Stephen Keeler — Illustrated by Gavin L. O’Keefe.
A Young Man’s Heart — A forgotten early classic by Cornell Woolrich.
Alexander Laing Novels — The Motives of Nicholas Holtz and Dr. Scarlett, stories of medical mayhem and intrigue from the 30s.
An Angel in the Street — Modern hardboiled noir by Peter Genovese.
Automaton — Brilliant treatise on robotics: 1928-style! By H. Stafford Hatfield.
Beast or Man? — A 1930 novel of racism and horror by Sean M’Guire. Introduced by John Pelan.
Black Hogan Strikes Again — Australia’s Peter Renwick pens a tale of the 30s outback.
Black River Falls — Suspense from the master, Ed Gorman.
Blondy’s Boy Friend — A snappy 1930 story by Philip Wylie, writing as Leatrice Homesley.
Blood in a Snap — The Finnegan’s Wake of the 21st century, by Jim Weiler.
Blood Moon — The first of the Robert Payne series by Ed Gorman.
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Novels featuring Charlie Moon — Ogilvie, Tallant and Moon, Music When the Sweet Voice Dies, Poisonous Fruit and Dead Mice. An Ojibwa detective in SF.
Cornucopia of Crime — Francis M. Nevins assembled this huge collection of his writings about crime literature and the people wh
o write it. Essential for any serious mystery library.
Crimson Clown Novels — By Johnston McCulley, author of the Zorro novels, The Crimson Clown and The Crimson Clown Again.
Dago Red — 22 tales of dark suspense by Bill Pronzini.
David Hume Novels — Corpses Never Argue, Cemetery First Stop, Make Way for the Mourners, Eternity Here I Come. 1930s British hardboiled fiction with an attitude.
Dead Man Talks Too Much — Hollywood boozer by Weed Dickenson.
Death Leaves No Card — One of the most unusual murdered-in-the-tub mysteries you’ll ever read. By Miles Burton.
Death March of the Dancing Dolls and Other Stories — Volume Three in the Day Keene in the Detective Pulps series. Introduced by Bill Crider.
Deep Space and other Stories — A collection of SF gems by Richard A. Lupoff.
Detective Duff Unravels It — Episodic mysteries by Harvey O’Higgins.
Dime Novels: Ramble House’s 10-Cent Books — Knife in the Dark by Robert Leslie Bellem, Hot Lead and Song of Death by Ed Earl Repp, A Hashish House in New York by H.H. Kane, and five more.
Don Diablo: Book of a Lost Film — Two-volume treatment of a western by Paul Landres, with diagrams. Intro by Francis M. Nevins.
Dope and Swastikas — Two strange novels from 1922 by Edmund Snell
Dope Tales #1 — Two dope-riddled classics; Dope Runners by Gerald Grantham and Death Takes the Joystick by Phillip Condé.
Dope Tales #2 — Two more narco-classics; The Invisible Hand by Rex Dark and The Smokers of Hashish by Norman Berrow.
The Yellow Mistletoe Page 24
