The A. Merritt Megapack

by Abraham Merritt

  He went back to his first theme, bitterly.

  “But ’e ain’t the devil, sir. Always remember ’e ain’t. I was brought up Gord-fearin’. Pentecosters, my people was. Taught me Satan was in ’ell, they did. An’ won’t ’e just give this bloody swine particular ’ellfor tykin’ ’is nyme in vyne when ’e gets ’im in ’ell! Christ, ’ow I’d like to see it.

  “From h’outside lookin’ in,” he added hastily.

  I pressed his hand and felt his ear close to my lips.

  “How did you get here, Harry?” I murmured. “And who is this—Satan, and what’s his real game?”

  “I’ll tell you the ’ole tale, Captain,” he answered. “It’ll tyke a little time, but Gord knows when I’ll get the chance again. That’s why I beat it to you quick as I could. The bloody beast is gloatin’ over that poor devil Cartright. Watchin’ ’im die! The rest is either sleepin’ or drinkin’ themselves blind. Still, as I said, we’ll tyke no chances. You let me talk an’ ask your questions afterwards.”

  “Go on,” I said.

  “I was an electrician before the war,” came the whisper in the dark. “None better. Master at it. ’E knows I am. It’s why ’e let me live, as I told you. Satan—augh-h-h!

  “Things was different after the war. Jobs ’ard to get an’ livin’ ’igh. Got lookin’ at things different, too. Seen lots of muckers what hadn’t done a thing in the war but live cushy and pile up loot. What right ’ad they to ’ave all they ’ad when them as ’ad fought an’ their families was cold an’ ’ungry?

  “’Andy with my ’ands I always was. An’ light on my feet. Climb! Climb like a cat. Climb like a bloody centipede. An’ quiet! A spook in galoshes was a parade compared to me. I ain’t praisin’ myself, sir. I’m just tellin’ you.

  “Syes I to myself, ‘’Arry, it’s all wrong. ’Arry, it’s time to turn your talents to account. Time to settle down to real work, ’Arry.’

  “I was good from the very start at the new trade. I kept goin’ ’igher an’ ’igher. From villas to apartment ’ouses, apartment ’ouses to mansions. Never once caught. King Cat ’Arry they called me. Swarm up a water pipe as easy as porch pillar, up an apartment ’ouse wall as easy as a water pipe. Master at my new trade just like my old.

  “Then I met Maggie. They only myke one like Maggie once, sir. Quick with ’er fingers! She made ’Oudini an’ ’Errman look like slow movies. An’ a lydy. Regular Clare Vere de Vere when she wanted to be!

  “Lot’s of swell mobsmen wanted to myke Maggie. She’d ’ave none of them. All wrapped up in ’er work she was. ‘’Ell!’ she’d sye, just like a duchess, ‘what do I want with a ’usband? ’Ell,’ she’d sye, ‘A ’usband is about as much use as a ’eadache!’ Sort of discouragin’, was Maggie.

  “Captain, we was crazy h’about each other right off. Married we was, quick. Took a nice ’ouse down in Maida Vale. Was I ’appy? Was she? Gord!

  “‘Now, Maggie,’ I syes after we come back from the ’oneymoon, ‘there ain’t no reason for you workin’ no more. I’m a good provider. I’m a ’ard an’ conscientious worker. All you ’ave to do is enjoy yourself an’ make our ’ome comfortable an’ ’appy.’

  “An’ Maggie said, ‘Righto, ’Arry.’

  “I was wearin’ I remember a stick pin she’d give me for a weddin’ present. Big ruby in it. An’ a watch she’d give me, an’ a nifty ring with pearls. Admired ’em I ’ad when I see ’em on a couple of toffs at the ’otel we stopped at. An’ that night when we went to our room she ’anded ’em to me as a present! That was the kind of a worker Maggie was.”

  I suppressed a chuckle with difficulty. This whispered-in-the-dark romance of the conscientious soldier and able electrician turned into just as able and conscientious a burglar was the one touch needed to make the night complete. It washed away the film of horror in my mind and brought me back to normal.

  “Night or two lyter I was takin’ a dye off an’ we went to the theayter. ‘’Ow do you like that pin, ’Arry?’ whispers Maggie an’ shoots a look at a sparkler in the toff’s tie next me. ‘Ain’t it pretty,’ syes I, ’eedlessly.’ ‘’Ere it is!’ syes Maggie when we get ’ome.

  “‘Now, Maggie,’ I syes, ‘I told you I don’t want you to work no more. Ain’t I the good provider I promised? Can’t I get all the pins I want, myself? All I want, Maggie, is a snug, comfortable, ’appy ’ome when I come back from a ’ard night’s work an’ my wife to welcome me. I won’t ’ave you workin’, Maggie!”

  “‘Righto, ’Arry,’ syes she.

  “But, Captain, it wasn’t all right. It got so that when we went out together I didn’t dare to look at a man’s tie or ’is watch or nothin’. I couldn’t even stand an’ admire things in shops. Sure’s I did, there when we got ’ome or the next dye would be the things I’d admired. An’ Maggie so proud like an’ pleased she’d got ’em for me that I ’adn’t the ’eart—Oh, it was love all right, but—Oh, ’ell!

  “She’d be waitin’ for me when I got ’ome. But if I’d wyke up from sleep before my time, she was out. An’ when I’d wyke up after she got back, first thing I’d see was laces, or a fur coat, or a ring or two lyde out on the tyble.

  “She’d been workin’ again!

  “‘Maggie, I’d sye, ‘it ain’t right. It ’urts my pride. An’ ow’ll it be when kiddies come? With their daddy out workin’ all night an’ sleepin’ while their mother’s out workin’ all dye an’ sleepin’ while their daddy’s workin’—’ell, Maggie, they might as well be h’orphants!’

  “But ’twas no good, Captain. She loved ’er work more than she did me, or maybe she just couldn’t tell us apart.

  “An’ at last I ’ad to leave ’er. Fair broke my ’eart, it did. I loved ’er an’ my ’ome. But I just couldn’t stand it.

  “So I come to America. Me, King Cat ’Arry, an exile because my wife couldn’t stop workin’.

  “Did well, too. But I wasn’t ’appy. One dye I was out in the country an’ I ran across a big wall. Fair built to tempt me, it was. After while I come to a pair of gates, iron and a guard house behind ’em. Gates not barred. Solid.

  “‘Goramighty!’ syes I to myself. ‘It must be the Duke of New York lives ’ere.’ I reconnoitered. That wall must ’ave been five miles long. I ’id around an’ that night I climbed on top of it. Nothin’ but trees an’ far-off lights shinin’ as though it was a big castle.

  “First thing I look for is wires. There was a wire just at the h’inner edge of the wall. Careful I was not to touch it. Charged, I guessed it. I looked over an’ took a chance at shootin’ my flash. There was two more wires down at the base just where any one would land on ’em if they shinned down the wall. An’ it was a twelve-foot drop.

  “Anybody else would have been discouraged. But they didn’t nyme me King Cat for nothin’. Took a leap, I did. Landed soft as a cat. Sneaked through the trees like a weasel. Came up to the big ’ouse.

  “Saw a ’ole lot of queer people goin’ in an’ around. After while most of the lights went out. Swarmed up a place I’d spotted an’ found myself in a big room. An’ Cripes, the stuff in that room! It fair myde my ’ed swim. I picked up a few tysty bits, an’ then I noticed something funny. There wasn’t no doors to that room! ‘’Ow the ’ell do they get in?’ I asked myself. An’ then I looked around at the windows I’d come through.”

  “Goramighty, Captain, I fair fell out of my shirt! There wasn’t no windows. They’d disappeared. There wasn’t nothin’ but wall!”

  “An’ then a big light blazed up an’ out of the walls come about a dozen men with ropes an’ a big man after them. I shriveled when he turned them h’eyes of ’is on me. Scared! If I’d nearly fell out of my shirt before, now I was slippin’ from my pants.

  “Well, it was this bloody bloke Satan, y’understand. ’E just stood scorchin’ me. Then ’e started to ask me questions.

  “Captain, I told ’im everythin’. Just like ’e was Gord. ’E ’ad me fair kippered. Told ’im all about bein’ an electric
ian, an’ my new work, an’ about Maggie. Just as I been tellin’ you, only more so. ’Strewth, sir, ’e ’ad my life from the time I was out of swaddles.

  “’E laughed. That awful laugh. You’ve ’eard it. ’Ow, ’e laughed! An’ next thing I knows I’m standin’ at ’is table an’ tellin’ it all over to Consardine.

  “An’ ’ere I’ve been ever since, Cap’n Kirkham. ’E put me under sentence of death, sir, an’ sooner or later ’e’ll do for me. Unless ’e’s done for first. But ’e finds me very useful, ’e does, an’ ’e won’t do for me as long as I’m that to ’im. Also ’e syes I entertain ’em. Fair prize ’og for entertainment ’e is! Gets me in there with Consardine an’ others and mykes me tell ’em about my work, an’ ambitions an’ my sacredest sentiments. All about Maggie, too. Everything about ’er, sir.

  “Gord, ’ow I ’ate ’im! The muckin’, bloody, blue-eyed son of a mangy she-dog! But ’e’s got me! ’E’s got me! Like ’e’s got you!”

  The little man’s voice had risen dangerously high. The shrill edge of hysteria was beginning to creep into it. All along I had sensed the tension under which he was laboring. But aside from the welcome diversion of his unintentionally droll story, I had realized the necessity of letting him run along and pour out his heart to me. Mine was perhaps the first sympathetic ear he had encountered since his imprisonment in this place. Certainly I was the only friend, and it must have seemed to him that I had dropped down from Heaven. I was deeply touched by the swiftness with which he had flown to me as soon as he had recognized me. That he had run grave risks to do this seemed sure.

  “Quiet, Harry! Quiet!” I whispered, patting his hand. “You’re not alone now. Between the two of us, we ought to find some way to get you free.”

  “No!” I could almost see the despairing shake of his head. “You don’t know ’im, sir. There wouldn’t be a bit of use in my gettin’ away. ’E’d ’ave me in no time. No. I can’t get away while ’e’s alive.”

  “How did you know where I was? How did you find me?” I asked.

  “Come through the walls,” he said. “There ain’t an honest stairs or door in this ’ole place. Nothin’ but passages in the walls, an’ panels that slide, an’ lifts all over, thick as the seeds in a pumpkin. Satan, ’e’s the only one that knows the ’ole combination. Consardine, ’e’s ’is right ’and man ’ere, knows some of ’em. But I know more than Consardine. I ought to. Been ’ere nigh on two years now, I ’ave. Never once been out. ’E’s warned me. If I go outside ’e does for me. Been creepin’, creepin’, creepin’, round like a rat in the walls whenever I got the chance. A lot of wires to look after, too, an’ that learned me. I don’t know all—but I know a ’ell of a lot. I was close behind you and Consardine all the time.”

  “What is Satan?” I asked. “I mean, where does he come from—admitting it’s not from Hell?”

  “I think he’s part Rooshian and part Chink. ’E’s got Chink in ’im, sure. Where ’e was before ’e come ’ere, I don’t know. I don’t dare ask questions. But I found out ’e took this plyce about ten years ago. An’ the people who tore it apart inside an’ fixed up the panels an’ passages were all Chinks.”

  “But you can’t look after a place like this all by yourself, Harry,” I considered. “And I can’t see Satan giving many the chance to learn the combination.”

  “’E lets me use the kehjt slyves,” he answered astonishingly.

  “That’s twice tonight I’ve heard their name,” I said. “What are they?”

  “Them?” there was loathing and horror in his voice. “They fair give you the creeps. ’E feeds ’em with the kehjt. Opium, coke, ’asheesh—they’re mother’s milk compared to it. Gives each one of ’em ’is or ’er particular Paradise—till they wake up. Murder’s the least of what they’ll do to get another shot. Them fellows in the white nightgowns that stood on the steps with their ropes, was some of ’em. You’ve ’eard of the Old Man of the Mountains who used to send out the assassins. Feller told me about ’em in the war.

  “Satan’s gyme’s the syme. One drink of it an’ they can’t do without it. Then he gets ’em believin’ if they get killed for ’im ’e can stick their souls where they get forever the ’appiness the kehjt gives ’em ’ere only occasionally. Then! They’ll do anything for Satan! Anything!”

  I broached the question I had long been waiting to ask.

  “Do you know a girl named Eve? Big brown eyes and—”

  “Eve Demerest,” he answered. “Poor kid! ’E’s got ’er all right. Gord, what a shyme! ’E’ll drag ’er down to ’ell, an’ she’s an angel, a—Careful! Smoke up!”

  His hand jerked from mine. I heard a faint sound from the opposite wall. I drew upon my cigar, and stretched and sighed. Again the sound, the veriest ghost of one.

  “Who’s there?” I called, sharply.

  A light flashed up and by the wall, beside an opened panel, stood Thomas, the valet.

  “Did you call, sir?” he asked. His eyes glanced swiftly around the room, then came to rest on mine, and there was suspicion in them.

  “No,” I said, indifferently.

  “I am sure the bell rang, sir. I was half asleep—” he hesitated.

  “Then you were dreaming,” I told him.

  “I’ll just fix your bed for you, sir, while I’m here.”

  “Do,” I said. “When I’ve finished my cigar I’ll turn in.”

  He made it up and drew a handkerchief from his pocket. A coin dropped upon the floor at his feet. As he stooped to pick it up it slipped from his fingers and rolled beneath the bed. He got down upon his knees and felt about. It was very neatly done. I had been wondering whether he would boldly look under the bed or devise some such polite stratagem.

  “Will you have a drink, Thomas?” I asked him, cordially, as he stood up, once more searching the room with his eyes.

  “Thank you, sir, I will,” he poured himself a rather stiff one. “If you don’t mind I’ll get some plain water.”

  “Go ahead,” I bade him. He walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. I continued to smoke serenely. He emerged, satisfied apparently that there was no one there. He took his drink and went to the panel.

  “I hope you will sleep, sir.”

  “I shall,” I answered cheerfully. “Turn out the light as you go.”

  He vanished, but I was certain that he was still behind the wall, listening. And after a little while I yawned loudly, arose, walked over to the bed and making what noise I could naturally, turned in.

  For a little while I lay awake, turning over the situation in the light of what Barker had told me. A castle with no stairs or “honest doors.” …A labyrinth of secret passages and sliding panels. And the little thief creeping, creeping through the walls, denied the open, patiently marking down one by one their secrets. Well, there was a rare ally, indeed, if I should need one.

  And Satan! Dealing out Paradise by retail to these mysterious slaves of his potent drug. Promising Paradise to those others by his seven shining footsteps. What was his aim? What did he get out of it?

  Well, I would probably know more this afternoon after I had obeyed his second summons.

  And Eve? Damn that prying Thomas for interrupting just as I was finding out something about her.

  Well, I would play Satan’s game—with a few reservations.

  I went to sleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When I woke up, Thomas was at the closet selecting a suit. I heard the taps running in the bath. How long he had been in the room I could not tell. No doubt he had made a thorough search of it. Lazily I wondered what it had been that had aroused his suspicions. I looked at my watch. It had stopped.

  “Hello, Thomas,” I hailed him. “What’s the time?”

  He popped out of the wardrobe like a startled rabbit.

  “It’s one o’clock. I wouldn’t have disturbed you, sir, but the Master is expecting you to breakfast with him at two.”

  “Good.” I made for the bath. As
I splashed around, the half-formed plan upon which I had gone to sleep suddenly crystallized. I would try my luck at the footprints at once. But—I would not go the distance. Not this time. I would step upon two of them and no more. There was much I wanted to know before running the risk of delivering myself over to Satan body and soul.

  What I hoped was that only one of the two would be his. At the worst I would incur a year’s bondage. Well, I did not mind that so much either.

  I had, in fact, determined to match my wits against Satan rather than my luck.

  I did not want to escape him. My keenest desire was to be incorporated among his entourage, infernal or not. Barker gave me a unique advantage. Out of it might well come the opportunity to tumble this slanting blue-eyed devil off his black throne, break his power and—well, why mince words—loot him.

  Or, to put it more politely, recover from him a thousand fold what he had so casually stripped me of.

  That had been twenty thousand dollars. To wipe off the debt at that rate I must strip Satan of twenty millions—

  That would be a good game indeed. I laughed.

  “You seem quite gay, sir,” said Thomas.

  “The birds, Thomas,” I said, “are singing everywhere. Everywhere, Thomas. Even here.”

  “Yes, sir,” he answered, looking at me dubiously.

  It was a quarter of two when I had finished. The valet walked me into the hall and out again, stopping the lift this time at a much higher level. Again I emerged into a small antechamber whose one door was guarded by two tall slaves.

  Passing through it, I was dazzled by a flood of sunshine. Then the sunshine seemed to gather itself and center upon the girl who had half risen from her seat at the table as I entered. It was Eve, but a far different Eve than she who had so ably aided in my kidnaping the night before. Then I had thought her extraordinarily pretty; now I realized how inadequate was the adjective.

  The girl was beautiful. Her clear brown eyes regarded me gravely, studying me with a curious intentness. Her proud little head had the poise of a princess, and the sunlight playing in her hair traced a ruddy golden coronet within it; her mouth was sweeter even than I had found it.