“Well, Jack turned up, and we got out all right; and Jack, poor fellow! was in the best spirits. He said it was the biggest lark he had ever enjoyed, and he did nothing but laugh at my fears. I told him about the priest, and said I was certain we had been discovered, but he made nothing of it.
“When we got out we were in an awful crowd, and our donkeys could scarcely move. We had just cleared the thickest of the mob, and I was hoping we were safe, when I noticed the priest, who had already observed me in the Mosque, detach himself from the crowd and move swiftly towards us. It was now nearly dark. I saw that he wanted to speak and, not knowing why I did it, reined in my donkey. He came up to my side. In his left hand he held a parchment scroll, and as I took it I saw his right hand steal down to his belt. There was the flash of steel. In an instant I should have been stabbed. I do not know what came over me; there was a ringing in my ears, and my head seemed to swim. I leant quickly over the donkey and plunged my long hunting-knife with all my force into the man’s heart. He fell without a groan. I touched Jack on the arm. We galloped madly and for our lives. The mob followed us, but we outpaced them, and at last their howls and shouts grew fainter and fainter behind us. We reached Jeddah in safety, got on board, and steamed away with all possible speed.
“ ‘Why in the name of Heaven did you kill him, Archie?’ said Jack to me then.
“ ‘He would have killed us if we had not killed him,’ was my reply, but while I spoke there was a dead-weight at my heart, and wherever I turned I seemed to see the dying eyes of the man, and to hear the thud of his body as he fell to the ground.
“Have you got the parchment he put into your hand?’ continued Jack.
“I had. He took it from me and opened it. It had some writing on it in Arabic, which we could both read and speak. Jack copied it out in English and here it is.”
As he spoke Archie produced from his pocket-book a piece of parchment and an old envelope, and read as follows:—
“The vengeance of Mahomet rests upon the two infidels and unbelievers who have profaned the Prophet. Their days are numbered, and before the sun rise on the Festival of Eed-Al-Kurban in the month of Dsul Heggeh they will be no more “
“There,” said Archie standing up, “that is what was written; and now, Dr. Kennedy, that I have had courage to tell you my story, I want to ask you a question. Do you think it is within the bounds of probability, or even possibility, that poor Fletcher’s sudden death could have had any connection with this affair?”
“Absolutely out of the question,” was my first remark, but then I paused to think the situation over.
“You certainly did a mad thing,” I said then; “not only did you profane the religious rights of these fanatics, but you, in especial, killed one of their priests. Under such circumstances there is little doubt that they would do much to compass their revenge, but that they would follow you both to England seems on the face of it ridiculous. No, no, Archie; it is an unpleasant business, and I am sorry you did not tell me before, but that Jack’s death has anything to do with that paper is the wildest fiction.”
“I do not believe you,” he answered. “I am firmly convinced that the Mueddin whom I killed will be revenged. Jack is already dead and the words of the prophecy will come true, with regard to me. I shall not live after sunrise on the festival of Eed-Al-Kurban, whenever that is.”
While he was speaking Vivien had remained absolutely quiet. She went up to him now, and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Why do you touch me?” he said, starting away from her. “I have that man’s blood on my hands.”
“You did it in self-defence,” she answered.
“But we must not think of that at all now. Father”—she turned to me—”I agree with Archie: I believe that his life is in grave danger. We must save him; that is our present business. Nothing else can be thought of until his life is safe.”
“I have one thing more to say,” continued Archie. “Last night I saw one of the Mueddins in London. I knew him; I could not mistake him; he resembled the priest I had killed. He was standing under a lamppost, opposite St. George’s Hospital. He fixed his eyes on my face. I believe he is the man who compassed poor Jack’s death, and mine is only a matter of time.”
“Come, come, this is nonsense,” I answered. “Fletcher was not murdered.”
“What did he die of?” asked Archie, gloomily. “You say yourself that he was thoroughly healthy; he was in the prime of youth. Do healthy men in the prime of youth die suddenly without any discoverable cause? I ask you a straight question.”
“The death was a strange one,” I could not help replying.
“Very strange,” echoed Vivien, “strange enough,” she added, “to account for Archie’s fears. The Moslems have threatened the deaths of both Archie and Jack. Jack is dead. Archie is the most guilty man of the two, for he killed their priest. They will certainly not leave a stone unturned to kill him.”
“Yes, my days are numbered,” said Forbes; “there is no getting over the fact. Vivien, our engagement must come to an end, and in any case I feel now that I have no right to marry you.”
Vivien’s brows contracted in a nervous frown.
“We will not talk of our marriage at present,” she said, with some impatience; “but why should we not consult Dr. Khan?”
“Dr. Khan!” I cried. “Do you mean the Persian?”
“Yes; why should not we all three go to him at once? He knows much more about these Arabs and their queer ways and their sorceries than anyone else in London.”
“Upon my word, it is a capital idea,” I said. “Khan does know strange things, and is up to all the lore of the East. He is in some ways one of the cleverest fellows I know. He does not practice, but he has gone in for chemical research and forensic medicine as a hobby. There is no one in London whose opinion would be of more value in a difficult case like the present, and, being a Mohammedan by religion, he can help us with the side issues of this most extraordinary affair. Archie, you have got to pull yourself together, my boy, if for no other reason, for Vivien’s sake. Come, we will go down to Professor Khan’s chambers in Gray’s Inn at once, and tell him the whole story.”
“And Dr. Khan is a special friend of mine,” said Vivien, brightly. “Oh, now that we are doing something to help you, Archie, I can live.”
I crossed the room to order the carriage. As I did so I heard Archie say to her, in a low tone:—
“And you love me still?”
“I love you still,” was her reply.
He drew himself up; the colour returned to his ashen cheeks and the light to his eyes.
In half an hour we were all driving to Hussein Khan’s chambers, in Gray’s Inn. When we reached them I rang the outer bell. It seemed ages before anyone came. At last the door was opened by an old housekeeper, in his shirt sleeves. He recognised me, and nodded when I spoke to him.
“Is Dr. Khan in?” I asked.
“Yes, sir; you know your way,” was the answer.
We hurried up the uncarpeted stairs to the second floor, and pressed the electric bell. There was the sound of the latch being drawn back inside; I pushed the panel, and we all three entered; the door closed automatically behind us, and stretched on the sofa at the far end of a long room, in a loose dressing-gown and slippers, lay the Persian. He was smoking a long opium pipe. The moment his eyes rested upon Vivien he put down the pipe and stood up. He looked us all over with heavy, lustreless eyes, and nodded slowly. He was evidently only half awake.
“I am sorry to disturb you, Professor,” I said, apologetically. “You know my daughter, of course?”
Vivien came forward and offered her hand. Khan bent over it, and then raised it respectfully to his lips.
“I have not forgotten Miss Vivien,” he said.
“I have come here to-day because I am in great trouble, and because I want your advice,” she said at once. “It has to do with this gentleman. May I introduce him? Mr. Forbes—Dr. Khan.”
&nb
sp; Dr. Khan slowly turned his heavy eyes in Archie’s direction. He looked him all over from head to foot, and then, rather to my astonishment, I observed a lightning look of intelligence and remarkable interest fill his eyes.
“Has the trouble anything to do with Mr. Forbes?” he said, glancing at Vivien.
“It has.”
“Then I believe I may help you. Sit down, sir, pray; and tell me at once what is the matter.”
Archie told his strange tale. While he spoke I closely watched the effect on my friend; but, once the narrative had begun, the expression on the Persian’s face never altered. After that first glance of interest, it had settled down into a stolid, Oriental indifference.
“What do you think of it all?” I said, as Archie ceased to speak.
“Let me examine the parchment, please,” he replied, with deliberate composure.
Archie gave it to him. He took it and read it over and over again, muttering the words to himself.
“You could find no cause for your friend’s death?”
“None.”
“You are quite certain, Mr. Forbes, that the man you saw yesterday outside St. George’s Hospital was one of the Mueddins whom you had already noticed in the Mosque?”
“Ouite.”
“Well, my dear friend, I am sorry to say it looks a very queer business.”
“And do you really believe that Jack’s death was the work of the Mueddin?” I cried, aghast at his words.
“No; I only say that it is quite possible. I recall a similar case; the same thing may happen again. The Arabians, upon whose early researches the whole science of Europe was founded, possess, of course, secrets unknown to our Western scientists of the present day. I have seen some strange things done by them. The act of sacrilege you both committed was one of the gravest offences possible, but it is just within the realm of possibility that such a crime might have been looked over; but as you, my friend, killed one of the priests as well, the Mohammedans whom you so deeply insulted would not leave a stone unturned to compass your end. The marvel is that you escaped immediate death. But now let us quite clearly sum up the position as it stands.”
As he spoke the Persian stood up. He remained quiet for a moment thinking deeply, then he crossed the room and took down a volume in Arabic from a shelf. With pencil and paper he began working some calculations, referring now and then to an almanac, and once to a map of Asia.
We all three watched him in intense silence. After a moment or two he looked up.
“Assuming for the sake of argument that the Mueddin whom you saw last night has undertaken this work of revenge,” he continued, “the position is this. Owing to the Arabs’ year being a lunar one, the festival of Eed-Al-Kurban does not occur at the same date each year. I see, however, that it will commence according to our calendar to-morrow, the 8th of June, at daybreak, or Subh. At daybreak or Subh the first call to prayer is given by the Mueddin from the Mosque. Now, Mecca is exactly 40 degrees longitude east of Greenwich, and, therefore, day will break with them two hours and forty minutes earlier than with us— that is, at seven minutes past one o’clock to-morrow morning. Of course, the Mueddin, whom you believe to have followed you, would know all this. And as, according to the words on the parchment, you are both to be dead before sunrise on the festival of Eed-Al-Kurban, so also, failing the fulfillment of this vow, you are perfectly safe when that hour has passed.”
“Then you believe that Archie is in grave danger until after one o’clock to-morrow morning?” exclaimed Vivien.
“That is my belief,” answered Dr. Khan, bowing to her.
“But all this is most unsatisfactory,” I cried, getting up. “Surely, Dr. Khan, even granted that it is as you say, we can easily protect Forbes. He has but to stay quietly at home until the hour of danger is past. These Arabs are not magicians: they cannot hurt a man in his own house, for instance?”
“How was it your friend died?” said the Persian, looking full into Archie’s face.
“That I cannot say,” was the reply.
Dr. Khan shrugged his shoulders.
“You declare that the Arabs are not magicians,” he said, turning to me, “but that is just the point. They are! I can tell you things which I have seen with my own eyes which happened in Arabia that you would find hard to believe.”
“Very likely,” I answered, “but they require the Oriental stage and surroundings for the exhibition of the so-called phenomena. They cannot use magic within the four-mile radius of Charing Cross, under the vigilant eye of the Metropolitan police.”
Dr. Khan did not immediately answer. He remained motionless in deep thought.
“What do you intend to do to-night?” he said then, turning to Archie.
“I have made no plans,” was the low, indifferent reply. “I am so certain of my impending end,” he continued, “that nothing seems to make any difference.”
“You must come home with us, Archie,” cried Vivien. “Dr. Khan declares that after one o’clock you are safe. Until one o’clock you must be with us; and suppose, Dr. Khan,” she added, “you come too? Suppose we spend this momentous evening together? What do you say, Father?”
Before I could answer the Persian said, slowly:—
“I was going to ask you to invite me. Yes, I will come, with pleasure.”
“One more question,” said Vivien; “you do firmly believe that Archie will be safe after one o’clock to-morrow morning?”
“Yes; the words on the parchment point distinctly to his death on or before the commencement of the festival. The Mohammedans keep their vows to the letter, or not at all.”
As he spoke Dr. Khan got up slowly, went into his bedroom, and reappeared ready dressed for the evening. It was already nearly seven o’clock. We got into my carriage and returned to Harley Street. I sent a servant for Archie’s evening dress to the hotel, and at eight o’clock we found ourselves seated round the dinner-table. It was a strange and silent meal, and I do not think we any of us had much appetite.
I am naturally not a superstitious man, but matters were sufficiently queer and out-of-the-way to excite a certain foreboding which I could neither account for nor dismiss. The Persian looked utterly calm and indifferent, as betokened his race. But I noticed that from time to time he fixed his deep-set, brilliant eyes on Forbes’s haggard face, as if he would read him through.
The night happened to be the hottest of that year. There was not a breath of air, and the heat inside the house was stilling.
When dinner was over, Vivien suggested that we should go into my smoking-room. The house was a corner one, and the windows of the smoking-room were on the ground floor, and looked into a side street.
She seated herself by Archie’s side. He took little or no notice of her. Khan continued to give him anxious glances from time to time. Vivien was restless, often rising from her seat.
“Sit down, Miss Vivien,” said Dr. Kahn, suddenly. “I know exactly what you feel, but the time will soon pass. Let me tell you something interesting.”
She shook her head. It was almost beyond her power to listen. The gloomy face of her lover, the slightly bent figure which had been so athletic and upright, the change in the whole man, absorbed her entire attention.
“Save him—give him back to me if you can,” was the unspoken wish in her eyes, as they fixed themselves for a moment on Dr. Khan’s face.
He gave her a strange smile, and then turning addressed me. He was the most brilliant talker I ever met, and on this occasion he roused all the power of his great intellect to make his conversation interesting. He related some of his own experiences in the East, and made many marvellous revelations with regard to modern science.
Eleven and twelve chimed from a neighbouring church clock. Soon after midnight the Persian, who had been silent for several moments, said, suddenly, “During this last hour of suspense, I should like to put out the electric light.”
As he spoke he crossed the room, and was about to switch off the current when o
ur attention was suddenly attracted to Vivien. She had sunk back in her seat with a deep sigh. The intense heat of the room had been too much for her.
“Air! Air!” I cried.
Archie laid his hand on the heavy sash of one of the windows and raised it. There seemed to be a hush everywhere—I had never known so still a night. But just at that instant I saw—or fancied I saw—the tassel of the blind move, as though the air had quivered.
The next instant Khan uttered a sharp cry.
“He is there—he has done it—I thought so!”
The words died on his lips, for Archie Forbes reeled, clutched wildly at the lintel of the window, and then with a heavy thud lay like a log on the floor.
I had always looked upon the Persian as a man of exceptional promptitude and great strength of character, but never for a moment had I realized his lightning grasp of an emergency.
“Artificial respiration—don’t lose a moment. Take his chest, man; we shall save him!” he cried. As he spoke he leapt through the open window, vaulted the railings, and was in the street.
The shock acted upon Vivien like a charm. With her assistance I tore open Forbes’s collar and shirt, and began applying artificial respiration with all my might. In less than a minute the Persian came back. He carried a small box in his hand.
Science Fiction by Gaslight: A History and Anthology of Science Fiction in the Popular Magazines, 1891-1911 Page 40
