by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER XXIV. THE SCREEN OF GOLD
Paul Harley raised his aching head and looked wearily about him. Atfirst, as might be expected, he thought that he was dreaming. He layupon a low divan and could only suppose that he had been transported toIndia.
Slowly, painfully, memory reasserted itself and he realized that hehad been rendered unconscious by the blow of a sandbag or some similarweapon while telephoning from the station master's office at LowerClaybury. How long a time had elapsed since that moment he was unable tojudge, for his watch had been removed from his pocket. He stared abouthim with a sort of fearful interest. He lay in a small barely furnishedroom having white distempered walls, wholly undecorated. Its fewappointments were Oriental, and the only window which it boasted was setso high as to be well out of reach. Moreover, it was iron-barred, andat the moment admitted no light, whether because it did not communicatewith the outer world, or because night was fallen, he was unable totell.
There were two doors in the room, one of very massive construction, andthe other a smaller one. The place was dimly lighted by a brass lanternwhich hung from the ceiling. Harley stood up, staggered slightly, andthen sat down again.
"My God," he groaned and raised his hand to his head.
For a few moments he remained seated, victim of a deadly nausea. Then,clenching his jaws grimly, again he stood up, and this time succeeded inreaching the heavy door.
As he had supposed, it was firmly locked, and a glance was sufficientto show him that his unaided effort could never force it. He turned hisattention to the smaller door, which opened at his touch, revealing asleeping apartment not unlike a monk's cell, adjoining which was a tinybathroom. Neither rooms boasted windows, both being lighted by brasslanterns.
Harley examined them and their appointments with the utmost care, andthen returned again to the outer room, one feature of which, and quitethe most remarkable, he had reserved for special investigation.
This was a massive screen of gilded iron scroll work, which occupiednearly the whole of one end of the room. Beyond the screen hung aviolet-coloured curtain of Oriental fabric; but so closely woven was themetal design that although he could touch this curtain with his fingerat certain points, it proved impossible for him to move it aside in anyway.
He noted that its lower fringe did not quite touch the door. By stoopingdown, he could see a few feet into some room beyond. It was in darkness,however, and beyond the fact that it was carpeted with a rich Persianrug, he learned but little from his scrutiny. The gilded screen wassolid and immovable.
Nodding his head grimly, Harley felt in his pockets for pipe and pouch,wondering if these, too, had been taken from him. They had not, however,and the first nausea of his awakening having passed, he filled andlighted his briar and dropped down upon the divan to consider hisposition.
That it was fairly desperate was a fact he was unable to hide fromhimself, but at least he was still alive, which was a matter at once forcongratulation and surprise.
He had noticed before, in raising his hand to his head, that hisforehead felt cold and wet, and now, considering the matter closely,he came to the conclusion that an attempt had been made to aid hisrecovery, by some person or persons who must have retired at the momentthat he had shown signs of returning consciousness.
His salvation, then, was not accidental but deliberate. He wondered whatawaited him and why his life had been spared. That he had walked blindlyinto a trap prepared for him by that mysterious personality knownas Fire-Tongue, he no longer could doubt. Intense anxiety and anegotistical faith in his own acumen had led him to underestimate thecleverness of his enemies, a vice from which ordinarily he was free.
From what hour they had taken a leading interest in his movements,he would probably never know, but that they had detected Paul Harleybeneath the vendor of "Old Moore's Almanac" was certain enough. What afool he had been!
He reproached himself bitterly. Ordinary common sense should havetold him that the Hindu secretary had given those instructions to thechauffeur in the courtyard of the Savoy Hotel for his, Paul Harley's,special benefit. It was palpable enough now. He wondered how he had everfallen into such a trap, and biting savagely upon his pipe, he strove toimagine what ordeal lay ahead of him.
So his thoughts ran, drifting from his personal danger, which he knew tobe great, to other matters, which he dreaded to consider, because theymeant far more to him than his own life. Upon these bitter reflections aslight sound intruded, the first which had disturbed the stillness abouthim since the moment of his awakening.
Someone had entered the room beyond the gilded screen, and now a faintlight showed beneath the fringe of the curtain. Paul Harley sat quitestill, smoking and watching.
He had learned to face the inevitable with composure, and now,apprehending the worst, he waited, puffing at his pipe. Presently hedetected the sound of someone crossing the room toward him, or rathertoward the screen. He lay back against the mattress which formed theback of the divan, and watched the gap below the curtain.
Suddenly he perceived a pair of glossy black boots. Their wearer wasevidently standing quite near the screen, possibly listening. Harley hadan idea that some second person stood immediately behind the first. Ofthis idea he presently had confirmation. He was gripping the stem of hispipe very tightly and any one who could have seen him sitting there musthave perceived that although his face wore an unusual pallor, he wascomposed and entirely master of himself.
A voice uttered his name:
"Mr. Paul Harley."
He could not be sure, but he thought it was the voice of Ormuz Khan'ssecretary. He drew his pipe from between his teeth, and:
"Yes, what do you want with me?" he asked.
"Your attention, Mr. Harley, for a few moments, if you feel sufficientlyrecovered."
"Pray proceed," said Harley.
Of the presence of a second person beyond the screen he was now assured,for he had detected the sound of whispered instructions; and sinkinglower and lower upon the divan, he peered surreptitiously under theborder of the curtain, believing it to be more than probable that hismovements were watched.
This led to a notable discovery. A pair of gray suede shoes becamevisible a few inches behind the glossy black boots--curiously smallshoes with unusually high heels. The identity of their wearer was beyonddispute to the man who had measured that delicate foot.
Ormuz Khan stood behind the screen!
