by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER VII
THE RING
As the cab containing Baron Hague drove off along Park Lane, the Baronheaved a sigh of relief. This incomprehensible Severac Bablon who haddescended like a simoon upon London was a perturbing presence--a breathof hot fear that parched the mind! And the house in Park Lane, too,recently had been made the scene of a unique outrage by this mostsingular robber to afford any sense of security.
The Baron was glad to be away from that house, and, as the cab turnedthe corner by the Park, was glad to be away from Park Lane. A man withseveral thousand pounds' worth of diamonds upon him may be excused acertain nervousness.
Baron Hague was not intimately acquainted with London; but it seemed tohim, now, that the taxi-driver was pursuing an unfamiliar route. Had hemade some error? Perhaps that fool Adeler had directed him wrongly.
The Baron took up the speaking-tube.
"Hi!" he called. "Hi, you! Is it the Hotel Astoria you take me?"
No notice did the man vouchsafe; looking neither to right nor to left,but driving straight ahead. Baron Hague snorted with anger. Again heraised the tube.
A cloud of something seemed to strike him in the face.
He dropped the tube, and reached out towards a window. Vaguely hewondered to find it immovable. The lights of the thoroughfare--the soundof the traffic, were fading away, farther, farther, to a remotedistance. He clutched at the cushions--slipping--slipping----
His next impression was of a cell-like room, the floor composed ofblocks of red granite, the walls smoothly plastered. An unglazed windowmade a black patch in one wall; and upon a big table covered with booksand papers stood a queer-looking lamp. It was apparently silver, and inthe form of a clutching hand. Within the hand rested a globe of light,above which was attached a coloured shade. The table was black withgreat age, and a carven chair, equally antique, stood by it upon acoarse fibre mat. The place was the abode of an anchorite, save for arich Damascene curtain draped before a recess at one end.
The Baron found himself to be in a heavily cushioned chair, gazingacross at this table--whereat was seated a very dark and singularlyhandsome man who wore a garment like an Arab's robe.
This stranger had his large, luminous eyes set fixedly upon the Baron'sface.
"I am dreaming!"
Baron Hague stood up, unsteadily, raising his hand to his head.
There was a faint perfume in the air of the room; and now Hague saw thatthe man who sat so attentively watching him was smoking a yellow-wrappedcigarette. His brain grew clearer. Memory began to return; and he knewthat he was not dreaming. Frantically he thrust his hand into the insidebreast pocket.
"Do not trouble yourself, Baron," the speaker's voice was low andmusical; "the packet of diamonds lies here!"
And as he spoke the man at the table held up the missing packet.
Hague started forward, fists clenched.
"You have robbed me! Gott! you shall be sorry for this! Who the devilare you, eh?"
"Sit down, Baron," was the reply. "I am Severac Bablon!"
Baron Hague paused, in the centre of the room, staring, with a sort ofmadness, at this notorious free-booter--this suave, devilishly handsomeenemy of Capital.
Then he turned and leapt to the door. It was locked. He faced about.Severac Bablon smoked.
"Sit down, Baron," he reiterated.
The head of the great Berlin banking house looked about for a weapon.None offered. The big, carven, chair was too heavy to wield. With hisfingers twitching, he approached again, closer to the table.
Severac Bablon stood up, keeping his magnetic gaze upon theBaron--seeming to pierce to his brain.
"For the last time--sit down, Baron!"
The words were spoken quietly enough, and yet they seemed to clamourupon the hearer's brain--to strike upon his consciousness as though itwere a gong. Again Hague paused, pulled up short by the force of thosestrange eyes. He weighed his chances.
From all that he had heard and read of Severac Bablon, his accompliceswere innumerable. Where this cell might be situate he could form noidea, nor by whom or what surrounded. Severac Bablon apparently wasunarmed (save that his glance was a sword to stay almost any man);therefore he had others near to guard him. Baron Hague decided that toresort to personal violence at that juncture would be the height ofunwisdom.
He sat down.
"Now," said Severac Bablon, in turn resuming his seat, "let us considerthis matter of the million pounds!"
"I will not----" began Hague.
Severac Bablon checked him, with a gesture.
"You will not contribute to a fund designed to aid in the defence ofEngland? That is unjust. You reap large profits from England, Baron. Tomention but one instance--you must draw quite twenty thousand pounds perannum from the firm of Romilis and Imer, Hatton Garden!"
Baron Hague stared in angry bewilderment.
"I have nothing to do with Romilis and Imer!"
"No? Then you can have no objection to my placing in the proper handsparticulars--which, you will find, have been abstracted from yournotebook--of the manner in which this parcel of diamonds reached HattonGarden! I have the letter from your agent in Cape Town, addressed to thefirm, and I have one signed 'Geo. Imer,' addressed to _you_! Finally, Iam a telephone subscriber, and De Beers' number is Bank 5740! Shall Iring up the London office in the morning and draw their attention tothis parcel, and to the interesting correspondence bearing upon it?"
Baron Hague's large features grew suddenly pinched in appearance. Heleant forward, his hands resting upon his knees. Roles were reversed.The great banker found himself seeking for a defence--one that mightsatisfy the rogue for whom the police of Europe were seeking!
"Why do you make a victim of _me_?" he gasped. "Antony Elschild is----"
"Mr. Antony Elschild is a member of one of the greatest Jewish familiesin Europe, you would say? And his interests are wholly British? He hasrecognised that, Baron. I have his cheque for fifty thousand pounds!"
"For _how much_?"
"For fifty thousand pounds! Should you care to see it? I am forwardingit immediately to the _Gleaner_. Mr. Elschild is my friend. He it waswho proposed that this fund be started by the great capitalists so as tostimulate smaller subscribers. His name is never absent from such lists,Baron."
The Baron gulped.
"In Berlin--they would say I was mad!"
"And what will they say in Berlin if I call up De Beers in the morning?Which reputation is preferable, Baron?"
Hague sat staring, fascinated, at the man in the long robe, who smokedyellow cigarettes and filled the air with their peculiar fumes. Itseemed to him, suddenly, that he had taken leave of his senses, and thatthis cell--this pungent perfume--this man with the soul-searching eyes,the incisive voice--all were tricks of his senses.
What had he preserved the secret of his connection with the HattonGarden firm for all these long years--each year determining to quitwhilst safe, but each year lured on by the prospect of vaster gain--onlyto lay it at the feet of this Severac Bablon, who would ruin him?
Faintly, sounds of occasional traffic penetrated. From a place ofhalf-shadows beyond the table, Severac Bablon's luminous eyes watched.Save for those distant sounds which told of a thoroughfare near by,silence lay like a fog upon the place, and upon the mind of Baron Hague.
It grew intolerable, this stillness; it bred fear. Who was SeveracBablon? What was the secret of his power?
Hague looked up.
"Gott im Himmel!" he said hoarsely. "Who are you? Why do you persecutethose who are Jewish?"
Severac Bablon stretched his hand over the great carved table, holdingit, motionless, beneath the lamp. From the bezel of the solitary ringwhich he wore gleamed iridescent lights, venomous as those within theeye of a serpent.
A device, which seemed to be formed of lines of fire within the stone,glowed, redly, through the greenness. The ring was old--incalculablyold--as anyone could see at a glance. And, in some occult fashion, it_spoke_ to Baron Hag
ue; spoke to that which was within him--stirred upthe Jewish blood and set it leaping madly through his veins.
Back to his mind came certain words of a rabbi, long since gone to hisfathers; before his eyes glittered words which he had had impressed uponhis mind more recently than in those half-forgotten childish days.
And now, he feared. Slowly, he rose from the big cushioned chair. Hefeared the man whom all the world knew as Severac Bablon, and his fear,for once, was something that did not arise from his purse. It wassomething which arose from the green stone--and from the one whopossessed it--who dared to wear it. Hague backed yet farther from thetable, squarely, whereupon, beneath the globular lamp, lay the longwhite hand.
"_Gott!_" he muttered. "I am going mad! You cannot be--you----"
"I am _he_!"
Baron Hague's knees began to tremble.
"It is impossible!"
"Israel Hagar," continued the other sternly. "Those before you changedyour ancient name to Hague; but to me you are Israel Hagar! You doubt,because you dare not believe. But there is that within your soul--thatwhich you inherit from forefathers who obeyed the great King, fromforefathers who toiled for Pharaoh--there is that within your soul whichtells you _who I am_!"
The Baron could scarcely stand.
"Ach, no!" he groaned. "What do you want? I will do anything--anything;but let me go!"
"I want you," continued Severac Bablon, "since you deny the ring, todraw aside yonder curtain and look upon what it conceals!"
But Hague drew back yet further.
"Ach, no!" he said, huskily. "I deny nothing! I dare not!"
"By which I know that you have recognised in whose presence you stand,Israel Hagar! Knowing yourself at heart to be a robber, a liar, ahypocrite, you dare not, being also a Jew, raise that veil!"
Baron Hague offered no defence; made no reply.
"You are found guilty, Israel Hagar," resumed the merciless voice, "ofdragging through the mire of greed--through the sloughs of lust ofgold--a name once honoured among nations. It is such as you that haveearned for the Jewish people a repute it ill deserves. Save for such asMr. Antony Elschild, you and your like must have blotted out for everall that is glorious in the Jewish name. Despite all, you have succeededin staining it--and darkly. I have a mission. It is to erase that stain.Therefore, when the list appears of those who wish to preserve intactthe British Empire, your name shall figure amongst the rest!"
Hague groaned.
"It will be explained, for the benefit of the curious, and to the gloryof the Jews, that in some measure of recognition of those vast profitsreaped from British ventures, you are desirous of showing your interestin British welfare!"
"It will be my ruin in Berlin!"
"I should regret to think so. Had you, in the whole of your career,during the entire period that you have been swelling your money-bagswith British money, devoted one guinea--one paltry guinea--to anycharitable purpose here, I had spared you the risk. As matters stand, Ishall require your cheque for an amount equal to that subscribed by Mr.Elschild."
"_Fifty thousand pounds!_" gasped Hague.
"Exactly! Pen and ink are on the table. Your cheque book I have left inyour pocket!"
"I won't----"
Hague met the eyes of the incomprehensible man who watched him frombeyond the table; he saw the gleam of the ring, as Severac Bablon placeda pen within reach.
"You--must be--mad!"
"You will decidedly be mad, Baron, if you refuse, for I assure you, uponmy word of honour, I shall lay those papers before those whom they willinterest in the morning!"
"And--if--I give you such a----"
"Immediately your cheque is cleared I will return the papers."
"And--the diamonds?"
"I shall consider my course in regard to the diamonds."
"This--is robbery!"
"And your mode of obtaining the diamonds, Baron--what should you termthat?"
"You mean to ruin me!"
"Be good enough either to draw the cheque, payable to the editor of the_Gleaner_--who will act in this matter, since I cannot appear--or todecline definitely to do so."
"It will ruin me."
"To decline? I admit that!"
Very shakily, having taken his cheque book from his pocket, Baron Haguedrew and signed a cheque for the fabulous, the atrocious sum of L50,000.
A heavy smell--overpowering--crept to his nostrils as he bent forwardover the table. He mentally ascribed it to the yellow cigarettes.
He laid down the pen with trembling fingers. That same sense ofincreasing distances which had heralded the stupor in the cab was comingupon him again. The cell-like room seemed to be receding. SeveracBablon's voice reached him from a remote distance:
"In future, Israel Hagar, seek to make--better use ofyour--opportunities."
* * * * *
"Wake up, sir! Hadn't you better be getting home?"
Baron Hague strove to stand. What had happened? Where was he?
"Hold up, sir! Here's a cab waiting! What address, sir?"
The Baron rubbed his eyes and looked dazedly about him. He was halfsupported by a police constable.
"Officer! Where am I, eh?"
"_I_ found you sitting on the step of the Burlington Arcade, sir! Whereyou'd been before that isn't for me to say! Come on, jump in!"
Hague found himself bundled into the cab.
"Hotel--Astoria!" he mumbled, and his head fell forward on his breastagain.