The City in the Clouds

by Guy Thorne

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I had ordered my Chinese boy to wake me at eight. In one corner of theGrand Square was a beautifully fitted gymnasium with a swimming-bathadjoining. I proposed three-quarters of an hour's vigorous exercisebefore dressing.

  At it happens I generally wake more or less at the time I want to. Thismorning, however, it was half-past eight. There was no sound of Changwhatever. I got out of bed, put on a sweater, Norfolk jacket, flanneltrousers, and tennis shoes--I had sent for a portmanteau of clothes fromthe "Golden Swan"--went across the hall and let myself out into thegardens.

  Then I hesitated in amazement. A thick, heavy, impenetrable mist hideverything from sight. It seemed as solid as wool. One literally had topush one's way through it, and when I say that I couldn't see more thana yard before my face, I mean it in the strict sense of the words.Still, I remembered that I have a good sense of topography, and I wasquite confident that I could find my way to the central Square, wherethere would be sure to be people about whom I could ask.

  From my front door there was a good hundred and twenty yards of widegravel path to the Palacete Mendoza. I sprinted up this in less thantwenty seconds I should say, and then warily turned into the palm-treegrove--the great sheets of plated glass on either side of the way werein place now, but I knew where I was because of the different quality ofthe ground, which was here paved with wood blocks. Soon, a faint graymass to my right, the palace itself loomed up, but the blanket of mistwas too thick for me to discern windows or doors. One could see nothingbut the gray hint of mass.

  The curious thing was that one could hear nothing either. That had notstruck me as I did my sprint, but now it did, and most forcibly. Ofcourse there was no sound of wind--had there been any wind we should nothave been buried in the very heart of this fog--thicker and more stickythan anything I had ever experienced in the Alps themselves. But therewere no sounds of occupation such as an extensive place like the Citymight have been expected to produce at this hour, and in fact, as Irealized, _did_ produce, when I remembered yesterday. The place wasnever noisy. It was a haunt of peace if ever there was one. But thesound of gardeners and servants going about their daily toil, thedistant throbbing of an engine perhaps, a subdued voice giving an order,the plashing of fountains, and the strains of music, all these wereutterly and entirely absent. It was as though the mist killed not onlyvision but hearing also. I might have been on the top of Mont Blanc.

  "What little town by harbor or sea-shore Is empty of its folk this pious morn?"

  I quoted to myself with a laugh, just as I entered the arched tunnelwide enough for two coaches to be driven under it abreast, which I knewled to Grand Square.

  I laughed, and then quite suddenly all laughter went out of me. Icouldn't explain it at the moment, but the mist, the loneliness, mywhole surroundings, seemed quite horrible.

  Surely something had passed me? I called out, and my voice seemed likethe bleating of a sheep. Of course, it was illusion. My nerves hadsuddenly gone wrong. But, honestly, I felt that there was something_nasty_ in the atmosphere, nasty from a psychic point of view I mean.There are moments when the human soul turns sick and retches withdisgust, and I experienced such a moment now. I think it was exactlythen that I knew, though I wouldn't allow myself to believe it, that Iknew inwardly all was not well. I walked on and my india-rubber shoesseemed to make a sly, unpleasant noise--it was the only one I heard evennow.

  I could see nothing, I was quite uncertain of where I was, so I turnedand walked straight to the right until, from the impact of the air uponmy face, I knew that I was within a yard or so of some building. Thiswas correct. My hand touched what seemed like stonework, and glancing upI became aware that a building rose high above.

  I followed this along, keeping my hand on the stone, moving it roundprojecting buttresses and going with great caution. This insect-likeprogression seemed to be endless. I took out my watch, which I hadshoved into the breast pocket of my Norfolk jacket. It was nearly nineo'clock, and not a single sound!

  A second or two afterwards I came to a balustrade, felt my way along it,and found that I was at the foot of a broad flight of steps. Thereseemed something vaguely familiar here, and as I ran up them I began tobe sure that I was at the library. I knew that Pu-Yi lived somewhere onthe premises and I felt all over the great iron-studded door until Icame to the small postern wicket through which one generally entered.This was locked, but a bell-pull of wrought iron hung at the side and Ipulled at it lustily for a considerable time.

  It opened with a jerk and Pu-Yi stood there in his skull cap with thecoral button on the top and wrapped in a bear-skin robe.

  "Thank goodness I've found some one," I said. "I've lost my way. I wasgoing to the gymnasium, to exercise a little and then have a swim. Myboy didn't turn up so I came out by myself."

  "Come in, come in, Sir Thomas," he said, peering out at the whitecurtain. "What a dreadful morning! I've been here some months now, but Ihave never seen it so bad as this. I daresay it will blow off by nineo'clock or so when the sun gets up."

  "It's nine o'clock now," I told him.

  He started violently.

  "Then my servant also is at fault," he said. "I ordered my coffee foreight. I was reading far into the night and must have overslept myself.This is very curious."

  "Do you know, I don't quite like it, Pu-Yi. I've come all the way fromthe pavilion in the Palace gardens and haven't heard the least sound ofany sort whatever."

  We passed through a lobby and entered the great library, which was coldand gray as a tomb.

  Pu-Yi snapped at a switch, then at another. Nothing happened.

  "The electric light is off!" he cried. "What an extraordinary thing!"

  "Mine wasn't," I said. "I got out of bed and dressed by it."

  He did not reply, but took down the speaking part of a telephone andturned the handle of the box. In that gray light his thin face, with itsexpression of strained attention, was one I shall not easily forget.

  He turned the handle again, angrily. Again an interval of silence.

  "The telephone is out of order," he said, and we looked at each otherwith a question in our eyes.

  "Well, I'm confoundedly glad I've found you," I said.

  "We must look into this at once, Sir Thomas. I can find my way perfectlywell to one of the lifts at the other end of the Square. We must summonassistance. One moment." He vanished for a minute and returned withsomething cool and shining which he pressed into my hand. It was avenomous ten-shot Colt automatic. "You never know," he whispered.

  We hurried across the great Square, passing by the central fountainbasins, though the fountains were not playing, which added to ouruneasiness. Everything was deathly still until we came to the littlelift pavilion. I half expected the thing to stick, but it glided downeasily enough. As if my companion read my thoughts he said:

  "All these small lifts are not electrical, but are worked by hydraulicpower, the station for which is in the City and not below on the earth."

  I shall never forget the extraordinary sight as we stepped from thelift. The mist here was nothing like so thick as it was above. This wasowing to the fact that a hundred feet above our heads there was theimmense ceiling of steel plates and girders upon which the City rested.As I said before, on all three sides this second service City was opento the air, but not above. Consequently the mist moved in tall whiteshapes like ghosts; it entirely surrounded one group of huts and leftanother great vista of buildings plain to the eye. Here a gaudilypainted gable thrust itself out of the white sheet; there, through aproscenium of clinging wool, one saw the gray interior of amachine-room. A chill twilight brooded everywhere. There wasn't a singlelamp burning, and from one end to the other lay the desolation of uttersilence.

  I leant against the jamb of the lift door, and, despite the cold, thesweat ran down my body in a stream.

  Pu-Yi raised a thin arm over his head and it seemed to clutch crookedlyat the somber panoply aloft.

  A high, thin w
ail came from his parted lips and went mournfully awaydown the deserted streets and empty habitations.

  For myself, I had been so stunned that I couldn't think, but myfriend's despairing call seemed to jerk some cog-wheel within the brainand start again the mechanism of thought.

  I gripped him by the shoulder.

  "There isn't a soul here," I rasped out. "What does it mean, what onearth does it mean?"

  "There should be three hundred at least," he answered.

  I broke away at a run, flung open the first door I came to and peeredin. It was some sort of a sleeping-room, there were bunks and couchesall around the walls. Each one of them was empty. I had time to seethat, and also that a stand of short carbines and cutlasses was full ofweapons.

  Then I had to back out quickly for the late inmates had left an odorouslegacy behind them.

  Pu-Yi faced me.

  "That was one of the patrol rooms," he said.

  Then I remembered our coming two days ago.

  "Mulligan!" I cried. "Nobody could get here except through theguard-room, nobody could leave here except through that, could they?"

  "Not unless they threw themselves from the side of the tower."

  "Well, it's quite impossible to believe that three hundred people havecommitted suicide during the night without a sound being heard. Quick!let's get to the bottom of this."

  Pu-Yi led. He didn't seem really to run, only to glide along the ghostlystreets and passages. But I had hard work to keep up with him, all thesame. My mouth felt as if it had been sucking a brass tap. The mostdeadly fear clutched at my heart--that noiseless, pattering run throughthe deserted town in the air, accompanied always by the mouthing,gibbering ghosts of the mist, was appalling.

  We dashed down the last corridor and were brought up by a stout door.Pu-Yi bent down to the handle, turned it gently, and--it opened.

  We tiptoed into that room. Directly I was over the threshold, thespiritual odor of death, of violent death, came to me.

  A fire of logs was still burning redly upon the hearth. For the rest theroom was lit only by its skylight, through which filtered a dirty andopaque illumination which was only sufficient to give every object ashape of the sinister or bizarre. The red glow from the fire glistenedupon the polished screen of steel which divided the room into twoportions. And it also fell, redly, upon something else.

  This was the corpse of Mulligan.

  It was seated in a chair which had been pulled up to the screen with itsback towards it, as if in mockery and derision of its power to keep it.

  He had been strangled by a yard of catgut, twisted, tourniquet-fashion,by a piece of stick at the back of the neck. The catgut had sunk farinto the flesh, reducing the neck to less than half its ordinary size,and the great staring head hung down upon one shoulder.

  One of the logs in the grate fell with a crackle of sparks. For therest, dead silence.

  "They have come," Pu-Yi said simply.

  "But what has happened?" I whispered, my throat was so dry that thesound was like the rustling of paper.

  "I shall know soon. I am going to find out. There is not a minute tolose. Can you, dare you, wait here--"

  I nodded and he was out of the room in a flash. Upon the dead man'stable was the usual array of bottles and glasses. I took some brandy andgulped it down and my brain cleared instantly. There was a little touchof infinite pathos even in this hideous moment, for by the side of anempty glass I saw a string of beads with a little metal crucifix. TheIrishman, a Roman Catholic of course, must have been saying his prayerssome time before he met his end. Somehow the thought comforted me andgave me power to act. I found a knife, and cut the bonds that tied thegiant to the chair. I lowered him reverently to the floor and finallysevered the horrible ligature around his throat. An examination of thesteel door in the screen of bars showed that it was securely locked, butthe bunch of keys which the dead man usually carried upon a chain was nolonger there--the end of the chain dangled from his trousers pocket.

  While I was doing these things a most deadly apprehension was standingspecter-like by my side and plucking with wan fingers at my sleeve. Whathad happened, what might even now be happening at the Palacete Mendoza?

  Pu-Yi whirled into the room. He made no noise, it was as though a driedleaf had been blown in by the wind. His face was transformed. Everyoutline was sharpened, and the color was changed until it bore the exactresemblance to a mask of green bronze. In its frozen immobility it wasdead, yet awfully alive, and the eyes glittered like little crumbs ofdiamond.

  "Well?"

  "I know how it has been done. It is very clever, very clever indeed. Letme tell you that all the power cables connecting us with below have beenscientifically cut. We can neither telephone down to the Park nor can wedescend to it in one of the lifts. We are isolated up here in theclouds."

  "But the men, the staff?" I gasped, and then I stepped back, staringdown at his hands. They were all foul and stained with blood.

  "Not far away," he said, "there is another body, that of my servant, ayouth from my own Province, whom I loved and whom I was educating. Hewas alive five minutes ago. He had just time to sob out the truth andhis repentance."

  "Tell me quickly, Pu-Yi, time presses."

  "They caught him last night, so they must have been here then."

  "Who caught him?"

  "He never knew. They were masked, but there were two of them, and fromhis description we know very well who they were. Sir Thomas, theytortured him for a long time until he spoke, promising him freedom if hedid so. His story was disjointed, gasped out with his dying breath, butI can put it together pretty well.

  "They made him give an order by telephone from the upper City that,immediately, the staff were to leave here and descend to the ground andawait further orders, all but Mulligan, who was to remain at his postuntil I came to him. This message was delivered in Chinese to the man atthe telephone exchange, and the poor boy was forced to counterfeit myvoice. He was blindfolded immediately afterwards, but he heard a manspeaking, and he said he could not have told the voice from that of Mr.Morse."

  In a flash I saw the whole thing, in its devilish ingenuity, itsfiendish completeness.

  "Then we are absolutely alone, you, I, Mr. Rolston, Mr. Morse and hisdaughter?"

  "And her maid," he answered quietly.

  "At the mercy of--"

  "That we have yet to prove. We must throw all emotion, all fear aside.That's what we have to do now. It's diamond cut diamond. There's oneproblem in my mind, and one only."

  "What's that, quick!"

  "I daresay that in an hour I could get down to the ground. Among theintricate steel-work of this tower there's a tiny circular staircase ofopen lattice-work, sufficient for the passage of one person only, andeven here, every three or four hundred feet the way is barred by lockedgates, though I have a master key to all of them. Shall I make theattempt, and risk crashing off into space--for it is a meresteeplejack's way--and summon assistance, which may well be another hourin arriving, for the tower cables have been scientifically cut and noone but an electrician could repair them? Or shall I rush with you todefend the Palace?"

  "You leave the decision to me?"

  "It is in your hands, Prince."

  "Then, old chap, tumble down this accursed tower, hell for leather, androuse the pack. If I and Morse and Bill Rolston cannot account for thesecowardly assassins, then one more man won't make any difference."

  So I said, so I thought. I had no idea into what peril I was sendinghim, though I have sometimes wondered if he knew. He took my hand,kissed it, and beckoning me, we hurried through the silent under Citytowards the lift.

  "You go up, Sir Thomas," he said, "and exercise the utmost care. Haveyour pistol ready. The mist is as thick as ever, which is in your favor.You can find your way now to the Palace, I am sure."

  "And you?"

  "I go off here," he said, pointing with his left arm down a long vistato where, under a square arch, there was nothing to be seen
at all butswaying yellow-white. "One opens the gate in the railing and drops on tothe circular stairs," he said, "which cling to the outside of thesteel-work all the way down like a little train of ivy."

  "_Au revoir_, be as quick as you can."

  "Good-by," and I jumped into the elevator.

  Some two minutes afterwards, when I was creeping through the wool withmy pistol in my hand, alert for the slightest sound around me, I heardthe sharp crack of a rifle. It came from behind me. There was aperceptible interval and then another crack, followed, I could havesworn to it, by a thin wailing cry.

  Then utter silence fell once more upon the white and muffled City.

  As I ran I tried to steel myself, if that were as I suspected, the lastdying cry of Pu-Yi, not to think about it. The immediate moment, theimmediate future, these were everything.

  All the extraordinary precautions had failed. The assassins were here!In what force? How had they come?--though that was useless to speculateon. Two things only remained. I must warn Morse if it was not alreadytoo late, must avenge him if it was. I resolutely put aside the thoughtof Juanita--of any personal feeling which might mar my judgment andunstring my nerves at this supreme and dreadful moment.

  I found myself, somehow or other, at the entrance to the tunneledpassage. Save for my own quick breathing there had not been a sound, andthe horrible curtain of the fog was as thick as ever. Should I at oncecreep up to the Palace, or should I go back to the villa and findRolston? It was a nice question and the decision had to beinstantaneous. I decided that it would give me a tremendous advantage tohave him with me, and besides that, he himself must be warned of theterror that lurked in the darkness of the cloud.

  I arrived without any mishap, pushed open the door and was crossing thedark hall when my foot caught in some obstruction and I fell headlong.There was no time to cry out, had I been startled enough to do so,before something leapt upon my back with a soft yet heavy thud. A handslipped over my mouth and the round barrel of a pistol was pressed intomy neck.

  I lay helpless, thinking that it was all over, when the weight lifted,the pistol was snatched away and I was hauled to my feet todiscover--Rolston.

  "Not a word," he whispered. "I set a trap in the hall, Sir Thomas. ThankGod you are alive!"

  "Thank God you are too. Bill, they've strangled Mulligan, killed anotherChinese by torture and I am very much afraid have shot Pu-Yi as he wastrying to get down to earth to summon help.

  "Every single member of the staff is down in the Park with orders tostay there--false orders. The lifts are all put out of action beyondpossibility of being repaired for several hours. That's how thingsstand. Now we must get to the Palace as quickly as we possibly can. Godknows what has happened or may be happening there."

  "This way, quick!" he said, when he had listened to me with strainedattention.

  He took my arm, hurried me into the back part of the house, opened adoor with a key and we entered a bedroom which I had not before seen.The windows were shuttered and curtained but the electric light--whichnever failed either my villa or the Palace during the whole of thoseterrible hours--made every detail clear. Upon the bed, lying as ifasleep, was Juanita. Leaning over her was a tall, elderly, hard-featuredFrench woman with a typical Norman face.

  I staggered back into Bill Rolston's arms.

  "Good God!" I cried, and then, "She's not dead, tell me she's not dead!"

  Marie, the French maid, turned.

  "She's perfectly well, M'sieu, only she's had a fainting fit and I'vegiven her something to keep her quiet."

  She spoke in French.

  "Then how do you come here, what's happened?"

  "At some time in the night, M'sieu, I think it must have been betweentwo and three, the warning bell, which is always attached to my bed,began to ring. I knew exactly what to do. It was part of Mr. Morse'sprecautions, in which he had drilled us. When that bell rang, atwhatever time of day or night, I was to wake M'selle instantly, dressher without a second's delay, and bring her out of the Palace by asecret way.

  "I did so, and arrived in this room, where M'selle fainted. The door waslocked from the outside, and as I have strict orders never to exceed myinstructions by a hair's breadth, I have been waiting.

  "Not very long ago M'sieu here"--she pointed to Rolston--"hearing somenoise, unlocked the door and came in. To him I told what had happened."

  "Thank God," I said aloud, "that she's safe," and in my heart I paid atribute to the minutely detailed genius of Gideon Morse, who had atleast foiled the panthers on his track in one, and the greatestparticular.

  "Very well then. Now we must leave you here while we hurry to the Palaceto try and learn what has happened, and do what we can. You will not beafraid?"

  "No, M'sieu," she replied simply. "There's an angel with us," and shecrossed herself devoutly. "And, moreover," from somewhere about herwaist she withdrew a long, keen knife, "I know what to do with this,M'sieu, in the last resort."

  I went to the bed, I looked down at Juanita and kissed her gently on theforehead.

  "Now then, Bill, come along," I said.

  Bill grinned.

  "By the private way," he said, pointing to the French woman, who wasremoving a heavy Turkish rug which lay in front of the fireplace. Therewas a click, and a portion of the floor fell down, disclosing somesteps, padded with felt.

  "This way, M'sieu," she whispered, "the passage is lit, but here's atorch if you should need it, and here is the book."

  She handed me a little leather-bound book about the size of a railwayticket.

  "What's this?"

  "Instructions in English and Chinese in regard to the secret room at theother end. They are few and simple, but Mr. Morse had them printed sothat there could be no mistake if ever it became necessary to use theplace and its machinery."

  "He thinks of everything," said Bill, as we crept down into a fairlywide passage, and the trap-door above rose once more into its place.

  The passage was fully a hundred and thirty or forty yards long andstraight as an arrow. As we approached the end, which I saw to be hiddenby a heavy curtain, I thought of the little leather covered book.Motioning Rolston to stop I opened it and read the English portion.There were about five or six pages, with one or two simple diagrams, andI blessed the journalistic training that enabled me to see the purportof the whole thing in a minute, though I gasped once more at the fertileingenuity of Gideon Morse. Gently putting aside the heavy curtain, weentered a room of some size. The floor was heavily carpeted. Around twoof the walls were couches piled with blankets. Upon shelves above werepiles of stores--I saw boxes of biscuits, tins of condensed milk andmany bottles of wine. The place was quite fourteen feet high and at oneend four posts came down from the ceiling to the floor. They weregrooved and the grooves were lined with steel which was cogged toreceive a toothed wheel. Between the four posts, dropping some two feetfrom the ceiling, was what looked like the lower part of a large cisternor tank. This apparatus extended along the whole far end of the room,which was not square but square-oblong in shape. Immediately opposite towhere we entered was an arrangement of levers, like the levers in arailway signal-box, though smaller; above these, sprouting out of thewall, were half a dozen vulcanite mouthpieces like black trumpets. Aboveeach one was a little ivory label.

  "What does it all mean?" Bill whispered.

  I held up my hand for silence, looking round the place, referring onceor twice to the little book, and making absolutely sure. As I was doingso there was a sudden "pop," followed by the unmistakable gurgle ofchampagne into a glass.

  It was the most uncanny thing I have ever heard, for it might havehappened at my elbow. Had it not been that a tiny electric signal-bulbno bigger than a sixpence glowed out over one of the mouthpieces, Ishould have been utterly unnerved. This mouthpiece was labeled "Mr.Morse's study."

  "The dictograph," I whispered to Rolston, and he pressed my arm to showhe understood.

  I think I would have given a thousand pounds myself for
some champagnejust then. We stood holding each other, frozen into an ecstasy oflistening. I almost thought that one of Bill's remarkable ears waselongating itself until it coiled sinuously towards the wall, but this,no doubt, was illusion.

  There came a voice, an urbane, and cultured voice, well modulated andserene.

  It was all that, but as I heard it my blood seemed to turn to redcurrant jelly and to circulate no more in my veins. If there was ever avoice which was informed by some unnamable quality which came straightfrom the red pit of hell, we heard that voice then. Hearing it, I knewfor the first time the meaning of those words: _The worm that dies notand the fire that is not quenched_.

  "Whoever thought, Gideon Morse, that I should be breakfasting with youto-day! To tell the truth I didn't myself. But as you know, I havealways been a great gambler and now, at the end of all the games ofchance that we have played together, I have turned up the final ace."

  Another voice--Heaven! it was Morse himself who answered. His voiceseemed almost amused. It was like coming out of a pitch dark room intosummer sunlight to hear it after that other.

  "Mark Antony Midwinter, you speak of triumph, but you were never neareryour ultimate end than you are at this moment"--I could have sworn Iheard his dry chuckle and I moved nearer to the wall.

  "This cold pheasant is quite excellent. What is the use of trying tobluff me? Your end has come and you know it. It isn't going to be apleasant end, I expect you guess that. We have tossed the dice for manyyears, you and I. You've won over and over again. I had become anoutcast on the face of the earth, until Fate made me the agent of agreat vengeance."

  This time Morse laughed outright.

  "You offal-eating jackal!" he said. "Finish your stolen meal and get towork. You, the agent of a great vengeance! when not long ago you slunkinto my London hotel and offered to sell your employers. I understand,"he went on in a curiously impersonal voice, "that you really aresupposed to be descended from a high English family. Even when I had youtarred and feathered--do you remember that, Antony?--many years ago, Istill believed in your descent, though I own I didn't give it much of athought. Tell me, where exactly did the kitchen-maid come in?"

  Following upon Morse's words we heard the sound of footsteps and thescraping of a chair.

  A new person had come into the room and Midwinter had risen to meet him.

  "Well?"

  The reply came in a deep bass voice.

  "Nothing is changed. There was one Chinaman, it must have been thelibrarian of whom that guy we put through it, spoke--he came slidingalong and tried to get down by the cat's cradle outside the tower. I wasleaning out of that balcony window above, commanding every approach, andI got him with my second shot."

  "Did he fall all the way down? That might startle them below."

  "No. He just crumpled up on the stairs, and after looking round, I'vecome back here. There's a little wind beginning to get up and Ishouldn't wonder if in an hour or so this mist-blanket is all blownaway."

  "Half an hour is enough for what we have to do, Zorilla. Just go over toMr. Morse there and see if his lashings are secure--and then we mustthink about getting off ourselves."

  It was as though Bill and I could see exactly what was happening in thelibrary--the heavy tread, an affirmative grunt, and then the smoothhellish voice resuming:

  "You know you've got to die, Morse, and die painfully. Nothing can alterthat, but I'll let you off part of your agonies if you tell me at oncewhere your daughter is. It will only precipitate matters. We can easilyfind her as you must know."

  "I don't like talking with you at all. You are both of you doomed beyondpower of redemption. You have overcome some of my precautions, by whatmeans I cannot tell. You've captured my person. You are about to wreakyour disgusting vengeance on it. For Heaven's sake do so. You knownothing of this place you are in, or very little. Fools!" The voice rangout like a trumpet.

  There was a murmured conference, the words of which we could not catch,then Midwinter said:

  "We'll put you to the test a little, before Zorilla reallybegins--operating. Adjoining this apartment I see there is your mostluxurious bathroom--the walls of onyx, the bath of solid silver. Well,we'll take you and put you in that bath and turn on the water. I'llstand over you, and with my hands on your shoulders, I'll plunge you aninch or two beneath the surface, till you are so nearly drowned that youtaste all the bitterness of death. Then we'll have you up again and askyou a few questions. Perhaps you may have to go back into the bath asecond time before Zorilla gets to the real work."

  No words of mine can describe the malignancy of that voice, no words ofmine can describe the shout of resolute, sardonic laughter whichanswered it.

  Bill wanted to shout in answer, but I clapped my hand over his mouthjust in time, and I could almost see the frowning faces of the twofiends as they advanced upon the bound man.

  ... Steps overhead; the little bulb over the mouthpiece labeled "Mr.Morse's study" goes out, and another lights up over the mouthpiecelabeled "Bathroom." There is a jarring as a tap is turned on and a rushof water.

  "That'll do, Zorilla. Two feet is quite enough for our purpose"--thevoices are actually in the room now, much louder and clearer thanbefore.

  "You take the heels--steady, heavo!" and then a splash and a thud. Weheard some one vaulting lightly into the bath.

  "Now, Morse, I hold you up for a minute. I shall press you down underthe water until you are as near dead as a man can be. Have you anythingto say?"

  "Yes. Give me one moment."

  "Ten if you like."

  Then there came in a calm, penetrating voice, "Are you there?"

  I reached upward and smote with my clenched fist upon the outside of thebath. I heard a muttered exclamation, a slight splash, and then BillRolston pulled over a lever, and half the ceiling of our room sanktowards us with a noise like the winding-up of a clock.

  Midwinter was standing in one end of the bath, which hid him almost upto his waist. His jaw dropped like the jaw of a dead man. Such baffledhate and infinite malevolence stared out of his eyes that I gave a shoutof relief as Rolston lifted his arm and fired.

  He must have missed the fiend's head by a hair's breadth, no more. Quickas lightning he fired again, but he was too late. Midwinter bounded outof the bath like a tennis ball, felled Rolston with a back-arm blow ashe leapt, and fled down the passage.

  The loud thunder of the explosions in that underground place had notdied away before I had lifted Morse from under the water and dragged himover the side of the bath.

  His face was very pale, but his eyes were open and he could speak.

  Truly the man was marvelous.

  "The other," he whispered, "the brute Zorilla! Juanita!"

  I understood one of the devils, desperate now, was still at large, andeven as I realized it, I saw a ghastly sight.

  There was a noise above. I bent my head backward and looked up throughthe aperture in the ceiling.

  A man was crouching over it and I saw his face and neck--a big,black-bearded face, with eyes like blazing coals, but _reversed_. Hiseyes were where his mouth should have been, his nostrils were like twopits, and for a forehead there was a grinning mouth full of gleamingteeth. Any one who, when ill, has seen their nurse or attendant bendingover them from the back of the bed, will realize what I mean, thoughthey can never understand the horror of that demoniac and inverted mask.

  I was pretty quick on the target, but not quick enough. The thingwhipped away even as I fired, and there was a thunder of feet running.

  I think a sort of madness seized me, at any rate I was never in amoment's doubt as to what to do. I shoved my pistol in my pocket, leaptupon the edge of the bath, sprang upwards and caught the floor of theroom above with my hands.

  The rest was easy for any athlete in training. I pulled myself up, laypanting for a second and then stood upon the tiled floor of thebathroom.

  The door leading into the library was open. I dashed through to find theplace empty, rushed throug
h the hall and out upon the steps of the mainentrance. And then, joy! A morning wind had begun and instead of awhite, impenetrable wall, a phantom army was retreating and, as ifpursuing those ghost-like sentinels, was the black, running figure ofZorilla.

  I had a clear glimpse of him as he plunged into the tunnel leading toGrand Square, and I was after him like a slipped greyhound.

  In Grand Square it was clearing up with a vengeance. There were gleamsof sunlight here and there and the mist had lifted for about twelve feetabove my head.

  I saw him bolt round the central fountain, hidden by an immense bronzedragon for a moment, and then legging it for all he was worth towardsthe way that led to the lifts for the second stage.

  The wood floor had dried with the lifting of the mist and I was doingseven-foot strides. I was seeing red. There was a terrible cold fury atthe bottom of my heart, but in my mind there was a furious joy. Withevery stride I gained on him--this powerful, thick-set, baboon-like manfrom the forests of the Amazon.

  I gave a loud, exulting "View-halloo," and the black head turned for aninstant--he lost ten good yards by that. I whooped again. I meant tokill, to rend him in pieces. And for the first time in my life Irealized the joy of primeval man: the lust of the hunt, red fang, redclaw, to tear, dominate and destroy.

  Oh, it was fine hunting!

  Damn him! He snapped himself into one of the little lifts when I waswithin six yards of him. I saw his ugly face sink out of sight behindthe glass panels. I remembered that these small hydraulic lifts worked,though the big ones below didn't. But I remembered something else ...there was a stairway.

  I found it by instinct, a great broad stair with tiled walls like thesubway of some railway terminus.

  I didn't bother about the stairs. I leapt down--preserving my balance bya miracle--six or seven at a time. Pounding out into the great emptyCity at the foot, I swirled round and was just in time to see mygentleman bolt out of his lift like a rabbit from its hole and run towhere I knew was the outside stairway which fell, in its corkscrew path,barred by many gates, right down to safety and the normal world.

  It was the way by which dear old Pu-Yi had hoped to descend and raisethe alarm. It was the perilous eyrie upon which this same bull-likeassassin had picked him off like a sitting pigeon and boasted of it nothalf an hour before.

  As he dodged and ran I fired at him, but never a bullet touched thebrute and I flung the Colt away with an oath.

  "Much better kill him with my own hands," I said in my mind, "muchbetter tear his head off, break him up--"

  I tell you this as it happened. For the moment I was a wild beast, inpursuit of another, but still, I think, a super-beast.

  Well, never mind that. I saw him fumbling at a sort of fence, clearlyoutlined against an immense space of morning sky, and thundered afterhim--thundered, I say, because I was now running along an open steelgrating, which seemed to sway....

  Then I vaulted over where Zorilla had vaulted, and my heart leapt intomy mouth as I fell--fell some eight feet on to a tiny platform,protected from space by a rail not more than three feet high.

  I reeled, and caught hold of a stanchion and saved myself. Far, farbelow, London--London in color was unrolling itself like a map--andimmediately below my feet, already a considerable distance down, was theslithering black spider that I had sworn to kill.

  I could see him through the grid, and then I flung myself upon thecorkscrew ladder, grasping the rails with my hands until the skin wasburnt from them, disdaining the steps and spinning round and everdownwards like a great top.

  As I went my head projected at right angles to my body. As I buzzed downthat sickening height I saw that Zorilla had stopped. I knew that hehad come to one of the steel gates, at which he was fumbling uselessly.

  Then, as I came to the last step before the little gate platform I sawalso, under the curve of the stair, a huddled figure, and I knew who_that_ was, who that had been....

  I threw myself at Zorilla with my knee in the small of his back.Instantly I caught him round the throat with my fingers just on the bigveins behind the ear which supply the brain with blood, and my fingerscrushed the trachea until the whole supple throat seemed breaking underthe molding of my grip.

  I felt that I had got him. That if I could hold out for a minute hewould be dead, but I hadn't reckoned with the immense muscular force ofthe body.

  I clung like the leopard on the buffalo, but he began to sway this wayand that. In front of us was the steel gate and the motionless figure ofPu-Yi. We were struggling upon the steel grid, not much larger than atea table. A slight rail only three feet high defended us from thevoid--a little thigh-high rail between us and a drop of near twothousand feet.

  He lurched to the left, and I swung out into immensity, carried on hisback. I was sure it was the end, that I should be flung off into space,when with one arm he gripped the gate, braced all his great strength andslowly dragged us back into equilibrium. It seemed that the whole towertrembled, vibrated in a horrible, metallic music.

  I pressed down my thumbs, I strained every sinew of my wrist and arm inthe strangle hold, and I felt the life pulsing out of him in steadythrobs. There was nothing else in the world now but myself and him and Iground my teeth and clutched harder.

  In his death agony he lurched to the other side of our tiny footholdspace. This was where the circular stairway ended. He caught his foot,so I was told afterwards, in the last stanchion of the stair, fell overthe rail with a low, sobbing groan, and then, weighted by me upon hisshoulders, began to slip, slip, slip, downwards.

  And I with him.

  I had conquered. I don't think that in that moment I had any feeling butone of wild, fierce joy. He was going, I was going with him, but I neverthought of that, until my right ankle was clutched in a vice-like grip.I felt the warm, heaving body below me rush away, tearing my grip fromits throat by its own dreadful impetus, and then, as I was snatched backwith a jar of every bone in my body, there was a shrill whistling of airfor a second as Zorilla went headlong to his doom, and I knew nothingelse.