by Guy Thorne
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Falling! Falling through deep waters, with a horrible sickening sense ofutter helplessness and desolation; nerves, heart, mind--very beingitself--awaited the crash of extinction. A slight jolt, a roaring ofgreat waters in the air, and a voice, dim, thin and far away!
... In some mysterious way, the sense of sight was joined to that ofsound and hearing. I was surrounded by blackness shot with gleams ofbaleful fire, shifting and changing until the black grew gray in furiouseddies, the gray changed into the light of day, and a far-off voicebecame loud and insistent.
It was thus that I came to myself after the horror on the edge of thedizzy void.
The first thing I saw was the face of Juanita. There were tears in hereyes and her cheeks were brilliant. Then I heard, and even then with astart, a voice that I had never thought to hear again--the gentle,tripping accents of Pu-Yi.
"He will do now, Senorita. The doctor said that he would awake from hissleep with very little the matter except the shock--"
"Juanita!" I cried, and her cool hand came down upon my forehead.
"You are not to excite yourself, dearest," she said.
For a moment or two I lay there in a waking swoon of puzzled but entirebliss. Then I tried to move my position slightly upon the bed, for I waslying upon a bed in a large and airy room, and groaned aloud. Everymuscle in my body seemed stretched as if upon the rack, and there was apain like a red-hot iron in one ankle.
"It will hurt for a few hours," said Pu-Yi, "but you will shortly bemassaged, Sir Thomas, and then--"
"You!" I cried, "but you are dead! Zorilla got you on the towerbefore--before--"
My mind leapt up into full activity. I was once more swaying upon theedge of infinity with my fingers locked in the bull neck of theassassin, and my voice died away into a whisper of horror.
"He stunned me, that was all, Sir Thomas. His bullet glanced away frommy head. I came to myself just in time to see you struggling with himand gripped you just as you were falling off into space. The spirits ofmy ancestors were with me."
"And he--Zorilla?"
"Will never trouble us more. But you are not well enough yet to talk.You are in my hands for the present."
"Do exactly as Pu-Yi says, dear, and remember that all is well."
"Your father?" I gasped--why hadn't I thought of Morse before?
"All is well," she repeated in her low, musical voice, and as I layback, trembling once more upon the edge of unconsciousness, her faceleft the circle of my vision.
Two deft Chinese _masseurs_ came. I was placed in a hot bath impregnatedwith some strong salts. I was kneaded and pummeled until I could hardlyrepress cries of pain. I drank a cup of hot soup in which there musthave been some soporific, and sank into a deep, refreshing sleep.
It had been late afternoon when I first came to myself. When I woke forthe second time, it was night. The room was brilliantly lit. Pu-Yi wassitting by my bedside, quietly smoking a long, Chinese pipe, and, for mypart, though I was very stiff, I was in full possession of all myfaculties and knew that I had suffered no harm.
I sat up in bed and held out my hand to the Chinaman.
"Pu-Yi, I'm all right now. I owe my life to you!" And as I realized myextraordinary deliverance in the very article of death, a sob burst fromme and I am not ashamed to say that my eyes filled with tears. My handis as strong as most men's, but I almost winced at the grip of thosefragile-looking, artistic fingers.
"You did the same for me, my honorable friend," he said quietly, "andnow--"
Before I knew what he would be at, he was feeling my pulse and listeningto my heart with his ear against my chest.
At length he gave a sigh of relief. "We had a doctor to you," he said,"and he told us that, in his opinion, you would be little the worse. Iam rejoiced that his opinion is confirmed."
"Oh, I am all right now, and ready for anything."
"You are sure, Sir Thomas? What you have been through may have given youa shock which--"
For answer, I held out my hand. It was as firm as a rock and did nottremble. I heaved myself off the bed, took a cigarette from a box upon atable, and began to smoke.
"Now then, Pu-Yi, I am just as I was before. First of all, where am I?"
"You are in the Palacete," he replied. "You were brought here at once."
Then I knew that I was in Morse's dwelling house, copied exactly, as Ihave said before, from the Palacete Mendoza at Rio.
"Now tell me exactly what has happened, in as few words as possible."
"I am only too anxious to do so, Sir Thomas. You were brought back here.Immediately after, Rolston descended by means of the outside stair andsummoned the staff. They are all here now. The electric cables have beenrepaired. Lifts, telephones, electric light, and all the other machineryis in working order. The body of Zorilla has been brought up to the Cityand placed with that of Mulligan and my own servant. This house isstrongly guarded by armed men, and the whole City is patrolled."
"No one else was hurt?"
"No one else at all, Sir Thomas."
His face changed as he said this, and he looked me full in the eyes.
Then, with a start, I understood. Every detail of the past came back ina vivid, instantaneous picture. Again I saw the silver bath descendingfrom the ceiling and heard the loud explosion of Rolston's pistol. Andas that furious noise resounded in my mental ear, once more thegrinning, corpse-pale face of Mark Antony Midwinter passed close to mineand I felt the very wind of his passage as he rushed by and disappeareddown the long underground corridor leading to the safety-room.
"Midwinter!" I almost shouted. The face of the Chinaman had gone a duskygray--he told me afterwards that mine was white as linen.
"Vanished," he said--"disappeared utterly. And he is the master-mind!While Mark Antony Midwinter is alive, Mr. Morse, none of us, will know amoment of safety or of ease."
I could not quarrel with that. Zorilla was dead--a great gain--but noone who had been through what I had and who knew the whole situation asI knew it, could fail to appreciate the terrible seriousness of thisnews. To you who read this record in peace and safety, this may seem awild or exaggerated statement, a product of over-strained nerves. But,believe me, it was not so. I knew too much! The securest fortress in thewhole world had been already stormed. All the precautions that enormouswealth and some of the subtlest brains alive could take had alreadyproved useless against the superhuman cunning, energy and ferocity ofthis being who seemed, indeed, literally, more fiend than man. No! wewere no cowards, most of us, up there in the City of the Clouds, but wemight well quail still, to know that this fury was unchained. I knowthat I sat down suddenly upon the bed with a groan of despair.
"Gone! Vanished! Surely he must be either in the City or has escaped! Ifhe is in the City, I admit the danger is imminent. He must be utterlydesperate, and will stick at nothing. If he has managed to get down tothe earth, he is dangerous still, but we have a breathing space. Whichis it?"
"We do not know, Sir Thomas. There is no trace of him anywhere, so far.But, as I have said, we have more than a hundred men, armed andpatrolling the City. This house, at any rate, is secure for the moment.A great search is being organized. The whole area is being mapped outand it will be searched with such thoroughness before to-morrow's dawnthat a rat could not escape. My own theory is, and Mr. Morse agrees withme, that Midwinter is still in the City. The most scrupulous inquiriesbelow seem to prove that he never descended from the tower, and you knowhow minute and careful our organization is. And now that you areyourself again, it is Mr. Morse's wish that we hold a conference andsettle exactly what is to be done. Do you think you are equal to it?"
"Perfectly," I replied, and without another word Pu-Yi led the way outof the room.
I found Mr. Morse sitting in his library. He was pale, and seemed muchshaken. There were red rims round the keen, masterful eyes, but hisvoice was strong and resolute, and I could see that, whatever hisopinion of his chances, he would fight till the e
nd.
I need not go into details of the private conversation we had for aminute or two. His gratitude was pathetic, and I felt more drawn to himthan ever before. When at length Juanita, followed by little Rolston,entered the room, all trace of his emotion had gone and we settled downround the table as calm and business-like as a board of directors in abank. And yet, you know, no group of people in Europe stood in suchperil as we did then. Behind the long, silken curtains, the shutterswere of bullet-proof steel. The corridor outside, the gardens of thehouse, swarmed with men armed to the teeth. It was dark in the sky, butthe City in the Clouds blazed everywhere with an artificial sunlightfrom the great electric lamps.
Two thousand feet up in the air we sat and spoke in quiet voices of thehorror that was past and the horror that threatened us. Far down below,London was waking up to a night of pleasure. People were dressing fordinners and the theater, thousands upon thousands of toilers had lefttheir work and were about to enjoy the hours of rest and recreation. Andnot a soul, probably, among all those millions that crawled like ants atour feet had the least suspicion of what was going on in our high place.They were accustomed to the great towers now. The sensation of theirbuilding was over and done, there were no more thrills. If they had onlyknown!
I was not aware if strata of clouds hid us from the world below, as sooften happened; but if the night were clear I do remember thinking thatany one who cast their eyes up into the sky might well notice an unusualbrilliancy in the pleasure city of the millionaire, that mysterioustheater of the unknown, which dominated the greatest city in the world.
... "Well, Tom," said Mr. Morse, "Pu-Yi tells me that you are nowacquainted with all the facts. The question we have to decide is, whatare we to do?"
He turned to Juanita, and nodded. She left the room.
"The situation, as I understand it," I replied, "is that Midwinter"--Ihad a curious reluctance in pronouncing the name aloud--"is eitherconcealed here in the City or has made his escape. If he is here, weshall know before to-morrow morning, shall we not?"
"Precisely. I have spent the last hour in going over the plans of theCity with the chiefs of the staff. We have divided up the two stagesinto small sections, and even while I am talking to you the search hasbegun. The orders are to shoot at sight, to kill that man with lesscompunction than one would kill a mad dog. If he is really here, hecannot possibly escape."
"Very well, then," I said, "let us turn our attention to the otherpossibility. Assuming that he has got away, I think we may safely saythat the danger is very much lessened."
"While we remain here in the City--yes," Morse agreed.
"And you are determined to do that?"
He took the cigar he had been smoking from his lips, and his hand shooka little. "Think what you like of me," he said, "but remember that thereis Juanita. I say to you, Kirby, that if I never descend to the worldagain alive, I must stay here until Mark Antony Midwinter is dead."
Well, I had already made up my mind on this point. "I think you arequite right," I told him. "Still, he will not make a second appearancein the City. You can treble your precautions. He must be attacked downin the world."
Then a thought struck me for the first time. "But how," I said, "did heand Zorilla ever come here in the first instance? Treachery among thestaff? It is the only explanation."
Pu-Yi shook his head. "You may put that out of your mind, Sir Thomas,"he said. "That is my department. I know what you cannot know about mychosen compatriots."
"But the man isn't a specter! He's a devil incarnate, but there'snothing supernatural about him."
Then little Rolston spoke. "I've been down below all day," he said, "andthough I haven't discovered anything of Midwinter, I am certain of howhe and Zorilla got here."
We all turned to him with startled faces.
"Do you remember, Sir Thomas," he said, "that, shortly after yourarrival, when you were looking down upon London from one of thegalleries, there was a big fair in Richmond Park?"
I remembered, and said so.
"Among the other attractions, there was a captive balloon--"
Morse brought his hand heavily down upon the table with a loudexclamation in Spanish.
"Yes, there was, but--but it was quite half a mile away and never cameup anything like our height here."
"No," the boy answered, "not at that time. But do you remember howduring the fog last night I told you I had seen something, or thought Ihad seen something, like a group of statuary falling before my bedroomwindow?"
Something seemed to snap in my mind. "Good heavens! And I thought it wasmerely a trick of the mist! Nothing was discovered?"
"No, but in view of what happened afterwards, I formed a theory. I putit to the test this morning. I made a few inquiries as to theproprietors of the captive balloon and the engine which wound it up anddown by means of a steel cable on a drum. I need not go into details atthe moment, but the whole apparatus did not leave Richmond Park when itwas supposed to do so. The wind was drifting in the right direction, theballoon could be more or less controlled--certainly as to height. I havelearned that there was a telephone from the car down to the ground.Desperate men, resolved to stick at nothing, might well have arrangedfor the balloon to rise above the City--the cable was quite long enoughfor that--and descend upon part of it by means of a parachute, or, ifnot that, a hanging rope. More dangerous feats than that have been donein the air and are upon record. It seems to me there is no doubtwhatever that this is the way the two men broke through all ourprecautions."
There was a long silence when he had spoken. Mendoza Morse leant back inhis chair with the perspiration glittering in little beads upon hisface, but he wore an aspect of relief.
"You've sure got it, my friend," he said at length, "that was how thetrick was done! It was the one possibility which had never occurred tome, and hence we were unprovided. Well, that relieves my mind to acertain extent. We can take it that we are safe in the City, ifMidwinter has escaped. How are we to make an end of him?"
"The difficulty is," I said, "that we are, so to speak, both literallyand actually above, or outside, the Law. If that were not so, ifordinary methods could deal with this man, or could have dealt with theHermandad in the past, Mr. Morse would never have planned and built theeighth wonder of the world. No word of what has happened in the last dayor two must get down to the public--isn't that so?"
Morse nodded. "It goes without saying," he said. "We have our own law inthe City in the Clouds. At the present moment, there are three bodiesawaiting final disposal--and there won't be any inquest on them."
"That," Rolston broke in, "was something I was waiting to hear. It'simportant."
He stopped, and looked at me with his usual modesty, as if waitingpermission to speak. I smiled at him, and he went on.
"It is an absolute necessity," he said, "to enter into the psychology ofMidwinter. We may be sure that his purpose is as strong as ever. Thedeath of Zorilla, and his present failure, will not deter him in theleast, knowing what we know of him?"
He looked inquiringly at Morse.
"It won't turn him a hair's breadth," said the millionaire. "If he wasmad with blood-lust and hatred before, he must be ten times worse now."
"So I thought, sir. He has lost his companion, as desperate and ascunning as himself, but we can be quite certain that he is not withoutresources. I think it safe to assume that he has practically anunlimited supply of money. He must have other confederates, thoughwhether they are in his full confidence or not is a debatable question.That, however, at the moment, is not of great importance. We have him inLondon, let us suppose, for it is the safest place in the world for aman to hide--in London, determined, and hungering for revenge. We haveno idea what his next scheme will be, and in all human probability hehasn't planned either. He must be considerably shaken. He will know,now, how tremendously strong our defenses are, and it will not escape aman of his intelligence that they will now be greatly strengthened. Itwill take him some time to gather his wits toge
ther and work out anotherscheme. The only thing to do, it seems to me, is to force his hand."
"And how?" Morse and I said, simultaneously.
"We must trap him--not here at all, but down there, in London"--he madea little gesture towards the floor with his hand, and as he did so, oncemore the strange and eerie remembrance of where we were came over me,lost for a time in the comfortable seclusion of a room that might havebeen in Berkeley Square.
"Here _we_, that is the Press, come in," said Rolston, smiling proudlyat me.
I smiled inwardly at the grandiloquence of the tone, and yet, how trueit was!--this lad who, so short a time ago had got to see me by a trick,was certainly the most brilliant modern journalist I had ever met. Imade him a little bow, and, delighted beyond measure, he continued.
"Let it be put about," he said, "with plenty of detail, rumor,contradiction of the rumor and so on--in fact we will get up a littlestunt about it--that Mr. Mendoza Morse has tired of his whim. For atime, at any rate, he is going to make his reappearance in the world. Ifnecessary, announce Miss Juanita's engagement to Sir Thomas. Get allLondon interested and excited again."
Morse nodded, his face wrinkled with thought. "I think I see," he said,"but go on."
"When this is done, let us put ourselves in Midwinter's place. I believethat he will have no suspicion of a trap. He will argue it in this way.We are too much afraid of him to attack ourselves. Hitherto, all ourmeasures have been measures of defense and escape. It will hardly occurto him that we have changed all our tactics. He will think that, withthe failure of his attempt, the bad failure, and the death ofZorilla--which I have no doubt he will have discovered by now--weimagine he will abandon all his attempts. He will say to himself that wenow believe ourselves safe and that his power is over, his initiativebroken, that he will never dare to go on with his campaign. Everythingseems in favor of it. I should say that it is a hundred to one that hisline of thought will be precisely as I have said."
"By Jove, and I think so, too! Good for you, Rolston!" I shouted, seeingwhere he was going.
His boyish face was wreathed in smiles. "Thank you," he said. "Well, weare to lay a trap, and it is on the details of that trap that everythingdepends. I see, by to-day's _Times_, that Birmingham House in BerkeleySquare, is to let. The Duke is ordered a long cruise in the Pacific. LetMr. Morse immediately take the house and issue invitations for a greatball to celebrate Miss Juanita's engagement. If that house and that ballare not to Midwinter as a candle is to a moth, then my theory isuseless! Somehow or other he will be there, either before or actually onthe occasion. By some means or other he will get into the house."
He stopped, and with a little apologetic look took out his cigarettecase and began to smoke. He really was wonderful. This was the lad,airily ordering one of the richest men in the world to take the Duke ofBirmingham's great mansion, whose capital but a few short weeks ago wasone penny, bronze. I remember how he was forced to confess it to me,even as I congratulated him.
We talked on for another half-hour, or rather little Bill Rolstontalked, the rest of us only putting in a word now and then. He seemed tohave mapped out every detail of the new campaign, and we were content tolisten and admire.
Of course I am not a person without original ideas, or unaccustomed toorganization--my career, such as it is, has proved that. But on thatnight, at least, I could initiate nothing, and I was even glad when theconference came to an end. Morse was much the same--he confessed it tome as we left the room--and the truth is that we were both feeling theresults of the terrible shocks we had undergone. Rolston was younger andfresher, and besides his peril had not been as great as mine or themillionaire's.
Pu-Yi vanished in his mysterious fashion, and Morse, Rolston and I wentto dinner. There was no question of dressing on such a night as this,but, if you believe me, the meal was a merry one!
It was Juanita's whim to have dinner served in a wonderful conservatorybuilt out on that side of the Palacete which looked upon the gardensseparating it from the eastern villa where Rolston and I were housed.The place was yet another of the fantastic marvels conjured up by Morseand his millions. It was an exact reproduction of a similar conservatoryat my host's house in Rio de Janeiro, and had been carried out at afrightful cost by the greatest landscape gardener and the mostcelebrated scenic artist in existence.
We sat at a little table, surrounded by tall palm trees rising fromthick, tropical undergrowth, a gay striped awning was over our heads,protecting us from what seemed brilliant sunshine. On every side was thegolden rain of mimosa, masses of deep crimson blossoms, and wax-likemagnolia flowers. From a marble pool of clear water sprang a littlefountain--a laughing rod of diamonds. In the distance, seen over amarble balustrade, was the deep blue of the tropic sea dominated by thegreat sugar-loaf mountain, the Pao de Azucar.
It was an illusion, of course, but it was perfect. That sea, and thegleaming mountain, which, from where we sat, seemed so real, was but acleverly painted cloth. The warm and scented air came to us throughconcealed pipes, and down in the lower portion of the City, patient,moon-faced Chinamen were at work to produce it. The sunlight, actuallyas brilliant as real sunlight, was the result of a costly installationof those marvelous and newly invented lamps which are used in the greatcinema studios. Only the trees and the flowers were real.
Outside, it was a keen, cold night. We were perched on the top of gaunt,steel towers, more than two thousand feet in the air, and yet, I swearto you, all thought of our surroundings, and even of our peril, wasbanished for a brief and laughing hour. Like the tired traveler in someclearing of those lovely South American forests from which the wealth ofMorse had sprung, we had forgotten the patient jaguar that follows inthe tree-tops for a week of days to strike at last.
I dwell upon this scene because it was another of those littleinterludes, during my life in the City of the Clouds, which stand out insuch brilliant relief from the encircling horrors.
Juanita was in the highest spirits. I had never seen her more lovely ormore animated. Morse himself, always a trifle grim, unbent to asardonic humor. He told us story after story of his early life, withshrewd flashes of wit and wisdom, revealing the keen and mordauntintellect which had made him what he was. A wonderful pink champagnefrom Austria, looted from the Imperial cellars during the war, andpriceless even then, poured new life into our veins--it was impossibleto believe in the tragedy of the last few hours, in the shadow of anytragedy to come.
We adjourned to the music-room after dinner, an apartment paneled incedar-wood and with a wagon roof, and Juanita played and sang to us fora time. It was just ten o'clock when Rolston looked at his watch andgave me a significant glance. I rose and said good-night, both Morse andJuanita announcing their intention of going to bed.
As we came to the outside door, Bill turned to me.
"Hadn't you better go back to our house, Sir Thomas, and sleep? Rememberwhat you have been through."
"Sleep? I couldn't sleep if I tried! I feel as fit and well as ever Idid--why?"
"I've promised to meet Mr. Pu-Yi in the office of the chief of thestaff. Reports will be coming in of the search which has been going onall the evening. I am anxious to see how far it has got, though ofcourse if Midwinter had been found, or any trace of him, we should havebeen informed at once. And there is something else, also--"
He stopped, and I made no inquiries. "Well, I'm with you," I said; for Ifelt ready for anything that might come, in a state of absolute,pleasant acquiescence in the present and the future. I hadn't a tremorof fear or anxiety.
One of those noiseless, toy, electric automobiles which I had alreadyseen when Juanita first showed me the City, was waiting. We got in, andbuzzed through the gardens, and down the tunnel which led to GrandSquare. As we went, I saw shadowy figures patrolling everywhere. Thewhole place was alive with guards--my girl could sleep well this night!
As we came out of the tunnel I motioned to Bill to go slowly, and hepulled the lever, or whatever it was, that controlled the spee
d. Inalmost complete silence we began to circle the huge inclosure, the tiresmaking no noise whatever upon the floor of wood blocks.
The air was keen, cold, and wonderfully pure. There was not a cloud inthe heavens, and one looked up at a far-flung vault of black velvetspangled with gold. Never had I seen the stars so clear and brilliant inEngland, for the haze of smoke and the miasma of overbreathed air whichis the natural atmosphere of London lay two thousand feet below. TheGrand Square blazed with light. The buildings, with their spires, domesand cupolas, stood out with extraordinary clearness against thecircumambient black of space. No outline was soft or blurred, everythingwas vividly, fantastically real. A veritable scene from the old ArabianNights indeed! And something of the same thought must have come to mycompanion, for he looked up and said: "I once saw an extraordinaryillustration by Willy Pogany of one of De Quincey's opium dreams--hereit is, only a thousand times more marvelous!"
The fountain in the middle of the Square--a long distance away itseemed as we slowly skirted the buildings--made a ghostly laughter as itsprang from its dragon-supported basin of bronze. The gilded cupola ofthe observatory shone with a wan radiance, higher than all else, and ablack triangle in the gold told me that the patient old Chineseastronomer surveyed the heavens, lost in a waking dream of the Infinite,probably loftily unconscious of all that had been going on in the magiccity at his feet. I envied that serene, Oriental philosopher, Juanita'sspecial friend and pet, who lived up there in his observatory, and, so Iwas told, hardly ever descended for any purpose at all. He was asinviolate a hermit as Saint Anthony. It was especially curious that Ishould have cast my glance heavenwards and have thought of that ancientsage at this moment. You will learn why afterwards.
We stopped at one of the white kiosks, from the interior of which thehydraulic lifts went down to the lower part of the City. It was in anupper story of that that the chief of the staff had his office, and,mounting a flight of steps, we entered, to find Pu-Yi sitting at aroll-top desk, scrutinizing a handful of paper reports.
"It is nearly over, Sir Thomas," he said, rising and placing chairs forus. "Almost every inch of the City has been searched, and but littleremains to be done. There is not a single trace of the man, Midwinter."
I own that to hear this was a great relief. We were all of us fired withRolston's plan of a trap down below in London. His theory seemed to becorrect. Midwinter had somehow escaped, and we should meet him in duetime--for I had never a doubt of that. Meanwhile, Juanita and her fatherwere safe.
"It is only what I expected, though how on earth he managed to get awayremains to be seen!"
"It will come to light in due course," Pu-Yi replied. "And now, SirThomas, are you prepared to accompany me and Mr. Rolston? There arecertain things to be done, and I shall be glad to have you as awitness."
"Anything you like--but what is it?"
"You must remember that the bodies of three dead men await disposal," hereplied. "What remains of Zorilla--he fell into the lake on the firststage, though of course he was dead, strangled in mid-air, long beforethe impact. Then there is Mulligan, who died in defense of the City;finally Sen, the boy from my own province in China, of whose terribleend you are aware."
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"We must keep to our policy of secrecy and noninterference by theoutside world. The bodies must be destroyed, and by fire."
I gave a little inward shudder, but I don't think he noticed it, and ina minute more we were dropping to the lower City in a rapid lift.
It was in a furnace-room that provided some of the hot air for theconservatories on the stage above that I witnessed the ghastly andunceremonious finish of the mortal parts of the Spaniard and theIrishman, and it was cruel and sordid to a degree--or so it seemed tome. The long bundle of sacking which contained that which had housed theevil soul of Senor Don Zorilla y Toro--I resisted a bland invitation onthe part of a stoker in a blue jumper and a pleased smile to examine thestiff horror--was slung through an iron door into a white and glowingcore of flame. There was a clang as the long, steel rods of the firemenpushed it to, and I cannot say that I felt much regret, only a sort ofshuddering sickness and relief that the door was closed so swiftly.
But it was different in the case of Mulligan. I blamed Morse in myheart. The man had been strangled when saying his prayers. He was of themillionaire's own religion, and there should have been a priest toassist at these fiery obsequies of a faithful servant. I learnedafterwards, I am glad to say, that Morse had not been consulted, andknew nothing about the actual disposal of the bodies until afterwards.You see the shock came--Rolston felt it too--from the fact that thesebland and silent Asiatics were utterly without any emotion as theyperformed their task. They were heathens, worshiping Heaven knows whatin their tortuous and secret souls. As poor Mulligan--they had put thebody in a coffin and it took eight struggling, sweating Orientals tohoist and slide it into the furnace--vanished from my eyes, I put myhands before my face and said such portions of the Protestant burialservice as I remembered, and they were very few.
"They're nasty beasts, aren't they, Sir Thomas?" Rolston whispered, aswe fled the furnace room. "Soulless, just like machines!"
We waited for Pu-Yi for a minute or two.
"I thank you, Sir Thomas, and Mr. Rolston," he said in his calm, silkyvoice. "It was as well that you saw the disposal of the dead, though itis only a remote contingency that there will ever be inquiry. And now,if you wish, I will send you up again. I, myself, must attend to theobsequies of my compatriot."
"Oh," I remarked, and I fear my tone was far from pleasant, "you proposeto be rather more ceremonious in the case of the lad, Sen?"
For a single moment I saw that calm and gentle face disturbed. Somethinglooked out of it that was not good to see, but it was gone in a flash.This was the first and last time that I had a shadow of disagreementwith the man whose life I had saved and who saved mine in return. It wasnatural, I think--neither of us was to blame. "East is East and West isWest," and there are some points at least at which they can never meet.Poor Pu-Yi! He had as fine an intellect as any man I ever met, and was agreat gentleman. I wish I could look upon him once more as I write this,but, though I didn't know it, the sand in the glass was nearly out andour hours together dwindling fast.
We followed him through various twists and turns of the under City,among the huts and storehouses, thronged with silent people--it was likemoving in the interior of a hive of bees--until, by means of an archwayand a closed door, we emerged in a sort of courtyard surrounded on threesides by buildings. On the fourth was a rail, breast-high, and above andaround was open night.
"We can't take his body to China," said our guide. "We must burn ithere, and only the ashes will rest in the village of his ancestors. Butit is well. Such cases are provided for in my religion."
We then saw that in the center of the yard there was a low funeral pile,apparently of wood. Two men in long, yellow gowns were pouring someliquid over it.
"If you will do me the honor to come this way," said Pu-Yi, and weentered a long, bare room. In the center of this place there was a largesquare box of painted wood, the lid of which was not yet in place. Thebody of the dead man was sitting in the box, the hands clasped round theknees. The nose, ears and mouth were filled with vermilion, which, toour Western eyes, gave a horrible, grotesque appearance to the brown,wrinkled mask of the face. Poor Sen's countenance was placid enough, butit was not like that of even a dead man, a fantastic image, rather.
A gong beat with a sudden hollow reverberation, and from another door afile of mourners entered.
At the far end of the room was a table upon which was a painted tablet."It bears," whispered Pu-Yi, "the name under which Sen enterssalvation."
Two men swinging censers stood by the table, and two others, a littlenearer the corpse, held bronze bowls of water. First Pu-Yi, and then theother mourners, dipped their hands in the water to purify them, andthen, producing paper packets of incense from their bosoms, they threw
apinch into the censers with the right hand and bowed low to the table,retiring backwards. It was all done with the precision of a drill and inabsolute silence, and for my part I found it no less ghastly and unrealthan the brutal scene in the furnace-room below.
"Come out," I whispered to Rolston, and we reentered the pure air,walking to the rail at one side of the square.
We leant over. Far, far below, so far that it was sensation rather thanvision, was a faint, full glow, the night lights of London, but of thecity itself nothing could be seen whatever. Even the burnished ribbon ofthe Thames had disappeared, and no sound rose from the capital of theworld. There was a thin whispering round us as the night breezes blewthrough steel stay and cantilever, a faint humming noise like that ofsome gigantic AEolian harp. And once, as we bathed ourselves in the cool,the immensity and the dark, there was a rush of whirring wings, and the"honk-konk" of the wild duck from the great lake fifteen hundred feetbelow, as they passed in wedge-shaped flight on some mysterious nighterrand. We leant and gazed, filled with awe and solemnity, until a low,wailing chant and the thin, piercing notes of single-wire-strung violinsmade us turn to see the square box hoisted on the bier, a torch applied,and a roaring spitting column of yellow flame towering up above thebuildings and throwing a ghastly light on a hundred round, mask-likefaces, indistinguishable one from the other by European eyes.
As I read now, ten years afterwards, that scene among so many otherscomes back to me with extraordinary vividness. And it seems to me as Ilive my English life in honor, tranquillity, and happiness, that it wasall a monstrous dream.
Surely--yes, I think I am safe in saying this--there will never again besuch a place of horror and fantasy as the City in the Clouds.