by Guy Thorne
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I slept that night like a log, untroubled by dreams, and woke late thenext morning. It was then that, as the saying is, I got it in the neck."Wow!" I half-shouted, half-groaned, as I turned to meet the Chinesevalet with the morning cup of tea. My whole body seemed one bruise, myjoints turned to pith, and, what was worse than all, my brain--a prettyactive organ, take it all in all--seemed stuffed with wool.
It was the reaction, only to be expected, as the Richmond doctor said tome some three hours later. For the next two or three days I was to donothing at all, after my "bad fall," which was the way my state had beenexplained to him. Whether he believed it or not, I cannot tell. It wascertainly odd that Mr. Mendoza Morse, whom he also attended, should bein very much the same state of shock and semi-collapse. But he was adiscreet, clean-shaven gentleman, with a comfortable manner, and in theseventh heaven at being admitted to the mysterious City in the Clouds,his eyes everywhere as he was being conducted through its wonders to ourbedsides--so Rolston told me afterwards. At any rate, he was right. Itwas certainly necessary to go slow for a few days, and fortunately, nowthat the search was over and no trace of Midwinter discovered, we feltwe could do this.
The preliminary arrangements for our final effort were left in Rolston'shands, who descended with the doctor, and I did not rise till mid-day.
I met Morse at lunch--_piano_, and distinctly under the weather from aphysical point of view. We neither of us talked of important matters,but enjoyed a stroll round the City during a bright afternoon. Attea-time we met Juanita, and I had a long and happy talk with her. Sheknew, of course, that the search had proved satisfactory, and--as we hadall agreed together--I led her to think that all danger was nowpractically over. Indeed, as far as Morse and she were concerned, Ibelieved it myself. I knew that there was yet a grim tussle ahead forthe rest of us, but that was all. I did not see her at dinner, but tookthe meal alone in my own house. Rolston was still absent, and as I didnot want to talk to any one, failing Juanita, I was quite happy bymyself.
About nine o'clock I was rung up on the telephone. Morse spoke. He saidhe was now thoroughly rested, and was ready for a chat. If I hadn't seenthe treasures of the library yet, he and Pu-Yi would be pleased to showthem to me. And so, slipping on a coat over my evening clothes, andtaking a light cane in my hand, I started out for Grand Square. It wasagain, I may mention here, a fine and calm night.
My host and the Chinaman were waiting for me in the great, Gothic room,and we inspected the treasures in some of the glass-fronted shelves. Iwas surprised and delighted to find that my future father-in-law had areal love for, and a considerable knowledge of, books. It was a side ofhim I had not seen before. I had not connected him with the arts in anyway, which, when you come to think of it, was rather foolish. Certainlyhe had the finest expert advice and help to be found in the whole worldin the building of the City in the Clouds. But I should have rememberedthat the initial conception was his own and that many of the detailsalso came entirely from his brain. Certainly, in his way, Mendoza Morsewas a creative artist.
My own collection of books at Stax, my place in Hertfordshire, is, ofcourse, well known, and always mentioned when English libraries areunder discussion. But Morse could boast treasures far beyond me. Duringthe last year or two I had been so busy in working up the _EveningSpecial_ that I had quite neglected to follow the book sales, but Ilearned now that some of the rarest treasures obtainable had beenquietly bought up on Morse's behalf. He had all the folios, and most ofthe quartos, of Shakespeare, a fine edition of Spenser's "Faerie Queene"with an inscription to Florio, the great Elizabethan scholar; there wasBoswell's own copy of Johnson's "Lives of the Poets," with a ponderousLatin inscription in the sturdy old doctor's own hand, and many othertreasures as rare, though not perhaps of such popular and generalinterest.
Pu-Yi made us some marvelous tea in the Chinese fashion, with a sort ofritual which was impressive as he moved about the table and waved hislong pale hands. It was of a faint, straw color, with neither sugar,milk, or lemon, and he assured me that it came from the stores of theForbidden City in Pekin. Certainly, it was nasty enough for anything,and I praised it as I had praised Morse's rose-colored champagne thenight before--but with less sincerity.
I don't know if my friend had a touch of homesickness or not, but hebegan to tell us of his home by the waters of the Yang-Tse-Kiang. Hisprecise and literary English rose and fell in that great room with asingular charm, and though I don't think Morse listened much, he smokeda cigar with great good-humor while Pu-Yi expounded his quaint, Easternphilosophy. We did not refer to the grim scenes of the night before, butsomething I said turned the conversation to the funeral customs ofChina.
"Indeed, Sir Thomas," said Pu-Yi, "the death of a man of my nation maybe said to be the most important act of his whole life. For then onlycan his personal existence be properly considered to begin."
This seemed a somewhat startling proposition, and I said so, but heproceeded to explain. I shall not easily forget his little monologue,every word of which I remember for a very sad and poignant reason. Well,he knows all about it now, and I hope he is happy.
"It is in this way," he said. "By death a man joins the great company ofancestors who are, to us, people of almost more consequence than livingfolk, and of much more individual distinction. It is then at last," hecontinued, delicately sipping his tea, "that the individual receivesthat recognition which was denied him in the flesh. Our ancestors aregiven a dwelling of their own and devotedly reverenced. This, I know,will seem strange to Western ears, but believe me, honorable sir, thecult is anything but funereal. For the ancestral tombs are temples andpleasure pavilions at the same time, consecrated not simply to rites andceremonies, but to family gatherings and general jollification."
This was quite a new view to me, and certainly interesting. I said so,and Pu-Yi smiled and bowed.
"And the fortunate defunct," he went on, "if he is still half assentient as his dutiful descendants suppose, must feel that his earthlylife, like other approved comedies, has ended well!"
His voice was sad, but there was a faint, malicious mockery in it also,and as I looked at him with an answering smile to his own, I wonderedwhether that keen and subtle brain really believed in the customs of hisland. That he would be studious and rigid in their outward observance, Iknew.
I never met, as I have said before, a more courteous gentleman thanPu-Yi.
"Ever been in South Germany?" said Morse suddenly--he had evidently beenpursuing a train of his own thought while the Chinaman held forth.
"Yes, Mr. Morse, why?"
"Then in some of those quaint, old-fashioned towns you have seen thestorks nesting on the roofs of the houses?"
I remembered that I had.
"Well, I've got a pair of storks--they arrived this morning fromGermany--duck and drake, or should you say cock and hen?--at any rate,I've a sort of idea of trying to domesticate them, and to that end havehad a nest constructed on the roof of this building, where they will besheltered by the parapet and be high up above the roof of the City. Whatdo you say to going to have a look at them and see if they're allright?"
Extraordinary man! He had always some odd or curious idea in his mind toimprove his artificial fairyland. Nothing loth, we left Pu-Yi andascended a winding staircase to the roof of the great building. Save forthe lantern in the center, it was flat and made a not unpleasantpromenade. The storks were at present in a cage, and could only bedistinguished as bundles of dirty feathers in a miscellaneous litter. Ithought my friend's chance of domesticating them was very small, but heseemed to be immensely interested in the problem.
When we had talked it over, he gave me a cigar and we began to promenadethe whole length of the roof. As I have said, the night was clear andcalm. Again the great stars globed themselves in heaven with anincomparable glory unknown and unsuspected by those down below. Thesilence was profound, the air like iced wine.
From where we were, we had a bird's-eye view of the
whole City. GrandSquare lay immediately at our feet, brilliantly illuminated as usual.Not a living soul was to be seen; only the dragon-fountain glitteredwith mysterious life. To the right, beyond the encircling buildings ofthe Square, stood the Palacete Mendoza surrounded by its gardens, asquare, white, sleeping pile. I sent a mental greeting to Juanita. Sohigh was the roof on which we stood that only one of the towers orcupolas rose much above us. It was the dome of the observatory, exactlyopposite on the other side of Grand Square.
"There is some one who isn't much troubled by sub-lunary affairs," Isaid, pointing over the _machicolade_.
Morse nodded, and expelled a blue cloud of smoke. "I guess old Chang isthe most contented fellow on earth," he said. "He is Professor, youknow, Professor Chang, and an honorary M.A. of Oxford University. I hadhim from the Imperial Chinese Observatory at Pekin, and I am told he ison the track of a new comet, or something, which is to be called afterme when he has discovered it--thus conferring immortality upon yourstruly!
"It is an odd temper of mind," he went on more seriously, "that canspend a whole life in patient seclusion, peering into the unknown, andwhat, after all, is the unknowable. Still, he is happy, and that is theend of human endeavor."
He sighed, and with renewed interest I stared out at the round dome. Theslit over the telescope was open, which showed that the astronomer wasat work. In the gilded half-circle of the cupola, it was exactly like acut in an orange.
I was about to make a remark, when an extraordinary thing happened.
Without any hint or warning, there was a loud, roaring sound, like thatof some engine blowing off steam. With a "whoosh," a great column offire, like golden rain, rose up out of the dark aperture in the dome,towering hundreds of feet in the sky, like the veritable comet for whichold Chang was searching, and burst high in the empyrean with a dullexplosion, followed by a swarm of brilliant, blue-white stars.
Some one inside the observatory had fired a gigantic rocket.
Morse gave a shout of surprise. He had a fresh cigar in his hand, and,unknowingly, he dropped it and mechanically bit the end of his thumbinstead.
"What was that?" I cried, echoing his shout.
He didn't answer, but grew very white as he stepped up to the parapet,placed his hand upon the stone, and leant forward.
I did the same, and for nearly a minute we stared at the white, circulartower in silence.
Nothing happened. There was the black slit in the gold, enigmatic andundisturbed.
"Some experiment," I stammered at length. "Professor Chang is at workupon some problem."
Morse shook his head. "Not he! I'll swear that old Chang would never beletting off fireworks without consulting or warning Pu-Yi. Kirby, thereis some black business stirring! We must look into this. I don't like itat all--hark!"
He suddenly stopped speaking, and put his hand to his ear. His wholeface was strained in an ecstasy of listening, which cut deep gashes intothat stern, gnarled old countenance.
I listened also, and with dread in my heart. Instinctively and withoutany process of reasoning, I knew that in some way or other the horrorwas upon us again. My lips went dry and I moistened them with the tipof my tongue; and, without conscious thought, my hand stole round to mypistol pocket and touched the cold and roughened stock of an automaticWebley.
Then I heard what Morse must have heard at first.
The air all around us was vibrating, and swiftly the vibration became athrob, a rhythmic beat, and then a low, menacing roar which grew louderand louder every second.
We had turned to each other, understanding at last, and the same wordwas upon our lips when the thing came--it happened as rapidly as that.
Skimming over the top of the distant Palacete like some huge night-hawk,and with a noise like a machine gun, came a venomous-looking,fast-flying monoplane. It swept down into Grand Square like a livingthing, just as the noise ceased suddenly and echoed into silence. Italighted at one end and on the side of the fountain nearest theobservatory, ran over the smooth wood-blocks for a few yards, andstopped. It was as though the hawk had pounced down upon its prey, andevery detail was distinct and clear in the brilliant light of the lampsin the Square below.
Both of us seemed frozen where we stood. I know, for my part, all powerof motion left me. A choking noise came from Morse's throat, and then weheard a cry and from immediately below us came the figure of Pu-Yi,hurrying down the library steps and running towards the aeroplane, whichwas still a considerable distance from him.
The next thing happened very quickly. A door at the foot of theobservatory tower opened, and out came what we both thought was thefigure of the astronomer. He was a tall, bent, old man, habituallyclothed in a padded, saffron-colored robe with a hood, something likethat of a monk.
"Chang!" I said in a hoarse whisper, when Pu-Yi stopped short in histracks, lifted his arm, and there was the crack of a pistol.
The figure beyond, which was hurrying towards the monoplane, swervedaside. The robe of padded silk fell from it and disclosed a tall man indark, European clothes. He dodged and writhed like an eel as Pu-Yiemptied his automatic at him, apparently without the least result. ThenI saw that he was at the side of the aeroplane, scrambling up into thefuselage assisted by the pilot in leather hood and goggles.
He was up the side of the boat-like structure in a second, and then,with one leg thrown over the car he turned and took deliberate aim atPu-Yi. There was one crack, he waited for an instant to be sure, and sawthat it was enough. Then there was a chunk of machinery, two or threeloud explosions, a roar, and the wings of the venomous night-hawk movedrapidly over the parquet, chased by a black shadow. It gathered speed,lifted, tilted upwards, and, clearing the buildings at the far end ofthe Square, hummed away into the night.
* * * * *
It was thus that Mark Antony Midwinter escaped from the City in theClouds. He had been there all the time. He had murdered poor old Changmany hours before, and impersonated him with complete success. The foodof the recluse was brought to him by servants and placed in an outerroom so that he should never be disturbed during his calculations. Hehad received it with his usual muttered acknowledgments through a little_guichet_ in the wooden partition which separated the anteroom from thetelescope chamber itself. No one had ever thought of doubting that theastronomer himself was there as usual. The whole thing was mostcarefully planned beforehand with diabolic ingenuity and resource.