The Wiles of the Wicked

by William Le Queux

world, and it had given me such pleasure.

  "Your words are very puzzling," I said gravely. "Tell me what it isthat you would have me do."

  "It is not difficult," she answered, "yet the curious character of myrequest will, I feel, cause you to hold back with a natural caution. Itwill sound strange; nevertheless, here, before I put the suggestionbefore you, I give you my word of honour, as a woman who fears her God,that no undue advantage shall be taken of your promise."

  "Well, explain what you mean."

  "The condition I impose upon you in return for my assistance," she said,in deepest earnestness, "is that you shall promise to render assistanceto a person who will ever remain unknown to you. Any requests made toyou will be by letter bearing the signature A-V-E-L, and theseinstructions you must promise to obey without seeking to discover eithermotive or reason. The latter can never be made plain to you, thereforedo not puzzle yourself unnecessarily over them, for it will be all to nopurpose. The secret--for secret there is, of course--will be so wellguarded that it can never be exposed, therefore if you consent to thusrendering me a personal assistance in return for your life, it will benecessary to act blindly and carry out to the letter whateverinstructions you receive, no matter how remarkable or how illogical theymay seem. Do you agree?"

  "Well," I said hesitatingly, "your request is indeed a mostextraordinary one. If I promise, what safeguard have I for my owninterests?"

  "Sometimes you may, of course, be compelled to act against your owninclinations," she admitted. "I, however, can only assure you that ifyou make this promise I will constitute myself your protectress, and atthe same time give you solemn assurance that no request contained in theletters of which I have spoken will be of such a character as to causeyou to commit any offence against the law."

  "Then it is you yourself who will be my anonymous correspondent?" Iobserved quickly.

  "Ah, no!" she answered. "That is, of course, the natural conclusion;but I may as well at once assure you that such will not be the case."Then she added, "I merely ask you to accept or decline. If the former,I will ever be at your service, although we must never meet again afterto-day; if the latter, then I will wish you adieu, and the terrible fateyour unknown enemies have prepared for you must be allowed to takeeffect."

  "But I should be drowned!" I exclaimed in alarm. "Surely you will notabandon me!"

  "Not if you will consent to ally yourself with me."

  "For evil?" I suggested very dubiously.

  "No, for good," she answered. "I require your silence, and I desirethat you should render assistance to one who is sorely in need of afriend."

  "Financial aid?"

  "No, finance has nothing to do with it. The unknown person has moneyand to spare. It is a devoted personal assistance and obedience that isrequired."

  "But how can one be devoted to a person one has neither seen nor known?"I queried, for her words had increased the mystery.

  The shrewd suspicion grew upon me that this curious effort to secure mysilence was because of her own guilt; that she intended to bind me to acompact in her own nefarious interests.

  "I am quite well aware of the strangeness of the conditions I amimposing upon you, but they are necessary."

  "And if I accept them will the mystery of to-night ever be explained?"I inquired, eager to learn the truth.

  "Of that I know not," she answered vaguely. "Your silence is requiredto preserve the secret."

  "But tell me," I said quickly, "how many persons were there present inthat house beside yourself?"

  "No, no!" she ejaculated in a tone of horror. "Make no further inquiry.Try and forget all--everything--as I shall try and forget. You cannotknow--you will never know--therefore it is utterly useless to seek tolearn the truth."

  "And may I not even know your identity?" I inquired, putting forth myhand until it rested upon her well-formed shoulder. "May I not touchyour face, so as to give me an impression of your personal appearance?"

  She laughed at what, of course, must have seemed to her a rather amusingrequest.

  "Give me permission to do this," I urged. "If there is to be mutualtrust between us it is only fair that I should know whether you areyoung or old."

  She hesitated. I felt her hand trembling.

  "Remember, I cannot see you," I went on. "By touch I can convey to mymind an impression of the contour of your features, and thus know withwhom I am dealing."

  "Very well," she said at last. "You have my permission."

  Then eagerly, with both my hands, I touched her face, while she stoodrigid and motionless as a statue. I could feel by the contraction ofthe muscles that this action of mine amused her, and that she waslaughing.

  Her skin was soft as velvet, her lashes long, her features regular andfinely cut like those of some old cameo. Her hair was dressed plainly,and she had about her shoulders a large cape of rich fur--sable Ibelieved it to be. There was no doubt she was young, perhaps not morethan twenty-one or so, and certainly she was very handsome ofcountenance, and dressed with an elegance quite unusual.

  Her mouth was small, her chin pointed, and her cheeks with a firmcontour which spoke of health and happiness. As I carefully passed myhands backwards and forwards, obtaining a fresh mental impression witheach movement, she laughed outright.

  Of a sudden, however, she sprang aside quickly, and left me grasping atair.

  "Ah!" she cried, wildly horrified at a sudden discovery. "There isblood upon your hands--_his blood_!"

  "I had forgotten," I apologised quickly. "Forgive me; I cannot see, andwas not aware that my hands were unclean."

  "It's too terrible," she gasped hoarsely. "You have placed thosestained hands upon my face, as though to taunt me."

  "With what?" I inquired, breathlessly interested.

  But she did not reply. She only held her breath, while her heart beatquickly, and by her silence I felt convinced that by her involuntaryejaculation she had nearly betrayed herself.

  The sole question which occupied my thoughts at that moment was whethershe was not the actual assassin. I forgot my own critical position. Irecollected not the remarkable adventures that had befallen me thatnight. I thought not of the ghastly fate prepared for me by my unknownenemies. All my thoughts were concentrated upon the one problem--theinnocence or guilt of that unseen, soft-spoken woman before me.

  "And now," she said at last--"now that you have satisfied yourself of mypersonal appearance, are you prepared to accept the conditions?"

  "I confess to having some hesitation in doing so," I answered, quitefrankly.

  "That is not at all surprising. But the very fact of your owndefencelessness should cause you to ally yourself with one who has shownherself to be your protectress, and seeks to remain your friend."

  "What motive can you possibly have for thus endeavouring to allyyourself with me?" I inquired, without attempting to disguise mysuspicion.

  "A secret one."

  "For your own ends, of course?"

  "Not exactly. For our mutual interests. By my own action in taking youin when you were knocked down by the cab I have placed your life inserious jeopardy; therefore, it is only just that I should now seek torescue you. Yet if I do so without first obtaining your promise ofsilence and of assistance, I may, for aught I know, bring anoverwhelming catastrophe upon myself."

  "You assure me, upon your honour as a woman, that no harm shall befallme if I carry out the instructions in those mysterious letters?"

  "If you obey without seeking to elucidate their mystery, or the identityof their sender, no harm shall come to you," she answered solemnly.

  "And regarding the silence which you seek to impose upon me? May I notexplain my adventures to my friend, in order to account for the bloodupon my clothes and the injury to my head?"

  "Only if you find it actually necessary. Recollect, however, that nostatement whatever must be made to the police. You must give anundertaking never to divulge to them one single word of what occur
redlast night."

  There was a dead silence, broken only by the lapping of water, which hadalready risen and had flooded the chamber to the depth of about twoinches. The place was a veritable death-trap, for, being a kind ofcellar and below high-water mark, the Thames flood entered by a holenear the floor too small to permit the escape of a man, and would riseuntil it reached the roof.

  "Come," she urged at last. "Give me your undertaking, and let us atonce get away from this horrible place."

  I remained silent. Anxious to escape and save my life, I neverthelessentertained deep suspicions of her, because of her anxiety that I