The Plague, Pestilence & Apocalypse MEGAPACK™
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“Well, you know, he is a great man; one hears of him . He is a
judge; and something of a collector, too .”
She had seen a tall form walking towards them, and went pink
again .
“I want to introduce you, Count Festini,” she said, “to my fiancé,
Mr . Frank Gallinford .”
She averted her eyes from his face, and did not see the sudden
tightening of his lips, nor the curious, quick droop of his eyelids .
“This is Count Festini,” she said .
The big Englishman put out his hand, and grasped the other’s
heartily . He was almost head and shoulders above the dapper young
man, but, to Frank’s surprise, it was no soft, effeminate grasp which
was returned . It was a grip which reminded him of the vice-like grip
of Tillizini’s .
Frank was a typical Englishman—tall, broad-shouldered, lean of
face and limb; grey, honest eyes shone with pleasure to meet a friend
of his beloved .
“I wish you would bring us just a handful of your beautiful Italian
sunshine, Count,” he said . “In this city of gloom, and depression,
and inquests—”
“Inquests?” interrupted Marjorie .
Frank nodded .
“Yes, on that unfortunate man who was murdered . I have got to
give evidence to-day .”
“Which man is this?” asked the Count, interested .
“The man who was found in the Embankment Gardens .”
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“Oh!”
It was only an ejaculation, but Frank looked at him in surprise .
“Did you know him?” he asked .
“I only know what I have read in the papers,” said the other,
calmly . “May I ask, Mr . Gallinford, exactly what part you played in
that tragedy?”
“I was the man that was with him when he was kidnapped,” said
he . “I have felt awful ever since . If I could only have kept with him
I might have saved his life .”
“Or lost your own,” said the Count . “These people are not par-
ticular to a life or two . You have lived long enough in my country to
realize that we do not place the exaggerated value upon human life
that you Northerners do .”
“You cannot have an exaggerated value on human life,” said
Frank, gravely . “It is the most precious thing in the world .”
The Count shrugged his shoulders .
“That is a point of view,” he said . “It is not mine . For my part
I regard life as the least valuable of our possessions . It is a huge
gramophone record on which all the strident and unpleasant sounds
of life are received and held at one and the same time . And the
whole makes a tremendous discord,” he said, speaking half to him-
self . “The music of life is drowned, overwhelmed, deadened by the
harsher notes of strife and ambition . For me,” he smiled, “I think
that the clean record is best .”
“What is the ‘clean record’?” asked Frank .
“Sleep,” said the other, a little bitterly, “or death . It is one and the
same .”
He offered his hand with a charming smile .
“I am keeping you both,” he said . “Where may I have the plea-
sure of seeing you again, Miss Meagh?”
“I shall be staying with my uncle for another month,” she said .
He nodded pleasantly to Frank, and, turning, walked quickly
away . He stopped at a little cigarette kiosk on the station, and watch-
ing them out of the corners of his eyes, he saw that they were pass-
ing slowly from the station . He turned, when they had disappeared
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through one of the exits . His face had no longer that pleasant, soft
quality which had distinguished it a few minutes before . It was hard
and set, and his eyes glowed angrily . He stood watching the exit
through which they had disappeared, then he went to a telephone
box. From this he emerged in five minutes, collected, suave and
cheerful .
It was Thursday, the night before the attempt would be made . If
the locket was not abstracted, he thought he knew a way by which
it might be attained—and it was a pleasant way to him . The only
fear he had in his mind was whether he would resist the tempta-
tion which would arise in the experiment . Whether his love of gain
would over-master the growing passion which fired his breast for
this cold, beautiful Englishwoman .
He had learnt enough now to know that the second locket was in
the possession of Tillizini . It was a house which, under ordinary cir-
cumstances, might be burgled; but now it was Tillizini’s . The name
inspired awe amongst the lawless men who were working for their
illicit profits.
Before now the very sight of this professor’s thin, refined face
had stayed the assassin’s dagger, from very fright . The very mention
of Tillizini was sufficient to cause a stir of uneasiness amongst these
villains, in whom the dictates of fear and pity were dead .
But the name had no such effect upon Count Festini . He was
superior to fear of any man . He came from a line of men who, for
hundreds of years, had dominated one secret society or the other .
The Festinis went back to the bad old days of Italian history, when
assassination was a quick and easy method of ridding members of
his family from embarrassment .
It was in his blood . It was part of his composition . Young as he
was, he had been the directing force of the terrorizing organization
which had worked the Eastern States of America into a ferment of
terror .
Tillizini, swift and terrible in his working, wise in his judgment,
had broken that organization .
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Festini was no fool . He had recognized that the game was up in
America . There was no use in running his head against a brick wall .
He had foreseen the possibility of transplanting the strength of his
government to England . They were a soft people, used to crime of
a certain type, crime which was generally without violence . It was
the last stand of the “Red Hand .” Its members had been driven from
every country in Europe . It was only a matter of time when lethargic
England would drive and stamp the organization out of existence .
But, in that short space of time, Festini was preparing his coup—
the greatest and most terrible of his wicked plans . He would strike,
not individuals, for that was too dangerous—he would blackmail the
nation, but first he must obtain possession of those lockets.
He sprang into a cab outside the station, and drove to a little street
in Soho. It was a tiny restaurant where he knew he would find Il
Bue . There was no time to be lost .
The man he sought had not arrived, and the Count sat down and
waited, ordering a plate of soup from the obsequious head-waiter .
The big man came in shortly afterwards .
“Talk in English as much as you can,” said Festini .
“The man is a brother,” replied the other .
“That does not matter,�
� said the Count . “Talk in English, if you
please . You have sent your men to Burboro’?”
The other nodded .
“You have followed my instructions?”
“Yes, fair one . The men I have sent looked like Englishmen . They
are the best we can get .”
“Trustworthy?”
The other nodded, and smiled crookedly .
“As trustworthy as men could be who are up to their eyes .…” He
gave a significant little gesture, and Festini smiled a little.
“I don’t think we shall have any difficulty,” he said. “When you
get the locket, bring it straight to me . You will be at the station to
receive them . Take it from their hands; do not leave the station until
you have it in your hand . I shall be waiting for you at Deptford .
Now, what of Tillizini?”
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A look of fear came into the big man’s eyes .
“Tillizini?” he said, uneasily .
“Yes,” said the other, impatiently . “What do you fear? He is only
a man, my Ox . One of the lockets is in his possession . It is in that
big room of his that overlooks the Thames Embankment . Now, can
that be secured?”
The big Italian shook his head vigorously .
“Signor,” he said, earnestly, “it cannot be done . There is not one
of our men who would dare to . You know he is no man—this Tilliz-
ini—he is a devil . Remember Beppo Ferosti! Only the other night,
killed on the stairs, by a man who heard all we said . And we none
the wiser! It is not possible, Signor, to trap this man . We have tried .
“Did we not try in New York?” he went on, vehemently . “We
bribed the waiter of his hotel, we drugged him, we went to his room
at night and dragged him out of bed, wrapped him in a sheet and
threw him down the elevator shaft . Signor, he dropped eight sto-
ries,” he said, impressively, “and when we went later to see him at
the bottom, it was not him at all . It was poor Antonio Barricci—the
man who had been in charge of all the arrangements—who had
planned his death . We had not seen his face in the dark, because we
dared not carry lights . We simply took the drugged form from the
bed and carried it to the elevator shaft .
“Do you remember how we sent the man from Florence to kill
him? We never saw that man again,” the big man’s voice shook a
little, for the man from Florence had been his brother . “Tillizini sent
me his hand—that is all—by parcel post! Just the hand of the man
from Rome, with the rings of the brotherhood still upon his finger.
No name to identify the sender, and the postmark ‘Paris .’
“It cannot be done, I tell you,” he said, “the man is not human .”
Festini was listening with an amused smile .
“He is sufficiently human, my friend,” he said, softly, “only he is
more clever than the men who have been pitted against him . Now
I propose, myself, to arrange matters with Signor Tillizini . I have
tried every one of our agents, and they have all failed . I must take
up my share of the work . Here is a dangerous enemy, who may spoil
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our plans . To-night, whilst our friends are reconnoitring the ground
at Burboro’, I myself will work independently .”
“Shall I come with you?” asked the other, eagerly . “Signor, I
would give my life for you .”
He spoke with sincerity . There was no questioning the honesty of
the dog-like faithfulness of this big man .
Again Festini smiled .
“I will work alone, my good friend,” he said, and tapped the other
on the shoulder with his white hand, approvingly . “These things
must be done with subtlety if they are to succeed .”
He rested his head upon his hands for a few minutes, deep in
thought. The other waited patiently, his deep-set eyes filled with
love and admiration for the master whose house he had served all
his life .
“There is a man,” said Festini, suddenly, “who is a sort of agent
of this Tillizini . Now, you shall go to him and kill him .”
He spoke as though it were a very ordinary transaction which he
had asked the other to undertake .
Il Bue nodded .
“It will be simple,” he said . “I can do it to-night .”
Festini was still thinking .
“No,” he said, after a while, “do not kill him . Take him away to
the house by the river . You know where I mean?”
The other nodded .
“When you have got him safe, send a letter to Tillizini saying that
you have him, and demanding a ransom—say of 500, and leave the
rest to me .”
The big man rose .
“I will see about this at once, Signor,” he said . “God prosper
you .”
With which commendation he left the restaurant .
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THE 4TH PLAGUE, by
Edgar Wallace (Part 2)
CHAPTER X
A WAY OF TILLIZINI’S
Tillizini was sitting in his room, examining a number of photo-
graphs that he had received that morning from Florence, when the
note came to him .
He opened and read it .
It was brief and to the point .
“We have taken your spy. You will give us five hundred English
pounds, and he shall be released . By Order of The Red Hand .”
He folded it carefully .
“Is the messenger still waiting?” he asked .
“No, sir,” said the servant, “it was a boy who handed it in .”
Tillizini examined the note again, and smiled . He rose from the
table and went to the telephone which stood on a small bracket near
the wall . He gave a Treasury number which is not in the telephone
book, it is only to be found in the small volume issued to Cabinet
Ministers and to public officials, and in a few seconds he was con-
nected with Inspector Crocks .
“They have taken my man,” he said; “at least they say they have,
and I suppose they are speaking the truth . They demand £500 for his
immediate release .”
“What are you going to do?” asked the inspector’s voice .
“I’m going to release him,” said the other, “though I have my
doubts as to whether they really want the money .”
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In a few minutes they were driving to Smith’s lodgings . The
landlady gave him all the information he required, and another
hour’s search revealed the place where his man had been captured .
As he thought, it was on the wharf from whence he usually set his
make-believe flash-signals. There were signs of a little struggle.
Some children, playing in the dark street from which the wharf was
gained, had seen four men, very drunk as they thought, staggering
to a waiting motor-car .
* * * *
There is a little club in Soho where men, with certain political
views, may be found between the hours of eleven at night and five
in the morning .
At a quarter to twelve the stout man Piet
ro, who had formed the
third at the Deptford conference, entered the club and, after a fruit-
less inspection of its members, came out again .
He walked through Soho, crossed Oxford Street, and entered one
of the slummy thoroughfares which abound in the neighbourhood of
Tottenham Court Road .
He let himself into a gloomy house with a key, and closed the
door behind him .
His room was on the ground floor. He unlocked the door, went in,
and again closed and locked it before he struck a match .
His hands were fumbling with a match-box when there was a
quick, blinding flash, and he found himself standing in a circle of
light thrown by an electric light .
“Don’t move,” said a voice, “or I will kill you .”
The intruder spoke in Italian .
“You may light the gas,” said the unknown .
The circle of light followed the alarmed man, as he moved to the
centre of the room, reached up and ignited an incandescent burner .
“Tillizini!” he gasped .
“It is I,” said the other easily . “Your doors are shut—yes . Your
windows are shuttered, of course . Sit down .”
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Shaking in every limb, the man obeyed . The revolver in the pro-
fessor’s hand was an excellent excuse for obedience .
“Where have you been to-night?”
“That is no business of yours,” growled the other . “You have no
right to come into my room . What have you stolen?”
“Don’t be foolish,” said Tillizini, calmly . “Stand up again, put
your hands above your head . Thank you, Signor .”
His deft fingers searched the other, removed a revolver from the
hip-pocket and a knife from inside the waistband of his trousers .
These he laid on the table, first jerking open the chamber of the
revolver scientifically. There was a little clatter of cartridges as they
fell on the floor.
“Now I want your hand,” he said . “Hold it out .”
Hesitatingly, the other man obeyed, his fearful eyes fixed upon
the calm face of the other .
Tillizini leant over and raised the hand to his face . His sensitive
nostrils dilated. He had no difficulty in detecting the scent of the
attar of roses with which his spy’s papers had been impregnated .
“Yes,” he said, “you are the man I want .”
The fear deepened in the stout man’s eyes .