The Plague, Pestilence & Apocalypse MEGAPACK™
Page 47
pooh-poohed, and had been discussed by Government officials as a
problem which called for immediate solution .
THE 4TH PLAGUE, by Edgar Wallace (Part 2) | 370
The “Red Hand” had acted swiftly . Three days after the locket
had disappeared from Burboro’ a startling proclamation of the “Red
Hand,” printed in blood-red characters, had covered the hoardings
and the walls of London. Then it was for the first time that England
woke to a realization of the terrible danger which threatened her . It
was incomprehensible, unbelievable . It was almost fantastic . Men
who read it smiled helplessly as though they were reading something
which was beyond their understanding . And yet the proclamation
was clear enough . It ran:—
To the People of London .
We, the Directors of the “Red Hand,” demand of the English
Government—
(a) The sum of Ten Million Pounds .
( b) An act of indemnity releasing every member of the Fraternity
from all and every penalty to which he may be liable as a result of
his past actions .
(c) A safe conduct to each and every Member of the “Red Hand,”
and facilities, if so required, for leaving the country .
In the event of the Government’s refusing, after ten days’ grace,
we, the Directors of the “Red Hand,” will spread in London the
Plague which was known as the Fourth Plague, and which destroyed
six hundred thousand people in the year 1500 . The bacillus of that
plague is in our possession and has been synthetically prepared and
tested .
Citizens! Bring pressure on your Government to accede to our
demands, and save us the necessity for inflicting this terrible disease
upon you!
It bore no signature or seal . It was absurd, of course . Evening
papers, necessarily hurried and having little time to analyse its true
meaning, made fun of it . But a different note appeared in the com-
ments of the morning papers . Every known scientist and doctor of
note who was reachable had been interviewed, and they one and all
agreed that there was more than an idle threat in the pronouncement .
THE 4TH PLAGUE, by Edgar Wallace (Part 2) | 371
The papers called it variously, “The Terror,” “The Threat of the
‘Red Hand,’” “Blackmailing London,” and their columns were filled
with every available piece of data concerning the terrible scourge
which had swept through Italy and Ireland in the year of desolation .
“It’s a terrible business,” said Mansingham again . “I am afraid
there is something in it .”
The girl nodded .
With a courtesy which is not usually found in men of his class, he
accompanied her to the end of the field, and assisted her across the
rough stile leading on to the road . She had made a detour from the
little station to speak to Mansingham . She was interested in him, and
it was a pact between the barrister and herself that she should keep,
as he put it, a friendly eye upon his protégé .
It was a glorious morning; the world was flooded with the lemon
sunlight of early spring . The trees were bright with vivid green, and
primroses and wild violets flowered profusely by the hedgerows.
She shook away the gloom and depression to which the thought of
this terrible menace had subjected her, and stepped out briskly, hum-
ming a little tune .
Half-way across the field, Mansingham, retracing his steps,
picked up one of the papers she had been carrying, and hurried after
her .She had a twenty minutes’ walk before she reached Highlawns,
which stood some quarter of a mile from the town’s limits, but she
was of an age, and it was such a morning, when one’s feet seem to
move without effort, and song comes unbidden to the lips .
She heard the whirl of a motor-car behind her, and moved closer
to the hedge to allow it to pass . Unconsciously she turned to see who
was the occupant . At that moment the car jarred itself to a standstill
at her side . A young man, dressed from head to foot in a white linen
dust-coat, sprang out .
“Count Festini!” she cried in amazement .
“Count Festini,” he repeated, with his most charming smile . “I
wanted to see you, won’t you get in? I am going up to the house?”
he said .
THE 4TH PLAGUE, by Edgar Wallace (Part 2) | 372
She hesitated . She would much rather have walked that morning .
But it would have been an act of rudeness to have refused his offer
of a lift, and besides, it occurred to her that she was already overdue
for breakfast, and Sir Ralph’s temper of late had not been of the best .
She stepped into the car, and at that moment Mansingham, a little
out of breath, broke through the hedge behind it .
“What a curious idea,” Marjorie said, as Festini took his place
beside her .
“What is a curious idea?” he asked .
“A closed car on a day like this,” she said . “Why, I thought you
Italians loved the sun .”
“We love the sun,” he said, “untempered by such winds as you
seem to produce exclusively in England .”
He stepped forward and pulled down a red blind which hid the
chauffeur and the road ahead from view . She watched him without
understanding the necessity for his act . Then with a quick move he
pulled the blinds down on each side of the car . It was now moving
forward at a great pace . At this rate, she felt, they must be very near
indeed to Highlawns . They had, in fact, passed the house, as the
embarrassed Mansingham, clinging to the back of the car and wait-
ing for it to slow up so that he could restore the girl’s paper, saw to
his bewilderment .
“Why do you do that?” the girl asked coldly . “If you please,
Count Festini, let those blinds up .”
“In a little while,” he said .
“I insist,” she stamped her foot . “You have no right to do such a
thing .”
She was hot and angry in a moment as the full realization of his
offence came to her .
“In a moment,” he repeated; “for the present we will have the
blinds down, if you don’t mind .”
She stared at him in amazement .
“Are you mad?” she asked, angrily .
“You look very pretty when you’re angry,” he smiled .
THE 4TH PLAGUE, by Edgar Wallace (Part 2) | 373
The insolent assurance in his tone made her feel a sudden giddi-
ness . They must have passed Highlawns by now .
“Stop the car,” she demanded .
“The car will stop later,” he said; “in the meantime,” he caught
her hand as she attempted to release the blind, “in the meantime,” he
repeated, holding her wrist tightly, “you will be pleased to consider
yourself my prisoner .”
“Your prisoner!” exclaimed the affrighted girl . Her face had gone
very white .
“My prisoner,” said Festini, pleasantly . “I am particularly desir-
ous of holding you to ransom . Don’t you realize,” his eyes were
blazing with excitement, “don’t you
realize,” he cried, “what you
are to me? I do . In these last few days,” he went on, speaking rap-
idly, “I have seen all the wealth that any man could desire . And it is
nothing to me . Do you know why? Because there is one thing in the
world that I want more than anything, and you are that thing .”
Both his hands were holding her now . She could not move . She
was as much fascinated by his deadly earnestness as paralysed by
the grip on her arms .
“I desire you,” he said . His voice dropped until it thrilled . “You,
more than anything in the world—Marjorie . You are unattainable
one way; I must secure you in another .”
The girl shrank back into a corner of the car, watching the man,
fascinated . She tried to scream, but no sound came . Festini watched
her, his eyes glowing with the fire of his passion. His hot hand was
closed over hers almost convulsively .
“Do you know what I’m doing!” he said, speaking rapidly, “do
you know what I’m risking for you? Can’t you realize that I am
imparting a new danger to myself and to my organization by this
act? But I want you; I want you more than anything in the world,”
he said passionately .
She found her voice .
“You are mad,” she said, “you are wickedly mad .”
He nodded .
THE 4TH PLAGUE, by Edgar Wallace (Part 2) | 374
“What you say is true,” he answered moodily, “yet in my mad-
ness I am obeying the same laws which govern humanity . Something
here,” he struck his breast, “tells me that you are the one woman for
me . That is an instinct which I obey . Is it mad? Then we are all mad;
all animated creation is mad .”
The fierce joy of possession overcame him; she struggled and
screamed, but the whir of the engine drowned her voice . In a mo-
ment she was in his arms, held tightly to him, his hot lips against her
cheeks . He must have caught a glimpse of the loathing and horror in
her face, for of a sudden he released her, and she shrank back, pale
and shaking .
“I’m sorry,” he said, huskily, “you—you say I am mad—you
make me mad .”
His moods changed as swiftly as the April sky . Now he was
pleading; all the arguments he could muster he advanced . He was
almost cheerful, he swore he would release her, reached out his hand
to signal the driver, and repented his generosity .
Then he spoke quickly and savagely of the fate which would be
hers if she resisted him . It was the memory of that tall, handsome
lover of hers that roused him to this fury . He was as exhausted as
she when the car turned from the main road, as she judged by the
jolting of the wheels . After ten minutes’ run, it slowed down and
finally stopped.
He jumped up, opened the carriage door and sprang out, then
turned to assist her . A cold, sweet wind greeted her, a wind charged
with the scent of brine . She stood upon a rolling down, within a
hundred yards the sea stretched greyly to the horizon . There was
no house in sight save one small cottage . About the cottage stood
two or three men . She uttered a cry of thankfulness and started off
towards them, when a laugh from Festini stopped her .
“I’ll introduce you myself,” he said sarcastically .
She turned to run towards the sea, but in two strides he was up
to her and had caught her by the arm . Then a huge hand gripped his
neck, with a quick jerk he was spun round . His eyes blazing with
anger, he turned upon his assailant . George Mansingham, tall and
THE 4TH PLAGUE, by Edgar Wallace (Part 2) | 375
broad, grimed with the dust of the road, for he had maintained an
uncomfortable position hanging on to the back of the car for two
hours, met the vicious charge of Festini with one long, swinging
blow, and the Italian went down to the ground stunned .
The girl was dazed by the suddenness of the rescue, until Man-
singham aroused her to action .
“This way, miss!” he said .
He caught her unceremoniously round the waist, swung her up
as if she were a child, and leapt across a ditch which drained this
section of the downs .
“Run!” he whispered . He too had seen the men and guessed
they were in the confederacy . The girl gathered up all her reserve
of strength and ran like the wind, Mansingham loping easily at her
side .
The wind carried the voices of their pursuers . One staccato shot
rang out, a bullet whistled past them, then some one in authority
must have given the order to stop firing. And indeed it was more
dangerous for the men than for the fugitives .
There was a coastguard station half a mile along the cliff road,
and, although neither the girl nor Mansingham realized the fact, they
instinctively felt that the coastline offered the best means of escape .
Then suddenly Marjorie tripped and fell . Mansingham stopped in
his stride and turned to lift her . As he raised her to her feet he uttered
an exclamation of despair .
Facing him were two men, indubitably Italians, and their revolv-
ers covered him . He had come against the “Red Hand” outpost .
It was all over in ten minutes . The pursuers came up, the girl was
snatched from his protecting arms . He fought well; man after man
fell before his huge fists. Then a knife, deftly thrown, struck him by
the haft full between the eyes and he went down like a log .
Festini, breathless, his face marred by an ugly redness which was
fast developing into a bruise, directed operations .
“If you make a sound,” he said, “or attempt to attract the attention
of any person you see, you will have that person’s death on your
hands, and probably your own .”
THE 4TH PLAGUE, by Edgar Wallace (Part 2) | 376
He spoke curtly, impersonally, as though she herself were Man-
singham .
“Do not hurt him,” she gasped . She referred to the prostrate form
of the farm-labourer, now stirring to life . Festini made no answer .
He was of a race which did not readily forgive a blow .
“Take her away,” he said .
He remained behind with his two familiars . “I think we will cut
his throat, Signor,” said Il Bue, “and that will be an end to him .”
“And an end to us,” said Festini; “this coast is patrolled, the man
will be found, and the whole coastline searched .”
He walked a dozen paces to the edge of the cliff and looked down .
There was a sheer fall here of two hundred feet, and the tide was in .
“There is twenty feet of water here,” he said, significantly.
They carried the reviving man by the head and feet to the edge
of the cliff . They swung him twice and then released their hold,
his arms and legs outstretched like a starfish. Round and round he
twirled in that brief space of time, Festini and the other watching .
Then the water splashed whitely and the dark figure disappeared.
They waited a little while, there was no reappearance, and Festini
and his lieutenant retraced their footsteps to the cottage,
the third
man following .
CHAPTER XIV
TILLIZINI LEAVES A MARK
The period of ultimatum was drawing to a close . For four days
longer England had the opportunity of agreeing to the terms which
the “Red Hand” had laid down .
In his big library at Downing Street, occupying the chair which
great and famous men had occupied for the past century, the Prime
Minister, grave and preoccupied, sat in conference with Tillizini .
The Italian was unusually spick and span that morning . He had
dressed himself with great care, an ominous sign for the organi-
zation he had set himself to exterminate . For this was one of his
THE 4TH PLAGUE, by Edgar Wallace (Part 2) | 377
eccentricities, and it had passed into a legend among the criminal
classes in Italy, that a neat Tillizini was a dangerous Tillizini . There
is a saying in Florence, “Tillizini has a new coat—who is for the
galleys?”
The Prime Minister was fingering his pen absently, making im-
possible little sketches upon his blotting pad .
“Then you associate the disappearance of Miss Marjorie Meagh
with the operations of the ‘Red Hand’?”
“I do,” said the other .
“And what of the man, Mansingham?”
“That, too,” said Tillizini. “They were seen together in a field
where Mansingham was working, his book and his coat were found
as he had left them, and then he and she walked together to the
stile . He is seen by another labourer to walk back slowly across the
field, to suddenly stoop and pick up something, probably the lady’s
handkerchief or bag, it is immaterial which . He runs back to the
stile, jumps over, and evidently follows the lady . From that moment
neither he nor she are seen again . One woman I questioned at a cot-
tage by the roadside remembers a big car passing about that time . I
place the three circumstances together .”
“But surely,” said the Prime Minister, “they would hardly take
the man . What object had they? What object in taking the lady so far
as that was concerned?” Tillizini looked out of the window . From
where he sat he commanded a view of Green Park, a bright and
spirited scene . The guard had just been relieved at the Horse Guards,
and they were riding across the parade ground, their cuirasses glit-
tering in the sun, their polished helmets so many mirrors reflecting