by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER XII
THE HASHISHIN WATCH
"The American gentleman has just gone out, sir," said the sergeantat the door.
I nodded grimly and raced down the steps. Despite my half-formeddesire that the slipper should be recovered by those to whomproperly it belonged, I experienced at times a curious interest inits welfare. I cannot explain this. Across the hall in front ofme I saw Earl Dexter passing out of the Museum. I followed himthrough into Kingsway and thence to Fleet Street. He saunteredeasily along, a nonchalant gray figure. I had begun to think thathe was bound for his hotel and that I was wasting my time when heturned sharply into quiet Salisbury Square; it was almost deserted.
My heart leapt into my mouth with a presentiment of what was comingas I saw an elegant and beautifully dressed woman sauntering alongin front of us on the far side.
Was it that I detected something familiar in her carriage, in thepoise of her head--something that reminded me of formerunforgettable encounters; encounters which without exception hadpresaged attempts upon the slipper of the Prophet? Or was it thatI recollected how Dexter had booked two passages to America? Icannot say, but I felt my heart leap; I knew beyond any possibilityof doubt that this meeting in Salisbury Square marked the openingof a new chapter in the history of the slipper.
Dexter slipped his arm within that of the girl in front of him andthey paced slowly forward in earnest conversation. I suppose myaction was very amateurish and very poor detective work; butregardless of discovery I crossed the road and passed close bythe pair.
I am certain that Dexter was speaking as I came up, but, well outof earshot, his voice was suddenly arrested. His companion turnedand looked at me.
I was prepared for it, yet was thrilled electrically by theflashing glance of the violet eyes--for it was she--the beautifulharbinger of calamities!
My brain was in a whirl; complication piled itself upon complication;yet in the heart of all this bewilderment I thought I could detectthe key of the labyrinth, but at the time my ideas were in disorder,for the violet eyes were not lowered but fixed upon me in cold scorn.
I knew myself helpless, and bending my head with consciousembarrassment I passed on hurriedly.
I had work to do in plenty, but I could not apply my mind to it;and now, although the obvious and sensible thing was to go aboutmy business, I wandered on aimlessly, my brain employed with ahundred idle conjectures and the query, "Where have I seen TheStetson Man?" seeming to beat, like a tattoo, in my brain. Therewas something magnetic about the accursed slipper, for withoutknowing by what route I had arrived there, I found myself in GreatOrchard Street and close under the walls of the British AntiquarianMuseum. Then I was effectually aroused from my reverie.
Two men, both tall, stood in the shadow of a doorway on the Oppositeside of the street, staring intently up at the Museum windows. Itwas a tropically hot afternoon and they stood in deepest shadow. Noone else was in Orchard Street--that odd little backwater--at thetime, and they stood gazing upward intently and gave me not even apassing glance.
But I knew one for the Oriental visitor of the morning, and despitebroad noonday and the hum of busy London about me, my blood seemedto turn to water. I stood rooted to the spot, held there by a mostsurprising horror.
For the gray-bearded figure of the other watcher was one I couldnever forget; its benignity was associated with the most horriblehours of my life, with deeds so dreadful that recollection to thisday sometimes breaks my sleep, arousing me in the still watches,bathed in a cold sweat of fear.
It was Hassan of Aleppo!
If he saw me, if either of them saw me, I cannot say. What I shouldhave done, what I might have done it is useless to speak of here--forI did nothing. Inert, thralled by the presence of that eerie,dreadful being, I watched them leave the shadow of the doorway andpace slowly on with their dignified Eastern gait.
Then, knowing how I had failed in my plain duty to my fellow-men--how,finding a serpent in my path, I had hesitated to crush it,had weakly succumbed to its uncanny fascination--I made my wayround to the door of the Museum.