I came back to myself with nerves jumping.
“A drug dealer,” I answered him. “A dope den à la Ritz. That’s all. I’ve seen opium joints in China that would make it look like a trench dugout. And the pipe hitters there would cut your throat for a pill just as quick as these would for Satan.”
Neither of which assertions was at all true, but it gave me comfort to say them.
“Yes?” he said, cynically. “Well, it’s a good wye to think. I ’opes you keep on thinkin’ that wye, Cap’n.”
I hoped that I might begin to think so.
“Soft along ’ere,” he whispered. We were moving like ghosts in the darkness of a passage. I had an indistinct memory of having entered several lifts. Of even the probable location of my room I had not the slightest idea.
“’Ere we are,” he muttered, and stood for an instant listening. I thrust my hand into the pocket where I had slipped my wrist watch, that its illuminated dial might not betray us. I took a swift look. It was almost half past midnight.
Barker drew me forward. There was a faint scent in the air, a delicate fragrance.
Eve’s! We were in her room.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Beat her to it,” I whispered incautiously.
There was a rustle, as of some one sitting hastily up in bed.
“Who’s there?” came Eve’s voice, softly. “I’ve got my finger on the alarm!”
“It’s me—Jim,” I answered, as softly as she, but mighty hastily.
“Jim!” A subdued light gleamed suddenly. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried to death about you!”
Eve was leaning forward from her pillows, brown eyes wide and luminous, silken mop of hair a bit tousled. She looked like a wakeful little girl who had been exasperatedly pulling it. She was, also, the prettiest thing I had ever seen. Every time I looked at Eve she seemed prettier. I wondered where she was going to stop. She had on some sort of a lacy pink negligee. All the rest of my life, I knew, my heart would beat faster whenever I saw a lacy pink negligee, even when it was only in a shop window.
She slipped out of bed, ran straight to me, and kissed me. It was so pleasant that I entirely forgot everything else.
I became aware of a queer noise behind me. Harry was teetering from side to side, his hands clasped, his eyes half closed and moist, his face ecstatic, and he was crooning like an affectionate parrot. He was a sentimental little burglar, Harry.
Eve looked, and laughed.
“If you want to say ‘Bless you, my children,’ go ahead, Harry,” she said mischievously.
He blinked, snapped out of it, and grinned at her.
“Made me think of me an’ Maggie,” he said. “Just like when we was courtin’. Fair warmed my ’eart, it did.”
“Well,” I said, “I move that this meeting comes to order. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, and not much time to do it. What’s the chance of us being interrupted, Eve?”
“Hardly any,” she answered. “Frankly, everybody does as they like about having room parties. So everybody is extraordinarily discreet about visiting without an invitation. On the other hand, Jim, you’re the one person it wouldn’t do to have found here. Our aversion to each other has been so marked, darling, you know. Satan would be bound to hear about it. And the second he did—”
She didn’t have to finish the sentence. I had a very clear idea of what Satan would do.
“It would be hard to explain Barker, too,” she added.
“How about it, Harry?” I asked him. “Likely to be any calls for you? Any awkward searching parties?”
“Not unless something big goes wrong,” he said. “If they look for me in my room, I can say I was workin’ somewhere else. Satan won’t be ’untin’ me, that’s certain.”
“Well,” I said, “we have to take some chances. But we’ll talk low and in the dark.”
Eve stepped over, and put out the lamp. She drew aside the heavy curtains from one of the windows. A faint light flickered in from the moon hidden behind a hazy sky. Barker and I moved the chaise longue to a shadowed corner. The three of us sat down upon it.
We talked. Not the slightest use of setting down a word of it. We got nowhere. A few schemes gleamed brightly for an instant, and then went glimmering like will-o’-the-wisps. The spell of what I had beheld in Satan’s unholy shrine was heavy on me, try as I would to throw it off. I had to fight a sense of futility. We were like three flies in a web of the Temple of the Footsteps. If we got out of one, it was only to find ourselves in another. But steadily Eve’s warm, soft body pressing against mine, her courage, her trust, armed me against the devastating sapping of my confidence. There was a way. There must be a way.
More than an hour had passed, and we had found not a solitary clew to it.
And Barker had been growing fidgety, nervously abstracted.
“What’s the matter, Harry?” I asked him at last.
“I’m h’uneasy, sir,” he said. “I don’t know why. But I ’ave a feelin’ somethin’s wrong somewhere.”
It struck me as funny.
“You’re devilish well right there is,” I couldn’t help chuckling. “It’s what we’ve been giving all this time trying to right.”
“No,” he said soberly. “I’m bl—I’m h’unusually h’uneasy. An’ I’m never that wye h’unless somethin’s bl—’orrible wrong. Cap’n, I think we’d better call it a night an’ get back.”
I hesitated. As I say, we had gotten nowhere. At any moment one of us might get a flash that would open up a way out. Truth was, of course, I didn’t want to leave Eve. But there was no denying the little man’s distress. And if he should go and not be able to return—well, then I would be in a pretty fix. I hadn’t the slightest idea of where my room was, or how to get to it.
“We’ve decided a lot of things won’t do,” said Eve. “It sounds Pollyanna-ish, I know, but it really is some progress. The day may bring some new ideas. We’ll meet again tonight.”
“All right,” I said. “We’ll go, Harry.”
By the involuntary breath of relief he drew, I realized how troubled he was. Eve slipped to the windows, and let drop the curtains. The room resumed its original darkness. I felt her hand touch mine, and then her arms were around my neck.
“It’s going to seem a long, long time till tonight, Jim, darling,” whispered Eve.
“’Urry!” came Harry’s whisper. “’Urry up, Cap’n!”
I cautiously began to make my way toward where he stood by the wall.
“Gord!” I heard him gasp.
The word was thick with terror. I leaped forward.
The ray of the flashlight struck Barker full in the face. A hand shot out with the quickness of a snake, and caught his throat. I saw his face distorted with agony as his own two hands flew up to break that merciless grip.
The light struck me in the eyes, dazzling me. I ducked, and dived in. Before I could touch whoever it was that held it, the flash dropped to the rug and Barker’s body hit me like a bag of sand hurled by an elephant. I staggered back with a grunt. The lights in the room flashed up.
Just in front of me, menacing me with his automatic, stood Consardine!
And Consardine’s eyes were cold and deadly. There was death in them. They flashed from me to Eve. His face softened, as though with relief from some fear. Swiftly it gave way to bewilderment, incredulity. It grew hard and deadly again. The muzzle of the gun pointing at me never wavered. At my feet Harry gasped, and staggered up dizzily. I put an arm out and steadied him.
“What are these men doing here, Eve?”
Consardine’s voice was still and flat, as though he were holding himself in check by enormous effort. I had read the thought behind those swiftly changing expressions. First, that we had crept into Eve’s room for some sinister purpose. Then—suspicion of Eve herself. I must wipe that out. Keep Eve out of it. Play on Consardine’s first card. I answered before she could speak.
“You’re rather—impetuous, Consardine,
” I said in a voice as hard as his own. “But your gun makes that safe, I suppose, when you let loose on an unarmed man. I was restless, and decided to go back to the bridge game. I got lost in your cursed rabbit warren. I ran across this man here who told me that he was working around the place. I asked him to guide me back to my room. By some damned irony, he managed to make the mistake of all mistakes of getting me into Miss Demerest’s. Believe me, I was quite as anxious to get away as she was for me to go. Miss Demerest, I think you will confirm what I say?”
I turned to her. It was an open lead, and it sounded plausible enough. Consardine paid no attention to me whatever.
“I asked you, Eve, what these men are doing here?” he repeated.
Eve looked at him steadily for a moment, and then walked over and stood beside me.
“Dr. Consardine,” she said, “Mr. Kirkham is lying like a gentleman, to save me. The truth is that I asked him to come and see me. And I asked Barker to guide him to me. Both of them are entirely innocent of anything except courteously doing as I asked. The whole responsibility is mine.”
The veins suddenly stood out on Consardine’s temples, and the gun in his hand wavered. His face flushed. The cold fury had given way to hot anger. He might be just as dangerous, but I had a flash that Eve knew what she was doing, that her instinct had been truer than mine.
“So!” said Consardine thickly. “You thought you could make a fool out of me! Dupe me! I don’t enjoy being fooled, and I don’t enjoy being a dupe. How long have you two known each other?”
“We never set eyes on each other until you brought us together,” said Eve.
“And why did you send for him?”
“To get me away from Satan,” answered Eve, steadily. “What else?”
He regarded her with smoldering eyes.
“And why did you think he could do that?” he asked her.
“Because I love him! And because he loves me!” said Eve quietly.
He stared at us. Then abruptly all anger fled, his eyes softened.
“Good God,” said Consardine. “You Babes in the Wood!”
Eve put her hand out to him. He took it, patting it gently. He looked us over carefully again, as though we were some new and puzzling specimens. He turned out all the lights except the shaded one beside Eve’s bed, strode over to the window, and peeped out the curtains. He came back to us.
“Let’s talk this over,” he said. “Barker, I’m sorry I choked you. Kirkham, I’m sorry I bowled you over. I’m sorry, too, that I misjudged you. And glad I did. Eve, I wasn’t spying on you from out there. You were on my mind. You have been, child, for some time. I could see how restless and disturbed you were at the game. I thought—it was something else. You were on my mind, I say. I thought that perhaps you had not gone to bed. And that a talk with me, who am more than old enough to be your father, might help. There were—some things I had to say. I stood out there for minutes, hesitating. I thought I might slip the panel a mite and see if you were up—or awake. I thought you might be crying. And just as I was about to do it, it opened and I heard Barker curse. Then the rest happened. That’s all.”
I gave him my hand. Barker grinned widely, and saluted.
“Had I better be goin’, sir?” he asked.
“Not yet,” said Consardine. “Kirkham, how long have you known Barker?”
“’E syved my life, ’e did,” broke in Harry. “’E pulled me out o’ ’Ell. An’ while we’re all tellin’ the truth, Dr. Consardine, I’ll sye I’m fair set on doin’ the syme by ’im an’ ’is young lydy.”
I gave Consardine a brief account of my acquaintance with Barker. He nodded, approvingly.
“First,” he said, “it will be well to clarify the situation by stating my own position. I am Satan’s servant. I am bound by a certain oath to him. I took that oath with open eyes, fully realizing all that it entailed. I came to him voluntarily, not like you, Kirkham. I recognize that your oath was under duress, and that therefore you are entitled to act in ways that I am not. I do not break my voluntary oath nor my word. Besides that I am convinced that if I did I would not live long. I have a foolish partiality for living. I could cheat Satan of his pleasure in my torture, but—I do not believe in any existence beyond the grave, and I find life, at times, vastly interesting. Furthermore, I have certain standards of living, appetites, desires and likings which my contact with Satan insures of satisfaction. Away from him they certainly would not be satisfied. Also I was an outlaw when I came to him. Outlaw I am, but hunted outlaw I would be without his protection. First and last—there is my oath.
“Let it be understood, then, that any assistance that I can promise you will be largely negative. It will consist of warning you of pitfalls to avoid, and of closing my eyes and ears to what I may see or hear. Like this affair tonight, for instance.”
“It is all we could ask, sir,” I said. “And a great deal more than I had any right to expect.”
“And now I say to you, Kirkham,” he went on, “that I think you have little chance to win against Satan. I think that the road you have picked has death at its end. I tell you so because I know you have courage, and you should be told what is in my mind. And I say it before you, Eve, because you too have courage. And you must consider, child, whether you should allow your lover to take this almost certain risk of death, or whether you should do—something else.”
I looked into Eve’s face. Her mouth was quivering, and her eyes were tortured.
“What—what is the something else, Dr. Consardine?” she whispered.
“Become Mme. Satan, I suppose!” I answered for him. “Not while I’m alive.”
“That,” he acquiesced quietly, “of course. But it is not what I had in mind—” He hesitated, shot a glance at Harry and quickly switched to another thought, or back, rather, to his old one.
“Understand,” he said, “I want you to win, Kirkham. In any way that does not break my oath to Satan, or threaten my prejudice for remaining alive, I will help you. At least—I will keep my hands off. But realize this—I am Satan’s servant. If he orders me to take you, I shall take you. If he orders me to kill you, I shall—kill you.”
“If Jim dies, I die. If you kill him, you kill me,” said Eve tranquilly. She meant it. He knew she meant it, and he winced.
“Nevertheless, child, I would do it,” he told her. And I knew he meant that. So did Eve.
“You—you started to—you were about to speak of another way—” she faltered.
“I do not want you to tell me your plans, Kirkham,” he interrupted her, quickly. “Only this. Do any of them involve your trying to kill Satan?”
I hesitated. It was a dangerous question to answer. After all, Consardine had warned me he could be trusted only so far. What did he consider the limits of his oath?
“I perceive they do,” he had interpreted my silence. “Well, it is the one thing you must not attempt. It is the one thing that is impossible. You may think you can kill him while you and he are alone. Kirkham, I tell you Satan is never alone. Always there are guards hidden about—in the walls, in secret places. Before you could fire, they would have you winged. And there is Satan’s abnormal quickness of mind. He would perceive your thought before it could be transformed into action. If you tried it while others were about, they would have you down before you could fire a second shot—assuming that you managed to get in a first one. And Satan has an unhuman vitality. I do not believe one bullet or two could kill him any more than they could an elephant. The real point is, however, that you would never get the chance.”
Well, Consardine did not know everything—that was clear. With that stone in the wall of the slavers’ hall up half an inch instead of a quarter, and a rifle poking through the crack, I would not have given much for Satan’s survival. Assuming, of course, that basically he was human.
“Furthermore,” he went on, almost as in answer to my thought, “suppose you did perform what I believe the impossible—kill him. Still there could be no es
cape for you. Better to be slain at once. There is not a place on earth where you could hide from the vengeance of his people. For it is not only by fear that Satan rules. Far from it. As he has told you, he pays his servants well. His continuance means ease, luxury, safety, power—most of the things of life for which man commonly strives—to more people than you can imagine. Satan has his splendid side as well as his dark one. And his people are scattered over all the globe. Many of them are more highly placed than you, as yet, can dream. Is it not so, Eve?”
“It is so,” she said, and the trouble in her eyes grew.
“Satan’s throne does not rest upon the backs of cringing slaves,” he said. “As always, he has his princes and his legions. To sum up. I do not believe you can kill him. If you try and fail, you die—horribly. And Eve is not saved. If you did kill him, you die as inevitably. Eve would be saved from him—yes. But will she have her freedom at such a price?”
“No! No!” cried Eve, and stood in front of me, arms outstretched, despair in her face.
“Consardine,” I said abruptly, “why does Satan hide his hands when the climbers go up the steps?”
“What’s that? What do you mean?” He stared at me.
“I’ve seen him on the black throne three times,” I said. “Twice with Cartright, once with myself. He pulls the lever, and then he hides his hands under the robe. What does he do with them, Consardine?”
“Are you hinting that the steps are a crooked game? That’s absurd, Kirkham!” His voice was amused, but I saw his strong hands clench.
“I’m hinting nothing,” I answered. “I—wonder. You must have seen many go up those steps. Have you ever seen Satan’s hands in the open while they were mounting? Think back, Consardine.”
He was silent. I could see him marshaling in his memory those he had beheld beckoned by the shining footprints. And his face had whitened.
“I—can’t tell,” he said at last. “I didn’t notice. But—I don’t think so.”
The A. Merritt Megapack Page 101