“Yes,” said Hogarth. “How did you get it—the red lining?”
“On its way back from England. I was waiting for it. Then, there it was—coat and all—toiling up through the Khyber Pass. It was being worn by the one rogue in the gang we hadn’t been able to catch. He was on his way to sell back the lining to the Sheik from whom he and his colleagues had stolen it. He was the cleverest of the lot, but he didn’t happen to know that his enemy Carnaby of the Secret Police had got his length, and had been staying for weeks as a holy guest with the very Sheik for whom he was bound. I had no fear of his seeing through my disguise, for I had fooled the Sheik and the people at Kabul. But he was very thorough. Spoke the language perfectly. He was, of course, my senior in age and India. I invited him to share my supper, for we were camped for the night on opposite sides of the ravine.
How surprised he would have been had he known that my four followers were an armed escort provided by the Sheik to guard me to England and back. You see, I haven’t come to England just to see you two fellows. I’m on a holy mission to search for Mahomet’s stirrup-cup. But I certainly thought about you, Hogarth, that night in the Pass, for I had to decide which I would do; arrest this rascal I wanted badly, which would, of course, have given me away, or bring you the red lining for your specimen case. You won—and that night, when my gangster was out from a drug I had given him, I cut away the lining from the coat and tacked in another which I had all ready for the purpose. I should like to have seen his face when he eventually discovered how he had been fooled, and I hope he has lived, so that one day I can tell him that I was the Holy Man who played the tailor while he slept. Well—there now—you’ve got all the dope too.”
“There’s one thing more,” said Hogarth. “The bullet hole in the lining, which you said had been made before it was a lining. How did that happen.”
“In 1700 on the very spot where I camped in the Khyber Pass one of the many Avengers who had donned the robe in search of the Moslem Holy Grail was shot through the back by a robber. But the murderer was caught and the robe restored. I learnt that too, in Kabul. And that is the last question I shall answer—so there. But I’ll give you all a drink.”
“Give me a chance,” said I. “I want to know what’s going to happen to your disciples? You can’t just leave murderous-looking rascals like that about a respectable place.”
Carnaby went to the window and pulled back the curtains. “There they are, you see. Their camp fire burns brightly by the hill-side. I don’t think they will trouble us to-night. And to-morrow I will get two brilliant friends of mine to deal with them. First—little Ramsbottom Sahib and later in the day our Holy Man from Kabul shall reappear as the Muezzin upon the top-most minaret of Wrotham Church. I shall give them a message from Allah to depart to their own homes and then ascend once more to dwell with my good friend Mahomet.”
Saying which, he pulled the curtain close again, shutting out the weird figures sitting huddled against the distant flame. He then filled up our glasses and proposed his own health which he said he would be in need of at nightfall to-morrow.
“And now, my good host,” he said to Hogarth, “having thoroughly woken me up, you will kindly make me sleep again. I demand the story of the other skull, and no heel-taps.”
Hogarth smiled. “Sleepy? I’ll make you scared. Then we’ll leave you to the Haunted Chapel with what courage you have left. Listen!”
CHAPTER TWELVE
a baker’s dozen
“In my search for grim stories I’ve found myself doing all sorts of queer jobs in odd places of the world. The story I am going to tell you now took me to the oddest place on the queerest job, and the results were certainly most grim.
“The offer came through an uncle of mine who was a professor of Biology attached to the South Kensington Museum. One day he telephoned me to come round immediately to what he called the Dead Zoo, as he was in a position to put me on to something which he thought would appeal to me. It was a well-paid job, he said, and it needed somebody with guts and the power of keeping mum about it.
“Round I went and found him in the boardroom. He was in the chair presiding over a committee meeting of—I suppose—some dozen old gentlemen. When I had sat down in a chair they all indicated at once, my uncle introduced me.
“ ‘This is my nephew, gentlemen, Charles Hogarth, who, I am sure, will attempt to carry through our requirements with a good deal of spirit. I don’t mind saying in front of his face, that he has plenty of courage, and from schooldays has proved a good linguist.’
“He then turned to me and rapped out, ‘How is your Patagonian? Fluent or rusty?’
“It was such an odd question that I couldn’t think of anything to say except to repeat, ‘Patagonian’?
“ ‘Yes—would you say that you can speak it fluently?’
“I told him No, and that I had never met anyone who could, but that if he would show me a good reason for doing so, I would undertake to speak it fluently as soon as anyone else.’
“ ‘He is evidently a young fellow who doesn’t intend sticking because of a few difficulties,’ said a very learned old gentleman looking at me over a pair of thick-lensed glasses.
“ ‘But is Patagonian going to help him much?’ queried my uncle. ‘From what I’ve gathered, it means about as much to the Tierra Del Fuegian, as the Cornish dialect to the Highlander.’
“ ‘I’m only going by what the Captain tells us,’ answered the other. ‘It seems to me that your nephew had better meet him and chat over the possibilities. I will give him the card. Here, Mr. Hogarth, is the card,’ and he handed me a very dirty visiting card, which had been lying before him on the table.
“The name ‘Captain Smith’ was printed on it, and beneath in pencil, p.t.o. was scrawled.
“I obeyed to find an address scribbled in pencil.
“ ‘I think you are right, Doctor Knocker,’ nodded my uncle at the old gentleman, and then turning to me, went on, ‘Yes, Charles, before refusing or accepting the offer we are going to make to you, you had better go along and see what this fellow has to say. The Captain has been twice wrecked on Cape Horn Island, and once on the larger island of Tierra Del Fuego, and on that occasion crossed the island on foot, and saw something of the interior about which very little was known before.’
“ ‘Then I take it, sir,’ I interrupted, ‘that you propose sending me to the Cape Horn district?’
“ ‘Yes—of course—to Tierra Del Fuego—didn’t we tell you?’ My uncle was a strange mixture of the vague and the abrupt. ‘To Tierra Del Fuego, in order to procure, if possible, twelve specimens of aboriginal Fuegian skulls. The details of the expedition are all arranged, and we should require you to set off next autumn at the latest. We will discuss terms after you have seen the Captain. But when I tell you that the whole expense is borne by the Darwin Trust Fund, and Doctor Knocker is the Darwin Trust Fund, you will know that no quarrel as to money will arise. To procure these skulls must be your chief aim, but if in the meantime you are able to procure zoological or botanical specimens, I am sure a welcome place will be found for them in the other departments of the Museums.’
“I pointed out that as far as zoology was concerned it could prove a profitable expedition. It is a good whaling ground, but I knew that the land animals were not interesting. As to botany, I kept my mouth shut, for I was then an ignoramus of the science, though I have picked up something of it since.
“Now in spite of all their flattering remarks about my courage, I am bound to confess that I was not at all attracted to the venture, and I doubt if I should have undertaken it, had not my uncle promised me a trip to the Congo on my return. So I sought out Captain Smith. He lived in a dilapidated quarter of Pimlico—amongst houses that had seen better days. In one of these seedy ex-genteel buildings, he occupied the top floor. I went up two flights of stairs, disliking the house and the smell of it intensely. It was musty. The dirty windows were obviously never opened. One of the bedroom doors was ajar
, and although it was lunch-time, the bed was not yet made, and I could see that the breakfast tray upon it was not cleared. I wondered what sort of a captain it was who could live with such a piggery beneath him.
“I very soon came to the conclusion that whatever he might be, he was at least a fellow to reckon with, for the top flight was barred by an old pair of braces, lashed across the banisters from which hung a cardboard notice with—‘If you don’t want Hell, don’t bother me,’ written in large ink capitals.
“ ‘Hello!’ I yelled, for there was nothing to ring or knock.
“ ‘Hell!’ came the answer. A tremendous voice. I heard a door shut quickly downstairs.
“ ‘Where’s Captain Smith?’ I demanded.
“ ‘Hell!’ repeated the great voice.
“ ‘I dare say,’ I laughed. ‘And I believe this is the way.’
“ ‘Do I know you?’
“ ‘No,’ I bawled back.
“ ‘Then I take it someone sent you. Who?’
“ ‘Doctor Knocker of the Darwin Trust, and my uncle Ray Hogarth of the South Kensington Museum. Shall I come up?’
“ ‘No,’ roared the voice. ‘Stay below decks. Who the hell are you, anyway?’
“ ‘If you keep me waiting, I’m the devil,’ I shouted. ‘Come and look.’
“ ‘What the thunder do you want to see Captain Smith about?’
“ ‘Tierra Del Fuego,’ I replied.
“ ‘What?’ bellowed the Captain; for although invisible, I knew he must be the man I wanted.
“ ‘Tierra Del Fuego,’ I repeated. ‘The Land of Fire.’
“Then I heard another voice: a most peculiar voice. It didn’t say a word—at least, not that I could catch, but it made a noise that I can only describe as starting with a croon of pleasure and then rising into a full-throated call like the triumphant crow of a cock.
“ ‘Keep your mouth shut, Romeo,’ ordered the Captain in a quieter tone. There followed a subdued muttering—then a sharp sound as if a sword had been drawn from its scabbard.
“ ‘Shall I come up?’ I called. ‘Time’s precious with me.’
“ ‘Yes,’ answered the Captain. ‘But I warn you if you are here to make trouble, think better of it, and get away before I make it first.’
“ ‘If there is any trouble, it will not be of my making,’ I replied as I walked on up the stairs. ‘But if you insist on it, you will find I am not the one to shirk looking after myself, and when the occasion calls, you’ll find me pretty tough. I’ve given you fair warning.’ I didn’t see why he should get it all his own way.
“As you both know, I have experienced all kinds of surprises in my life, but never so many in the space of a few seconds as I got going up those stairs.
“To begin with, the atmosphere of that house entirely changed after I had stepped over the pair of braces that held the notice—for the stairs took a sudden turn, and I saw that the top flat was a picture of neatness.
“The walls were hung with weapons from all parts of the globe, and the metal work danced in the sunbeams that poured through the sky-light.
“On the wall facing the stair-head there was the largest head of a bison that I have ever seen. A magnificent trophy. I noticed that there were other heads all round the landing—lions, a fine tiger, wild cat and antelope. But it was the inside architecture of the flat that struck me most, for I seemed to be boarding some sturdy ocean-going craft. This idea was heightened by the ship’s wheel that was fixed to the banisters and worked a windlass, used to lower buckets of coal or refuse. Telephone, speaking-tube and electric bells were handy to the wheel, so that it looked as though the owner of the top flat directed the house from this bridge. The furniture was fixed to the floor by iron clamps, as if the top of the house was expecting dirty weather. I discovered this when I tried to move a chair. You see, the Captain was particular about a place for everything and everything exactly in that place. Then I saw the little brown man whom I afterwards knew as Romeo.”
At this both Carnaby and I looked apprehensively at the grinning skull, but Hogarth went on.
“He was dressed in a clean suit of blue canvas—breeches and blouse. He put me in mind of an oak root. His head, neck, forearms and bare ankles were gnarled like that ancient wood, and although stunted, he gave me the impression of enormous strength.
“I suppose he was a dwarf, for I afterwards heard many people allude to him as such, but I always thought him a compressed giant. His form was only small, because it was so concentrated. Well—there he stood, having popped out from nowhere, grinning on the landing—stock still at attention, with a drawn cutlass at the salute. I nearly fell backwards. It was so unexpected—so utterly ridiculous. I must have stopped still for sheer amazement, for the great voice of the Captain roared, ‘Now then, boarding party, tumble up. And no complaints because I mount a guard of honour for you. And it’s not all in compliment to you. It’s precaution for me, and serves as protection to the ship. Income tax and Hoover men fly from Romeo’s blade like the land rabbits they are. And as for the Gas Light and Coke Company and those Central London Electricities—panic is the word. I sometimes sing like an old psalmist—“When Romeo draws his sword the host of little merchants flee discomfited. Ha! Ha!”’
“Then I caught my first glimpse of him. The Captain was looking at me through the glass ventilator over one of the doors which was shut to the landing. I imagined that he was standing on a chair inside the room, in order to be able to have a look at me. I was wrong. He suddenly opened the door, and I saw that he was standing on the floor. His great height would have been sufficiently forbidding without the heavy revolver which he grasped in his right hand. His huge face which strangely resembled the hairy bison, turned from a scowl to what was meant for a humorous smile of welcome. He stooped under the doorway, put up his revolver, and came towards the stairs, giving an order to the brown sentry in some foreign tongue I didn’t get. This caused the fellow to sheathe his cutlass, and to disappear into a little kitchen which was fitted up on the lines of a ship’s galley. The Captain held out a huge paw—seized my hand and dragged me on to the landing.
“ ‘Well—in spite of those old fusty professors who sent you,’ he laughed, ‘you look all right, and if you are all right and a friend of Ray Hogarth’s as well as being his nephew, you are welcome aboard. Old Ray is none so bad. He knows the rig of an animal’s skeleton better than most. A clever old piece, he is, and he’s your uncle, eh? I don’t hold it against you, and you can tell him I said so. He always owns I’m generous. Come into the Round House, and I’ll show you that I can be hospitable as well as uncivil. If you knew as much about me as I happen to, you would not be surprised that I take a good many precautions before receiving visitors aboard.’
“He had by this time dragged me across the spacious landing which he called—‘between decks,’ and motioned me to ascend a ladder which led through a man-trap on to the roof. This seemed a ridiculous way of showing hospitality. Ushering guests you have never met before through a ceiling is not usually done, but there was something about the Captain which called for obedience. As I went up, he called to the brown man in English, ‘Rum and milk—twice.’ He took it for granted that I should like rum and milk. As a matter of fact, I didn’t, but I was perfectly aware that I should drink it when it came because it seemed to fit in with the whole adventure.
“I have told you the landing was like a ship, but this illusion was more real upon the roof. It bristled with gadgets which he explained as meteorological instruments.
“ ‘Can’t be too careful, can one?’ he chuckled.
“ ‘I should think not, indeed,’ I replied, though I had not the vaguest idea what he had to be careful about.
“In the observatory, which he called the Round House, was a powerful telescope, round which ran a very comfortable divan. I must say that my opinion of the Captain went up when I realized the skill with which he had produced his own atmosphere in spite of the drab squalor beneath
him. He must have read my thoughts as I stood gazing at the London sky from the Cabin window.
“ ‘Might be riding into some great port, mightn’t we? No doubt you wonder why I chose this quarter of the town for the building of my make-believe ship? Well—you see—I didn’t. This blarsted house was left me, so I made the best of a bad job. No rent to pay. No—the scum downstairs pay me. I pay the rates—but one has to pay harbour dues in any port. The tenants were left to me as well, and a mighty poor lot they are, too, but I don’t get rid of them, as it amuses me to bully them. I was born a bully, and I don’t mind owning I like being one. Anything else to ask?’
“As I hadn’t asked a thing—I thought it was about time I did, and got on to the business. ‘I expect, Captain Smith, that you are wondering still why I am thrusting myself upon you.’
“He interrupted with a wave of his great paw. ‘Nothing of the sort. I know now. At least I’ve guessed. But bless you, there’s no hurry about that yet. You may not know it, but you are here for the day.’
“I began to expostulate that I had many other appointments.
“ ‘Cut them,’ he roared. ‘There’s a telephone here. All you have to do is to get on and say “Can’t make it—too busy,” and then cut ’em off. Most appointments can be dealt with like that. That’s what I do with most of mine. Cut ’em off and I wish I could do the same with the silly people’s heads too. I suppose you realize young man, that we’ve got a hell of a lot to thrash out. The whole thing boils down to this. What we are asked to do is certainly going to affect our whole lives, or end ’em, like that,’ and he snapped his fingers. ‘First, we’ll get to know each other a little better. I know more of you than you of me. Your uncle is an old friend. He has recently told me about you. Don’t suppose he’s told you anything about me, because he’s an honest man, and he doesn’t know anything much to tell. So, my lad, this being the situation, you’d better let me do the talking for a bit. I’ll explain—but here comes our rum and milk.’
The Master of the Macabre Page 18