It was clear that she meant what she said: her fearlessness was sublime: there were things in Hell undreamt of in her philosophy.
The fellow toyed with the screw.
"It certainly looks," he said, "as though we shan't be able to finish tonight. Still, these things shouldn't be rushed. And you know I can't help feeling that twenty-four hours in this chamber will help you to change your mind. The quarters are close, aren't they?"
"SO much," said Helena, calmly, "may happen in twenty-four hours."
I heard Rush swallow uneasily.
"Will happen," said Pharaoh. "Will— outside in the world. But here ... Is that door shut and locked?"
"Yes." said Rush.
"As I was saying, here we are out of the world, and time will stand still. Outside—well, the warden will rage and your people imagine vain things. Mr. Bohun will organise. Mr. Spencer will grin like a dog, and run about the—"
"Mr. Spencer's the rock you've split on from first to last."
"In a sense that's true," said Pharaoh. "I frankly admit I'm more accustomed to dealing with knaves than fools. And he's been very fortunate so far; but I don't think his luck will last. It's all my fault," he sighed. "I've only myself to thank. But he made such an excellent lever that against my better judgment I let him live. But there— we all make mistakes. To be perfectly honest, I went to the forester's cottage because I believed he was there. I didn't need you, you know. I already knew of this room."
"You seem to need me now."
"Quite," said Pharaoh, "quite. But that's because your brother has gone. As a host— well, his hospitality left nothing to be desired. I find you more exacting. Never mind. About Mr. Spencer. You know I did give him a chance. I actually wrote him a note, containing some good advice."
"People like Mr. Spencer don't take any notice of threats."
"Perhaps the gods love them," said Pharaoh. "They always die young."
"Mr. Spencer has spoiled your game— and he isn't dead yet. Mr. Spencer has forced your hand, and he's singed your beard— and he isn't dead yet."
"I assure you," said Pharaoh, "it's only a matter of time." A gust of passion suddenly shook his accents. "If he goes to Tibet, I'll get him." The gust died down, and he laughed. "Stupid," he murmured. "Let's say I don't like his face."
"You don't like him because you fear him."
"He may prove inconvenient. Unabated nuisances sometimes do."
"It isn't his tongue that you fear. You fear his hand."
"But you don't, do you?" flashed Pharaoh. "It's astonishing how you've fallen for that young calf. And it isn't as if you were plain. Mountebanks weren't meant for Madonnas. And so many better men would be happy to share your cottage and sleep in the room above yours ... But there you are. There's no accounting for tastes. And at least you've seen something of each other ... "
To this day I do not know how I held myself in. I sought to fix my gaze on the truth that my turn was coming; that I was going to kill Pharaoh and ram his foul contumely down his rattling throat.
I could just distinguish the man, but the resolute beam from the torch went far to distract my eye. I could make out that he was sitting astride a chair, about six paces from Dewdrop, close to the wall. There was furniture standing between us, a massive writing-table against which Dewdrop was leaning, holding the torch.
For fear of missing my man, I dared not fire upon him from where I stood. Reach him I could not, without crossing the beam of the torch, and, remembering our brush in the forest, I feared lest his swiftness of action should once again save his life. Though the others were at my mercy, it would have been more than folly to strike them down.
I must bide my time— somehow.
"I told you I had no scruples." The voice was cold and harsh as the Vardar wind. "Am I to demonstrate this?"
Helena shrugged her shoulders.
"That's a matter for you— not me. I find it sufficiently obvious, but perhaps you like gilding your most refined gold."
"I have two questions to ask you. You know what they are. To obtain the accurate answers, I am ready to go all lengths. Not a long way. All lengths."
"I believe you," said Helena calmly. "The trouble is you've got as far as you can."
"Let us see. Your brother was a mine of information, as you may believe. Among other things he told me the following curious fact. When a son or a daughter of Yorick is ten years old, a leopard, the badge of Yorick, is tattooed upon their skin. Is— is that true, Lady Helena?"
Helena moistened her lips.
"Yes."
"He said— it may not be true, but he said they were always tattooed beneath the left breast. In your case, I think, an expert was brought from Japan. It was thought, very properly, if I may say so, that so exquisite a canvas deserved a master's brush .... May we see his handiwork, please?"
HELENA sat as though stricken turned into stone.
Pharaoh proceeded mercilessly.
"If you would like assistance, you've only to say the word. We're none of us lady's maids, but Rush has the reputation of being a lady's man."
The sweat was running on my temples. My blood seemed to burn my veins. The compression within me was tumultuous. All my being seemed swollen with a fury that knew no law.
As I tried to measure my distance I found that I could not see, for my eyes had been fixed on Helena and now could not pierce the darkness which veiled the rest of the room.
And then I heard Rush moving ... Had the fellow moved forward that must have been the end of this tale. But he only passed behind me, to stand between me and Dewdrop—I suppose to be nearer his master—the suddenly favoured courtier approaching the steps of the throne.
Helena was trembling. A little hand went up to cover her eyes.
"I'll make you an offer," she said
Her change of tone was piteous. She spoke with an obvious effort, as one whose spirit has been broken, as one that, had had nothing, from whom had been taken away even that which she had.
"I'll make you an offer. I nearly made it just now. If you'll go now I'll show you the secret way. Tomorrow night I'll meet you with five thousand pounds in gold. And after that I'll pay you five thousand a year— I promise it— for every year that you let Mr. Spencer live."
It was clear that a child was speaking, a terrified child. Offer, promise, figures were things grotesque. Her suggestion was below comment, of course. But Pharaoh had his foot in the opening quick as a flash.
"That's better," he said. "Much better. You've gone, shall we say, a long way. But it's not far enough I'm sure Mr. Spencer's worth ten thousand a year."
The man was playing with her— playing the fish he had hooked.
Helena's voice was shaking.
"I've no right to give any more. The money's not mine. That's more than I ought to take for my personal use."
It was awful to hear such naiveté issue from Helena's lips. So perhaps Red Riding Hood spoke to the wolf.
"I am not concerned with your right. To insure Mr. Spencer's life will cost you ten thousand down and ten thousand a year."
Her palms clapped fast to her eyes Helena threw back her head.
"All right," she said. 'I'll pay it."
The words seemed torn from her throat.
"One thing more." said Pharaoh
"It will not be convenient to meet you tomorrow night I take the first premium now. Show me that cellar, or strip. I don't care which you do, for I guess you can open it naked as well as clothed."
Chapter 20
I THINK a full minute went by before Helena moved but it seemed like hours.
Then very slowly she rose and turned to the right. Dewdrop following her with the beam of the torch. Clear of the bench she stopped. Then her hand went up to a sconce which was clamped to the panelled wall. For a moment it rested there. Then without warning she laid hold of the bracket and pulled it down.
I heard no sound, but a panel below the sconce moved and, when she turned, I saw the shape of a doo
r which was standing ajar. This was low and narrow, some twenty inches wide by some five feet high.
So Helena severed one of the threads by which her life was hanging.
Slowly she returned to the bench and the beam of the torch followed her.
As she took her seat, Pharaoh rapped out an order.
"Put a light on the lady, Bugle."
I think my heart stood still; but fortunately I had a torch and the wit to do as he said.
"Rush and Bugle stand fast: Dewdrop with me."
He crossed to the gaping panel, with Dewdrop directly behind him, lighting his steps.
As he pulled open the door I saw the stonework beyond.
Then the two stepped through the cut and began to go down.
I stood waiting for their footfalls to fade. And I knew then that my moment had come.
Rush was speaking and wagging his dreadful head.
"Sheba's the goods," he murmured. "Look at that mouth. Here, I'm going' to 'ave a close-up. Gimme that — torch."
With all the goodwill in the world I did as the beast desired—because I wanted my two hands free and one of his full.
Between us we bungled the business, and the torch fell down and went out. I let him grope and find it. As he stood up, grunting, I took him fast by the throat and drove my knife deep into his heart.
He made no sound at all, but the two of us fell together, for he went down on his back and I went down upon him because I would not loosen my grip on his throat.
He gave one frightful convulsion, twitched, and lay still. And then I knew he was dead ...
For a second I lay there listening, then I got to my knees and sought for the torch. When I had found it, I switched it on to the bench. This was empty.
So then I turned the beam on to myself.
"Helena," I said, "it's all right. I've done the swine in."
She did not answer, so I got to my feet and threw the beam round the room, expecting to find her. She must be there somewhere, for she would not have sought the cellar and Rush had the key of the door ...
And then all at once I knew where Helena was.
She had fled for the staircase-turret when Rush and I, between us, had dropped the torch. Rush had locked the door of the hall, not the door of the secret room.
I took a step towards this— and stopped in my tracks.
The doorway by which I had entered had disappeared. In its place the unbroken panelling reflected the light of my torch.
As I stood, staring, Pharaoh's words came into my mind, "It's cleverly done, that door; you've got to be curious to find it ... and an expert to find its lock."
HELENA was safe for the moment. So much I saw. (As a matter of fact, she was saved; but at that time I did not know that no one within the room could open the door she had shut). And Rush was dead, and Pharaoh and Dewdrop knew nothing of what had occurred. In the twinkling of an eye my position had been reversed. A moment ago it had been desperate; but now it was very strong. In a word, I had the ball at my feet. When Pharaoh and Dewdrop returned they would walk into my arms. And that one by one, for the cut through which they must pass would only let one through at a time. If I could not make an end of the two, I deserved to be shot.
I began to survey the shambles.
The chamber was spacious, and had been used, I judged, for prisoners of high degree. There were no windows at all and the only air was admitted by a fireplace of chiselled stone. The furniture was handsome, but very stern and might have been that of some abbot, sworn to subdue the flesh. The seats were more stalls than chairs and there was not a cushion between them of any kind. Indeed, the only comfort lay on the floor; and there lay luxury, for the carpet was twice as rich as any I ever trod and, since it was laid upon stone, a horse might have pranced on its pile without being heard.
I stepped to the cut through which Pharaoh and Dewdrop had passed.
As I had supposed, this gave to a winding stair— no doubt of a considerable depth, for though I strained my ears, I could hear nothing at all.
Determined to leave nothing to chance, I proceeded to lay my ambush with infinite care.
Pharaoh must find nothing wrong until too late. To all appearance the room must be as he had left it. The bench, however, could be seen from the head of the winding stair. I must therefore suggest to Pharaoh that his captive had merely moved. This was easy enough. Next to the bench stood the fireplace, which jutted into the room. On the other side of this was a chair with its back to the wall. If my torch were trained upon this, Pharaoh would receive the impression that his captive had changed her seat, for the chair was masked by the fireplace and could not be seen from the cut. The only question was how to support the torch.
For a moment I stood thinking. Then I perceived that, unless I were to flout Reason, this office must devolve upon Rush.
Anyone leaving the stair with a torch in his hand would be almost sure to illumine the opposite side of the room. The corpse must therefore be moved, in any event. And If I could gird it into the semblance of life...
In two or three minutes the grisly business was done, and Rush was seated upright in a high-backed chair, with an arm along one of the chairs and the torch in his hand. His belt and mine and some cord I had found in his pocket had done the trick. His head had proved troublesome, but I took a stick from the grate, buttoned this into his waistcoat and propped it like that.
The effect was hideous, for the corpse was poking its head. But that was beside the point. At the first blush not even the man's own mother would ever have known he was dead.
Here I should say that, before I had set Rush up, I had taken away his pistol and Helena's master key.
Once again I took care to listen at the head of the winding steps— and heard no sound.
To pick my own position was easy enough. I had only to take my stand behind the panel door that belonged to the cut. This was wide enough to conceal me, yet not wide enough to embarrass my falling on.
I decided to use a pistol, for the bullet was swift and sure and at quarters so close I could not possibly miss. For all that, I took the knife, too, and, since I had no belt, I pierced the band of my trousers and made this into a frog. Regarding the two, I preferred Rush's pistol to Barley's, which must have come out of Salzburg and seemed to be cheaply done. But Rush's weapon exactly resembled my own.
And then at last I was ready, with the knife at my hip and a pistol in either hand ...
Looking back, I find it strange that I, who ten days before had never, that I can remember, so much as knocked a man down, should have made these dreadful preparations without a qualm. That I had already done murder troubled me very much less than the loss of my belt. Indeed, my only concern was lest by some improvidence on my part the butchery which I purposed should not be fulfilled. It might be said that I was but making ready to save my life; but I cannot plead that excuse for that consideration never once entered my head. But that was not of valour. I think the plain truth is that I was possessed. What I had witnessed in that chamber had fired within me a furnace of roaring hate. I was going to kill Pharaoh and Dewdrop exactly as I had killed Rush— not because I had set out to do it, not because that was the reason why I was there, but because they had ravished Virtue— broken a lovely spirit by abusing its lovely flesh.
I had to wait full five minutes before I heard a sigh on the winding stair.
With my ear to the crack beside me, I listened with all my might.
The sigh grew into a murmur, and the murmur into that unmistakable sound—the regular scuffing of feet that are mounting a flight of stone steps. The footfalls were hasty. The two were mounting apace.
Why this was I could not imagine. Why should they run? The stars were fighting against them. But for their haste, I should not have heard them so soon.
The rapid, regular shuffle began to grow clear ...
Unless they were moving as one, the shoes of one of the two were rubber soled, for only one set of footfalls came to my ears. In this
case—
And there I saw the glow of a torch. Two steps more, and I heard their heavy breathing ...
The stars against them? All the company of heaven had ranged itself on my side. The two would be spent and breathless ...
Dewdrop began to speak before he had entered the room.
"Bugle an' Ruth to go down. Pharaoh that—"
As he stepped through the cut and I fired, I saw my mistake.
Dewdrop would lisp no more, but the deafening roar of my pistol had carried a message to Pharaoh which not even a child could misread.
I could have done myself violence. It was not as if I had not been warned: I had been told as plainly as any fool could have been told that Dewdrop alone was mounting the winding stair. I had only to pocket my pistols and take my knife. Torch in hand, out of breath, my victim could have made no resistance ...
As it was, by using my pistol, I had thrown away the most valuable weapon I had—the element of surprise.
It was true that, had I stabbed Dewdrop, Pharaoh would still have waited in vain for Bugle and Rush. But though he would have been angry and would at last have come up to see for himself the reason for their delay, he would never have dreamed of danger. But now he was warned.
PHARAOH was more than warned. My shot, being fired when it was, had reported the ugly news that Dewdrop was dead. The fact that no one came down would confirm this report. And no one could have killed Dewdrop unless he had first made an end of Bugle and Rush.
The truth was in Pharaoh's hands. He knew as well as did I that someone was in the chamber, waiting to take his life.
As I say, I could have done myself violence. I was here to play the knave, and I was playing the fool.
I am bound to confess that I cannot defend my annoyance at finding that I must fight Pharaoh instead of playing the butcher as I had already done. I can only say that at that time I had no fear for myself; but since I knew very well that the man was as swift and as cunning as I was slow, I was full of apprehension lest he should escape. The bare thought of such an outcome made the sweat start on my brow. Live— after what he had done? Live— to walk out of that room and do it again?
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