The thing was easily gotten into and the illusion of reality it created was so perfect as to draw a shudder from me as I viewed myself in a mirror.
“It is now two o’clock,” said Gordon.”Allowing for the time it will take you to get back to Limehouse and the time it will take me to get my men stationed, I promise you that at half-past four the house will be closely surrounded. Give me a start — wait here until I have left this house, so I will arrive at least as soon as you.”
“Good!” I impulsively grasped his hand. “There will doubtless be a girl there who is in no way implicated with the Master’s evil doings, but only a victim of circumstances such as I have been. Deal gently with her.”
“It shall be done. What signal shall I look for?”
“I have no way of signaling for you and I doubt if any sound in the house could be heard on the street. Let your men make their raid on the stroke of five.”
I turned to go.
“A man is waiting for you with a car, I take it? Is he likely to suspect anything?”
“I have a way of finding out, and if he does,” I replied grimly, “I will return alone to the Temple of Dreams.”
* * *
11. FOUR THIRTY-FOUR
“Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.”
— Poe
THE door closed softly behind me, the great dark house looming up more starkly than ever. Stooping, I crossed the wet lawn at a run, a grotesque and unholy figure, I doubt not, since any man had at a glance sworn me to be not a man but a giant ape. So craftily had the Master devised!
I clambered the wall, dropped to the earth beyond and made my way through the darkness and the drizzle to the group of trees which masked the automobile.
The Negro driver leaned out of the front seat. I was breathing hard and sought in various ways to simulate the actions of a man who has just murdered in cold blood and fled the scene of his crime.
“You heard nothing, no sound, no scream?” I hissed, gripping his arm.
“No noise except a slight crash when you first went in,” he answered. “You did a good job — nobody passing along the road could have suspected anything.”
“Have you remained in the car all the time?” I asked. And when he replied that he had, I seized his ankle and ran my hand over the soles of his shoe; it was perfectly dry, as was the cuff of his trouser leg. Satisfied, I climbed into the back seat. Had he taken a step on the earth, shoe and garment would have showed it by the telltale dampness.
I ordered him to refrain from starting the engine until I had removed the apeskin, and then we sped through the night and I fell victim to doubts and uncertainties. Why should Gordon put any trust in the word of a stranger and a former ally of the Master’s? Would he not put my tale down as the ravings of a dope-crazed addict, or a lie to ensnare or befool him? Still, if he had not believed me, why had he let me go?
I could but trust. At any rate, what Gordon did or did not do would scarcely affect my fortunes ultimately, even though Zuleika had furnished me with that which would merely extend the number of my days. My thought centered on her, and more than my hope of vengeance on Kathulos was the hope that Gordon might be able to save her from the clutches of the fiend. At any rate, I thought grimly, if Gordon failed me, I still had my hands and if I might lay them upon the bony frame of the Skull-faced One —
Abruptly I found myself thinking of Yussef Ali and his strange words, the import of which just occurred to me, “The Master has promised her to me in the days of the empire!”
The days of the empire — what could that mean?
The automobile at last drew up in front of the building which hid the Temple of Silence — now dark and still. The ride had seemed interminable and as I dismounted I glanced at the timepiece on the dashboard of the car. My heart leaped — it was four thirty-four, and unless my eyes tricked me I saw a movement in the shadows across the street, out of the flare of the street lamp. At this time of night it could mean only one of two things — some menial of the Master watching for my return or else Gordon had kept his word. The Negro drove away and I opened the door, crossed the deserted bar and entered the opium room. The bunks and the floor were littered with the dreamers, for such places as these know nothing of day or night as normal people know, but all lay deep in sottish slumber.
The lamps glimmered through the smoke and a silence hung mist-like over all.
* * *
12. THE STROKE OF FIVE
“He saw gigantic tracks of death,
And many a shape of doom.”
— Chesterton
TWO of the China-boys squatted among the smudge fires, staring at me unwinkingly as I threaded my way among the recumbent bodies and made my way to the rear door. For the first time I traversed the corridor alone and found time to wonder again as to the contents of the strange chests which lined the walls.
Four raps on the underside of the floor, and a moment later I stood in the idol room. I gasped in amazement — the fact that across a table from me sat Kathulos in all his horror was not the cause of my exclamation. Except for the table, the chair on which the Skull-faced One sat and the altar — now bare of incense — the room was perfectly bare! Drab, unlovely walls of the unused warehouse met my gaze instead of the costly tapestries I had become accustomed to. The palms, the idol, the lacquered screen — all were gone.
“Ah, Mr. Costigan, you wonder, no doubt.”
The dead voice of the Master broke in on my thoughts. His serpent eyes glittered balefully. The long yellow fingers twined sinuously upon the table.
“You thought me to be a trusting fool, no doubt!” he rapped suddenly. “Did you think I would not have you followed? You fool, Yussef Ali was at your heels every moment!”
An instant I stood speechless, frozen by the crash of these words against my brain; then as their import sank home, I launched myself forward with a roar. At the same instant, before my clutching fingers could close on the mocking horror on the other side of the table, men rushed from every side. I whirled, and with the clarity of hate, from the swirl of savage faces I singled out Yussef Ali, and crashed my right fist against his temple with every ounce of my strength. Even as he dropped, Hassim struck me to my knees and a Chinaman flung a man-net over my shoulders. I heaved erect, bursting the stout cords as if they were strings, and then a blackjack in the hands of Ganra Singh stretched me stunned and bleeding on the floor.
Lean sinewy hands seized and bound me with cords that cut cruelly into my flesh. Emerging from the mists of semi-unconsciousness, I found myself lying on the altar with the masked Kathulos towering over me like a gaunt ivory tower. About in a semicircle stood Ganra Singh, Yar Khan, Yun Shatu and several others whom I knew as frequenters of the Temple of Dreams. Beyond them — and the sight cut me to the heart — I saw Zuleika crouching in a doorway, her face white and her hands pressed against her cheeks, in an attitude of abject terror.
“I did not fully trust you,” said Kathulos sibilantly, “so I sent Yussef Ali to follow you. He reached the group of trees before you and following you into the estate heard your very interesting conversation with John Gordon — for he scaled the house-wall like a cat and clung to the window ledge! Your driver delayed purposely so as to give Yussef Ali plenty of time to get back — I have decided to change my abode anyway. My furnishings are already on their way to another house, and as soon as we have disposed of the traitor — you! — we shall depart also, leaving a little surprize for your friend Gordon when he arrives at five-thirty.”
My heart gave a sudden leap of hope. Yussef Ali had misunderstood, and Kathulos lingered here in false security while the London detective force had already silently surrounded the house. Over my shoulder I saw Zuleika vanish from the door.
I eyed Kathulos, absolutely unaware of what he was saying. It was not long until five — if he dallied longer — then I froze as the Egyptian spoke a word and Li Kung, a gaunt, cadaverous Chinaman, stepped from the silent semicircle and
drew from his sleeve a long thin dagger. My eyes sought the timepiece that still rested on the table and my heart sank. It was still ten minutes until five. My death did not matter so much, since it simply hastened the inevitable, but in my mind’s eye I could see Kathulos and his murderers escaping while the police awaited the stroke of five.
The Skull-face halted in some harangue, and stood in a listening attitude. I believe his uncanny intuition warned him of danger. He spoke a quick staccato command to Li Kung and the Chinaman sprang forward, dagger lifted above my breast.
The air was suddenly supercharged with dynamic tension. The keen dagger- point hovered high above me — loud and clear sounded the skirl of a police whistle and on the heels of the sound there came a terrific crash from the front of the warehouse!
Kathulos leaped into frenzied activity. Hissing orders like a cat spitting, he sprang for the hidden door and the rest followed him. Things happened with the speed of a nightmare. Li Kung had followed the rest, but Kathulos flung a command over his shoulder and the Chinaman turned back and came rushing toward the altar where I lay, dagger high, desperation in his countenance.
A scream broke through the clamor and as I twisted desperately about to avoid the descending dagger, I caught a glimpse of Kathulos dragging Zuleika away. Then with a frenzied wrench I toppled from the altar just as Li Kung’s dagger, grazing my breast, sank inches deep into the dark-stained surface and quivered there.
I had fallen on the side next to the wall and what was taking place in the room I could not see, but it seemed as if far away I could hear men screaming faintly and hideously. Then Li Kung wrenched his blade free and sprang, tigerishly, around the end of the altar. Simultaneously a revolver cracked from the doorway — the Chinaman spun clear around, the dagger flying from his hand — he slumped to the floor.
Gordon came running from the doorway where a few moments earlier Zuleika had stood, his pistol still smoking in his hand. At his heels were three rangy, clean-cut men in plain clothes. He cut my bonds and dragged me upright.
“Quick! Where have they gone?”
The room was empty of life save for myself, Gordon and his men, though two dead men lay on the floor.
I found the secret door and after a few seconds’ search located the lever which opened it. Revolvers drawn, the men grouped about me and peered nervously into the dark stairway. Not a sound came up from the total darkness.
“This is uncanny!” muttered Gordon. “I suppose the Master and his servants went this way when they left the building — as they are certainly not here now! — and Leary and his men should have stopped them either in the tunnel itself or in the rear room of Yun Shatu’s. At any rate, in either event they should have communicated with us by this time.”
“Look out, sir!” one of the men exclaimed suddenly, and Gordon, with an ejaculation, struck out with his pistol barrel and crushed the life from a huge snake which had crawled silently up the steps from the blackness beneath.
“Let us see into this matter,” said he, straightening.
But before he could step onto the first stair, I halted him; for, flesh crawling, I began dimly to understand something of what had happened — I began to understand the silence in the tunnel, the absence of the detectives, the screams I had heard some minutes previously while I lay on the altar. Examining the lever which opened the door, I found another smaller lever — I began to believe I knew what those mysterious chests in the tunnel contained.
“Gordon,” I said hoarsely, “have you an electric torch?”
One of the men produced a large one.
“Direct the light into the tunnel, but as you value your life, do not put a foot upon the steps.”
The beam of light struck through the shadows, lighting the tunnel, etching out boldly a scene that will haunt my brain all the rest of my life. On the floor of the tunnel, between the chests which now gaped open, lay two men who were members of London’s finest secret service. Limbs twisted and faces horribly distorted they lay, and above and about them writhed, in long glittering scaly shimmerings, scores of hideous reptiles.
The clock struck five.
* * *
13. THE BLIND BEGGAR WHO RODE
“He seemed a beggar such as lags
Looking for crusts and ale.”
— Chesterton
THE cold gray dawn was stealing over the river as we stood in the deserted bar of the Temple of Dreams. Gordon was questioning the two men who had remained on guard outside the building while their unfortunate companion, went in to explore the tunnel.
“As soon as we heard the whistle, sir, Leary and Murken rushed the bar and broke into the opium room, while we waited here at the bar door according to orders. Right away several ragged dopers came tumbling out and we grabbed them. But no one else came out and we heard nothing from Leary and Murken; so we just waited until you came, sir.”
“You saw nothing of a giant Negro, or of the Chinaman Yun Shatu?”
“No, sir. After a while the patrolmen arrived and we threw a cordon around the house, but no one was seen.”
Gordon shrugged his shoulders; a few cursory questions had satisfied him that the captives were harmless addicts and he had them released.
“You are sure no one else came out?”
“Yes, sir — no, wait a moment. A wretched old blind beggar did come out, all rags and dirt and with a ragged girl leading him. We stopped him but didn’t hold him — a wretch like that couldn’t be harmful.”
“No?” Gordon jerked out. “Which way did he go?”
“The girl led him down the street to the next block and then an automobile stopped and they got in and drove off, sir.”
Gordon glared at him.
“The stupidity of the London detective has rightfully become an international jest,” he said acidly. “No doubt it never occurred to you as being strange that a Limehouse beggar should ride about in his own automobile.”
Then impatiently waving aside the man, who sought to speak further, he turned to me and I saw the lines of weariness beneath his eyes.
“Mr. Costigan, if you will come to my apartment we may be able to clear up some new things.”
* * *
14. THE BLACK EMPIRE
“Oh the new spears dipped in life- blood as the woman shrieked in vain!
Oh the days before the English! When will those days come again?”
— Mundy
GORDON struck a match and absently allowed it to flicker and go out in his hand. His Turkish cigarette hung unlighted between his fingers.
“This is the most logical conclusion to be reached,” he was saying. “The weak link in our chain was lack of men. But curse it, one cannot round up an army at two o’clock in the morning, even with the aid of Scotland Yard. I went on to Limehouse, leaving orders for a number of patrolmen to follow me as quickly as they could be got together, and to throw a cordon about the house.
“They arrived too late to prevent the Master’s servants slipping out of the side doors and windows, no doubt, as they could easily do with only Finnegan and Hansen on guard at the front of the building. However, they arrived in time to prevent the Master himself from slipping out in that way — no doubt he lingered to effect his disguise and was caught in that manner. He owes his escape to his craft and boldness and to the carelessness of Finnegan and Hansen. The girl who accompanied him—”
“She was Zuleika, without doubt.”
I answered listlessly, wondering anew what shackles bound her to the Egyptian sorcerer.
“You owe your life to her,” Gordon rapped, lighting another match. “We were standing in the shadows in front of the warehouse, waiting for the hour to strike, and of course ignorant as to what was going on in the house, when a girl appeared at one of the barred windows and begged us for God’s sake to do something, that a man was being murdered. So we broke in at once. However, she was not to be seen when we entered.”
“She returned to the room, no doubt,” I muttered, “and w
as forced to accompany the Master. God grant he knows nothing of her trickery.”
“I do not know,” said Gordon, dropping the charred match stem, “whether she guessed at our true identity or whether she just made the appeal in desperation.
“However, the main point is this: evidence points to the fact that, on hearing the whistle, Leary and Murken invaded Yun Shatu’s from the front at the same instant my three men and I made our attack on the warehouse front. As it took us some seconds to batter down the door, it is logical to suppose that they found the secret door and entered the tunnel before we affected an entrance into the warehouse.
“The Master, knowing our plans beforehand, and being aware that an invasion would be made through the tunnel and having long ago made preparations for such an exigency—”
An involuntary shudder shook me.
“ — the Master worked the lever that opened the chest — the screams you heard as you lay upon the altar were the death shrieks of Leary and Murken. Then, leaving the Chinaman behind to finish you, the Master and the rest descended into the tunnel — incredible as it seems — and threading their way unharmed among the serpents, entered Yun Shatu’s house and escaped therefrom as I have said.”
“That seems impossible. Why should not the snakes turn on them?”
Gordon finally ignited his cigarette and puffed a few seconds before replying.
“The reptiles might still have been giving their full and hideous attention to the dying men, or else — I have on previous occasions been confronted with indisputable proof of the Master’s dominance over beasts and reptiles of even the lowest or most dangerous orders. How he and his slaves passed unhurt among those scaly fiends must remain, at present, one of the many unsolved mysteries pertaining to that strange man.”
Delphi Works of Robert E. Howard (Illustrated) (Series Four) Page 5