CHAPTER XXX
A LEAF FROM THE PAST
Ralph Ravenspur, with Tchigorsky and Geoffrey, sat smoking in the billiard room until Vera came in to say good-night and drive them off to bed. As they were about to separate at the head of the stairs Ralph gave them a sign to follow him.
"Come to my room for half an hour," he said.
The others complied. Tchigorsky slipped away for a while, and on his return he laid the end of a long silk thread on the white table cover.
"Part of a little scheme," he said. "This is one end of the silk thread. Where the other end is matters nothing for the present. Ralph, everybody has retired?"
"Everybody," Ralph replied as he filled his pipe.
"I fancy you said that no servants sleep in the house."
"They have not done so for a long time," Geoffrey explained. "Not that we entertain the least suspicion of any of them. We merely made the change for safety's sake."
Tchigorsky nodded his approval. He arranged the silk thread neatly on the table, coiling the end round a daisy pattern worked into the damask cloth.
"For Mrs. May's benefit?" Geoffrey asked.
"Precisely," Tchigorsky said gravely. "I take a great interest in her."
Geoffrey smoked a whole cigarette before he spoke again.
"By the way," he exclaimed, "who and what is Mrs. May?"
"The devil fairly disguised," Ralph croaked. "A beautiful Mephistopheles, a fascinating Beelzebub, a dark-eyed fiend, a – a – "
He pulled up choking with all-consuming rage. His arm was sawing the air as if feeling for the white throat of his lovely foe.
"Steady, there," Tchigorsky muttered. "Steady, Ralph, my friend. Shall we enlighten Master Geoffrey a little as to the kind of woman she is?"
Ralph nodded over his pipe.
"If you like," he said. "Only the tale shall be yours. When I come to think of it, I go out of my mind, as I did that night in the Black Valley. Tell him, Tchigorsky; tell him by all means – but not all."
"Ay, ay, I shall know where to leave off. I'll sit here where I can watch the table. I am interested in that silk thread. So long as it remains simply coiled up there I can go on talking. When it moves – "
"You are wasting time," Geoffrey suggested.
"True. But to make amends I am going to interest you from the very outset. Doubtless you are curious to know the meaning of those scars on my face and on the face of your uncle. Lately he has managed artistically to disguise his for reasons that will appear later. There was nothing to gain by hiding mine and pretty ugly they are.
"These scars were branded on us both at the same time by the priests of the great temple in the hills beyond Lassa. Three of us had penetrated there, but the other one knew nothing of the mysteries of Buddha, for the simple reason that he was the servant of your uncle – one Elphick by name. Elphick is doing good work for us elsewhere, but you shall see him in time.
"Now, these two men, who had disguised themselves as Buddhist priests and had penetrated all the mysteries of that most mysterious creed, had made a boast two years before at Lahore of what they meant to do. And the words of their vaporings were carried to the ears of a woman who was a Brahmin, though it appeared as if she had abandoned her religion and had married an Englishman.
"This Englishman had been to Lassa himself and, when a girl, his wife had fallen in love with him and he married her. There was a good deal of scandal about it at the time, but there are so many scandals in India that this one was quickly buried under a layer of other slanders. Some said that that officer had managed to pick up some of the holiest mysteries of Buddha, and that the lovely native had married him to close his lips. Certainly, he would never speak of Lassa and when the place was mentioned he always showed signs of agitation.
"Well, we went. We were not afraid. Both of us knew the East, we spoke many languages, we could assume any disguise. And in a short time, as honored pilgrims from a far land, we were free of the holy temple in the hills beyond Lassa. Soon we were picking up all the mysteries."
"Are there any mysteries?" Geoffrey asked.
Ralph gave a quick barking laugh like the snap of a pistol shot. All this time his grave, wooden smile never relaxed.
"Ay," Tchigorsky went on, "mysteries! The things we saw and the things we learned would have driven many a strong man mad. Occult sciences! What do we know of them? I tell you the greatest man who walks the earth, a whole regiment of the finest scientists in Europe, would be a set of chattering monkeys alongside a Buddhist priest. We have seen the dead rise from their graves and heard them speak. We came near to learn the secret of eternal life. And yet everlasting life and the unveiling of the future would not tempt me there again."
Tchigorsky's voice had fallen to a harsh whisper. As Geoffrey glanced at Ralph he saw that the latter's face was bathed in a profound perspiration.
"We were thus situated for some months," Tchigorsky resumed. "Gradually every mystery connected with life and death was opening up before us, and the secret of universal knowledge was within our grasp. Then one day there was a commotion in the city, and we found that there was to be a great feast in honor of a princess of the royal blood who had come back to Lassa after a long pilgrimage. We were bidden to that feast and had places of honor near to the seat of the princess.
"She came in presently, gorgeously attired in flowing robes and strings of diamonds and emeralds in her hair. She was a magnificent creature. I have seen many a native queen on her throne, but none to compare with that woman who sat flashing her lovely eyes round the table.
"As I looked at her again and again I had an odd feeling that I had seen her before. I turned to speak to Ralph here and beheld with distended eyes and dropped jaw that he was regarding the princess.
"'What is it?' I asked. 'Do you know her, too?'
"Ralph whispered a few words in my ear – a few pungent words that turned me cold. And what he saw was this. In the princess we had the woman from Lahore – the woman who had forsaken her tribe to marry an English officer. We had heard before that she was in the habit of going away for long periods, and we knew that her husband must have possessed himself of Buddhist secrets, perhaps sacred Buddhist script, or that woman would never have been allowed to come and go like this.
"Had she married an Englishman in the ordinary way and subsequently returned to Lassa, she would have been torn to pieces. She had been granted absolution on purpose to wrest those secrets from the Englishman who had stolen them. And we two had boasted in the hearing of this woman that we were going to learn those secrets for ourselves.
"Would she recognize us? That was the question. Remember that we were most carefully disguised, we spoke the language without flaw, we had the same tale to tell – a tale that we had rehearsed over and over again. There was no reason why we should not pass muster.
"Hope began to revive. Then I looked up and caught that woman's eye and she smiled. I dream of that smile sometimes at night, and wake up cold and wet and shivering from head to foot. Not that I have more fear than most men, but then I had seen men put to death in Tibet. The torture of the wheel would be a pleasant recreation alongside of death like that.
"We were recognized. No need to tell us that. Doubtless that woman had followed us step by step, giving us all the latitude we required, and now she had come to teach us the pains and penalties attaching to our office. She favored us with no further glance until the feast had concluded and what passes for music had begun, when she honored both of us with a summons to her side.
"Of course, we went. In the circumstances there was nothing else to do. She made room for us; she smiled dazzlingly upon us. And then slowly and deliberately, as a cat with a mouse, she began to play with us.
"'I speak to you thus,' she said, 'because there are others who seek for the secrets of the faith. There were two Christian dogs who came up from Lahore. One was called Tchigorsky, the other was called Mayton' (Mayton was your uncle Ralph's pseudonym, Geoffrey), 'and they boasted what they were going to do. They knew the language, they said. And, behold, the one called Tchigorsky was very like you, holy man.'
"It was coming. I bowed gravely as if the comparison was not pleasing to me. A wild yell of hysterical laughter came to my lips, but I managed to suppress that. There were no knives on the table, and I had not dared to use my revolver. Had there been a knife on the table I should have stabbed that woman to the heart and taken the consequences.
"But your revolver, Tchigorsky," Geoffrey suggested.
"My dear boy, holy fathers and shining lights of the Buddhist faith do not carry Regulation Army revolvers," Tchigorsky said grimly. "All I could do was to wait."
"'Did you know those English at Lahore?' the princess asked.
"I disclaimed the knowledge, saying that at that time I was in Cawnpore. Then being closely questioned, I proceeded to give a detailed history of the movements of myself and my companion for the last year or so. I was lying glibly and easily, but I had no comfort from the knowledge. It was easy to see that not one word was believed, and that I was walking into the trap.
"'At Dargi you were,' said the princess. 'What are the five points of the temple there?'
"For the life of me I could not tell her. As a matter of fact, I had never been near Dargi in my life. And the question was one that any Buddhist who had been there would have answered offhand.
"'I have forgotten,' I answered as calmly as possible. 'I have a bad memory. I forget all kinds of things.'
"Those dark eyes seemed to look me all through.
"'You will forget your own name next,' the princess said.
"'I'll remember that,' I replied. 'I am Rane el Den, at your service.'
"Then came the reply in excellent English. 'Your name is Sergius Tchigorsky, and your companion is Ralph James Mayton. I have found you out. I have only to raise my hand and your fate is sealed.'
"It was all over. I said nothing. I asked no pity. Pity! You might as well strive to soften the heart of the wounded tiger that has you down with a handful of nuts. Then I – "
Tchigorsky paused. His eyes were on the table. He pointed to the silken thread that was slowly moving in the direction of the door.
"Hush!" he said softly. "Blow out the light."
CHAPTER XXXI
THE SILK THREAD
Intensely interested as he was in the story that Tchigorsky had to tell, Geoffrey nevertheless watched the slowly moving thread on the table. Gradually and very slowly the silken tag began to draw away from the pattern on the tablecloth, Tchigorsky following it with grim eyes.
"You find it strange?" he asked Geoffrey.
"Strange and thrilling," Geoffrey replied. "It appeals to the imagination. Some tragedy may be at the other end of that innocent-looking thread."
"There may be; there would be if I were not here. We are dealing with a foe whose cunning and audacity know no bounds. You see I have been among the foe and know something of their dealings."
A passionate anger rose up in Geoffrey as he watched the gliding thread.
"Then why not drop upon them?" he cried. "Why not produce your proofs and hand the miscreants over to the police?"
"What good would that do?" Tchigorsky replied. "Could we prove that the foe had had a direct hand in the tragedies of the past? Could we demonstrate to the satisfaction of a jury that Mrs. May and her confederates were responsible for those poisoned flowers or the bees? And if we get them out of the way there are others behind them. No, no; they must be taught a lesson; they must know that we are all-powerful. And they must feel the weight of our hands. Then the painful family scandal – "
"You are going too far," Ralph interrupted warningly.
Tchigorsky checked himself after a glance at Geoffrey.
"I am not to be told everything," he said. "Why?"
"Because we dare not," Ralph murmured. "It is not that we cannot trust you, but because we dare not."
With this Geoffrey was fain to be content. By this time the thread had left the table, and was lying on the floor.
"The other end is tied to Mrs. May's door," Tchigorsky explained. "When that door was cautiously opened, of course, the thread moved. Geoffrey, you stay here. Ralph, will you go up by the back staircase and get up to the corridor. Wait there."
"Is there danger?" Geoffrey whispered.
"Not now," said Tchigorsky, "but this audacity passes all bounds. That woman had planned to strike a blow at the very moment when she was enjoying the hospitality of this roof. The boldness of it would have averted all suspicion from her. One of the family mysteriously disappears and is never heard of again. In the morning not one lock or bolt or bar is disturbed. And yet the member of the family is gone. England would have been startled by the news to-morrow."
"You heard all this?" Geoffrey cried.
"Yes," Tchigorsky said quietly. "That disguise I showed you was useful to me. It is going to be more useful still."
"But the danger! It must be averted," Geoffrey whispered.
Already Tchigorsky was leaving the room. The lamp had been extinguished, after taking care to place a box of matches close beside it. In the darkness Geoffrey waited, tingling to his finger tips with suppressed excitement.
Meanwhile, Tchigorsky felt his way along in the darkness. He was counting his steps carefully. He reached a certain spot and then stopped. Ralph strolled down the back staircase, and thence down a flagged passage into the hall, where he climbed the stairs.
Light and darkness, it was all the same to him. There was nobody in the house who could find his way about as well as he.
Then he waited for the best part of half an hour. He could hear queer sounds coming from one of the bedrooms, a half cry in light feminine tones, a smothered protest and then the suggestion of a struggle. Yet Ralph never moved toward it; under cover of the darkness he smiled.
Then he heard a door creak and open; he heard footsteps coming along in his direction. The footsteps were stealthy, yet halting; there was the suggestion of the swish of silken drapery. On and on that mysterious figure came until it walked plump into Ralph's arms.
There was a faint cry – a cry strangled in its birth.
"Mrs. May," Ralph said quietly, "I am afraid I startled you."
The woman was gasping for breath, iron-nerved as she was. She stammered out some halting, stumbling explanation. She was suffering from nervous headache, she was subject to that kind of thing, and there was a remedy she always carried in her jacket pocket. And the jacket was in the hall.
"Go back to your room," said Ralph. "I will fetch it for you."
"There is no occasion," the woman replied. "The shock of meeting you has cured me. But what are you doing?"
"Sleeping on the stairs," Ralph said in his dullest, most mechanical way.
"Sleep – sleeping on the stairs! Why?"
"I frequently do it. I suffer from insomnia. The accident that deprived me of my sight injured my reason. This is one of my lucid intervals. For years I slept in the open air; the atmosphere of a bedroom stifles me. So I am here."
"And here you are going to remain all night?"
"Yes. I presume you have no objection."
Mrs. May was silent. Did this man know the terrible position he had placed her in? Was he telling the truth, or was he spying on her? Was he dangerous enough to be removed? Or was he the poor creature he represented himself to be?
"You should get your clever friend Tchigorsky to cure you," she said.
"Tchigorsky has gone away. I don't know when I shall see him again."
That was good news, at any rate. Mrs. May stooped to artifice. There were reasons why this man should be got out of the way at present. He had brought danger by his stupid eccentricity, but the bold woman was not going to change her plans for that.
"Be guided by me," she said. "Go to your room."
"I am here till the morning," Ralph said doggedly. "Go to yours. We are a lost, doomed race. What does it matter what I do?"
It was useless to combat sullen obstinacy like this. Mrs. May uttered a few clear words in a language that not one in a million would understand – certainly not three people in England. It never occurred to her for a moment that Ralph Ravenspur might be one of the three, but he was.
He listened grimly. No doubt the mysterious words had nothing to do with the matter, but a door in the corridor opened, and Marion emerged, carrying a light in her hand. She came swiftly down the corridor, her long hair streaming behind her. As she saw Ralph she gave a sigh of relief.
"Come quickly to Vera's room," she said. "I want your help."
In her intense excitement she seemed not to notice Mrs. May. The latter stood aside while the other two passed along. She slipped into her own room and closed the door.
"Foiled," she hissed, "and by that poor meaningless idiot. Is it possible that he suspected anything? But no, he is only a fool. If I had only dared, I might have 'removed' him at the same time. On the whole, it was a good thing that Marion did not see me."
Without the least trace of excitement and without hurry, Ralph followed Marion. A light was burning in the room and Vera, still dressed, was lying on the bed. She was fast asleep, but her face was deadly cold and her breathing was faint to nothingness. Ralph's fingers rested on her pulse for a minute.
"How long has she been like this?" Ralph asked.
"I don't know," Marion replied. "I was just dropping asleep when I fancied I heard Vera call out. In this house the mere suggestion sufficed. I crept quietly along and came in here. The room was empty save for Vera and there was no sign of a struggle. I should have imagined it to be all fancy but for the queer look in Vera's face. When I touched her I found her to be deadly cold. Is – is it dangerous?"
Ralph shook his head.
"Mysterious as ever," he said. "The miscreant is by us, almost in our hands, and yet we cannot touch him. Vera has been rendered insensible by a drug. The effect of it will pass away in time. She will sleep till morning, and you had better remain with her."
"Of course, I should not dream of leaving the poor child alone."
Ralph just touched Marion's cheek.
"You are a good girl – an angel," he murmured. "What we should do without you I cannot say. Stay here and have no fear. I shall not be far away. I am going to sleep for the rest of the night on the floor outside."
"On the floor, my dear uncle?"
"Bah! it is no hardship," said Ralph. "I have had far less comfortable quarters many a time. I am used to it and like it. And I sleep like a hare. The slightest noise or motion and I am awake instantly."
Marion raised no further protests. This singular individual was in the habit of doing as he pleased, and nothing could turn him from his humor.
He bade Marion good-night and softly closed the door. But he did not lie down at the head of the stairs. On the contrary, he crept quietly down to his room again.
There Tchigorsky and Geoffrey waited him. The lamp was once more lighted. Tchigorsky had a grin on his face.
"Foiled her?" he asked. "I heard you."
"For the present, at any rate," Ralph replied. "That charming woman does me the honor to regard me as a benighted idiot."
Tchigorsky dropped into a chair and rocked to and fro, shaking with noiseless mirth.
CHAPTER XXXII
MORE FROM THE PAST
Geoffrey looked from one to the other for explanation.
"Won't you tell me what has happened?" he asked.
"As a matter of fact, nothing has happened," Ralph replied. "A little time ago Tchigorsky outlined a bold stroke on the part of the foe. He suggested that it was possible, without removing a single bolt or bar, to spirit away one of the family, who would never be heard of again. Tchigorsky was making no prophesy; he was speaking from knowledge. Well, the attempt has been made and it has failed."
"Who was the victim, uncle?"
"Your cousin, Vera. Sit down, my boy; if you go plunging about like that you will ruin everything. Did I not tell you that the attempt had been made and had failed? Vera is safe for a long time to come."
Geoffrey dropped into his seat again.
"How did you manage it, uncle?" he asked.
Ralph gave the details. He told the story dryly.
"So I not only prevented the dastardly attempt to carry Vera away," he concluded, "but I baffled the foe altogether. There was not the slightest suspicion that I was on the stairs except by the merest accident."
"But you say that Marion was with Vera?"
"She was. That nimble wit of hers led her to suspect danger. But Marion could not have averted the tragedy. A slender girl like her could have done nothing against a strong and determined foe. If necessary, she would have been carried off and they would have killed two birds with one stone."
Geoffrey shuddered. He was sick of the whole business. For the moment he was a prey to utter despair. It seemed hopeless to fight against a foe like this, a foe striking in the dark and almost moving invisibly.
"Some one ought to watch that room," he said.
"It is unnecessary. I am supposed to be sleeping close by. Already the foe has learned that I slumber with one eye open. Don't be cast down, Geoffrey. Two more of the enemy are on their way to Yorkshire, and when they are here the mouth of the net is going to close. I pledge you my word that no further harm shall come to anybody. And Tchigorsky will say the same."
"On my head be it," Tchigorsky muttered. He twisted a cigarette dexterously with his long fingers.
"There is nothing to fear," he said, "nothing with ordinary vigilance. The danger will come when the time for defence has passed and it is our turn to attack. Then there will be danger for the three of us here. Shall we go to bed?"
"I could not sleep for a king's ransom," said Geoffrey.
"Then we will chat and smoke awhile," said Tchigorsky. "If you like, I will go on with the history of our adventures in Lassa."
Geoffrey assented eagerly. Tchigorsky proceeded in a whirl of cigarette smoke.
"We knew we were doomed. We could see our fate in those smiling, merciless eyes. That woman had lived among civilized people; she knew Western life; she had passed in Society almost for an Englishwoman.
"But she was native at heart; all her feelings were with her people. All the past could not save us. She meant us to die, and die with the most horrible torture under her very own eyes. Her life in India was a masquerade – this was her real existence.
"'You fancy you are the first,' she said. 'Did you ever know a Russian traveler, Voski by name? He was very like you.'
"I recollected the man. I had met him years before, and had discussed this very Lassa trip.
"'Yes,' I said, for it was useless to hold up our disguises any longer. 'What of him?'
"'He came here,' the princess said. 'He learned some of our secrets. Then it was found out and he had to walk the Black Valley. He died.'
"All this was news to me. So astonished was I that I blurted out the truth. Only a year before, long after Voski was supposed to be dead, I had met him in London. When I mentioned Lassa he changed the subject and refused to continue the conversation. I fancied that he suspected me of chaffing him. Now I know that he had been through the horrors of the Black Valley and – escaped.
"The eyes of the princess blazed when she heard this. She was a wild devastating fury. It seemed almost impossible to believe that I had seen her in a tea gown at Simla, chattering Society platitudes in a white sahib's bungalow. And I bitterly regretted betraying myself, because I knew that, wherever he was, Voski would be hunted down and killed, as they were seeking to kill me, as they would slay Ralph Ravenspur, only they have not recognized him."
"Hence the changed face and the glasses?" Geoffrey asked.
"You have guessed it," said Ralph. "I did not want to be known. I am only a poor demented idiot, a fool who cumbers the ground."
"I had betrayed Voski without doing any good to myself," Tchigorsky resumed. "If any harm has come to him, I am his murderer. Presently the princess calmed down, and the old cruel mocking light came back to her eyes. We were speaking English by this time – a language utterly unknown to the awestruck, open-mouthed priests around us.
"'Let us pretend that this is my drawing room in India, and that I am entertaining you at tea,' she said. 'Later you shall know something of me in my real character. I suppose you recognized the risks that you ran?'
"'Perfectly,' I replied. 'We are going to be done to death in barbarous fashion, because we have come here and learned your secrets as your husband did.'
"I could afford this shot. I could afford to say anything. We were going to perish by a death the horror of which is beyond all words, and had I pulled the nose of the princess, had I strangled her as she sat there, the punishment could have been made no worse.
"'Take care,' she said, 'you are in my power. What do you mean?'
"'I mean that your husband penetrated the secrets of Buddha, and that you married him so as to regain those secrets. There were papers and the like, or he would merely have been assassinated in the ordinary vulgar manner, and there would have been an end of the business. Your husband has got an inkling of this and that is why he has hidden the documents and refuses to give them up; he would be murdered if he did.'
"'You are a bold man,' the princess said.
"'Not at all,' I replied. 'A man can only die once. Would you say that the condemned murderer was rash for attempting to pick the pocket of the gaoler, even for attempting to murder him? What I say and what I do matters nothing. And you know that I am telling the truth.'
"The princess smiled. My friend Ralph here will remember that smile."
"I could see then," Ralph muttered, "and I do remember it."
"'Very well,' the princess replied, 'you are candid and I will be the same. What you have said about my husband is perfectly true. I did marry him to recover those papers. And when I accidently let out the truth that I was not outcast of my tribe he saw his danger. He is safe till those papers are mine. And then I shall kill him.
"'And yet I love that man – I shall be desolate without him. But my religion and my people come first. For them I lose my caste, for them I degrade myself by becoming the wife of a white sahib, for them I shall eventually die. And yet I love my husband. Ay, you cannot command the human heart.'
"At this I laughed. The princess joined me.
"'You think I have no heart,' she said, 'but you are mistaken. You shall see. For the present I have my duty to perform. I do it thus.'
"She rose to her feet and clapped her hands and spoke in terse, vigorous sentences. A minute later we were bound and our disguises slipped from us. And there for the present you must be content to leave us. To-morrow I shall tell the rest."
Tchigorsky rose and yawned, but Geoffrey would fain have had more.
"The princess," he said; "at least tell me if I know her."
"Of course you do. Princess Zara is the woman who calls herself Mrs. Mona May."