CHAPTER III
THE RIDDLE OF THE SACRED SON
Had I followed my own inclination in the matter, I think I should haveelected to call this particular adventure "The Riddle of the AmazingDemi-God," but as it is set down under the above title in the privatenote-book of Superintendent Narkom--to which volume I am underobligation for the details regarding the life and work of this mostmarvellous man--it follows that I must adhere closely to the recordedfacts of each of his adventures, even to the most minute particular, ifI am to prove myself worthy of the favour Mr. Narkom has shown me. I mayfreely confess, however, that I have not at all times adhered to thechronological sequence of those adventures, but have picked and chosenhere and there from the record of his amazing career such cases as Ihave fancied most likely to appeal to the public at large, withoutregard to their natural order of succession or the many others that haveintervened.
As Superintendent Narkom's records cover a number of years and embraceupward of three hundred adventures, obviously some must, of necessity,be omitted from these chronicles. Such omission sometimes--as in thepresent instance--renders it compulsory to record a few after factsconnected with the adventure last detailed, in order that the reader maynot be confused by the reappearance of certain persons undercircumstances and in places widely separated from those in which theywere left.
More than a year had passed since the affair of "The Red Crawl," whenthe events now to be told occurred, and while that year was fruitful ofmany stirring things so far as Cleek himself was concerned, but littlerecord is obtainable of the movements of Margot and the man Merode, thetwo foremost figures in the Apache band with whom Cleek came to grips,for they chose to vanish suddenly from their Parisian haunts immediatelyafter that tragical night at "The Inn of the Twisted Arm." It iscertain, however, that they proceeded in due time to the East, for theywere seen in both India and Ceylon several months after theirdisappearance from Paris. Indeed, they were obliged to fly from thelatter place to escape arrest when the confession of a drunken nativeexposed, before its fulfilment, a plan to loot the repository of thePearl Fisheries Company at a time when it contained several thousandpounds' worth of gems. From that point there is no record of theirmovements for many, many months.
Of course, after such a terrifying experience in the French capital, andnot knowing when the Apache band might, knowing her part in the affair,avenge themselves upon her for the failure of the snare of "The RedCrawl," residence in France became a bugbear to Ailsa Lorne. Despite thepleadings of Athalie and the baron, whom she had served so well ingiving help to Cleek, she was steadfast in her determination to leave itand to return to her native land. She therefore packed up herbelongings, journeyed back to London, and set about finding some otherposition whereby she could earn her living.
Circumstances had so shaped themselves that Cleek had seen next tonothing of her since her return to England, much and deeply as he longedto do so. Beyond one delightful call at the modest little boarding-placewhere she was stopping, whilst waiting for an answer to heradvertisement for a post as governess or companion, an answer whichspeedily came and was as speedily accepted, he had not met her at allsince their parting in Paris, and, as their friendship was notsufficiently close to warrant the interchange of letters, she seemed asfar away from him as ever.
Imagine, then, his surprise and delight, on returning to the house inClarges Street late one afternoon, in company with the redoubtableDollops, to find lying upon his table a note containing these words:
MY DEAR CLEEK:
Kindly refrain from going out this evening. I shall call about nine o'clock, bringing with me Miss Ailsa Lorne, whom you doubtless remember, and her present patron, Angela, Countess Chepstow, the young widow of that ripping old war-horse who, as you may recall, quelled that dangerous and fanatical rising of the Cingalese at Trincomalee. These ladies wish to see you with reference to a most extraordinary case, an inexplicable mystery, which both they and I believe no man but yourself can satisfactorily probe.
Yours in haste,
MAVERICK NARKOM.
So, then, he was to see her again, to touch her hand, hear her voice,look into the eyes that had lighted him back from the path todestruction! Cleek's heart began to hammer and his pulses to drum.Needless to say, he took extraordinary care with his toilet thatevening, with the result that when the ladies arrived there was nothingeven vaguely suggestive of the detective about him.
"Oh, Mr. Cleek, do help us!" implored Ailsa, after the first greetingswere over. "Lady Chepstow is almost beside herself with dread andanxiety over the inexplicable thing, and I have persuaded her that ifanybody on earth can solve the mystery of it, avert the new andappalling danger of it, it is you! Oh, say that you will take the case,say that you will solve it, say that you will save little Lord Chepstowand put an end to this maddening mystery!"
"Little Lord Chepstow?" repeated Cleek, glancing over at the countess,who stood, a very Niobe in her grief and despair, holding out twoimploring hands in silent supplication. "That is your ladyship's son, isit not?"
"Yes," she answered, with a sort of wail; "my only son--my only child.All that I have to love, all that I have to live for in this world."
"And you think the little fellow is in peril?"
"Yes--in deadly peril."
"From what source? From whose hand?"
"I don't know! I don't know!" she answered distractedly. "Sometimes I amwild enough to suspect even Captain Hawksley, unjust and unkind as itseems."
"Captain Hawksley? Who is he?"
"My late husband's cousin; heir, after my little son, to the title andestates. He is very poor, deeply in debt, and the inheritance would putan end to all his difficulties. But he is fond of my son; they seemalmost to worship each other. I, too, am fond of him. But, for all that,I have to remember that he and he alone would benefit by Cedric's death,and--and--wicked as it seems---- Oh, Mr. Cleek, help me! Direct me!Sometimes I doubt him. Sometimes I doubt everybody. Sometimes I think ofthose other days, that other mystery, that land which reeks of them; andthen--and then---- Oh, that horrible Ceylon! I wish I had never set footin it in all my life!"
Her agitation and distress were so great as to make her utterances onlyhalf coherent; and Ailsa, realizing that this sort of thing must onlyperplex Cleek, and leave him in the dark regarding the matter upon whichthey had come to consult him, gently interposed.
"Do try to calm yourself and to tell the story as briefly as possible,dear Lady Chepstow," she advised. Then, taking the initiative, addedquietly, "it begins, Mr. Cleek, at a period when the little boy, whosegoverness I am at present, was but two years old, and at Trincomalee,where his late father was stationed with his regiment four years ago.Somebody, for some absurd reason, had set afoot a ridiculous rumour thatthe English had received orders from the Throne to stamp out everyreligion but their own. It was said if British were not exterminated,dreadful desecrations would occur, as they were determined----"
"To loot all the temples erected to Buddha, destroy the images, and makea bonfire of all the sacred relics," finished Cleek himself. "I rarelyforget history, Miss Lorne, especially when it is such recent history asthat memorable Buddhist rising at Trincomalee. It began upon an utterlyunfounded, ridiculous rumour; it terminated, if my memory serves mecorrectly, in something akin to the very thing it was supposed to avert.That is to say, during the outburst of fanaticism, that most sacred ofall relics--the holy tooth of Buddha--disappeared mysteriously from thetemple of Dambool, and in spite of the fact that many lacs of rupeeswere offered for its recovery, it has never, I believe, been found, oreven traced, although a huge fortune awaits the restorer, and, with it,overpowering honours from the native princes. Those must have beentrying times, Lady Chepstow, for the commandant's wife, the mother ofthe commandant's only child?"
"Horrible! horrible!" she answered, with a shudder, forgetting for aninstant the da
ngers of the present in the recollection of the tragicalpast. "For a period our lives were not safe: murder hid behind everybush, skulked in the shadow of every rock and tree, and we knew not atwhat minute the little garrison might be rushed under cover of thedarkness and every soul slaughtered before the relief force could cometo our assistance. I died a hundred deaths a day in my anxiety forhusband and child. And once the very zealousness of our comrades almostbrought about the horror I feared. Oh!"--with a shudder of horrifiedrecollections she covered her eyes, as if to shut out the memory ofit--"Oh! that night--that horrible night! Unknown to any of us, my baby,rising from the bed where I had left him sleeping, whilst I went outsideto stand by Lord Chepstow, wandered beyond the line of defence, and,before anybody realized it, was out in the open, alone and unprotected.
"Ferralt, the cook, saw him first; saw, too, the crouching figure of anative, armed with a gun, in the shadow of the undergrowth. Withouthesitation the brave fellow rushed out, fell upon the native before hecould dart away, wrenched the gun from him, and brained him with thebutt. A cry of the utmost horror rang out upon the air, and, utteringit, another native bounded out from a hiding-place close to where thefirst had been killed, and flew zig-zagging across the open where Cedricwas. Evidently he had no intention of molesting the little fellow, forhe fled straight on past him, still shrieking after the accidentoccurred; but to Ferralt it seemed as if his intention were to murderthe boy, and, clapping the gun to his shoulder, in a panic ofexcitement, he fired. If it had been one of the soldiers, who understoodmarksmanship and was not likely to be in a nervous quake over thecircumstances, the thing could not have happened, although the fugitivewas careering along in a direct line with my precious little one. But,with Ferralt---- Oh, Mr. Cleek, can you imagine my horror when I saw theflash of that shot, heard a shrill cry of pain, and saw my child drop tothe ground?"
"Good heaven!" exclaimed Cleek, agitated in spite of himself. "Then theblunderer shot the child instead of the native?"
"Yes; and was so horrified by the mishap that, without waiting to learnthe result, he rushed blindly to the brink of a deep ravine, and threwhimself headlong to death. But the injury to Cedric was only a triflingone, after all. The bullet seemed merely to have grazed him in passing,and, beyond a ragged gash in the fleshy part of the thigh, he was notharmed at all. This I myself dressed and bandaged, and in a couple ofweeks it was quite healed. But it taught me a lesson, that night ofhorror, and I never let my baby out of my sight for one instant fromthat time until the rising was entirely quelled.
"As suddenly as it had started, the trouble subsided. Native priestscame under a flag of truce to Lord Chepstow, and confessed their error,acknowledged that they had never any right to suspect the British of anydesign upon their gods, for the loot of the temple had actually takenplace in the midst of the rising, and they knew that it could not havecome from the hands of the soldiers, for they had had them undersurveillance all the time, and not one person of the race had venturedwithin a mile of the temple.
"Yet the tooth of Buddha had been taken, the sacred tooth which is moreholy to Buddhists than the statue of Gautama Buddha itself. Theirremorse was very real, and after that, to the day of his death fromfever, eighteen months afterward, they could never show enough honour toLord Chepstow. And even then their favour continued. They transferred tothe little son the homage they had done the father, but in a far, fargreater degree. If he had been a king's son they could have shown him nogreater honour. Native princes showered him with rich gifts; if hewalked out, his path was strewn with flowers by bowing maidens; if hewent into the market-place, the people prostrated themselves before him.
"When I questioned Buddhist women of this amazing homage to Cedric,they gave me a full explanation. My son was sacred, they said. Buddhahad withdrawn his favour from his people because of the evil they haddone in suspecting the father and of the innocent life--Ferralt's--whichhad been sacrificed, and they had been commanded of the priests to dohomage to the child and thereby appease the offended god, who,doubtless, had himself spirited away the holy tooth, and would notrestore it until full recompense was made to the sacred son of thesacred dead.
"When it became known that I had decided to return to England with myboy, native princes offered me fabulous sums to remain, and when theyfound that I could not be tempted to stay, the populace turned out inevery town and village through which we passed on our way to the ship,and bowing multitudes followed us to the very last. Nor did it ceasewith that, for in all the years that have followed, even here in London,the homage and worship have continued. My son can go nowhere but that heis followed by Cingalese; can see no man or woman of the race but he orshe prostrates herself before him and murmurs, 'Holy, most holy!' Anddaily, almost hourly, rich gifts are showered upon him from unknownhands, and he is watched over and guarded constantly. I tell you allthis, Mr. Cleek, that you may the better understand how appalling is thehorror which now assails us, how frightful is the knowledge that someone now seeks his life, and is using every means to take it."
"In other words, my dear Cleek," put in Narkom, as Lady Chepstow,overcome with emotion, broke down suddenly, "there appears to be asudden and inexplicable change of front on the part of these fanatics,and they now seem as anxious to bring evil to the little lad as theyformerly were to protect and cherish him. At any rate, some one of theirorder has, upon three separate occasions within the last month,endeavoured to kidnap him, and, in one instance, even attempted tomurder him."
"Is that a fact?" queried Cleek sharply, glancing over at Miss Lorne."You are certain it is not a fancy, but an absolute fact?"
"Yes; oh, yes!" she made answer agitatedly. "Twice when I have gone intothe Park with him, attempts have been made to separate us, to get himaway from me; and once they did get him away, so swiftly, so adroitly,that he had vanished before I could turn round. But, although a bag hadbeen thrown over his head to stifle his cries, he managed to make a verylittle one. I plunged screaming into the undergrowth from which that cryhad come, and was just in time to save him. He was lying on the groundall bundled up in the bag, and his assailant, who must have heard mecoming, had gone as if by magic. He, however, was able to tell me thatthe man was a Cingalese, and that he had 'tried to cut him with aknife.'"
"Cut him with a knife?" repeated Cleek in a reflective tone, and blewout a long, low whistle.
"Oh, but that is not the worst, Mr. Cleek," went on Ailsa. "Three daysago a woman, very beautiful and distinguished-looking, called to seeLady Chepstow regarding the reference of a former servant, one JaneCatherboys, who used to be her ladyship's maid. After the caller left, abox of sugared violets was found lying temptingly open on a table in themain hall. Little Cedric is passionately fond of sugared violets, and,had he happened to pass that way before the box was discovered, hesurely would have yielded to the temptation and eaten some. In removingthe box the parlour maid accidentally upset it, and before she couldgather all the violets up her ladyship's little pomeranian dog snappedup one and ate it. It was dead in six minutes' time! The sweets weresimply loaded with prussic acid. When we came to inquire into thematter in the hope of tracing the mysterious caller, we found that JaneCatherboys was no longer in need of a position; that she had beenmarried for eight months; that she knew nothing whatever of the woman,and had sent no one to inquire into her references."
"All of which shows, my dear Cleek," put in Narkom significantly, "that,whatever hand is directing these attempts, it belongs to one who knowsmore than a mere outsider possibly could. In short, to one who is awareof the little boy's excessive fondness for sugared violets, and is awarethat Lady Chepstow once did have a maid named Jane Catherboys."
"If," said Cleek, "you mean to suggest by that that this pointssuspiciously in Captain Hawksley's direction, Mr. Narkom, permit me tosay that it does not necessarily follow. The clever people of theunder-world do nothing by halves nor without careful inquiry beforehand;that is what makes the difference between the common pickpocket and thebrilliant swindler."
He turned to Ailsa. "Is that all, Miss Lorne, or amI right in supposing that there is even worse to come?"
"Oh, much worse, Mr. Cleek! The knowledge that these would-be murderers,whoever they are, whatever may be their mysterious motive, have growndesperate enough to invade the house itself has driven Lady Chepstowwell-nigh frantic. Of course, orders were immediately given to theservants that no stranger, no matter how well dressed, how well seeming,nor what the plea, was, from that moment, to be allowed past thethreshold. We felt secure in that, knowing that no servant of thehousehold would betray his trust, and that all would be on the constantwatch for any further attempt. The unknown enemy must have found outabout these precautions, for no stranger came again to the door. Butlast night a thing we had never counted upon happened. In the dead ofthe night the unknown broke into the house, into the very nurseryitself, and but that Lady Chepstow, impelled she does not know by what,rose and carried the sleeping child into her own bed, he would assuredlyhave been murdered. The nurse, awakened by a horrible suffocatingsensation, opened her eyes to find a man bending over her with achloroform-soaked cloth, which he was about to lay over her face. Sheshrieked and fainted, but not before she saw the man spring to thelittle bed on the other side of her own, hack furiously at it with along, murderous knife, then dart to the window and vanish. In thedarkness he had not, of course, been able to see that the child's bedwas empty, for its position kept it in deep shadow, and hearing thehousehold stir at the sound of the nurse's shriek, he struck out blindlyand flew to save himself from detection. The nurse states that he wasundoubtedly a foreigner--a dark-skinned Asiatic--and her description ofhim tallies with that Cedric gave of the man who attempted to kill himthat day in the Park. There, Mr. Cleek," she concluded, "that's thewhole story. Can't you do something to help us; something to lift thisconstant state of dread and to remove this terrible danger from littleLord Chepstow's life?"
"I'll try, Miss Lorne; but it is a most extraordinary case. Where is theboy now?"
"At home, closely guarded. We appealed to Mr. Narkom, and he generouslyappointed two detective officers to sit with him and keep constant watchover him whilst we are away."
"And in the meantime," added Mr. Narkom, "I've issued orders for ageneral rounding-up of all the Cingalese who can be traced or are knownto be in town. Petrie and Hammond have that part of the job in hand, andif they hit upon any Asiatic who answers to the description of thismurderous rascal----"
"I don't believe they will," interposed Cleek; "or, if they do, I don'tfor a moment believe he will turn out to be the guilty party. In otherwords, I have an idea that the fellow will prove to be a European."
"But, my dear fellow, both the boy and the nurse saw the man, and, asyou have heard, they both agree that he was dark-skinned and quiteOriental in appearance."
"One of the easiest possible disguises, Mr. Narkom. A wig, a stick ofgrease-paint, a threepenny twist of crepe hair, and there you are! No, Ido not believe that the man is a Cingalese at all; and, far from hishaving any connection with what you were pleased to term just now achange of front on the part of the Buddhists who have so long held thelittle chap as something sacred, I don't believe that they know anythingabout him. I base that upon the fact that the child is still treatedwith homage whenever he goes out, according to what Miss Lorne says, andthat, with the single exception of that one woman who tried to poisonhim, nobody but one man--this particular one man--has ever made anyattempt to harm the boy. Fanatics, like those Cingalese, cleave to anidea to the end, Mr. Narkom; they don't cast it aside and go off atanother tangent. You have heard what Lady Chepstow says the native womentold her: the boy was sacred; their priests had commanded them toappease Buddha by doing homage to him until the tooth was found, and thetooth has not been found up to the present day! That means that nothingon earth could change their attitude toward him, that not one of theBuddhist sect would harm a solitary hair of his head for a king'sransom; so you may eliminate the Cingalese from the case entirely so faras the attempts upon the child's life are concerned. Whoever is makingthe attempts is doing so without their knowledge and for a purelypersonal reason."
"Then, in that case, this Captain Hawksley----"
"I'll have a look at that gentleman before I tumble into bed to-night,and you shall have my views upon that point to-morrow morning, Mr.Narkom. Frankly, things point rather suspiciously in the captain'sdirection, since he is apparently the only person likely to be benefitedby the boy's death, and if a motive cannot be traced to some otherperson----" He stopped abruptly and held up his hand. Outside in the dimhalls of the house a sudden noise had sprung into being, the noise ofsome one running upstairs in great haste, and, stepping quickly to thedoor, Cleek drew it sharply open. As he did so, Dollops came puffing upout of the lower gloom, a sheep's trotter in one hand and a letter inthe other.
"Law, guv'ner!" groaned he, from midway on the staircase, "I don'tbelieve as I'm ever goin' to be let get a square tuck-in this side ofthe buryin' ground! Jist finished wot was left of that there steak andkidney puddin', sir, and started on my seckint trotter, when I sees apair o' legs nip parst the area railin's to the front door, and then nipoff again like greased lightnin', and when I ups and does a flyin' leapup the kitchen stairs, there was this here envellup in the letter-boxand them there blessed legs nowheres in sight. I say, sir," agitatedly,"look wot's wrote on the envellup, will yer? And us always keepin' of itso dark."
Cleek plucked the letter from his extended hand, glanced at it, andpuckered up his lips; then, with a gesture, he sent Dollops back belowstairs, and, returning to the room, closed the door behind him.
"The enemy evidently knows all Lady Chepstow's movements, Mr. Narkom,"he said. "I expect she and Miss Lorne have been under surveillance allday and have been followed here. Look at that!" He flung the letter downon a table as he spoke, and Narkom, glancing at it, saw printed in rude,illiterate letters upon the envelope the one word "Cleek." The identityof "Captain Burbage" was known to some one, and the secret of the housein Clarges Street was a secret no longer!
"Purposely disguised, you see. No one, not even a little child, wouldmake such a botch of copying the alphabet as that," Cleek said, as hetook the letter up and opened it. The sheet it contained was lettered inthe same uncouth manner and bore these words:
"Cleek, take a fool's advice and don't accept the Chepstow case. Bewarned. If you interfere, somebody you care about will pay the price.You'll find it more satisfactory to buy a wedding bouquet than a funeralwreath!"
"Oh!" shuddered the two ladies in one breath. "How horrible! Howcowardly!" And then, feeling that her last hope had gone, Lady Chepstowbroke into a fit of violent weeping and laid her head on Ailsa'sshoulder.
"Oh, my baby! My darling baby boy!" she sobbed. "And now they arethreatening somebody that you, too, love. Of course, Mr. Cleek, I can'texpect you to risk the sacrifice of your own dear ones for the sake ofme and mine, and so--and so---- Oh, take me away, Miss Lorne! Let me goback to my baby and have him while I may."
"Good-night, Mr. Cleek," said Ailsa, stretching out a shaking hand tohim. "Thank you so much for what you would have done but for this. Andyou were our last hope, too!"
"Why give it up then, Miss Lorne?" he said, holding her hand and lookinginto her eyes. "Why not go on letting me be your last hope--your onlyhope?"
"Yes, but they--they spoke of a funeral wreath."
"And they also spoke of a wedding bouquet! I am going to take the case,Miss Lorne--take it, and solve it, as I'm a living man. Thank you!" asher brimming eyes uplifted in deep thankfulness and her shaking handreturned the pressure of his. "Now, just give me five minutes' time inthe next room--it's my laboratory, Lady Chepstow--and I'll tell youwhether I shall begin with Captain Hawksley or eliminate him from thecase entirely. You might go in ahead, Mr. Narkom, and get the acid bathand the powder ready for me. We'll see what the finger-prints of ourgentle correspondent have to tell, and, if they are not in the recordsof Scotland Yard or down in my own private little book, we'll get as
ample of Captain Hawksley's in the morning."
Then, excusing himself to the ladies, he passed into the inner room incompany with Narkom, and carried the letter with him. When he returnedit was still in his hand, but there were grayish smudges all over it.
"There's not a finger-print in the lot that is worth anything as a meansof identification, Miss Lorne," he said. "But you and Lady Chepstow mayaccept my assurance that Captain Hawksley is not the man. The writer ofthis letter belongs to the criminal classes; he is on his guard againstthe danger of finger-prints, and he wore rubber gloves when he pennedthis message. When I find him, rest assured I shall find a man who hashad dealings with the police before and whose finger-prints are on theirrecords. I don't know what his game is nor what he's after yet, but Iwill inside of a week. I've an idea; but it's so wild a thing I'm almostafraid to trust myself to believe it possible until I stumble oversomething that points the same way. Now, go home with Lady Chepstow, andbegin the work of helping me."
"Helping you? Oh, Mr. Cleek, can we? Is there anything we can do tohelp?"
"Yes. When you leave the house, act as though you are in the utmoststate of dejection, and keep that up indefinitely. Make it appear, for Iam certain you will be followed and spied upon, as if I had declined thecase. But don't have any fear about the boy. The two constables willsleep in the room with him to-night and every night until the thing iscleared up and the danger past. To-morrow about dusk, however, you,personally, take him for a walk near the Park, and if, among the otherCingalese you may meet, you should see one dressed as an Englishman, andwearing a scarlet flower in his buttonhole, take no notice of how oftenyou see him nor of what he may do."
"It will be you, Mr. Cleek?"
"Yes. Now go, please; and don't forget to act as if you and her ladyshipwere utterly broken-hearted. Also"--his voice dropped lower, his handmet her hand, and in the darkness of the hall a little silver-platedrevolver was slipped into her palm--"also, take this. Keep it alwayswith you, never be without it night or day, and if any living creatureoffers you violence, shoot him down as you would a mad dog. Good-night,and--remember!"
And long after she and Lady Chepstow had gone down and passed out intothe night he stood there, looking the situation straight in the face andthinking his own troubled thoughts.
"A wedding bouquet! A threat against her, and the mention of a weddingbouquet!" he said, as he went back into the room and sat down to figurethe puzzle out. "Only one creature in the world knows of my feelings inthat direction, and only one creature in the world would be capable ofthat threat--Margot! But what interest could she or any of her tribehave in the death of Lady Chepstow's little son? Her game is alwaysmoney. If she were after a ransom she would try to abduct the child, notto kill him, and if----" A sudden thought came and wrenched away hisvoice. He sat a moment twisting his fingers one through the other andfrowning at the floor; then, of a sudden, he gave a cry and jumped tohis feet. "Five lacs of rupees--a fortune! By George, I've got it!" hefairly shouted. "The wild guess was a correct one, I'll stake my lifeupon it. Now, then, to put it to the test."
II
The summer twilight was deepening into the summer dusk when Ailsa,acting upon Cleek's advice, set forth with little Lord Chepstow thefollowing evening, and turned her steps in the direction of the Park.Although, on her way there, she observed more than once that aswarthy-skinned man in European dress, who wore a scarlet flower in hiscoat, and was so perfect a type of the Asiatic that he would have passedmuster for one even among a gathering of Cingalese, kept appearing anddisappearing at irregular intervals, it spoke well for the powers ofimitation and self-effacement possessed by Dollops that she never oncethought of associating that young man with the dawdling messenger boywho strolled leisurely along with a package under his arm and patronizedevery bun-shop, winkle stall, and pork-pie purveyor on the line ofmarch.
For upward of an hour this sort of thing went on without anyinterruption and Ailsa strolled along leisurely, with the boy's hand inhers, his innocent prattle running on ceaselessly; then, of a sudden,whilst they were moving along close to the Park railings and in theshadow of the overhanging trees, the figure of an undersized man insemi-European costume, but wearing on his head the twisted turban of aCingalese, issued from one of the gates and well-nigh collided withthem.
He drew back, murmuring an apology in pidgin-English, then, seeing thechild, he salaamed profoundly and murmured in a voice of deep reverence,"Holy, most holy!" and prostrated himself, with his forehead touchingthe ground, until Ailsa and the child had passed on. But barely hadthey taken five steps before Cleek appeared upon the scene, and didexactly the same thing as the Cingalese.
"All right. You may go home now. I've got my man," he whispered, asAilsa and the boy passed by. "Look for me at Chepstow House some timeto-night." Then rose, as she walked on, and went after the man who firsthad prostrated himself before the child.
He had risen and gone on his way, but not before witnessing Cleek'sobeisance, and flashing upon him a sharp, searching look. Cleekquickened his steps and shortened the distance between them. Now ornever was the time to put to the test that wild thought which last nighthad hammered on his brain, for it was certain that this man was in verytruth a genuine Cingalese, and, as such, must know! He stretched forthhis hand and touched the man, who drew back sharply, half indignantly,but changed his attitude entirely when Cleek, who knew Hindustani morethan well, spoke to him in the native tongue.
"Unto thee, oh, brother!" Cleek said. "Thou, too, art of us, for thou,too, dost acknowledge the sacred shrine. These eyes have beheld thee."
All his hopes rested on the slim pillar of that one word, "shrine," andhis heart almost ceased to beat as he watched to see how it wasreceived. It broke, however, into a very tumult of disturbance in thenext instant, for the man positively beamed as he gave reply.
"Sacred be the shrine!" he answered in Hindustani. "Clearly thou art ofus--not of those others."
"Others? What others? I am but newly come to this country."
"Walk with me, then, to my abode, sup with me, eat of my salt, and Iwill tell thee then, oh, brother. But I forget: thou hast no knowledgeof me. Listen, then. I am Arjeeb Noosrut, father of the High PriestSeydama, and it is among the people of my house that the gun is yetpreserved. Nor has the blood of Seydama been ever washed from the woodof it! Come."
All in a moment a light seemed to break over Cleek's brain. The missinglink had been supplied--the one thing that could make possible the wildthought which had come to him last night had been given into his hands.Here at last was the key to the amazing mystery! He turned without aword and went with Arjeeb Noosrut.
"What an ass!" he said to himself in the soundless words of thought."What an ass never to have suspected it when it is all so clear!"
Meantime Ailsa and the boy, dismissed from any further need of service,walked on through the deepening dusk and turned their faces homeward.But they had not gone twenty yards from the spot where Cleek had seenthem last when the little boy set up a joyful cry and pointed excitedlyto a claret-coloured limousine which at that moment swung in from themiddle of the roadway and slowed down as it neared the kerb.
"Oh, look, Miss Lorne; here's mummie's motor-car; and I do believethat's Bimbi peeping out of it!" exclaimed the child--"Bimbi" being hispet name for Captain Hawksley--then broke, in wild excitement, fromAilsa's detaining hand and fled to a tall, military-looking man with afair beard and moustache who had just that moment alighted from thevehicle. "It is Bimbi--it is!--it is!" he shouted as he ran. "Oh, Bimbi,I _am_ glad!"
"Ceddie, dear, you mustn't be so boisterous!" chided Ailsa, coming upwith him at the kerb. "How fond he is of you to be sure, CaptainHawksley. You've come for us, I suppose? Ceddie recognized the car atonce."
"Yes; jump in," he answered. "Lady Chepstow sent me after you. She'snervous, poor soul, every moment the boy's away from her. Jump in, oldchap! Better take the back seat, Miss Lorne; it's more comfortable.Quite settled, both of you? That's good. All r
ight, chauffeur--Home!"
Then he jumped in after them, closed the door, dropped into a seat, andthe motor, making a wide curve out into the road, pelted away into thefast-gathering darkness.
"Bimbi says maybe he's going to be my daddy one day--didn't you, Bimbi?"said his little lordship, climbing up on to "Bimbi's" knee and snugglingclose to him.
"I say, you know, you mustn't tell secrets, old chap!" was the laughingresponse. "Miss Lorne will hand you over to Nursie with orders to putyou to bed if you do, I know. Won't you, Miss Lorne?"
"He ought to be in bed, anyhow," responded Ailsa gaily; and then, thisgiving the conversation a merry turn, they talked and laughed and keptup such a chatter that three-quarters of an hour went like magic andnobody seemed aware of it. But suddenly Ailsa thought, and then put herthoughts into words.
"What a long time we are in getting home," she said, and bent forward sothat the light from the window might fall upon the dial of her wristwatch, then gave a little startled cry and half rose from her seat. Forthe darkness was now tempered by moonlight and she could see that theywere no longer in the populous districts of the town, but were speedingalong past woodlands and open fields in the very depths of the country."Good gracious! Johnston must have lost his senses!" she exclaimedagitatedly. "Look where we are, Captain Hawksley!--out in the countrywith only a farmhouse or two in sight. Johnston! Johnston!" She bentforward and rapped wildly on the glass panel. "Johnston, stop!--turnround!--are you out of your head? Captain Hawksley, stop him--stop him,for pity's sake!"
"Sit down, Miss Lorne." He made reply in a low, level voice, a voice inwhich there was something that made her pluck the child to her and holdhim tight to her breast. "You are not going home to-night. You are goingfor a ride with me; and if---- Oh, that's your little game, is it?"lurching forward as she made a frantic clutch at the handle of the door."Sit down, do you hear me?--or it will be worse for you! There!"--thecold bore of a revolver barrel touched her temple and wrung a quakinggasp of terror from her--"Do you feel that? Now you sit down and bequiet! If you make a single move, utter a single cry, I'll blow yourbrains out before you've half finished it! Look here, do you know whoyou're dealing with now? See!"
His hand reached up and twitched away the fair beard and moustache; hebent forward so that the moonlight through the glass could fall on hisface. It had changed as his voice had now changed, and she saw that shewas looking at the man who in those other days of stress and trial hadposed as "Gaston Merode," brother to the fictitious "Countess de laTour."
"You!" she said in a bleak voice of desolation and fright. "Dear heaven,that horrible Margot's confederate, the King of the Apaches!"
"Yes!" he rapped out. "You and that fellow Cleek came between us in onepromising game, but I'm hanged if you shall do it in this one! I wantthis boy, and--I've got him. Now, you call off Cleek and tell him todrop this case, to make no effort to follow us or to come between us andthe kid, or I'll slit your throat after I've done with his littlelordship here. Lanisterre!"--to the chauffeur--"Lanisterre, do youhear?"
"_Oui, monsieur._"
"Give her her head and get to the mill as fast as you can. Margot willbe with us in another two hours' time."
III
Through the ever-deepening dusk Cleek and Arjeeb Noosrut moved onwardtogether; and onward behind them moved, too, the same dilatory messengerboy who had loitered about in the neighbourhood of the Park, squanderinghis halfpence now as then, leaving a small trail of winkle shells andtrotter bones to mark the record of his passage, and never seeming tolose one iota of his appetite, eat as much and as often as he would.
The walk led down into the depths of Soho, that refuge of the foreignelement in London; but long before they halted at the narrow doorway ofa narrow house in a narrow side street that seemed to have gone to sleepin an atmosphere of gloom and smells Cleek had adroitly "pumped" ArjeebNoosrut dry, and the riddle of the sacred son was a riddle to him nolonger. He was now only anxious to part from the man and return with thenews to Lady Chepstow, and was casting round in his mind for some excuseto avoid going indoors with him to waste precious time in breaking breadand eating salt. Suddenly there lurched out of an adjoining doorway anungainly figure in turban and sandals and the full flower of thatgrotesque regalia which passes muster at cheap theatres and masqueradeballs for the costume of a Cingalese. The fellow had bent forward out ofthe deeper darkness of the house-passage into the murk and gloom of theill-lit street, and was straining his eyes as if in search for some onelong expected.
"Dog of an infidel!" exclaimed Arjeeb Noosrut, speaking in Hundustaniand spitting on the pavement as he caught sight of the man. "See,well-beloved, he is of those 'others' of which I spoke when I first metthee. There are many of them, but true believers none. They dwell in aroom huddled up as unclean things in the house there; they drink andmake merry far into the night, and a woman veiled and in European garbcomes to them and drinks with them. Sometimes a man of her kind is withher, and they speak a tongue that is not the tongue of our people; yethave I seen them go forth into the city and do homage as we to thesacred son."
Cleek sucked in his breath and, twitching round, stared at the dimfigure leaning forward in the dim light.
"By George!" he said to himself; "if I know anything, I ought to knowthe slouch and the low-sunk head of the Apache! And a woman comes! And aman comes! And there are five lacs of rupees! I wonder! I wonder! Butno--she wouldn't come here, to a place like this, if she had venturedback into England and had called some of the band over to help. She'd goto the old spot where she and I used to lie low and laugh whilst thepolice were hunting for me. She'd go there, I'm sure, to the old BurntAcre Mill, where, if you were 'stalked,' you could open the sluice gatesand let the Thames and the mill stream rush in and meet, and make a hellof whirling waters that would drown a fish. She would go there if itwere she. And yet--it is an Apache: I swear it is an Apache!"
He turned and looked back at Arjeeb Noosrut, then raised his hand andbrushed it down the back of his head, which was always the sign "Wait!"to Dollops, and then spoke as calmly as he could.
"Brother, I will go in and break bread and eat salt with thee," he said."But I may do no more, for to-night I am in haste."
"Come, then," the man answered; and taking him by the hand, led him inand up to a room at the back of the second storey, where, hot as thenight was, the windows were closed and a woman, squatted before alighted brasier, was dripping the contents of an oil cruse over theroasting carcase of a young kid.
"It is to shut out the sounds of the vile infidel orgies from the houseadjoining," explained Arjeeb Noosrut, as Cleek walked to the tightlyclosed window and leant his forehead against it. "Yet, if the heatoppresses thee----"
"It does," interposed Cleek, and leant far out into the darkness asthough sucking in the air when the sash was raised and the thing whichhad been only a dim babel of wordless sounds a moment before became nowthe riotous laughter and the ribald comments of men upon the verses of acomic song which one of their number was joyously singing.
"French!" said Cleek under his breath, as he caught the notes of thesinger and the words of his audience, "French--I knew it!"
Then he drew in his head, and having broken of the bread and eaten ofthe salt which, at a word from Arjeeb Noosrut, the woman brought on awicker tray and laid before them, he moved hastily to the door.
"Brother and son of the faithful, peace be with thee, I must go," hesaid. "But I come again; and it is written that thou shalt be honouredabove all men when I return to thee, and that the true believers--thetrue sons of Holy Buddha--shall have cause to set thy name at the headof the records of those who are most blest of him!"
Then he salaamed and passed out. Closing the door behind him, he ranlike a hare down the narrow stairs. At the door Dollops rose up like theimp in a pantomime and jumped toward him.
"Law, guv'ner, I'm nigh starved a-waitin' for yer!" he said in awhisper. "Wot's the lay now? A double quick change? I've got the stuffhere, look!"--hol
ding up the package he was carrying--"or a chance forme to do some fly catchin' with me bloomin' tickle tootsies?"
The man in the Cingalese costume had vanished from the doorway of theadjoining house, and, catching the boy by the arm, Cleek hurried him toit and drew him into the dark passage.
"I'm going to the back; I'm going to climb up to the windows of thesecond storey and see who's there and what's going on," he whispered."Lie low and watch. I think it's Margot's gang."
"Oh, colour me blue! Them beauties? And in London? I'd give a tanner fora strong cup o' tea!"
"Shh-h! Be quiet--speak low. Don't be seen, but keep a close watch; andif anybody comes downstairs----"
"He's mine!" interjected Dollops, stripping up his sleeves. "Glue to theeyebrows and warranted to stick! Nip away, guv'ner, and leave it to thetickle tootsies and me!" Then, as Cleek moved swiftly and silently downthe passage and slipped out into the sort of yard at the back of thehouse, he pulled out his roll of brown paper squares and his tube ofadhesive, and crawling upstairs on his hands and knees, began operationsat the top step. But he had barely got the first "plaster" fairly madeand ready to apply when there came a rush of footsteps behind him and hewas obliged to duck down and flatten himself against the floor of thelanding to escape being run down by a man who dashed in through thelower door, flew at top speed up the stairs and, with a sort of blendedcheer and yell, whirled open a door on the landing above and vanished.In a twinkling other cheers rang out, there was the sound of hastilymoving feet and the uproar of general excitement.
"Oh, well, if you won't stop to be waited on, gents, help yourselves!"said Dollops with a chuckle. Then he began backing hastily down thestairs, squirting the contents of the tube all over the steps, andconcluded the operation by scattering all the loose sheets of paper onthe floor at the foot of them before slipping out into the street andcomposedly waiting.
Meantime Cleek, sneaking out through the rear door, found himself in asmall, brick-paved yard hemmed in by a high wall thickly fringed on thetop with a hedge of broken bottles. At one time in its history the househad been occupied by a catgut maker, and the rickety shed in which hehad carried on his calling still clung, sagging and broken-roofed, tothe building itself, its rotten slates all but vanished, and itsinterior piled high with mildewed bedding, mouldy old carpet, brokenfurniture, and refuse of every sort.
A foot or two above the roof-level of this glowed--two luminousrectangles in the blackness of darkness--the windows of the back room onthe second storey; and out of these came floating still the song, thelaughter, and the jabbered French he had heard in the house next door.It did not take him long to make up his mind. Gripping the swayingsupports of the sagging shed, he went up it with the agility of amonkey, crawled to the nearer of the two windows, and, cautiouslyraising himself, peeped in. What he saw made him suck in his breathsharply and sent his heart hammering hard and fast.
A dozen men were in the room, men whose faces, despite an inartisticattempt to appear Oriental, he recognized at a glance and knew betterthan he knew his own. About them lay discarded portions of Cingaleseattire, thrown off because of the heat, and waiting to be resumed at anymoment. The air was thick with tobacco smoke and rank with spirituousodours. Sprawled figures were everywhere, and on a sort of couch againstthe opposite wall, a cigarette between her fingers, a glass of absintheat her elbow, her laughter and badinage ringing out as loudly as any,lay the lissom figure of Margot!
But even as Cleek looked in upon it the picture changed. Swift, sharp,and sudden came the rattle of flying feet on the outer stairs. Margotflung aside her cigarette and jumped up, the song and the laughter cameto an abrupt end, the door flew open, and with a shout and a cheer a manbounced into the room.
"Serpice! Ah, _le bon Dieu!_ it is Serpice at last!" cried out Margot injoyous excitement as she and the others crowded round him. "Soul of asluggard, don't waste time in laughing and capering like this! Speak up,speak up, you hear? Are we to fly at once to the mill and join him? Hashe succeeded? Is it done?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" shouted back Serpice, throwing up his cap and capering."It is done! It is done! Under the very nose of the Cracksman, too!Merode's got them both! The little lordship and the Mademoiselle Lorne,too! They took the bait like gudgeons; they stepped into the automobilewithout a fear, and--whizz! it was off to the mill like that! La, la,la! We win, we win, we win!"
The shock of the thing was too much for Cleek. Carried out of himself bythe knowledge that the woman he loved was now in peril of her life,discretion forsook him, blind rage mastered him, and he did one of thefew foolish things of his life.
"You lie, you brute, you lie!" he shouted, jumping up into full view."God help the man who lays a hand on her! Let him keep his life from meif he can!"
"The Cracksman!" yelled out Serpice. "The Cracksman! The Cracksman!"echoed Margot and the rest. Then a pistol barked and spat, the light wasswept out, a bullet sang past Cleek's ear, and he realized how foolishhe had been. For part of the crowd came surging to the window, part wentin one blind rush for the door to head him off and hem him in, and,through the din and hubbub rang viciously the voice of Margot shrillingout: "Kill him! Kill him!" as though nothing but the sight of his bloodwould glut her malice.
It was neck or nothing now, and the race was to the swift. He droppedthrough a gap in the ragged roof, sheer down, like a shot, into therubble and refuse below; he lurched through the shed to the door, andthrough that to the black passage leading to the street--the clatter onthe higher staircase giving warning of the crowd coming after him--andflew like a hare hard pressed toward the outer door, and then, justthen, when every little moment counted, there was a scrambling sound, achorus of oaths, a slipping, a sliding, a bang on one step and a bump onanother; and, as he darted by and sprang out into the street the hallwas filled with a writhing, scuffling, swearing mass of glue-covered menstruggling in a whirling waste of loose brown paper.
"This way! come quickly, for your life!" he shouted to Dollops as hecame plunging out into the street. "They've got them, got the littleboy! Got Miss Lorne--in spite of me. Come on! come on! come on!" He flewlike an arrow from crossing to crossing and street to street withDollops, like a shadow, at his heels.
A sudden swerve to the right brought them into a lighted and populousthoroughfare. Italian restaurants, German delicatessen shops, eatingplaces of a dozen other nationalities lined the pavement on both sidesof the street, and in front of one of these a high-power motor stood,protected by the watchful eye of an accommodating policeman while thechauffeur sampled Chianti in a wine-shop close by. With a rush and aleap Cleek was upon it, and with another rush and a leap the constablewas upon him, only to be greeted with the swift flicking open of a coatand the gleam of badge that every man in the force knew.
"Cleek?"
"Yes! In the name of the Yard; in the name of the king! get out of theway! In with you, Dollops! We'll get the brutes yet!"
Then he bent over, threw in the clutch, and discarding all speed laws,sent the car humming and tearing away.
"Hold tight!" he said through his teeth. "Whatever comes, we've got toget to Burnt Acre Mill inside of an hour. If you know any prayers,Dollops, say them."
"The Lord fetch us home in time for supper!" gulped the boy obediently."S'help me, guv'ner, the wind's goin' through my teeth like I was amouth organ, and I'm hollow enough for a flute!"
IV
It is strange how, in moments of stress and trial, even in times oftragedy, the most commonplace thoughts will intrude themselves and themind separate itself from the immediate events. As Merode put the coldmuzzle of the revolver to Ailsa's temple and she ought, one would havesupposed, to have been deaf and blind to all things but the horror ofher position, one of these strange mental lapses occurred, and her mind,travelling back over the years to her early schooldays, dwelt on apunishment task set her by her preceptress--the task of copying threehundred times the phrase "Discretion is the better part of valour."
As the recollection of th
at time rose before her mental vision, thevalue of the phase itself forced its worth upon her and, huddling backin the corner of the limousine, she clutched the frightened child to herand gave implicit obedience to Merode's command to make no effort toattract attention either by word or deed. And he, fancying that he hadthoroughly cowed her, withdrew the touch of the weapon from her temple,but held it ready for possible use in the grip of his thin, strong hand.
For a time the limousine kept straight on in its headlong course, then,of a sudden, it swerved to the left. The gleam of a river--all silverwith moonlight--struck up through a line of trees on one side of thecar, the blank, unbroken dreariness of a stretch of waste land spreadout upon the other, and presently, by the slowing down of the motor,Ailsa guessed that they were nearing their destination. They reached ita few moments later, and a peep from the window, as the vehicle stopped,showed her the outlines of a ruined watermill, ghostly, crumbling,owl-haunted, looming black against the silver sky.
A crumbled wheel hung, rotten and moss-grown, over a dry water-course,where straggling willows stretched out from the bank and trailed theirlong, feathery ends a yard or so above the level of the weeds andgrasses that carpeted the sandy bed of it, and along its edge--oncebuilt as a protection for the heedless or unwary, but now a ruin and awreck--a moss-grown wall with a narrow, gateless archway made anirregular shadow on the moon-drenched earth. She saw that archway andthat dry water-course, and a new, strong hope arose within her.Discretion had played its part; now it was time for Valour to take thestage.
"Come, get out--this is the end," said Merode, as he unlatched the doorof the limousine and alighted. "You may yell here until your throatsplits, for all the good it will do you. Lanisterre, show us a light;the path to the door is uncertain, and the floor of the mill is unsafe.This way, if you please, Miss Lorne. Let me have the boy, I'll lookafter him!"
"No, no!--not yet! Please, not yet!" said Ailsa, with a little catch inher voice as she plucked him to her and smothered his frightened criesagainst her breast. "Let me have him whilst I may; let me hold him tothe last, Monsieur Merode. His mother trusts me. She will want to knowthat I--I stood by him until I could stand no longer. Please!--we are sohelpless--I am so fond of him, and--he is such a very little boy.Listen! You want me to write to Mr. Cleek; you want me to ask somethingof him. I won't do it for myself, not if you kill me for refusing. I'llnever do it for myself; but--but I will do it if you won't separate usuntil he has had time to say his prayers."
"Oh, all right, then," he agreed. "If it's any consolation doing afool's trick like that, why do it! Now come along, and let's get insidethe mill without any more nonsense. Lanisterre, bring that lantern hereso that mademoiselle can see the path to the door. This way, if youplease, Miss Lorne."
"Thank you," she said as she alighted and moved slowly in the directionof the door, soothing the child as they crept along almost within touchof the crumbling wall. "Ceddie, darling, don't cry. You are a bravelittle hero, I know, and heroes are never afraid to die." From the tailof her eye she watched Merode. He seemed to realize from these words tothe child that she was reconciled to the inevitable, and with an air ofsatisfaction he put the pistol back into his pocket and walked besideher. She kept straight on with her soothing words; and, in the halfshadow, neither Merode nor Lanisterre could see that one hand was lostin the folds of her skirt.
"Ceddie, darling, let Miss Lorne be able to tell mummie that her littleman was a hero; that he died, as heroes always die, without a fear or aweakening to the very last. I'll stand by you, precious; I'll hold yourhand; and, when the time comes----"
It came then! The gateless archway was reached at last, and the thingshe had been planning all along now became possible. With one suddenpush she sent the boy reeling down the incline into the drywater-course, flashed round sharply, and before Merode really knew howthe thing had happened, she was standing with her back to the arch and arevolver in her levelled hand.
"Throw up your arms--throw them up at once, or, as God hears me, I'llshoot!" she cried. "Run, Ceddie, run, baby! He shan't follow you. I'llkill him if he tries!"
"You idiot!" began Merode, and made a lurch toward her. But the pistolbarked and something white-hot zig-zagged along his arm and bit like aflame into his shoulder.
"Up with your hands--up with them!" she said in a voice that shook withexcitement as he howled out and made a reeling backward step. "Next timeit will be the head I aim at, not the arm!" Then, lifting up her voicein one loud shriek that made the echoes bound, she called with all herstrength: "Help, somebody--for God's sake help! Scream, Ceddie--scream!Help! Help!"
And lo! as she called, as if a miracle had been wrought, out of thedarkness an answering voice called back to her, and the wild, swiftnotes of a motor horn bleated along the lonely road.
"I'm coming--I--Cleek!" that voice rang out. "Hold your own--hold it tothe last, Miss Lorne, and God help the man who lays a finger on you!"
"Mr. Cleek! Mr. Cleek, oh, thank God!" she flung back with all therapture a human voice could contain. "Come on, come on! I've gothim--got that man Merode, and the boy is safe, the boy is safe! Come on!come on! come on!"
"We're a-comin', miss, you gamble on that and the lightnin's a fool tous!" shouted Dollops in reply. "Let her have it, guv'ner! Bust thebloomin' tank. Give her her head; give her her feet; give her herblessed merry-thought if she wants it! Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"
And then, just then, when she most needed her strength and her courage,Ailsa's evaporated. The reaction came, and, with the despairing cries ofMerode and Lanisterre ringing in her ears, she sank back, weak, white,almost fainting and, leaning against the side of the archway, began tolaugh and to sob hysterically. Merode seized that one moment and sprangto the breach.
Realizing that the game was all but up, that there was nothing for himnow but to save his own skin if he could, he called out to Lanisterre torip out the sparking plug of the motor and follow him, then plunged intothe mill, swung over the lever which controlled the sluice gates, and,darting out by the back way, fled across the waste.
But behind him he left a scene of indescribable horror, and the shrillscreaming of a little child told him when that horror began. For as thesluice gates opened a sullen roar sounded; on one side the divertedmillstream, and on the other the river, rose as two solid walls ofwater, rushed forward and--met. In the twinkling of an eye the oldwater-course was one wild, leaping, roaring, gyrating whirlpool ofup-flung froth and twisting waves that bore in their eddying clutch thebattling figure of a drowning child.
Even before he came in sight of it the roaring waters and the fearfulsplash of their impact told Cleek what had been done. He could hearAilsa's screams; he could hear the boy's feeble cries, and a momentlater, when the whizzing motor panted up through the moonlight and spedby the broken wall, there was Ailsa, fairly palsied with fright,clinging weakly to the crumbling arch and uttering little sobbing,wordless, incoherent moans of fright as she stared down into the hell ofwaters; and below, in the foam, a little yellow head was spinning roundand round and round, in dizzying circles of torn and leaping waves.
"Heavens, guv'ner!" began Dollops in a voice of appalling despair; butbefore he could get beyond that, Cleek's coat was off, Cleek's body haddescribed a sort of semi-circle, and the child was no longer alone inthe whirlpool!
Battling, struggling, fairly leaping, as a fish leaps in a torrent, onemoment half out of the water, the next wholly submerged, Cleek struckfrom eddy to eddy, from circle to circle, until that little yellow headwas within reach, then put forth his hand and gripped it, pulled it tohim, and in another moment he was whirling round and round thewhirlpool's course with the child clutched to him and its wet, whiteface gleaming wax-like over the angle of his shoulder.
They had not made the half of the first circle thus before Dollops hadleaped to the bending willows, had scrambled up the rough trunk of thenearest of them, and, pushing his weight out upon a strong and supplebough, bent it downward until the half of its strongest
withes were deepin the whirling waters.
"Grab 'em, guv'ner--grab 'em when you come by!" he sang out over theroar of the waters. "They'll hold you, sir--hold a dozen like you; andif---- Well played! Got 'em the first grab! Hang on! Get a tight grip!Now, then, sir, hand over hand till you're at the bank! Good biz! Goodbiz! Blest if you won't be goin' in for the circus trade next! Steadydoes it, sir--steady, steady! Goal, by Jupiter! Now, then, hand me upthe nipper--I should say the young gent--and in two minutes'time----Right! Got him! 'Ere you are, Miss Lorne--lay hold of his littlelordship, will you? I've got me blessed hands full a-keepin' to me perchwhilst the guv'ner's a-wobbling of the branch like this. Good biz! Now,then, sir, another 'arf a yard. That's the call! Hands on this bough andfoot on the bank there. One, two, three--knew you'd do it! Safe ashouse, Gawd bless yer bully heart!"
And then Cleek, wet, white, panting, dragged himself out of the clutchof the whirlpool and lay breathing heavily on the ground.
"By gums, guv'ner," Dollops added as he looked down on the whirlingwaters, "what an egg-beater it would make, wouldn't it, sir? Ain't gotsuch a thing as a biscuit about yer, have you? Me spine's a-raspingholes in me necktie, and I'm so flat you could slip me into a pillar boxand they'd take me home for a penny stamp."
But Cleek made no reply. Wet and spent after his fierce struggle withthe whirling fury he had just escaped, he lay looking up into Ailsa'seyes as she came to him with the sobbing child close pressed to herbosom and all heaven in her beaming face.
"It is not the 'funeral wreath' after all, you see, Miss Lorne," hesaid. "It came near to being it; but--it is not, it is not. I wonder,oh, I wonder!"
Then he laughed the foolish, vacuous laugh of a man whose thoughts aretoo happy for the banality of words.
* * * * *
It was midnight and after. In the close-curtained library of ChepstowHouse, Cleek, with little Lord Chepstow sleeping in his arms, sat insolemn conclave with Lady Chepstow, Captain Hawksley, and MaverickNarkom. While they talked, Ailsa, like a restless spirit, wandered toand fro, now lifting the curtains to peep out into the darkness, nowlistening as if her whole life's hope lay in the coming of some expectedsound. And in her veins there burned a fever of suspense.
"So you failed to get the rascals, did you, Mr. Narkom?" Cleek wassaying. "I feared as much; but I couldn't get word to you sooner. Weblew out a fuse, Dollops and I, in that mad race to the mill, and ofcourse we had to come home at a snail's pace afterward. I'm sorry wedidn't get Margot, sorrier still that that hound Merode got away. Theyare bound to make more trouble before the race is run. Not for herladyship, however, and not for this dear little chap. Their troubles areat an end, and the sacred son will be a sacred son no longer."
"Oh, Mr. Cleek, do tell me what you mean," implored Lady Chepstow. "Dotell me how----"
"Doctor Fordyce at last!" struck in Ailsa excitedly, as the door-belland the knocker clashed and the butler's swift footsteps went along thehall. "Now we shall know, Mr. Cleek, now we shall know for certain!"
"And so shall all the world," he replied as the door opened and thedoctor was ushered into the room. "I don't think you were ever sowelcome anywhere or at any time before, doctor," he added with a smile."Come and look at this little chap. Bonny little specimen of aBritisher, isn't he?"
"Yes; but, my dear sir, I--I was under the impression that I was calledto a scene of excitement; and you seem as peaceful as Eden here. Theconstable who came for me said it was something to do with ScotlandYard!"
"So it is, doctor. I had Mr. Narkom send for you to perform a verytrifling but most important operation upon this little boy here."
"Upon Cedric!" exclaimed Lady Chepstow, rising in a panic of alarm. "Anoperation to be performed upon my baby boy? Oh, Mr. Cleek, in the nameof Heaven----"
"No, your ladyship, in the name of Buddha. Don't be alarmed. It is onlyto be a trifling cut, a mere re-opening of that little wound in thethigh which you dressed and healed so successfully at Trincomalee. Youmade a mistake, all of you, that night when the boy was shot. The nativepoor Ferralt saw skulking along with the gun was not a mere tribesmanand had not the very faintest thought of discharging that weapon at yourlittle son, or, indeed, at anybody else in the world. He was the HighPriest, Seydama, guardian of the holy tooth, the one living being whodared by right to touch it or to lay hands upon the shrine thatcontained it. Fearful, when the false rumour of that intended loot wascirculated, that infidel eyes should look upon it, infidel hands profanethe sacred relic, he determined to remove it from Dambool to therock-hewn temple of Galwihara and to enshrine it there. For the purposeof giving no clue to his movements, he chose to abandon his priestlyrobes, to disguise himself as a common tribesman, and, the better todefeat the designs of those who might seek to tear it from him and holdit for ransom, he hid the holy tooth in the barrel of a gun. That gunwas in his hands when Ferralt leaped out and brained him!"
"Dear heaven!" cried Lady Chepstow with a sudden burst of realization."Then that holy relic, that fetish, the sacred tooth of Buddha----"
"Is embedded in the fleshy part of the thigh of your little son!" hefinished. "Enclosed, doubtless, in a sac or cyst which protective MotherNature has wrapped round it, the tooth is there; and, for five wholeyears, he has been the living shrine that held it!"
And so, in truth, it proved to be. Ten minutes later the triflingoperation was over, and the long-lost relic lay in the palm of thedoctor's hand.
"Take it, Captain Hawksley," said Cleek, lifting it and carrying it overto him. "There is a man in Soho, one Arjeeb Noosrut, who will know itwhen he sees it; and there is a vast reward. Five lacs of rupees willpay off no end of debts, and a man with that balance at his banker'scan't be accused of being a fortune-hunter when he asks in marriage thehand of the woman he loves. Mr. Narkom, is your motor ready? I'm a bitfagged out, and Dollops, I know, is all but starving. Ladies andgentlemen, my best respects. The riddle is solved. Good-night!"