THE SEVERED HEAD.
“It’s all right, Sam,” said Archie, vigorously shaking me. “Sit up, old
man.”
I obeyed, opening my eyes to gaze fearfully around me. The lamp on the
taboret still burned steadily and crouching motionless upon the mangled
remains of Mai Lo was the form of the giant ape. Joe and Archie
supported me to my feet, peering into my face anxiously.
“Is—is he dead?” I asked in a faint voice.
“Dead as nails!” declared Archie, with a laugh. “Old Fo-Chu has saved us
a lot of trouble, while the governor kindly saved us from the beast by
giving Fo-Chu his quietus. It couldn’t have been better if we had
planned it; but my! wasn’t it a jolly fight?”
“It was awful, boys!” I exclaimed.
Joe nodded.
“The horror of it nearly got me, too,” he admitted. “But, as Archie
says, it was a fortunate thing for us, take it all in all.”
Feeling somewhat restored in strength I stooped down and picked up the
scimitar, which lay where the ape had dropped it. The blade was reeking
with warm blood, and I hastily wiped it clean with the rich tapestry
that hung upon the wall of the room.
“The seven kings must have fought for the scimitar that time,” I
observed. “It was a fearful blow.”
Together we rolled the great body of the dead ape over, with the idea of
getting together the remains of Mai Lo. But the nauseating heap of
flesh, mingled with shreds of the broidered robes that had enveloped it,
was so repulsive that we decided not to touch it.
“Leave him with the ancestors of Kai,” advised Joe. “We’ll be away from
here before long.”
“I’ll never enter this place again!” I declared, with a shudder, for my
nerves were still on edge.
“Nor I,” said Joe, hastily.
“Then let’s get all we want now,” suggested Archie.
We did. Without fear of further interruption we explored such alcoves as
we had not previously visited and appropriated the best of the treasure
they contained. We were all fairly well loaded when at last we returned
to the scene of the recent tragedy, where we added the heap of jewels
that Mai Lo had been examining. There was no time to assort them, so we
took them all.
Archie seized the scimitar and hacked away a section of the tapestry,
and while I wondered what he was going to do he picked up the severed
head of Mai Lo by its queue and dropped it into the cloth, gathering up
the corners to form a bag.
“What is that for?” I asked, wonderingly.
“Why, it’s proof that the governor is extinct,” he said, with a grin.
“No one is allowed to enter this place, so we must establish the demise
of our dearly detested enemy in the upper world. Are you fellows ready?”
“Come on,” I said, picking up my burdens.
We returned to the alcove of the first Kai and for the last time crept
behind the tapestry and emerged into the tunnel through the steel door.
Silently we plodded along the incline, for the dreadful sight we had
witnessed and the repulsive burden Archie carried in his left hand
depressed us in spite of our attempt to appear cheerful.
As we reached the flight of steps leading to the palace, Joe, who bore
the lamp, turned to me and said:
“Going to take that thing home with you, Sam?”
Then I remembered I was carrying the ruby scimitar. As I looked upon it
a horror of the weapon suddenly took possession of me. I set down my
bundles, snapped the blade across my knee, close to the handle, and cast
the ancient bit of steel upon the ground. The golden hilt, set with the
seven rubies of the kings, I slipped into my pocket. It is the one prize
of those I secured in Kai-Nong that I have never parted with.
By the time we reached our rooms we found that twilight had fallen. Bry
met us at the door with the information that no one had disturbed him
during our absence. We placed our burdens in a corner and covered them
with a cloth, afterward retiring to our rooms to wash the grime from our
hands and faces.
Tun came in shortly to ask if he should serve dinner, and told us that
Wi-to was “better now” and would be “alle light” by morning.
We had little appetite for the meal, but made an attempt to eat. The
exciting events of the past few days were beginning to tell upon us and
there was little hope of relaxing the nervous tension until our strange
adventure had been accomplished.
The death of Mai Lo had simplified matters very much. “Unless,” said
Joe, “we are accused of his murder; in which case our goose is cooked.”
“That’s why I brought the head,” remarked Archie, glancing at the
corner.
“That’s why you ought not to have brought it,” I objected.
“But we must have peace and the good will of the natives in order to get
away safely with the treasure,” he replied, sensibly enough. “Mai Lo has
committed suicide.”
“Suicide!” I exclaimed.
“Certainly, my boy. It was up to him to make away with himself, thus
doing his duty and fulfilling the expectations of the people.”
I looked at him admiringly.
“Will you please tell me, Archie,” I said, “how we can convince the
people that Mai Lo cut off his own head?”
“Why, tell ’em the truth,” he returned. “Tell them Mai Lo gave the
Sacred Ape a scimitar and fought a duel with him. That would be a neat
way to suicide and appeal to their artistic sense. The ape got in the
first swipe and—and——”
“And what?”
“And here’s the head to prove it,” he answered triumphantly.
I shook my head.
“It won’t do, old man. Such an absurd story, coming from us, his
enemies, would be enough to condemn us.”
We sat thinking over the situation for a time, and then Joe exclaimed
abruptly:
“I have it! We will get Wi-to to tell the story.”
“That’s better,” I said, relieved. “He ought to be sober enough to act
the part tomorrow. But in the meantime what are we to do with the
governor’s wife and daughter? They are in no further danger, so we
needn’t keep them cooped up in that room any longer.”
“Send for them,” suggested Joe.
So we asked Nux to summon the two maids, and soon they toddled timidly
into our presence.
“Ko-Tua,” said I, solemnly, “you may go home and put on your widow’s
gown.”
“What you mean, Sam?” she asked, eagerly.
“Why, your respected husband, the admirable old villain Mai Lo, has had
the kindness to commit suicide.”
“Ah, oh!” cried both the girls, with one voice; and then to our
amazement they plumped down upon their knees and bowed their heads to
the floor and began wailing and beating their front hair with the palms
of their hands.
We allowed their emotions full play for a time, but they kept up the
monotonous cries and self-inflicted blows longer than we thought
necessary.
“Oh, shut up, Ko-Tua!” grunted Archie, stooping down to give the pretty
widow’s shoulder a vigorous shake. “Stop the racket until you’re in
public. You’re not so eternally sorry, are you?”
She looked up with a smile and slowly rose, Mai Mou demurely following
her example.
“I’m glad,” said Ko-Tua, frankly. “Now I no have tongue cut out. But Mai
Lo my husban’, an’ he dead, an’—oh, oh! ah-oh! oh-ah!——”
“Hi! cut it out!” yelled Archie, as the widow relapsed into her wails.
“If you don’t behave, I’ll—I’ll bring Mai Lo to life again!”
She stopped at once.
“You sure he dead?” inquired Mai Mou.
“Absolutely sure,” I replied. “He committed suicide, and we saw him do
it. But see here, young ladies; you mustn’t mention this till tomorrow,
when public announcement is made. Do you understand? Go home and control
your grief until you hear the news from others, and then howl as much as
you please.”
They were puzzled at this order, but when we explained that our own
lives depended upon their silence they willingly promised to obey.
At first we were all unable to figure out how they were to return to
their homes without being seen and causing gossip; but Bry proposed that
he should rap upon the door at the end of the passage and see if he
could not arouse Nor Ghai.
The rapping had no effect for a time, and after a few attempts we
abandoned that idea and tried to think of something else. Meantime, as
our dinner-table still stood piled with eatables, we prevailed upon
Ko-Tua and Mai Mou to satisfy their hunger, which they did with ardor
but exquisite daintiness, smiling at us happily as they ate.
“Really,” whispered Archie, “if I’d known Mai Lo’s death could cause so
much pleasure I’d have asked him to commit suicide long ago.”
Presently, without warning, Nor Ghai glided into the room and took in
the scene with one comprehensive glance.
“I heard the knock, but could not come then, as I was not alone,” she
explained. “Is there something you wish me to do?”
“You might take these girls into your harem and keep them there,” I
replied.
“But Mai Lo’s eunuchs will find them!” she exclaimed.
“Never mind; there is nothing to fear. Mai Lo is dead.”
“Dead!” she repeated, clasping her little hands.
“He has committed suicide,” I answered.
“Never! Mai Lo never suicide,” she declared, positively. “If Mai Lo
dead, somebody kill him.”
“Somebody did,” I replied, smiling at her shrewd knowledge of the
governor’s character. “It was the Sacred Ape, Fo-Chu.”
“But Fo-Chu is escaped and lost. I heard it today.”
“Well, Mai Lo found him, and thought it was a good time to shuffle off
his mortal coil. You remember that in Shakespeare?”
She nodded.
“So Mai Lo shuffled.”
“Isn’t it nice, Nor Ghai?” asked the widow, delightedly. Then with a
sudden thought: “Ah—oo! ah-oo! ah——”
“Cut it out, Ko-Tua,” warned Archie.
“Her tongue!” gasped Nor Ghai.
“No, that’s quite safe; but she isn’t supposed to use it for wailing
except in public. Take her to your rooms, little one, and don’t fear for
her or Mai Mou any longer. Your troubles are nearly over, I’m sure.”
So Nor Ghai smiled also, and led her two friends away. The last we ever
saw of them were their pretty forms toddling up the passage with their
pretty faces turned over their shoulders to smile upon us. Then the
tapestry hid them and they were gone.