AJEEB’S GRIM HUMOR.
Billy Barry called upon his friend Ajeeb the afternoon Burt was laid
out at Quick’s, and it was on the detective the conversation of the
two former hinged. Barry and the high priest took possession of the
latter’s library. It was Billy’s first visit since he had aided in
entrapping Stolburst.
“Well, old man,” said the visitor, “how does your prisoner come on?”
“He has met with an accident.”
“An accident?” repeated Billy.
“Yes,” replied Ajeeb grimly, “he has lost one of his ears.”
Barry looked at his companion in astonishment. Although Ajeeb had so
threatened, Billy did not believe he would torture Stolburst.
An ear gone! Barry repeated the phrase to himself. What a
queer-looking object a person with one ear must be!
“Did you cut it off?”
“No,” replied Ajeeb smilingly, “Ashah attended to that little matter.”
“Poor devil!”
“What! Do you pity him?”
“Yes; it would have been far more charitable to kill him.”
“In a week, perhaps, he shall lose the other ear.”
“In a week?”
“Yes, if he persists in his denials that he has not that which I
seek,” said Ajeeb. “Were I to kill him at once, I should never,
perhaps, recover the Eye of Jobu.”
“What do you care for the stone outside its intrinsic value?”
The high priest looked at his visitor in amazement.
“How can you talk like that?” he asked. “I would give my life a
thousand times over if it were possible to recover that sacred relic,
which for untold ages has been the property of my god.”
Ajeeb spoke with the greatest depth of religious fervor. His eyes
stared, the muscles of his neck stood out like whipcords, and his
form trembled. Barry had never before seen him so manifest himself.
“Perhaps he hasn’t got the stone,” remarked Billy, after a pause.
“The villain claims it was stolen from him by his servant.”
“That may be the truth.”
“No.”
“How can you tell?”
“I know. But I want to speak to you about another matter.”
“Concerning Stolburst?”
“Certainly.”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you know many detectives in this city?” asked Ajeeb.
“A few.”
“Do you know this one?” And the high priest gave a description of
Burt Cromwell.
“If your description is a good one, the man’s name is Burt Cromwell.”
Until now Ajeeb had never heard the detective’s name. He had seen
Burt leave the St. Joseph flat, and leaped at the conclusion that
he was an officer and had been visiting Zulima. Of the interview
between the princess and her uncle we know.
Had Burt delayed his departure from Zulima’s apartments he would have
met Ajeeb face to face.
“Well,” said the high priest, “this man promises to cause trouble.”
“To you?”
“Both to you and me.”
“Explain.”
“He is employed by Stolburst, he told my niece, and is now searching
for the latter.”
“Well?”
“He believes that I have either murdered Stolburst, or had him
murdered.”
Barry’s countenance took on a serious aspect. He had never had
dealings with Burt Cromwell, but New York friends of his had.
Billy knew that the detective was a man who would never desert a
trail once he had taken it up. He now saw his own safety imperiled,
because of the part he had in the kidnaping of Stolburst.
“Billy,” said Ajeeb, after a pause, “why do you look so serious?”
“Because I feel that way.”
“There is nothing to fear.”
“Ajeeb, this is bad business.”
“You think this detective will make trouble, eh?” asked the
Abyssinian.
“I am sure of it.”
“Nonsense. If he threatens us, I’ll have Ashah take care of his case.”
“By that you mean----”
“Ashah shall kill him.”
Barry smiled.
“Ajeeb, I’ll give you credit for being shrewd; but you will not be
able to overreach Burt Cromwell, mark my words for it.”
“Billy, you are becoming cowardly.”
“This man is a human sleuth-hound, I might say. Nothing but death
will arrest his progress, once he starts to unravel a case.”
“Then he shall die.”
“It is easy to say so.”
“As a matter of fact, I have nothing to fear in any case. The
detective does not know me, nor has he any clue to work upon.”
“Burt Cromwell will not be long in discovering a clue, take my word
for it.”
Ajeeb smiled depreciatingly.
“You exalt this man’s gifts to a ridiculous point,” he said.
“My friend,” remarked Barry, “you know I am not a coward.”
“I admit that.”
“In a personal encounter I have never yet met a man able to best me,
but I will confess I am afraid of this man. Why, I do not know.”
The high priest believed his friend to be a very brave fellow. That
made the fear Barry expressed all the more impressive.
“This detective, you say, is brave?”
“Yes, and shrewd.”
“I am sorry.”
“Why?”
“Because I hate to send to his death a brave man who has not injured
me.”
“His murder is uncalled for.”
“No; if he is dead he cannot interfere with my plans.”
“If you have Burt Cromwell harmed, you will regret it,” said Barry.
“Give over your croaking; my decision is made--it is final.”
And thus the heathen priest pronounced against Burt Cromwell.
In the cellar of that same house was one in whom we are
interested--Henry Stolburst. His wounded head had been poulticed by
Ashah, but the poor fellow continued to suffer the most exquisite
pain.
Henry Stolburst did not know he was in a cellar. The floor was
carpeted, and red curtains were so hung as to form a room.
Both his feet and hands were unbound, but either Deth or Ashah
constantly guarded him. The latter never exchanged a word with the
hapless prisoner.
After the first day Deth was more communicative. While Ajeeb and
Barry talked above stairs, Henry Stolburst and Deth talked below. The
explorer had had a slight acquaintance with the man in Africa.
“Deth,” said Henry Stolburst, for at least the twentieth time since
he was imprisoned, “why can you not listen to reason? Release me and
I will make you rich.”
“What would money be to me without life?” returned the Abyssinian.
“You can hide yourself from the wrath of Ajeeb.”
Deth smiled grimly.
“You were not able to do so.”
“No; I was led into a trap.”
“So it would be with me. Were I to thwart the high priest, he would
follow me to the end of the world, but he would have revenge.”
“You are not his slave?”
“I am.”
“In your own country he might claim you as such, but here all men are
free.”
“’Tis a strange country, then,” remarked the heathen.
Deth could not understand there should be a country where slavery was
not practised.
“In America you are free to go and come as you choose. Besides paying
you a large sum of money, I will make you my companion. I am rich,
and anything you may desire, which money can purchase, will be yours.
“I shall exact no services from you. Choose! Which is the better--a
life of perpetual ease with me, or as Ajeeb’s slave?”
Deth was deeply interested.
“Have you made this same offer to Ashah?” he inquired.
“No.”
“Why should you select me to tempt instead of him?”
“Can you not guess?”
Henry Stolburst placed his hand over the wound made by the removal of
his ear.
“I understand,” said the Abyssinian. “Ashah says he is soon to cut
off the other.”
The explorer gave a great start. He was a brave man, but tears came
to his eyes despite his efforts to keep them back. If his life was
spared, how could he go out in the world maimed as he was?
Only one ear--perhaps none! What would people say who met him? His
mental agony was far more keen than his physical sufferings.
“Did Ashah tell you this?”
“Yes.”
“There must be some mistake.”
“No; if Ajeeb has not the Eye of Jobu in his possession four days
hence, you will lose the other ear.”
“Great Heaven! Can such things be in America?” exclaimed Henry
Stolburst.
It is strange, but true, that this man was actually tortured as
described in the heart of New York City. Thousands daily passed the
house in which he was a prisoner, but no cry of his could reach them.
He might as well be in the depth of Africa as in that cellar, as far
as making himself heard outside was concerned.
“Deth,” said the explorer, after a pause, “do you like to see me
suffer?”
“I have seen men killed.”
“Why does not Ajeeb kill me?”
“He has his reasons.”
“How can I give him that accursed diamond when I haven’t got it?”
“Do you speak the truth?”
“Have I not told you a hundred times that the stone was stolen from
me?”
“It is very unfortunate.”
“What can I do? Come, won’t you listen to my offer again?”
Deth shook his head. Henry Stolburst was in despair.
“Will you lend me your knife for a moment?” pleaded the prisoner.
“No. You would do away with yourself.”
“Then I’ll take it!”
With the fury of a madman Henry Stolburst sprang at the Abyssinian.
His fingers clutched the man’s throat.
Deth was taken unawares. With great strength, born of desperation,
Henry Stolburst bore the man to the floor.
“Stop!”
It was Ashah who spoke. Henry Stolburst looked up. Just then the
newcomer caught hold of him and dragged him away from Deth.
“What does this mean?” asked Ashah.
“I wished to provoke him, so he would kill me.”
“Your time will come shortly.”