The Struggle in the Chamber
The advantage I possessed was dangerously minimised by my physical
incapacity, but I hoped, given time, to get back some measure of
strength. The great thing was to preserve my liberty until I had
acquired force enough to use it. I speedily realised that I could not
remain where I was, for Belleville was making towards me and reflection
would soon teach him that weakness would compel me to seek a prop
for my support. But I feared to move lest the sound should betray my
whereabouts. For the same reason I almost feared to breathe. I thought
to myself, "Oh, that he would fire again so that I could move elsewhere
under cover of the noise."
Once or twice he seemed to look me in the eye. He made a zigzag to my
chair. There he paused and listened. I ceased to breathe. Only six feet
separated us. But impatience consumed him. "Tell me where you are!"
he growled, "or by the Lord when I catch you I'll tear you limb from
limb." I breathed while he spoke and ceased when he stopped.
"You can't escape me!" he snarled. "I've only to light my blue lamp
and I'll find you in a minute. But if you put me to that trouble and
make me waste my precious oil besides, well, look out, that's all!"
I clenched and unclenched my hands; the use of them was coming back to
me.
"Very well," said Belleville. He passed my chair and stalked to the
other end of the room, where he opened a cabinet. I moved slowly
and painfully to the very centre of the room. Then I stood stock
still. Belleville, returning, paused within a foot of me. He carried
a bull's-eye lanthorn. This he put upon the table, and presently he
struck a match. A moment later a round shaft of intense blue radiance
shot across the room and marked a moon-shaped sphere on the wall. It
began to flit along the wall, up and down from the very floor to the
height of a man's chest, until it touched the corner. Then it flashed
back twice over the same path, and afterwards attacked the next wall.
Sooner or later it would be bound to encounter and, perhaps, discover
me. But Belleville was only a few feet off. Perhaps if I sank down
the shaft would pass over me without touching. At least I could try.
Suppressing a shriek of agony, I crouched upon my hands and knees. Then
came another thought. Slowly and laboriously I began to crawl nearer
and nearer to my enemy. The blue shaft was now shooting right over my
head. I crept behind him and, breathing noiselessly, stood up. If
I had possessed a tithe of my strength I might have reached out and
caught his neck and strangled him with ease. But I dared not risk it.
All on a sudden he uttered an oath. The lamp had gone out. "Damn the
thing!" he growled. Putting down his revolver on the table, he opened
the lamp and peered in at the smoking wick. We were now face to face
and his cocked weapon lay within eighteen inches of my hand. I tried
my fingers and found that they were reasonably supple. The blood was
streaming through the puffy veins and vesicles. The operation hurt
horribly; in fact, I was one mass of crude, raw, painful man flesh. But
now I was full of hope and despite the muscular torments of returning
animation I felt that my vigour was returning. Belleville snuffed the
wick and struck a match along the table. The head came off. He took
another and rubbed it on the sole of his shoe, stooping slightly to do
so. As he moved I reached out and twined my fingers round the hilt of
his revolver. But I had not the strength to lift it up. I cannot paint
the agony of that experience. I exerted every atom of my will, but my
hand was like a putty puppet. Tantalus never suffered torture half as
keen. Withdrawing my hand, I put the fingers in my mouth and sucked
the still half-lifeless digits. Meanwhile, the lamp flickered alight;
Belleville took up his revolver and resumed his task. I watched him
hungrily. The blue shaft once more began to play and stab the walls.
It darted hither and thither, like an incandescent elf, dancing up
and down and round and round, and into every hole and cranny of the
room. But it did not find me out, because moving round and round the
table as Belleville moved I always kept behind him. But this could not
last for ever, and, indeed, the end came too soon. Belleville uttered
suddenly a savage curse and swung round full upon me. Perhaps I had
made some sound that had betrayed me to his nerve-strained senses. I do
not know. He cried, "Ha! at last," and fired point blank. The bullet
whistled past my temple. The smoke of the discharge flamed blue in the
rays of the lanthorn. I fell upon the table and thrust it like a ram
with all my force against my adversary. He fired again and once more
missed, but ere he could repeat his tactics the table struck him and
the lanthorn fell. He staggered back and the lanthorn rolled underneath
the table. I pushed the table forward and kicked the lanthorn with my
foot. It went out. Belleville, recovering his equilibrium, stood like
an image peering straight at me and listening. Yet he did not see me:
and for the moment I was safe, for the table was between us. But the
man had brains. Judging swiftly where I was most likely to be, he gave
an unexpected spring and vaulted clear across the obstacle. I had just
time to step back ere he landed. He swung his arms about like flails,
but failing immediately to find me, his ugly temper must needs flare
up in curses. It was just what I needed to cover the sound of my
movements. I evaded him and returned to the table, and then he knew
not where I was. In a few moments he realised his folly and, once more
relapsing into silence, he took up his lamp. But the oil had either
been wasted or was exhausted. The wick refused to catch. He groaned
out a blasphemous oath on this discovery, and rushed down to the
cabinet, from which first he had procured the lanthorn. I followed him
as swiftly as I could, having care to make no sound, and while he was
filling the lamp with oil from a beautifully carven vase of solid gold
Egyptian ware of the fifteenth dynasty, I once more put my hand upon
the hilt of his revolver, which he had momentarily laid upon the edge
of the cabinet. But this time I found I could hold and use it, too.
Shadow-like, I caught it up and put my finger on the trigger. Then I
backed away a yard or two and leaned upon a case of glass and steel.
"Belleville!" said I.
He started as though an adder had stung him, then seeing his pistol
gone, he let both vase and lanthorn fall in his dismay and swung on
heel to face my voice.
"It's my turn now," I muttered. "Hands above your head--up, man,
up--higher--higher!" He saw the muzzle pointing at his breast and
sullenly obeyed. I made him walk backwards to the chair that formerly
had prisoned me and sit in it. And then, the steel pressed to his ear
to keep him still, I managed, with one hand, to pass a strap around
his throat and buckle it. Afterwards I similarly bound his wrists
and ankles. When all was done I was so sore spent, so hideously full
of weary pain, that I lay upon the floor and sank immediately into a
troubled sleep. Belleville woke me with his struggles to get free.
Somehow or other he had pryed himself on tiptoe backward, and the heavy
chair, overbalancing, had dragged him over in its fall. That I had
not heard, but the weight of iron and his own body was all curiously
pressed upon one forearm, and the pain of it set him groaning like a
wounded bull. The strangest thing of all was that this arm was free.
Somehow or other he had writhed it loose. After I had tied it up again
I sat down to think what I should do. I was not, however, in the mood
to sit in judgment on him then, for although much stronger from my
sleep, the exertion hurt, and every pang I suffered was too powerful
an advocate of vengeance to let me try the rascal soberly. I needed
food and drink. Not finding any in the room, I tried the door and
after some short search, made out its fastening--a simple but clever
slip of prodigious strength. I found the key to it in Belleville's
pocket. He was madly anxious to be made acquainted with his fate, but I
turned a deaf ear to all his questions, and slipping out of the room,
I slammed the door on his solicitations. I found myself in a long,
blind passage, lighted with a single jet, with another padded door
set in its farthest end. This opened to the same key as the first. It
gave me egress on a second passage, which led by three right angles
to a big velvet-draped arch and a bifurcated maze of broad-balconied
corridors. Here I saw the natural light of day for the first time in
more than a week. Ah! how I revelled in it. I stopped before an open
window and peered forth on a walled courtyard and the blank, tall wall
of a neighbouring mansion beyond. Street sounds percolated to my ears.
It was like coming back to life from the grave. Drawing back from the
window, after some deep, delicious moments, I looked to find my body
and my hands and feet. But I could not see aught but vague, delusive
shadows, though the sunbeams glistened on me. The phenomenon filled
me with a new sense of marvel and uncertainty. I had to pinch myself
to make sure I was not a disembodied phantom--such stuff as dreams
are made of. Yet I was real enough to touch, thank Heaven. Reassured,
I made for the nearest door and softly tried it. Within was a man's
bedroom--Belleville's, perhaps. It was untenanted. The next apartment
was a sitting-room. It was also untenanted, but it contained a table,
cover-spread for two. With a sigh of joy, I entered and hurried to the
table. Under the first cover was a cold partridge pie. I did not touch
the others, but, Lord, how I enjoyed that pie! I might have been a
wolf--and then champagne! Later, seduced by an open cigar-box on the
mantel, I threw myself upon a lounge and lit a weed. In ten minutes I
was my own man again, and almost comfortable, for the torments that had
racked my wretched muscles on reawakening from their tethered lethargy,
were disappearing fast. But I was not permitted longer rest. Warned by
a tap on the door, I had barely time to toss my cigar into the grate,
when the door opened and a short, squat negro stepped into the room.
He carried a salver of sweetmeats to the table; he stopped short and
uttered a guttural exclamation of surprise. Next instant he was joined
by a companion, but no negro, an Arab, a tall, thin Arab, who was the
living counterpart of the mummified corpse of Ptahmes I had left in the
laboratory, and of the mysterious scoundrel who had attempted my life
in the cave temple at Rakh, and at my camp on the banks of the Nile. I
was so utterly astounded that I wonder I did not shout out my amazement.
The negro spoke in Arabic. "By Allah, he has eaten and alone," he
cried. "Now tell me, Ptahmes, how a man shall serve a master with so
little feeling for his servants."
The Arab stalked solemnly over to the table and eyed the ruined pie.
"He hungered. He ate. May his shadow increase," he drawled.
"For my part," retorted the Nubian, with an ill-natured scowl, "his
shadow may wither and I shall not grieve. It is impossible to please
him."
"His gold is good and hard and yellow and much," said the Arab, in a
sort of sing-song.
"Add to that ill-got," replied the negro, "and I shall be an echo to
your speech. Natamkin tells me that the lady weeps still, though no
more a prisoner, and he took her forth into his whirling Babel town
this morning. He has put a spell on her to deprive her of her gold."
"What matter if he shares it with his slaves?" demanded the Arab.
"I fear him," said the Nubian.
"I also," drawled the Arab. "But guard your idle tongue Uromi! He may
be listening to us now."
The negro shuddered and made as if to hastily depart. But the Arab
laughed, and he stopped looking both angry and ashamed.
"Allah!" he exclaimed, "you laugh, but you may have spoken true."
"Ugh!" said the Arab, "he has bigger fish to fry--the white man you
enticed into the room of wonders dies to-day."
"You--know that, Ptahmes!"
"Ay--I am to help him to embalm the body. Now I think of it, I wonder
he has eaten. I was to stir the pot while he made merry with the lady
over wine--the unbelieving dog. At one of the clock he ordered me to go
to him. 'Tis almost time."
"Will you not fear to stay alone in that great room of magic, Ptahmes?"
"Like enough, Uromi, but I shall think me of the pay and work with
tight-shut eyes till he returns."
"What has he promised you?"
"Five pieces of gold, Uromi. Do you covet them?"
"I would not cross the threshold of that room for ten times five."
"You have a chicken's heart, Uromi."
"And you a miser's gizzard."
The Arab uttered a sardonic laugh. "Get to your woman's work!" he
sneered. "And clear those things away! You had better tell Natamkin to
serve the lady in her room!"
"And you--oh, great Lord!" growled the Nubian, with elephantine sarcasm.
The Arab, however, did not trouble himself to answer. With a mien of
princely dignity he stalked in silence to the door and vanished.
I said to myself, "There, without doubt, goes the man who, in the nick
of time, released me from my bonds. He is my friend." The reflection
gave me substantial satisfaction, for much against my will I had
hitherto been compelled to ascribe my salvation to a supernatural
agency. But now all was changed. Without doubt the Arab had been
secretly watching over me, and when the time came he turned out
the lights, rushed into the laboratory and unfastened my straps.
Afterwards, he had adroitly managed to escape before Belleville could
turn on the lights again. No doubt, too, this Arab was the man of
my dream, who had bargained with me to kill Belleville when I got
free, to destroy the mummy of Ptahmes, the Priest of Amen-Ra--and his
papyri and steles. Why he should have driven such a bargain I could
not fathom. And why, moreover, he should have taken the trouble to
impersonate the mummy and pretend he could not speak, I was also at a
loss to understand. Suddenly I remembered that the animated mummy of my
dream had conversed with me in the tongue of Ancient Egypt per medium
of a slate and had seemed not to understand modern Arabic. Also, his
left hand had been removed--and this Arab enjoyed the undiminished
use of his. My head whirled at the contemplation of these essential
contradictions. Were they one and the same man or not? Was it possible
that Belleville's Arab servant could be a professor of the language
of Sesostris? And I recollected, too, how closely I had scrutinised
the ghostly mummy's face and realised its utter deadness. The mystery,
after all, was not to be as easily solved as my first warm flush of
fancy had conceived. Realising this, I put it out of mind and arose to
address myself to the practical affair that lay before me. The Nubian
was in the act of quitting the room, laden with a heavy tray of dishes.
I followed him out into the corridor and leisurely made back to the
laboratory. I met nobody en route, but once inside the blind passage,
which opened on my old prison chamber, I became aware that something
had gone wrong. The air was heavy with the mysterious scent of the
sarcophagus. Moreover, the door of the laboratory which I had been
careful to shut close was now ajar. Instinctively, I slipped the key I
had just used on the outer door, into my mouth and hurried softly up
the passage. There a bewildering surprise awaited me. The laboratory
was apparently untenanted by living beings. The mummy of Ptahmes still
lay upon the couch. The straps which had fastened Belleville to the
chair were all unfastened and Belleville himself had disappeared. Yet
there were noises in the room, noises of footfalls and the tinkling
of glass. Presently I saw a large glass phial move quietly from a
marble slab and stand poised in air. A second later the stopper,
which had been laid beside it, sprang up, too, and settled neatly in
the phial's mouth. Then the bottle leaped up high into the air and
settled, with mysterious precision, on a shelf. I stared at these
wonders half-understanding, half-dazed. But soon I comprehended all.
Belleville's voice speaking in Arabic came to me through the hush.
"That will do, I think. There only remains for us to steal upon him now
and take him by surprise. Serve me well in this, Ptahmes, and I shall
treble your reward."
"The man is of iron strength, master," answered the Arab's voice. "It
is true that we are two to one and he is unsuspicious, but I should
like well to have a knife."
"Nonsense," retorted Belleville. "I cannot make steel invisible. We
must needs trust to the sandbags. Now lead on to the lady's room and
take care from this moment that you make no sound."
On this I left the doorway and, slipping into the opposite corner,
pressed flat against the wall. Presently the door creaked open and I
heard the noise of breathing. I followed it as gently as a shadow,
halting sharply when I could not hear it or it grew too near. I was
weaponless--for I had left Belleville's revolver in the laboratory
ere for the first time leaving it. But still, I dared not arm myself,
for to have done so would have given my adversaries, sooner or later,
a certain clue to my position; and my only hope of worsting them now
consisted in preserving my absolute invisibility and at the same
time knowing where, in the general sense, they were. My first great
difficulty arose in the passage of the outer door. I dared not slip
out with them, and since they locked it after them, I was forced to
wait some time before I deemed it safe to open it again. Thus, when I
reached the outer passage there was absolutely nothing left to guide
my steps. However, I hurried to the arch and thence looked forth along
the bifurcated corridor. Seeing and hearing nothing, I sank to the
floor, and like an Indian pressed my ear against the boards. One
far-off panel a little later creaked distinctly. Wood, though carpeted,
is a fine sound conductor. This gave me the direction. Hot foot I
followed it. But soon I came to a corner and beyond a short, wide
cul-de-sac, with three closed doors. Here I stopped with straining ears
and listened with a beating heart and bated breath. The conspirators
were there, beyond the scope of doubt; and presently I knew the door
they wished to pass. I saw the handle turn and heard a sigh. "Locked,"
murmured a voice in English--then in Arabic it breathed. "Keep closely
by me, Ptahmes, hold my coat!" Three sharp raps followed on the panels.
A voice that thrilled me, asked within the room, "Who is there?"
A voice, the cleverly twisted voice of Belleville, answered in a sharp
falsetto from without, "It is I, my dear young lady, Sir Philip Lang."
The door was immediately opened and I saw the sad face of my sweetheart.
"Sir Philip!" she cried--then, seeing no one, she stopped, dismayed. Of
a sudden she uttered a shriek and fell back into the room, back, back,
clasping her hands to her neck and struggling to cry out. I guessed the
reason instantly--Belleville had seized her by the throat. I sprang
to her assistance, but paused again--by a miracle, in time--just
across the threshold. Miss Ottley--I shall not, cannot call her Mrs.
Belleville, though, indeed, she was--went spinning across the room,
free, I saw. I slipped along the wall beside the lintel and waited,
holding breath. What next? The door slammed and the bolt shot in answer
to my question. Then came a long silence. Miss Ottley stood beside the
farthest wall, supporting herself on the back of a saddle-bag chair,
a picture of horror and fear personified. I would have given all the
world for liberty to soothe her fears, to take her in my arms and
comfort her. But it was not to be. Everything depended on my cunning
and my silence. Tearing my glances from her ashen face, I looked around
the room. It was her bedroom. The bed occupied one corner. Beside the
canopy was an open window through which the light streamed in, striking
full upon the door. Against another wall stood a Duchesse toilet table
and a huge bemirrored clothes chest of carven ivory and ebony. The
floor was covered with a thick pile carpet of dark crimson hue. The
window curtains were of purple velvet. The bed's canopy of crimson
silk. The walls were painted black and gold. It was, indeed, a mourning
chamber.
"Who is it--who is it?" gasped the white-faced, black-robed mourner. I
glanced at her again and saw that one hand was pressed tightly to her
side.
No answer coming, she repeated her demand with more composure. Then a
curious thing happened. A board creaked, and looking swiftly at the
floor, I saw the imprint of a foot marked in the pile. It vanished
and the pile sprang up again resiliently, but, twenty inches farther
onward towards the girl, a second sole-shaped hollow formed itself
and there remained. An instant's flashing search disclosed three
others. I now knew for certain the position of my enemies, and with a
wild heart-throb of joy I nerved myself for action. The shape of the
footmarks showed me that both men faced the girl, and that they were
standing about a yard apart. With two noiseless strides, I stepped
behind the rearmost. Then I stooped and seized a pair of hard, lean
thighs and heaved a body up and sent it hurling through the air above
the second set of footprints. "I've got you again, you dog!" I cried;
then stepped back swift and noiseless to my former place. The trick
was perfectly successful. Silent, save for their heavy breathing and
the trembling of their feet, the rascals writhed and stamped about the
room, locked, doubtless, in a close embrace, although I could not see
them. As for me, I slipped presently to a chair, caught it up, and
guided by a sound, I brought it crashing down upon the head of one of
them. There followed a heavy groan, then a dagger blade flashed out of
nothingness and once, twice, thrice, it rose and fell. Murder was being
done before my eyes, but I had only half a mind to stay it, and indeed,
before I could the knife had vanished into mist again, and all to be
seen was a dark flow of scarlet fluid that welled in air and sank upon
the carpet. I waited spellbound. Which was alive--which was dead?
Belleville's voice put the question at rest suddenly. "Well done,
Ptahmes," he gasped in Arabic. "He had me throttled when you struck.
You shall have fifty pounds for this day's work."
"Thanks, good master." I returned and edged towards his voice. But at
that moment Miss Ottley fell in a swoon, and death could hardly have
availed to keep me from her side. With a bound I was across the room,
and in another second she was in my arms.
Belleville must have seen, but thinking me the Arab, instead of
chiding, he commended me. "Carry her to the laboratory," he commanded.
"I'll follow with this carrion. We must dispose of it. Nay, wait. I'll
go first. Damn him, how he bleeds!" he added in English. Then a little
later, "He is wonderfully light for so tall and strong a man."
By then he must have had the Arab's body in his arms. I heard heavy
footfalls stamping to the door. Carrying my burden, I followed them.
The door opened and we both passed out. I hated the thought of taking
my sweetheart to that room of horror, but I could not bear to leave
her where she had been so terrified, to recover by herself. And in the
next place I did not dare to let Belleville even for a moment out of
my reach. He would soon be bound to discover his mistake and then the
fight would be renewed with the advantage all on his side, since he
was armed with a weapon, which, it was evident, he could conceal till
the time came for using it. Prudence demanded that I should seize and
disarm Belleville before his suspicions became excited. Prudence also
demanded that I should leave my sweetheart somewhere on the journey.
But I could not bring myself to do the latter, her face so near to
mine, her breath upon my lips. That is why I went to the laboratory,
and why I took her with me.