The Web Is Torn
Presently the bottom of a door appeared, and a moment later the car
stopped of its own accord. We held our breaths, listening.
Then the Chief slid the iron grille of the elevator softly out of the
way and fumbled at the door beyond. We could hear no sound from the
other side of the door, and at last the Chief pushed it quietly open
and we poured out in a body into the little blue and gold lobby. I had
been in it only the night before, but the time seemed months ago as I
glanced quickly around. It was deserted.
“Which way to the main hall?” whispered the Chief; for the lobby had
several doors leading out of it.
I walked over to the little door through which I had passed before and
softly opened it. The corridor beyond was empty too.
The Chief and his men crowded in behind me. “Get your guns ready now!”
whispered the former. “Lead on, Clayton!”
I quickened my pace, reached the door that led into the main hall and
softly opened it, sticking my head cautiously around the corner. The
big hall, with its vivid and somewhat indelicate paintings, was
deserted also, and the lights were turned low, as I remembered them
last. The last man into the big hall closed the door behind him.
“The banquet room is there,” I whispered, pointing it out to the
Chief. “And the room of the voices is beyond there. That’s the blind
corridor I told you about,” I added, pointing toward the far corner of
the hall. “I think the others are sleeping-rooms.”
The Chief stepped silently around the center table and down the hall,
with us close behind him. He laid hold of the big doors into the
banqueting hall. As he did so, a small door opened behind us, and I
turned in time to catch sight of a startled Chinese face peering
around the door which led into the blind corridor where I had talked
with Margaret. Before I could make any sign the face disappeared. The
next instant the lights went out and we were in complete darkness.
Then the Chief flung open the big doors, and we surged forward.
But the Chief and his men halted on the threshold, staring in
momentary amazement at the strange scene before them. And I too drew
up and stared over their shoulders, for I could not believe at first
that this was the same room in which I had dined only the night
before. The pillars, running around the room and forming a sort of
corridor on all four sides of it, were still there. But instead of
being apparently solid as I remembered them, they now seemed to be
formed of some semi-transparent material, through which bright lights
in their interiors made a brilliant but diffused glow in the room.
Otherwise the place was entirely changed. The big open space enclosed
by the pillars, and which had formerly held the divans, had now been
converted in some way into a shallow lake. In the middle of this lake
floated a huge and really wonderful reproduction of an Egyptian royal
barge at anchor. The water was only a couple of feet deep and
servants, waiting on the diners on the barge, were wading back and
forth between the barge and the corridor formed by the pillars. Even
the skin of these men had been browned and they were clad in
loin-cloths only.
But the deck of the barge itself presented a scene of very real though
almost indescribable beauty. There were many girls, lightly clad,
reclining on the cushions arranged about low tables on the deck. The
men beside them were also lightly clad in Egyptian costumes, many of
them, though some were in conventional evening dress. But the barge
itself was a mass of rich hangings and cushions and tapestries and
rugs, many of them trailing in the water, while the low tables were
massed with dishes and flowers. A small orchestra, in Egyptian costume
and equipped with queer Egyptian instruments, was seated in the bow of
the barge. The latter had a huge silken lateen sail, and from the
cross-arm which upheld this sail big pendent lamps, fashioned like
flowers, cast a bright rosy light on the deck below, making it seem
like fairyland. Queer barbaric strains from the little orchestra
floated to our ears on the perfume-laden air. Even the water of the
tank had the big green leaves and huge white blossoms of hundreds of
water-lilies floating on its glinting surface.
While I was still half-enchanted by the real beauty of the scene, the
Chief stepped forward to the edge of the tank.
“Hands up and stop where you are!” he shouted, and leveled the two
revolvers he held.
The queer music in the air died out in a sudden discord. And at the
same moment there came the whine and thud of bullets about us and a
man beside me shrieked once and fell, writhing.
“Scatter!” shouted the Chief over his shoulder to us, for we were
bunched together in the doorway and offered a beautiful target. Then,
while the girls on the barge shrieked and shrieked, cowering down
among the rich hangings, there followed a battle wildly confused and
confusing.
Some of our men slid along the walls of the banqueting hall with the
idea of surrounding the place. Others dashed back into the dark main
hall, their guns spitting vicious flames, while they hugged the walls
to be out of the light from the luminous pillars. The doorway was
cleared in an instant, the Chief and I ducking behind two of the
pillars to shelter our backs while we covered the servants.
But there were fifteen or so of these brown-skinned attendants, some
of them in the corridors and some in the water. And when they realized
that they had only a few men to deal with, they suddenly broke and
scattered in all directions. The Chief and I sent shot after shot in
their wake, bringing two of them down and whipping up the waters of
the tank into tiny fountains that set the lily pads to rocking wildly.
But the rest of those in the water clambered out into the corridor,
ahead of our men who had started to encircle them, dashed through
doorways and disappeared. The servants in the corridors had already
vanished.
I left the Chief and ran back into the darkness of the main hall to
see how things were going there, keeping close to the wall as I went.
Heads, dimly visible in the reflected light from the banquet room,
were popping out of doorways and revolvers spat and cracked from all
directions, while direct and ricochet bullets whined and screamed up
and down the place incessantly. Some of the heads took our bullets
back with them, but our men were falling too. With the uproar of the
firing, the smoke of it and the groans and cries of the wounded, it
was hard to get a clear idea in the confusion of how things were
going. But presently I saw that our men were fighting their way slowly
forward, flinging open the doors off the hall as they came to them and
rushing through. And being far better marksmen than our enemies, they
caught and killed the Chinamen and Russians in the different rooms
like rats in a trap.
Through an open door I caught a glimpse of one such duel. In the
dim-lit room crouched a Chinaman, his yellow, snarling face upturned
and his hand flung back with a knife glinting in it, then the darting
flames of two shots from a corner just within the door seemed to
transfix him. And as I watched, the yellow face stiffened into a
ghastly grin, the knife fell to the floor and the huddled figure
slowly collapsed, as one of our men stepped out into the hall again,
methodically reloading his gun. The Chief’s forces were all picked
men, and they gave a wonderful exhibition of fearless determination
and devotion to duty that night.
Finding that we were getting the best of things in the main hall, I
turned back to the banqueting room. As I reached the big doorway I saw
that firing had now broken out here too, bullets whipping up the water
here and there, and some of them whining through the doorway into the
main hall and placing us between two fires.
Some of the servants had returned with guns and were popping out from
behind the pillars on the far side of the room, firing at the Chief
and his men. I joined the Chief behind the pillar and took stock of
the situation as well as I could in the confusion. I was in a frenzy
of anxiety, for our opponents were poor shots, as an occasional scream
from the barge testified—and I could not tell whether Natalie and
Margaret were among those cowering girls exposed to the flying
bullets.
In a moment, however, I saw that the Chief’s men were holding their
own and were gradually carrying out an encircling movement around both
sides of the room. I felt pretty sure that our men in the hall were
getting the best of it. So I jumped forward to the edge of the tank,
and in spite of a warning shout from the Chief, I stepped down among
the wildly rocking lily pads and spouting little geysers, where
bullets whipped up the water, and started wading toward the barge,
firing as I went, whenever I saw a leg, an arm or a head behind one of
the far pillars.
It was an exciting walk while it lasted, for the bullets were
screaming perilously close. But our foes were the worst kind of
marksmen, and presently I reached the barge untouched and stepped up
on to a low gangway at the side and thence to the deck.
Immediately in front of me lay a girl, bare of limb and wearing the
Egyptian girdle about her waist and the cobra head-dress. Silk panels,
now tumbled about her, hung from the girdle. As I stepped on to the
deck she raised a lovely face, drawn with terror, and saw me.
“Oh, Jack, Jack!” she cried. “Take me away!”
It was Natalie!
I jumped forward, the revolver still in my one good hand, and,
kneeling down, caught her up to me. As I did so the firing died down
suddenly and other girls near by raised their heads and began to stare
about them in terror. In the girl next to Natalie I recognized my
companion of the evening before. Her eyes flashed sudden recognition
and then swerved to the girl I held. And I determined to leave Natalie
in her charge until our work was done.
I stooped and kissed Natalie and then, thank God, I looked up again
quickly. For immediately behind her another woman had seen us, and I
found myself staring into the face of Mrs. Fawcette. But she was not
looking at me. She was looking at Natalie. And at the moment I saw
her, she drew a small revolver from her girdle and slowly raised it
until it pointed at the back of the unconscious girl I held. My
companion of the night before saw it too and screamed suddenly.
There could be no mistaking the bitter determination in the woman’s
face. But there was no time to draw Natalie aside and face her myself.
And almost of its own volition the gun in my hand roared out behind
Natalie’s back.
With a sobbing cry, Mrs. Fawcette slowly fell back on to the deck, her
face upturned now and her eyes on mine.
I released Natalie and set her gently down. Then I stepped over her
and went up to Mrs. Fawcette, my mind one blind question and my heart
sick at the futile tragedy of it.
She stared up at me as I stooped above her. “_You_ shot me!” she
whispered wonderingly. “You!” she moaned faintly. “And only last night
I tried to save you!”
I went down on my knees beside her. “Why did you try to shoot
Natalie?” I demanded desperately.
“Why? What else could I do?” She stared at me for the moment. Then a
very bitter smile set her face in grim lines. “Kismet!” she murmured.
A moment later her body straightened into a rigid bow and fell limp
again. And I could only lean down and close the staring eyes; for she
was dead.
After the tribute of a silent regard of the woman I had killed, I
turned away, sick at heart over what I had had to do, and sought
Natalie. The other girl, I found, had taken Natalie into her arms.
Fortunately the latter had been very close to unconsciousness when I
set her down and had seen nothing of what had happened.
“Stop here quietly,” I whispered, “I’ll come back for you both!” and
with that I jumped down into the water again and waded over to where
the Chief was already gathering his men. For here in the banqueting
room the battle was over and we had conquered.
“Hurry up, Clayton,” cried the Chief. “We’re waiting for you.”
The firing in the main hall had died out also, and now the place was
almost silent, except for the frightened sobbing of some of the girls
on the barge and the moaning of our own wounded. No quarter had been
asked or given on either side, but we had been able to rescue some of
our own men and bind up their wounds.
Some one had found the switch and the lights in the main hall were on
full. The place was a shambles. Dead men, in queer, contorted
attitudes, their faces pale, sunken and ghastly in the bright light,
lay scattered about the walls. The walls themselves were seamed with
bright slashes from flying bullets and the naked nymphs still simpered
down on us, though their bodies were tattered and torn. The hardwood
floor was a welter of blood in streaks and half-congealed pools. The
room was not a pretty sight.
We had lost over half our number, a hasty count showing eleven men
killed or badly wounded. Most of the others had flesh wounds, although
the Chief and I had escaped scot-free. But we had certainly accounted
for a much greater number of our enemies. At all events they seemed to
have had enough, for the present at any rate. After we had taken stock
of our losses, the Chief stepped forward and faced the eight or nine
of us left.
“You, Johnson, and you,” he said, “stay here and keep an eye on those
girls. Keep the men on the boat where they are. We’ll want them later.
The rest of you scatter and clean the place up. Break down the doors
and explore the whole house. Let the others in too, as soon as you can
find the way out. They must be just outside by now. If you hear me
whistle, come back here on the run. But if you can find the head of
the gang, take him alive. I want that man.”
He turned to me.
“Come on, Clayton. Let’s round up that Emperor of theirs. You all
right?”
“Not a scratch, sir.”
He came closer, putting his hand on my shoulder for an instant. “You
did the only thing, lad, I saw it all. Don’t look so down in the mouth
about it. Any one would have done the same. Come on, let’s go!” and
that was the only time the Chief and I discussed the death of Mrs.
Fawcette.
The others had scattered in all directions, and in a moment the place
was a bedlam with the crash of blows and the crack of splintering
wood, as the men set themselves to break open locked doors.
One man found a staircase leading up from a small door in the main
hall, and started up into the darkness to explore the floor above. But
the Chief and I made for the corridor that led to the room of the
voices, kicking or jemmying open the doors we passed, and making as
sure as we could that we left no enemies behind us to take us in the
rear.
Evidently the place was a regular labyrinth. But the most curious
feature of it was the fact that we found no windows anywhere. The
inhabitants must have lived eternally in an artificial light or in
darkness.
The door opening into the room of the voices was closed but not
locked, and I flung it open. The room was bare as I remembered it, and
I strode across to the door beyond, followed by the Chief. This second
door was locked, but the Chief set to work on it at once with his
jemmy.
And then suddenly the tool slipped out of his hand and clattered on
the floor, and he put out his hand to the wall for support. At the
same moment he seemed to grow dim before my eyes, receding into a tiny
figure.
With a yell of “Gas!” that was little more than a croak in my ears, I
summoned every bit of strength I had left and jumped for the Chief,
catching him about the shoulders and sending him spinning in the
direction of the open door through which we had just passed. I
followed him and we both fell to our knees in the middle of the room;
but he must have realized the danger by now, for he managed somehow to
drag himself on his hands and knees as far as the open door and
through it. I also succeeded in rolling after him and out of the room,
with one last effort kicking the door shut behind me. Then we lay
motionless and panting until our wits and strength gradually returned
and we were able to sit up and stare at each other.
“The Emperor again!” I gasped weakly.
“Couple of fools, we are!” grumbled the Chief in reply. “But I won’t
forget that, Clayton. That’s twice you’ve pulled me out of a nasty
mess. Wow, but that was some gas. You can’t even smell it!”
I got slowly to my feet.
“Let’s try that staircase,” I said. “We can’t get through this way.”
After a moment the Chief, too, struggled to his feet and we made our
way laboriously back down the corridor to the main hall. Fortunately
the effects of the gas wore off very quickly, and by the time we
reached the hall we were both practically ourselves again.
There was no one in the main hall as we entered it. But the doors to
the banqueting room were still open and I could see our two men still
on guard in there. The Chief and I started to cross the hall, making
for the little door that led to the staircase to the floor above, but
we were not to explore that floor just then, for while we were still
in the middle of the hall, part of the wall at the far end of it
suddenly flew open in two sections with a crash, and the Chief and I
turned to find a crowd of swarthy, jabbering men pouring into the
room.
“More of them!” shouted the Chief. “Come on, Clayton.”
He jumped forward to the big table in the middle of the hall,
overturned it and swung it round to form a barrier between us and our
oncoming enemies, just as the latter caught sight of us.
I fell on my knees beside him and drew my revolver. The newcomers set
up a yell and started for us, and quickly the Chief put his whistle to
his lips and blew it for all he was worth, at the same time opening
fire with the revolver in his other hand.