From the depths of his gorgeous robe, Lien Weng took a small gun-metal
case. A spring released the top. Within was a tiny glass phial, in the
form of a syringe, containing about an ounce of a colorless fluid. So
delicate was the whole contrivance that it could be concealed in the
palm of one hand.
After Lien Weng had placed it on the table in front of him, he went on
to explain its nature and its use.
The fluid was the most subtle and the most deadly poison science had
yet evolved. Distilled in minute quantities by a recent chemical
process from a rare herb indigenous to the Manchurian wilds, the secret
was known to the Society alone, and its use was strictly regulated by
its laws. In operation, as Lien Weng explained, it was very simple. By
discharging the contents of the phial on the back of a person’s coat,
of no matter what thickness, at a point midway between the shoulder
blades, it would percolate in the course of less than three hours to
the spinal marrow. And, without warning of any kind, it would bring
about a sudden and complete collapse of the nervous system. Death
would at once ensue and not leave a trace of its cause. So subtle was
the work of this poison that it defied all medical diagnosis. Its
operation was impossible to detect. Autopsies were vain. The police of
London, New York, Bombay, Shanghai could only surmise that such a thing
existed without being able to prove the fact. Indeed they were faced by
a problem with which they could not deal; a problem so elusive that it
merged cause in effect.
Succinctly and gently, with the air of a British judge addressing
a British jury, Lien Weng expounded all this to John Endor. He was
required to use the lethal weapon formally entrusted to him now by the
decree of the Council of Seven within the time appointed and in the
manner specified.
“And if, sir, one does not choose to carry out this horrible task?”
said Endor, quietly.
“Sir,” was the President’s soft reply, “since you have taken the oath
of our Society is it really necessary for me to answer your question?”
Endor looked earnestly at the faces of the six men around him, as if
he would peer into their minds. Again he was undecided as to what his
immediate course of action should be. His first thought was to defy
these fanatics by flinging the phial into the fire. But as his fingers
closed upon the slender tube of glass, the mysterious _prana_ deep down
in every healthy nature intervened to save him. An overt act of that
kind, as the faces around told him very surely, would mean certain
death.
At the call of an obscure law of being Endor slowly returned the
cylinder to its gun-metal sheath. And then fully sensible of six pairs
of eyes fixed upon him, he took from his breast pocket a cigarette case
and calmly placed within it this most deadly of weapons.
“Sir, you have until to-morrow Monday week at midnight,” were Lien
Weng’s final words.
Once more Endor looked at the circle of faces around him. Of the
thoughts they concealed he could glean nothing beyond a covert
hostility in the eyes of Bandar Ali and a look of deep anxiety in
those of George Hierons. The American was seated next to him. At this
terrible moment, in which Endor knew that his own death sentence had
been pronounced, and even in this most dangerous company, he was not
without a friend.
As Endor got up from the table he felt upon his arm a slight pressure,
soothing yet magnetic. It was as if that gentle touch spoke its own
silent message, “For heaven’s sake, my friend,” it seemed to say, “do
nothing hastily. Let your slightest action now be the fruit of wisdom.”
In spite of this tacit prayer, Endor yielded to the all-powerful desire
now in his mind. He would fly at once from this house of ill omen.
Before he left the room, however, he was moved to speak again.
“One last word!” As Endor reached the door he turned swiftly to face
the men who were still seated at the table. “I believe,” he said, in a
voice strained and thin, “that Providence itself has given me a means,
a lawful means, of breaking this malign power which you would have me
unlawfully destroy. You, who at all costs are pledged to conserve the
peace of the world, cannot hope to gain your end by secret murder. I
beg you to give me a chance to prove that the Divine Will is working
for us and for all mankind.”
The passion of this last appeal drew no response from the six men
at the table. Mutely impassive they watched that rather wild figure
withdraw from the room.
Endor at once ordered his car. He was bent on going back to London
immediately. Not another hour could he endure the fetid air of Busshe
Court.