Colonel Knight awoke and lay staring at the ceiling. It seemed a
surprisingly long distance from him—and then his glance narrowed.
He turned his head, and suddenly sat up in bed. He had just remembered
the events preceding his loss of consciousness.
Ponderingly, he examined his surroundings. He was in a big room, with
a high ceiling. There were two windows at his right and one straight
ahead, the latter partly open. Several easy chairs, a handsome mahogany
house desk, and a row of bookcases flanking a fireplace came to him as
successive details of his environment. A bar of yellow sunlight streamed
through the end window.
A door behind him opened, and he turned to see a grinning, brown-faced
Chinese boy approaching his bedside, bearing a breakfast tray.
“Ah Wing say he coming to see you by-m-by,” the newcomer commented
placidly. “You hab breakfast now.”
He drew up a table and placed the tray in position, then skillfully
arranged napkin and silverware—which were of the best quality—convenient
to Colonel Knight’s hand. Afterward he withdrew.
Knight’s head felt clear enough, but, mentally and physically, he was
relaxed to the point of incoherence. He wanted to think, but couldn’t.
Mechanically, he lifted to his lips the cup of steaming coffee that the
servant had poured for him. The taste of the hot, bitter fluid—he drank
it without cream or sugar—helped him pull himself together. He remembered
everything now: his visit to the mysterious Chinaman; the coming of his
enemies, and their attack on the basement room; his flight with Ah Wing;
and the latter’s ruse for bringing Knight fully within his power.
Sharply he turned his head and looked again at the end window; it was
barred with heavy iron rods, and so were the two windows at the side.
This room in which he lay was a luxurious prison!
The door opened again, softly, and Colonel Knight turned his head to find
Ah Wing advancing toward him, dressed in white flannel trousers, silk
shirt, and serge coat. In such a rig the newcomer looked every inch a
Chinaman.
“Good morning, Colonel,” Ah Wing greeted his guest courteously. “I am
glad to see you looking so fresh and rested this morning!”
Knight began to tremble.
“You yellow crook!” he croaked, his hands drawing up into knots. “So that
was your scheme—to rob me, and then kidnap me? But don’t think you can
get away with it—”
Ah Wing approached the bed and deftly reached under the nearer of the two
pillows. From this place of concealment he drew two things: the morocco
jewel case, and a revolver that Knight remembered having carried in his
inside coat pocket.
“Here are the principle articles of your property, Colonel Knight,” said
the master of the house. “The other things you will find after you are
dressed.”
He paused to watch the man in the bed open the leather box and stare
hungrily at the flashing jewels. Then he continued.
“There was an ordeal ahead of you, my friend, and you were in no
condition to go through with it. You needed rest, but your nerves were
screwed up to the snapping point. There was only one way to get you
safely out of the city, and I used it.”
“You mean that the Wolves don’t know where I am?” Knight demanded.
“Not yet. I shall remedy that presently.”
Colonel Knight’s voice rose into a snarl:
“Remedy it? You mean you want them to know?”
“Of course I want them to know. I want them here, where I can deal with
them. But never fear, my friend. Your old enemies will never be able to
hurt you!”
He paused and looked around the apartment, then turned again to the man
in the bed.
“These are your quarters. Adjoining your bedroom is the bath. This door
opens into your sitting-room, and adjoining that is my conservatory,
which you are at liberty to visit when you choose. There are no
conditions placed upon your residence here except that you are not to try
to leave the house without my permission—_and you are to leave the end
window exactly as it is_. Don’t even lay your hand upon it, or upon the
sill! This is important!”
Knight stared again at the single end window through which the sun was
shining. He stared from it to the face of the strange being who continued
to regard him with the impersonal interest of a Buddha. A sense of
baffled curiosity arose within him, and he made a nervous, protesting
movement with one of his puffy hands.
“Who the devil _are_ you, anyway?” he broke out. “Ah Wing! That doesn’t
mean anything to me—as well say ‘Mr. X!’ You are not a Chinaman. What and
who are you?”
Ah Wing continued to stare imperturbably down at his guest, but the ghost
of a smile showed at the corners of his usually expressionless mouth.
“No,” he agreed, “I am not a Chinaman. And I am not a Caucasian. You see
that, dressed as I am today, I look unmistakably Oriental. Dressed like a
man of Hong Kong, on the other hand, I look American or English. That has
been my curse, and perhaps my blessing: the mixing of two irreconcilable
blood lines has made me an outcast. I have no place in the government of
any country, and therefore I have organized a government of my own.
“I am the emperor, the president, the king, of an invisible empire. I
rule by right of intellect and will, and my first failure will be my
death warrant; for, judged even by the standards of a thief like you,
Colonel Knight, I am an outlaw—one who is outside the protection of the
laws of men!”
He laughed, a short, mirthless laugh. As he crossed toward the door he
said over his shoulder, “Remember about the window. I shall be going out
from time to time, but if you carry out my instructions to the letter, no
harm can come to you even in this house of hidden dangers.”
Try as he would, Colonel Knight could find nothing wrong with his
situation as it had been outlined to him by Ah Wing. He spent most of
the first day in the room in which he had awakened. From the windows in
one direction he could see a landscaped lawn and hillside, dotted with
shrubbery and intersected by winding gravel paths.
From the rear window concerning which he had been so curiously warned
by the master of the house, he looked out over a bit of lawn bordering
a kitchen garden. Beyond the garden lay a marshy field, and in the
distance he made out a canal along which an occasional motor boat chugged
industriously. No, there was nothing wrong here—he could hardly have
hoped for a more peaceful place in which to rest and grow strong.
But—there was an air of brooding watchfulness over the silent house. He
heard an occasional padded footstep passing the door of his sitting-room.
Once he looked out. At the farther side of an extensive conservatory the
brown-faced servant who had brought him his breakfast was spraying some
snaky-looking vines bearing huge orange-colored flowers. Colonel Knight
closed the door. Something about the place—the quiet and the isolation,
perhaps, were getting on his nerves.
The second day passed as the first, but toward noon of the third day Ah
Wing knocked at his door and entered noiselessly. He was dressed in his
Oriental garb, and again looked like a poorly-disguised white man.
“I will be going out for a few hours this afternoon, Colonel,” he
explained, regarding the man before him with his habitual unwinking
stare. “I am taking Lim with me, and I think it will be best for you to
remain in your quarters.”
Although his words had taken the form of a request, there was back of
them the force of a command. The white man eyed him suspiciously, but
presently nodded.
Some time later he heard the _whir_ of a starting motor. Lim had brought
him his luncheon, and now Knight figured the house would be deserted. He
smiled. This would be his opportunity to look around a bit. The instincts
of the crook were strong within him, and he was immensely curious with
regard to the house of Ah Wing.
He waited an hour after he had heard the car leave the garage—from the
back window he had caught a glimpse of it: a gray roadster of moderate
size and power. Now he felt sure that he would not be interrupted.
Crossing to the door of the conservatory, he passed into it. Along one
side were orchids, Colonel Knight realized vaguely that the collection
must be priceless. Many of them were growing in diminutive glass rooms,
upon whose walls he saw heavy drops of moisture.
One pale green blossom near him had weird markings in white and yellow,
which gave it a disturbing resemblance to a grinning human face. The
man thrust out a curious finger and touched it: the blossom drew itself
together like a conscious thing, and he became aware of a sickening
perfume which in an instant turned him dizzy.
He shrank back and continued his journey. The concrete floor narrowed,
and at his left he saw a lily pond, upon whose surface great white
blossoms showed their buttery yellow centers. Between the pads and
blossoms of the lilies the water showed, deep and dark.
Colonel Knight leaned forward to peer into the pool; then, with a choking
cry he staggered back, his face drained of blood: an ugly black snout had
shot up out of the murky depths, and a huge lizard, with short, powerful
forelegs armed with long claws, stared hungrily up at him.
He found his appetite for exploration losing its edge. He was tempted
to turn back, but he wanted to settle one point: in case he should want
to leave this house, how could he best do it? The windows were securely
barred, but there must be plenty of doors.
A hall opened out from the conservatory, and on either side were rooms,
variously furnished. He hurried on. Ahead, he saw a door which seemed
to give upon the outer world. He grasped the knob. The door was locked,
and the lock was one which a glance told him could be neither picked nor
smashed.
Turning, he explored the rear of the house. In the east wing he found the
kitchens and servants’ quarters, but a door which probably communicated
with the kitchen gardens was locked.
Suddenly his wandering eyes caught the handle of a door in an angle
of the pantry. He approached it and found that it opened upon a stair
leading down. A gust of warm, damp air came up through the stairway, and
for a moment Knight paused, sniffing curiously.
He found himself thinking of a certain sultry afternoon in India, when
he had gone out into the simmering jungle. There was the same wild smell
here—
He had his revolver in his hip pocket. That gave him confidence, and he
must know if it would be possible for him to escape in this direction.
A phrase spoken by Ah Wing came to him—“Even in this house of hidden
dangers!” But what dangers could there be?
Colonel Knight felt his way down into the basement. He found that it lay
almost entirely below the level of the grounds, but presently his eyes
became accustomed to the dusk and he could discern his surroundings.
He was in a broad and deep room, filled with a litter of packing cases,
discarded articles of furniture, and a few garden tools. At its farther
side was a door. Slowly and cautiously, the investigator made his way
toward this.
It opened into a dark and narrow passage. He made his way along this,
trying the handles of two locked doors, one on the right and the other on
the left. Then he came to the end of the passage and to another door.
Cautiously, he opened it and looked inside: before him lay a room
somewhat better lighted than the passage, but absolutely destitute of
furniture. He crossed the threshold and stood for a long moment looking
about him. The smell which he had associated with that hot afternoon in
the jungle came to him almost overpoweringly now, but beyond he saw a
door with an iron-barred transom. He wanted to try that door.
He had crossed halfway toward it when some subtle sense of danger brought
him to a stop. He looked back. Nothing.
Then, with a start, he looked up, into the dusky ceiling. Something was
moving there—he stepped back, drawing in his breath with a sharp hissing
intake of terror. He backed toward the door. It was taking shape, up
there among some uncovered beams and pipes—a huge column that seemed to
have come alive! Slowly it swung down in a great curve.
Colonel Knight stood frozen in his tracks. It was a snake—but such a
snake! He knew that this was no waking vision, but a horrible reality—
With a choking cry, he turned and ran as he had never run before in his
life. Behind him he heard a hissing as of sand being poured from an
elevation into a tin pail. A box was overturned. The thing was gaining
on him—he turned, and with bulging eyes he saw the python strung out
along the floor, its great body undulating, its flat head raised, its
unblinking eyes burning through the dusk.
He could never make the stairs. At the left was a small door. He threw
himself upon it and clutched the handle—it came open and, without looking
before him, he threw himself forward. Something struck against the door
as he jerked it shut, and he could hear that uncanny sand blast louder
than before.
Groping about him in the utter darkness of this refuge, he found a metal
contrivance—a wheel, with a metal stem connecting it with a large iron
pipe. He was in the closet which housed the intake of the water system.
Then he remembered his revolver. It would be of little use to him against
the horrible thing coiled outside.
* * * * *
When Ah Wing returned to the house, several hours later, he went quietly
through the hall and conservatory to the door of Colonel Knight’s
apartment.
Satisfied by a brief inspection that his “guest” was not in his rooms,
the Chinaman turned and made his way to the basement door. His face was
as serene as usual, but his eyes shone with a metallic gleam. He opened
the door and for a moment stood listening.
An angry and prolonged _hiss_, which sounded like a great jet of steam,
came plainly to him. He stepped into the hallway and deliberately closed
the door behind him. Then he felt his way down the stairs, pausing within
a few steps of the bottom to look unwinkingly about.
Something was moving in the dim shadows at the farther side of the room.
It came slowly toward him, and he could make out the undulating length of
the python. Ah Wing’s glowing eyes rested unwaveringly on the flat, evil
head of the great snake, which came toward him more and more slowly.
With a final prolonged _hiss_, the python drew itself up into a huge
coil. It was a tremendous creature, as large as a man’s body at its
greatest diameter: but now it seemed to be turning slowly to stone. Its
beady eyes grew dull, and its swaying head became rigid.
A muffled cry reached the ears of the motionless Chinaman. Without the
flicker of an eyelid, he continued to stare down at the python.
Presently he descended to the foot of the stairs. The snake was still.
Ah Wing crossed to the closet door and threw it open.
“You can leave your retreat now, Colonel Knight,” he said. “My little
playmate is temporarily in a condition of catalepsy—but I would not
advise you to repeat this visit!”
_CHAPTER SIX_