KISMET!
Words cannot paint the nauseating horror of that moment. Fear--cold,
abject, awful fear--ran through my veins like a drug; my face was
clammy with the sweat of utter terror; my hands clutched wildly at
some drapery, which tore from its fastenings and came down in my
grasp....
Three shafts of lights swept across the floor, and almost at once
picked up that horrid shape. It was coiled with head raised, ready to
strike, and I saw that one side of its hood had been shot away.
I have, more than once, referred to Simmonds as hard-headed and
wanting in imagination--not always, I fear, in terms the most
respectful. For that I ask his pardon; I shall not make that mistake
again. For, in that nerve-racking moment, he never lost his coolness.
Revolver in hand, he crept cautiously forward, while we others held
our breath; then the pistol spoke, one, twice, thrice, and the ugly
head fell forward to the floor.
At the same moment, Godfrey sprang to the door from which volumes of
heavy, scented smoke still eddied, and disappeared inside.
I scarcely noticed him; I was staring at that foul object on the
floor; and then I stared at Francisco Silva, motionless on the divan,
his eyes fixed on the crystal sphere, undisturbed amid all this terror
and tumult. It is impossible for me to remember him, as he was in that
moment, without admiration--yes, and a little awe.
But Godfrey's voice, shrill with excitement, brought me around with a
start.
"Lester!" he shouted. "Lend a hand here!"
Wondering what new horror lay in wait, I fought my way into the other
room, stumbled over the body of the Thug, barely saved myself, my
scalp prickling with terror, from falling upon it, and pitched forward
to where Godfrey was bending above that huddled shape I had glimpsed
through the smoke.
"Catch hold!" he panted; and choking, staggering, suffocating, we
dragged it into the outer room. "Get a window open!" he gasped. "Get a
window open!"
And Simmonds, whom nothing seemed to shake, groped along the wall
until he found a window, pulled the hangings back, threw up the sash,
and flung back the shutters.
"Quick!" said Godfrey. "Over there. Now hold the torch."
And as I took it and pressed the button with a trembling finger, the
halo of light fell upon a bloodless face--the face of Marjorie Vaughan.
Simmonds was supporting her, and Godfrey, with frantic fingers, was
loosening her robe at the throat. My terrified eyes, staring at that
throat, half-expected to find a cruel mark there, but its smoothness
was unsullied. The robe loosened, Godfrey snatched his cap from his
head and began to fan the fresh air in upon her.
"Pray heaven it is not too late!" he murmured, and kept on fanning,
watching the white lips and delicate nostrils, so drawn and livid. "We
must try artificial respiration," he said, after a moment. "But not
here--this atmosphere is stifling. Take her feet, Lester."
We staggered out with her, somehow, across the hall, into her room,
and laid her on her bed. Godfrey, kneeling above her, began to raise
and lower her arms, with a steady, regular rhythm.
"Open the windows wide," he commanded, without looking up. "Wet a
towel, or something, in cold water, and bring it here."
Simmonds threw open the windows, while I went mechanically to the
bath-room, wet a towel, and slapped it against her face and neck as
Godfrey directed. The moments passed, and at last the lips opened in a
fluttering sigh, the bosom rose with a full inhalation, and a spot of
colour crept into either cheek.
"Thank God!" said Godfrey, in a voice that was almost a sob. "Now,
Simmonds, go out and bring that Irish girl, and send one of your men
to 'phone for Hinman."
Simmonds sent one of his men scurrying with a word, and himself dashed
up the stairs to the other floor. He was back in a moment, almost
dragging the frightened girl with him. Her teeth were chattering and
she started to scream when she saw that still form on the bed, but
Simmonds shook her savagely.
"There's nothing to be afraid of," Godfrey assured her. "Your mistress
isn't dead--she'll soon come around. But you must get her undressed
and to bed. And then keep bathing her face with cold water till the
doctor comes. Understand?"
"Ye--yes, sir," faltered the girl. "But--oh!" and a burst of
hysterical sobbing choked her.
Simmonds shook her again.
"Don't be a fool, Annie Crogan!" he said. "Get hold of yourself!"
Godfrey stepped off the bed and picked up one of the limp wrists.
"Her pulse is getting stronger," he said, after a moment. "It will
soon--hello, what's this!"
Clasped tight in the slender fingers was something that looked like a
torn and crumpled rubber glove. He tried to unclasp the fingers, but
when he touched them, they contracted rigidly, and a low moan burst
from the unconscious girl. So, after a moment, he desisted and laid
the hand down again.
"You understand what you're to do?" he asked the maid, and she nodded
mutely. "Then come along, boys," he added, and led the way back to the
hall. His face was dripping with perspiration and his hands were
shaking, but he managed to control them. "And now for Señor Silva," he
said, in another tone, taking the torch from my hand. "I fear he will
have a rude awakening."
"He sat there like a statue, even when I shot the snake," remarked
Simmonds. "He's a wonder, he is."
"Yes," agreed Godfrey, as he stepped into the entry, "he's a wonder."
Then he stopped, glanced around, and turned a stern face on Simmonds.
"Where's the man I left on guard here?" he asked.
"Why," faltered Simmonds, "I remember now--he helped us carry the
young lady. But we were all right there in the hall--you don't
mean ..."
Godfrey stepped to the inner door and flashed his torch about the
room. The divan was empty.
Simmonds paused only for a single glance.
"He can't be far away!" he said. "He can't get away in that white robe
of his. Come along, Tom!" and, followed by his assistant, he plunged
down the stairs.
I saw Godfrey half-turn to follow; then he stopped, ran his hand along
the wall inside the door, found the button, and turned on the lights.
His face was pale and angry.
"It's my fault as much as anyone's," he said savagely. "I might have
known Silva would see the game was up, and try to slip away in the
excitement. I ought to have kept an eye on him."
"Your eyes were fairly busy as it was," I remarked. "Besides, maybe he
hasn't got away."
Godfrey's face, as he glanced about the room, showed that he cherished
no such hope.
"Let's see what happened to Mahbub," he said. "Maybe he got away,
too," and he crossed to the inner door.
The flame in the brazier had died away, and the smoke came only in
fitful puffs, heavy with deadening perfume. The Thug had not got away.
He lay on the floor--a dreadful sight. He was lying on his back, his
hands clenched, his body arched in a convulsion, his head drawn far
back. The black lips were parted over the ugly teeth, and the eyes
had rolled upward till they gleamed, two vacant balls of white. At the
side of his neck, just under the jaw, was a hideous swelling.
Godfrey's torch ran over the body from head to foot, and I sickened as
I looked at it.
"I'm going out," I said. "I can't stand this!" and I hurried to the
open window.
Godfrey joined me there in a moment.
"I'm feeling pretty bad myself," he said, putting the torch in his
pocket and mopping his shining forehead. "It's plain enough what
happened. I caught a glimpse of Miss Vaughan on the floor there,
realised that we couldn't do anything with the snake in the way, and
shot at it, but I only ripped away a portion of the hood, and the
thing, mad with rage, sprang upon the Hindu. Nothing on earth could
have saved him after it got its fangs in his neck. Ugh!"
He shivered slightly, and stood gazing for a moment down into the
garden. Then he turned back to me with a smile.
"It's a good night's work, Lester," he said, "even if we don't catch
Silva. I fancy Miss Vaughan will change her mind, now, about becoming
a priestess of Siva!"
"But, Godfrey," I asked, "what happened? What was she doing in there?
What ..."
He stopped me with a hand upon my arm.
"I don't know. But she'll tell us when she comes around. I only hope
they'll get Silva. That would make the victory complete."
He paused, for the hum of a motor-car came up the drive, and an
instant later we caught the glare of the acetylenes. Then a voice
hailed us.
"Hello, there," it called. "Shall I come up?"
"Is it you, doctor?" asked Godfrey, leaning out.
"Yes."
"Come right up, then, to Miss Vaughan's room."
We met him at the stair-head.
"Oh, it's you!" he said, recognising us. "What has happened now?"
"It's Miss Vaughan--she's been half-suffocated. But how did you get
in?"
"The gates were open," Hinman answered, "so I drove right through. Is
Miss Vaughan in here?" and when Godfrey nodded, he opened the door and
closed it softly behind him.
"Open!" repeated Godfrey, staring at me. "Open! Then that is the way
Silva went!"
"Yes, yes," I agreed. "He had the key. It was he who let me out."
"And locked the gate after you?"
"Yes--I heard the key turn."
Without a word, Godfrey hurried down the stairs. At the foot we met
Simmonds.
"We've searched the grounds," he said, "but haven't found anyone. I've
left my men on guard. I 'phoned for some more men, and notified
headquarters."
"He's not in the grounds," said Godfrey. "He went out by the gate,"
and he told of Hinman's discovery.
"I'll stretch a net over the whole Bronx," said Simmonds. "I don't see
how a fellow dressed as he is can get away," and he hastened off to do
some more telephoning.
"Well, we can't do anything," said Godfrey, "so we might as well rest
awhile," and he passed into the library and dropped into a chair.
I followed him, but as I sat down and glanced about the room I saw
something that fairly jerked me to my feet.
A section of the shelving had been swung forward, and behind it the
door of the safe stood open.
In an instant, I had flung myself on my knees before it, groped for
the locked drawer, pulled it out, and hurried with it to the table.
The five packets of money were gone.
"What is it, Lester?" asked Godfrey, at my side.
"There was--fifty thousand dollars--in money in--this drawer," I
answered, trying to speak coherently.
Godfrey took the drawer from my hands and examined its contents.
"Well, it isn't there now," he said, and replaced the drawer in the
safe. "Sit down, Lester," and he pressed me back into my chair and
flung himself into another. "I wish I knew where Vaughan kept his
whiskey!" he murmured, and ran his fingers furiously through his hair.
"This is getting too strenuous, even for me!"
He fell silent for a moment, and sat looking at the open safe.
"What astonishes me," he mused, "is the nerve of the man, stopping at
such a moment to work that combination. Think what that means, Lester;
to work a combination, a man has to be cool and collected."
"A man who could sit without stirring through that scene upstairs," I
said, "has nerve enough for anything. Nothing Silva does can surprise
me after that!"
"I wonder how he knew the combination?"
"I was sure he knew it. I had to stop Miss Vaughan to keep her from
telling it to me."
"Well, he lessened his chance of escape by just that much. Every
minute he spent before that safe was a minute lost. Ah, here's
Simmonds. What do you think of that, Simmonds?" he added, and pointed
to the safe. "Señor Silva stopped on his way out to gather up fifty
thousand dollars in cash to pay his travelling expenses."
Simmonds walked over to the safe and looked at it.
"Fifty thousand?" he repeated. "But Vaughan must have been a fool to
keep that much money here."
"Oh, I don't know. It's a fireproof safe, and mighty well concealed."
"I'll tell you what I think," I said; "I think he intended to give the
money to Silva. He was going to give him a million--left him that in
his will, you know."
"So Silva was only taking what belonged to him, eh?" and Godfrey
laughed. "Well, I hope you'll get him, Simmonds."
It was at this moment that Dr. Hinman entered, a curious, repressed
excitement in his face, and his eyes shining strangely.
"How is she, doctor?" Godfrey asked.
"She'll be all right in the morning. She is still pretty nervous, so I
gave her a sleeping-draught and waited till it took effect."
Godfrey looked at him more closely.
"Did she tell you anything?" he asked.
"Not much," said Hinman; "I wouldn't let her talk. But she told me
enough to let me guess one thing--she's the bravest girl I ever knew
or heard of!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," cried Hinman, his eyes glowing more and more, "that she
stayed in this house and faced the deadliest peril out of love for
that man Swain; I mean that, if he's cleared, as he's certain to be
now, it will be she who clears him; I mean that, if the real murderer
is brought to justice, it will be because of the evidence she stayed
here to get, and did get!"
His voice had mounted shrilly, and his face was working as though he
could scarcely keep back the tears.
"Wait a minute, doctor," broke in Godfrey. "Don't go too fast. What
evidence?"
For answer, Hinman flipped something through the air to him. Godfrey
caught it, and stared at it an instant in bewilderment; then, with a
stifled exclamation, he sprang to the light and held the object close
under it.
"By all the gods!" he cried, in a voice as shrill as Hinman's own.
"The finger-prints!"