"A man is waiting for you with a car, I take it? Is he likely to
suspect anything?"
"I have a way of finding out, and if he does," I replied grimly, "I
will return alone to the Temple of Dreams."
_11. Four Thirty-Four_
"Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before."
--Poe.
The door closed softly behind me, the great dark house looming up
more starkly than ever. Stooping, I crossed the wet lawn at a run,
a grotesque and unholy figure, I doubt not, since any man had at a
glance sworn me to be not a man but a giant ape. So craftily had the
Master devised!
I clambered the wall, dropped to the earth beyond and made my way
through the darkness and the drizzle to the group of trees which masked
the automobile.
The negro driver leaned out of the front seat. I was breathing hard and
sought in various ways to simulate the actions of a man who has just
murdered in cold blood and fled the scene of his crime.
"You heard nothing, no sound, no scream?" I hissed, gripping his arm.
"No noise except a slight crash when you first went in," he answered.
"You did a good job--nobody passing along the road could have suspected
anything."
"Have you remained in the car all the time?" I asked. And when he
replied that he had, I seized his ankle and ran my hand over the soles
of his shoe; it was perfectly dry, as was the cuff of his trouser leg.
Satisfied, I climbed into the back seat. Had he taken a step on the
earth, shoe and garment would have showed it by the telltale dampness.
I ordered him to refrain from starting the engine until I had removed
the apeskin, and then we sped through the night and I fell victim to
doubts and uncertainties. Why should Gordon put any trust in the word
of a stranger and a former ally of the Master's? Would he not put my
tale down as the ravings of a dope-crazed addict, or a lie to ensnare
or befool him? Still, if he had not believed me, why had he let me go?
I could but trust. At any rate, what Gordon did or did not do would
scarcely affect my fortunes ultimately, even though Zuleika had
furnished me with that which would merely extend the number of my days.
My thoughts centered on her, and more than my hope of vengeance on
Kathulos was the hope that Gordon might be able to save her from the
clutches of the fiend. At any rate, I thought grimly, if Gordon failed
me, I still had my hands and if I might lay them upon the bony frame of
the Skull-faced One----
Abruptly I found myself thinking of Yussef Ali and his strange words,
the import of which just occurred to me, "_The Master has promised her
to me in the days of the empire!_"
The days of the empire--what could that mean?
The automobile at last drew up in front of the building which hid
the Temple of Silence--now dark and still. The ride had seemed
interminable, and as I dismounted I glanced at the timepiece on the
dashboard of the car. My heart leaped--it was four thirty-four, and
unless my eyes tricked me I saw a movement in the shadows across the
street, out of the flare of the street lamp. At this time of night it
could mean only one of two things--some menial of the Master watching
for my return or else Gordon had kept his word. The negro drove away
and I opened the door, crossed the deserted bar and entered the opium
room. The bunks and the floor were littered with the dreamers, for such
places as these know nothing of day or night as normal people know, but
all lay deep in sottish slumber.
The lamps glimmered through the smoke and a silence hung mist-like over
all.
_12. The Stroke of Five_
"He saw gigantic tracks of death,
And many a shape of doom."
--Chesterton.
Two of the China boys squatted among the smudge fires, staring at me
unwinkingly as I threaded my way among the recumbent bodies and made
my way to the rear door. For the first time I traversed the corridor
alone and found time to wonder again as to the contents of the strange
chests which lined the walls.
Four raps on the under side of the floor, and a moment later I stood
in the idol-room. I gasped in amazement--the fact that across a
table from me sat Kathulos in all his horror was not the cause of my
exclamation. Except for the table, the chair on which the Skull-face
sat and the altar--now bare of incense--the room was perfectly bare!
Drab, unlovely walls of the unused warehouse met my gaze instead of the
costly tapestries I had become accustomed to. The palms, the idol, the
lacquered screen--all were gone.
"Ah, Mr. Costigan, you wonder, no doubt."
The dead voice of the Master broke in on my thoughts. His serpent eyes
glittered balefully. The long yellow fingers twined sinuously upon the
table.
"You thought me to be a trusting fool, no doubt!" he rapped suddenly.
"Did you think I would not have you followed? You fool, Yussef Ali was
at your heels every moment!"
An instant I stood speechless, frozen by the crash of these words
against my brain; then as their import sank home, I launched myself
forward with a roar. At the same instant, before my clutching fingers
could close on the mocking horror on the other side of the table, men
rushed from every side. I whirled, and with the clarity of hate, from
the swirl of savage faces I singled out Yussef Ali, and crashed my
right fist against his temple with every ounce of my strength. Even
as he dropped, Hassim struck me to my knees and a Chinaman flung a
man-net over my shoulders. I heaved erect, bursting the stout cords as
if they were strings, and then a blackjack in the hands of Ganra Singh
stretched me stunned and bleeding on the floor.
Lean sinewy hands seized and bound me with cords that cut cruelly into
my flesh. Emerging from the mists of semi-unconsciousness, I found
myself lying on the altar with the masked Kathulos towering over me
like a gaunt ivory tower. About in a semicircle stood Ganra Singh, Yar
Khan, Yun Shatu and several others whom I knew as frequenters of the
Temple of Dreams. Beyond them--and the sight cut me to the heart--I saw
Zuleika crouching in a doorway, her face white and her hands pressed
against her cheeks, in an attitude of abject terror.
"I did not fully trust you," said Kathulos sibilantly, "so I sent
Yussef Ali to follow you. He reached the group of trees before you and
following you into the estate heard your very interesting conversation
with John Gordon--for he scaled the house-wall like a cat and clung to
the window-ledge! Your driver delayed purposely so as to give Yussef
Ali plenty of time to get back--I have decided to change my abode
anyway. My furnishings are already on their way to another house, and
as soon as we have disposed of the traitor--you!--we shall depart also,
leaving a little surprize for your friend Gordon when he arrives at
five-thirty."
My heart gave a sudden leap of hope. Yussef Ali had misunderstood, and
Kathulos lingered here in false security while the London detective
force had already silently surrounded the house. Over my shoulder I saw
Zuleika vanish from the door.
I eyed Kathulos, absolutely unaware of what he was saying. It was not
long until five--if he dallied longer--then I froze as the Egyptian
spoke a word and Li Kung, a gaunt, cadaverous Chinaman, stepped from
the silent semicircle and drew from his sleeve a long thin dagger. My
eyes sought the timepiece that still rested on the table and my heart
sank. It was still ten minutes until five. My death did not matter so
much, since it simply hastened the inevitable, but in my mind's eye I
could see Kathulos and his murderers escaping while the police awaited
the stroke of five.
The Skull-face halted in some harangue, and stood in a listening
attitude. I believe his uncanny intuition warned him of danger. He
spoke a quick staccato command to Li Kung and the Chinaman sprang
forward, dagger lifted above my breast.
The air was suddenly supercharged with dynamic tension. The keen
dagger-point hovered high above me--loud and clear sounded the skirl of
a police whistle and on the heels of the sound there came a terrific
crash from the front of the warehouse!
Kathulos leaped into frenzied activity. Hissing orders like a cat
spitting, he sprang for the hidden door and the rest followed him.
Things happened with the speed of a nightmare. Li Kung had followed the
rest, but Kathulos flung a command over his shoulder and the Chinaman
turned back and came rushing toward the altar where I lay, dagger high,
desperation in his countenance.
[Illustration: "Kathulos leaped into frenzied activity, hissing orders
like a cat."]
A scream broke through the clamor and as I twisted desperately about to
avoid the descending dagger, I caught a glimpse of Kathulos dragging
Zuleika away. Then with a frenzied wrench I toppled from the altar
just as Li Kung's dagger, grazing my breast, sank inches deep into the
dark-stained surface and quivered there.
I had fallen on the side next to the wall and what was taking place
in the room I could not see, but it seemed as if far away I could
hear men screaming faintly and hideously. Then Li Kung wrenched
his blade free and sprang, tigerishly, around the end of the altar.
Simultaneously a revolver cracked from the doorway--the Chinaman spun
clear around, the dagger flying from his hand--he slumped to the floor.
Gordon came running from the doorway where a few moments earlier
Zuleika had stood, his pistol still smoking in his hand. At his heels
were three rangy, clean-cut men in plain clothes. He cut my bonds and
dragged me upright.
"Quick! Where have they gone?"
The room was empty of life save for myself, Gordon and his men, though
two dead men lay on the floor.
I found the secret door and after a few seconds' search located the
lever which opened it. Revolvers drawn, the men grouped about me and
peered nervously into the dark stairway. Not a sound came up from the
total darkness.
"This is uncanny!" muttered Gordon. "I suppose the Master and his
servants went this way when they left the building--as they are
certainly not here now!--and Leary and his men should have stopped them
either in the tunnel itself or in the rear room of Yun Shatu's. At any
rate, in either event they should have communicated with us by this
time."
"Look out, sir!" one of the men exclaimed suddenly, and Gordon, with an
ejaculation, struck out with his pistol barrel and crushed the life
from a huge snake which had crawled silently up the steps from the
blackness beneath.
"Let us see into this matter," said he, straightening.
But before he could step onto the first stair, I halted him; for, flesh
crawling, I began dimly to understand something of what had happened--I
began to understand the silence in the tunnel, the absence of the
detectives, the screams I had heard some minutes previously while I
lay on the altar. Examining the lever which opened the door, I found
another smaller lever--I began to believe I knew what those mysterious
chests in the tunnel contained.
"Gordon," I said hoarsely, "have you an electric torch?"
One of the men produced a large one.
"Direct the light into the tunnel, but as you value your life, do not
put a foot upon the steps."
The beam of light struck through the shadows, lighting the tunnel,
etching out boldly a scene that will haunt my brain all the rest of my
life. On the floor of the tunnel, between the chests which now gaped
open, lay two men who were members of London's finest secret service.
Limbs twisted and faces horribly distorted they lay, and above and
about them writhed, in long glittering scaly shimmerings, scores of
hideous reptiles.
The clock struck five.
_13. The Blind Beggar Who Rode_
"He seemed a beggar such as lags
Looking for crusts and ale."
--Chesterton.
The cold gray dawn was stealing over the river as we stood in the
deserted bar of the Temple of Dreams. Gordon was questioning the
two men who had remained on guard outside the building while their
unfortunate companions went in to explore the tunnel.
"As soon as we heard the whistle, sir, Leary and Murken rushed the bar
and broke into the opium room, while we waited here at the bar door
according to orders. Right away several ragged dopers came tumbling out
and we grabbed them. But no one else came out and we heard nothing
from Leary and Murken; so we just waited until you came, sir."
"You saw nothing of a giant negro, or of the Chinaman Yun Shatu?"
"No, sir. After a while the patrolmen arrived and we threw a cordon
around the house, but no one was seen."
Gordon shrugged his shoulders; a few cursory questions had satisfied
him that the captives were harmless addicts and he had them released.
"You are sure no one else came out?"
"Yes, sir--no, wait a moment. A wretched old blind beggar did come out,
all rags and dirt and with a ragged girl leading him. We stopped him
but didn't hold him--a wretch like that couldn't be harmful."
"No?" Gordon jerked out. "Which way did he go?"
"The girl led him down the street to the next block and then an
automobile stopped and they got in and drove off, sir."
Gordon glared at him.
"The stupidity of the London detective has rightfully become an
international jest," he said acidly. "No doubt it never occurred to you
as being strange that a Limehouse beggar should ride about in his own
automobile."
Then impatiently waving aside the man, who sought to speak further, he
turned to me and I saw the lines of weariness beneath his eyes.
"Mr. Costigan, if you will come to my apartment we may be able to clear
up some few things."
_14. The Black Empire_
"Oh the new spears dipped in life-blood as the woman shrieked in vain!
Oh the days before the English! When will those days come again?"
--Mundy.
Gordon struck a match and absently allowed it to flicker and go out in
his hand. His Turkish cigarette hung unlighted between his fingers.
"This is the most logical conclusion to be reached," he was saying.
"The weak link in our chain was lack of men. But curse it, one can not
round up an army at two o'clock in the morning, even with the aid of
Scotland Yard. I went on to Limehouse, leaving orders for a number of
patrolmen to follow me as quickly as they could be gotten together, and
to throw a cordon about the house.
"They arrived too late to prevent the Master's servants slipping out
of side doors and windows, no doubt, as they could easily do with only
Finnegan and Hansen on guard at the front of the building. However,
they arrived in time to prevent the Master himself from slipping out in
that way--no doubt he lingered to effect his disguise and was caught in
that manner. He owes his escape to his craft and boldness and to the
carelessness of Finnegan and Hansen. The girl who accompanied him----"
"She was Zuleika, without doubt."
I answered listlessly, wondering anew what shackles bound her to the
Egyptian sorcerer.
"You owe your life to her," Gordon rapped, lighting another match. "We
were standing in the shadows in front of the warehouse, waiting for the
hour to strike, and of course ignorant as to what was going on in the
house, when a girl appeared at one of the barred windows and begged us
for God's sake to do something, that a man was being murdered. So we
broke in at once. However, she was not to be seen when we entered."
"She returned to the room, no doubt," I muttered, "and was forced to
accompany the Master. God grant he knows nothing of her trickery."
"I do not know," said Gordon, dropping the charred match stem, "whether
she guessed at our true identity or whether she just made the appeal in
desperation.
"However, the main point is this: evidence points to the fact that, on
hearing the whistle, Leary and Murken invaded Yun Shatu's from the
front at the same instant my three men and I made our attack on the
warehouse front. As it took us some seconds to batter down the door, it
is logical to suppose that they found the secret door and entered the
tunnel before we effected an entrance into the warehouse.
"The Master, knowing our plans beforehand, and being aware that an
invasion would be made through the tunnel and having long ago made
preparations for such an exigency----"
An involuntary shudder shook me.
"----the Master worked the lever that opened the chest--the screams you
heard as you lay upon the altar were the death shrieks of Leary and
Murken. Then, leaving the Chinaman behind to finish you, the Master
and the rest descended into the tunnel--incredible as it seems--and
threading their way unharmed among the serpents, entered Yun Shatu's
house and escaped therefrom as I have said."
"That seems impossible. Why should not the snakes turn on them?"
Gordon finally ignited his cigarette and puffed a few seconds before
replying.
"The reptiles might still have been giving their full and hideous
attention to the dying men, or else--I have on previous occasions been
confronted with indisputable proof of the Master's dominance over
beasts and reptiles of even the lowest or most dangerous orders. How he
and his slaves passed unhurt among those scaly fiends must remain, at
present, one of the many unsolved mysteries pertaining to that strange
man."
I stirred restlessly in my chair. This brought up a point for the
purpose of clearing up which I had come to Gordon's neat but bizarre
apartments.
"You have not yet told me," I said abruptly, "who this man is and what
is his mission."
"As to who he is, I can only say that he is known as you name him--the
Master. I have never seen him unmasked, nor do I know his real name nor
his nationality."
"I can enlighten you to an extent there," I broke in. "I have seen him
unmasked and have heard the name his slaves call him."
Gordon's eyes blazed and he leaned forward.
"His name," I continued, "is Kathulos and he claims to be an Egyptian."
"Kathulos!" Gordon repeated. "You say he claims to be an Egyptian--have
you any reason for doubting his claim of that nationality?"
"He may be of Egypt," I answered slowly, "but he is different, somehow,
from any human I ever saw or hope to see. Great age might account for
some of his peculiarities, but there are certain lineal differences
that my anthropological studies tell me have been present since
birth--features which would be abnormal to any other man but which are
perfectly normal in Kathulos. That sounds paradoxical, I admit, but to
appreciate fully the horrid inhumanness of the man, you would have to
see him yourself."
* * * * *
Gordon sat all attention while I swiftly sketched the appearance of the
Egyptian as I remembered him--and that appearance was indelibly etched
on my brain forever.
As I finished he nodded.
"As I have said, I never saw Kathulos except when disguised as a
beggar, a leper or some such thing--when he was fairly swathed in rags.
Still, I too have been impressed with a strange _difference_ about
him--something that is not present in other men."
Gordon tapped his knee with his fingers--a habit of his when deeply
engrossed by a problem of some sort.
"You have asked as to the mission of this man," he began slowly. "I
will tell you all I know.
"My position with the British government is a unique and peculiar one.
I hold what might be called a roving commission--an office created
solely for the purpose of suiting my special needs. As a secret service
official during the war, I convinced the powers of a need of such
office and of my ability to fill it.
"Somewhat over seventeen months ago I was sent to South Africa to
investigate the unrest which has been growing among the natives of
the interior ever since the World War and which has of late assumed
alarming proportions. There I first got on the track of this man
Kathulos. I found, in roundabout ways, that Africa was a seething
cauldron of rebellion from Morocco to Cape Town. The old, old vow had
been made again--the negroes and the Mohammedans, banded together,
should drive the white men into the sea.
"This pact has been made before but always, hitherto, broken. Now,
however, I sensed a giant intellect and a monstrous genius behind
the veil, a genius powerful enough to accomplish this union and hold
it together. Working entirely on hints and vague whispered clues, I
followed the trail up through Central Africa and into Egypt. There,
at last, I came upon definite evidence that such a man existed. The
whispers hinted of a living dead man--a _skull-faced_ man. I learned
that this man was the high priest of the mysterious Scorpion society of
northern Africa. He was spoken of variously as Skull-face, the Master,
and the Scorpion.
"Following a trail of bribed officials and filched state secrets,
I at last trailed him to Alexandria, where I had my first sight of
him in a dive in the native quarter--disguised as a leper. I heard
him distinctly addressed as 'Mighty Scorpion' by the natives, but he
escaped me.
"All trace vanished then; the trail ran out entirely until rumors of
strange happenings in London reached me and I came back to England, to
investigate an apparent leak in the war office.
"As I thought, the Scorpion had preceded me. This man, whose education
and craft transcend anything I ever met with, is simply the leader and
instigator of a world-wide movement such as the world has never seen
before. He plots, in a word, the overthrow of the white races!
"His ultimate aim is a black empire, with himself as emperor of
the world! And to that end he has banded together in one monstrous
conspiracy the black, the brown and the yellow."
"I understand now what Yussef Ali meant when he said 'the days of the
empire'," I muttered.
"Exactly," Gordon rapped with suppressed excitement. "Kathulos' power
is unlimited and unguessed. Like an octopus his tentacles stretch to
the high places of civilization and the far corners of the world.
And his Main weapon is--dope! He has flooded Europe and no doubt
America with opium and hashish, and in spite of all effort it has been
impossible to discover the break in the barriers through which the
hellish stuff is coming. With this he ensnares and enslaves men and
women.
"You have told me of the aristocratic men and women you saw coming to
Yun Shatu's dive. Without doubt they were dope addicts--for, as I said,
the habit lurks in high places--holders of governmental positions, no
doubt, coming to trade for the stuff they craved and giving in return
state secrets, inside information and promise of protection for the
Master's crimes.
"Oh, he does not work haphazardly! Before ever the black flood breaks,
he will be prepared; if he has his way, the governments of the white
races will be honeycombs of corruption--the strongest men of the white
races will be dead. The white men's secrets of war will be his. When
it comes, I look for a simultaneous uprising against white supremacy,
of all the colored races--races who, in the last war, learned the white
men's ways of battle, and who, led by such a man as Kathulos and armed
with white men's finest weapons, will be almost invincible.
"A steady stream of rifles and ammunition has been pouring into East
Africa and it was not until I discovered the source that it was
stopped. I found that a staid and reliable Scotch firm was smuggling
these arms among the natives and I found more: the manager of this
firm was an opium slave. That was enough. I saw Kathulos' hand in
the matter. The manager was arrested and committed suicide in his
cell--that is only one of the many situations with which I am called
upon to deal.
"Again, the case of Major Fairlan Morley. He, like myself, held a
very flexible commission and had been sent to the Transvaal to work
upon the same case. He sent to London a number of secret papers for
safe-keeping. They arrived some weeks ago and were put in a bank vault.
The letter accompanying them gave explicit instructions that they were
to be delivered to no one but the major himself, when he called for
them in person, or in event of his death, to myself.
"As soon as I learned that he had sailed from Africa I sent trusted men
to Bordeaux, where he intended to make his first landing in Europe.
They did not succeed in saving the major's life, but they certified
his death, for they found his body in a deserted ship whose hulk was
stranded on the beach. Efforts were made to keep the affair a secret
but somehow it leaked into the papers with the result----"
"I begin to understand why I was to impersonate the unfortunate major,"
I interrupted.
"Exactly. A false beard furnished you, and your black hair dyed blond,
you would have presented yourself at the bank, received the papers
from the banker, who knew Major Morley just intimately enough to be
deceived by your appearance, and the papers would have then fallen into
the hands of the Master.
* * * * *
"I can only guess at the contents of those papers, for events have
been taking place too swiftly for me to call for and obtain them. But
they must deal with subjects closely connected with the activities of
Kathulos. How he learned of them and of the provisions of the letter
accompanying them, I have no idea, but as I said, London is honeycombed
with his spies.
"In my search for clues, I often frequented Limehouse disguised as
you first saw me. I went often to the Temple of Dreams and even once
managed to enter the back room, for I suspected some sort of rendezvous
in the rear of the building. The absence of any exit baffled me and
I had no time to search for secret doors before I was ejected by the
giant black man Hassim, who had no suspicion of my true identity. I
noticed that very often the leper entered or left Yun Shatu's, and
finally it was borne on me that past a shadow of doubt this supposed
leper was the Scorpion himself.
"That night you discovered me on the couch in the opium room, I had
come there with no especial plan in mind. Seeing Kathulos leaving, I
determined to rise and follow him, but you spoiled that."
He fingered his chin and laughed grimly.
"I was an amateur boxing champion in Oxford," said he, "but Tom Cribb
himself could not have withstood that blow--or have dealt it."
"I regret it as I regret few things."
"No need to apologize. You saved my life immediately afterward--I was
stunned, but not too much to know that that brown devil Yussef Ali was
burning to cut out my heart."
"How did you come to be at Sir Haldred Frenton's estate? And how is it
that you did not raid Yun Shatu's dive?"
"I did not have the place raided because I knew somehow Kathulos would
be warned and our efforts would come to naught. I was at Sir Haldred's
that night because I have contrived to spend at least part of each
night with him since he returned from the Congo. I anticipated an
attempt upon his life when I learned from his own lips that he was
preparing, from the studies he made on this trip, a treatise on the
secret native societies of West Africa. He hinted that the disclosures
he intended to make therein might prove sensational, to say the least.
Since it is to Kathulos' advantage to destroy such men as might be able
to arouse the Western world to its danger, I knew that Sir Haldred was
a marked man. Indeed, two distinct attempts were made upon his life
on his journey to the coast from the African interior. So I put two
trusted men on guard and they are at their post even now.
"Roaming about the darkened house, I heard the noise of your entry,
and, warning my men, I stole down to intercept you. At the time of
our conversation, Sir Haldred was sitting in his unlighted study,
a Scotland Yard man with drawn pistol on each side of him. Their
vigilance no doubt accounts for Yussef Ali's failure to attempt what
you were sent to do.
"Something in your manner convinced me in spite of yourself," he
meditated. "I will admit I had some bad moments of doubt as I waited in
the darkness that precedes dawn, outside the warehouse."
Gordon rose suddenly and going to a strong box which stood in a corner
of the room, drew thence a thick envelope.
"Although Kathulos has checkmated me at almost every move," he said,
"I have not been entirely idle. Noting the frequenters of Yun Shatu's,
I have compiled a partial list of the Egyptian's right-hand men, and
their records. What you have told me has enabled me to complete that
list. As we know, his henchmen are scattered all over the world, and
there are possibly hundreds of them here in London. However, this is a
list of those I believe to be in his closest council, now with him in
England. He told you himself that few even of his followers ever saw
him unmasked."
We bent together over the list, which contained the following names:
"Yun Shatu, Hongkong Chinese, suspected opium smuggler--keeper
of Temple of Dreams--resident of Limehouse seven years. Hassim,
ex-Senegalese chief--wanted in French Congo for murder. Santiago,
negro--fled from Haiti under suspicion of voodoo worship atrocities.
Yar Khan, Afridi, record unknown. Yussef Ali, Moor, slave-dealer
in Morocco--suspected of being a German spy in the World War--an
instigator of the Fellaheen Rebellion on the upper Nile. Ganra Singh,
Lahore, India, Sikh--smuggler of arms into Afghanistan--took an
active part in the Lahore and Delhi riots--suspected of murder on two
occasions--a dangerous man. Stephen Costigan, American--resident in
England since the war--hashish addict--man of remarkable strength. Li
Kung, northern China, opium smuggler."
Lines were drawn significantly through three names--mine, Li Kung's and
Yussef Ali's. Nothing was written next to mine, but following Li Kung's
name was scrawled briefly in Gordon's rambling characters: "Shot by
John Gordon during the raid on Yun Shatu's." And following the name of
Yussef Ali: "Killed by Stephen Costigan during the Yun Shatu raid."
I laughed mirthlessly. Black empire or not, Yussef Ali would never hold
Zuleika in his arms, for he had never risen from where I felled him.
"I know not," said Gordon somberly as he folded the list and replaced
it in the envelope, "what power Kathulos has that draws together black
men and yellow men to serve him--that unites world-old foes. Hindoo,
Moslem and pagan are among his followers. And back in the mists of the
East where mysterious and gigantic forces are at work, this uniting is
culminating on a monstrous scale."
He glanced at his watch.
"It is nearly ten. Make yourself at home here, Mr. Costigan, while I
visit Scotland Yard and see if any clue has been found as to Kathulos'
new quarters. I believe that the webs are closing on him, and with your
aid I promise you we will have the gang located within a week at most."
_15. The Mark of the Tulwar_
"The fed wolf curls by his drowsy mate
In a tight-trod earth; but the lean wolves wait."
--Mundy.
I sat alone in John Gordon's apartments and laughed mirthlessly. In
spite of the elixir's stimulus, the strain of the previous night, with
its loss of sleep and its heartrending actions, was telling on me. My
mind was a chaotic whirl wherein the faces of Gordon, Kathulos and
Zuleika shifted with numbing swiftness. All the mass of information
Gordon had given to me seemed jumbled and incoherent.
Through this state of being, one fact stood out boldly. I must find
the latest hiding-place of the Egyptian and get Zuleika out of his
hands--if indeed she still lived.
A week, Gordon had said--I laughed again--a week and I would be beyond
aiding anyone. I had found the proper amount of elixir to use--knew
the minimum amount my system required--and knew that I could make the
flask last me four days at most. Four days! Four days in which to comb
the rat-holes of Limehouse and Chinatown--four days in which to ferret
out, somewhere in the mazes of East End, the lair of Kathulos.
I burned with impatience to begin, but nature rebelled, and staggering
to a couch, I fell upon it and was asleep instantly.
Then someone was shaking me.
"Wake up, Mr. Costigan!"