THE PLOT
The sequel to the events of this evening may be told very briefly and
of it the reader can form his own judgment. I narrate it as it
happened.
That night I did not sleep at all well. It may have been because of the
excitement of the great shoot in which I found myself in competition
with another man whom I disliked and who had defrauded me in the past,
to say nothing of its physical strain in cold and heavy weather. Or it
may have been that my imagination was stirred by the arrival of that
strange pair, Harût and Marût, apparently in search of myself, seven
thousand miles away from any place where they can have known aught of
an insignificant individual with a purely local repute. Or it may have
been that the pictures which they showed me when under the influence of
the fumes of their “tobacco”—or of their hypnotism—took an undue
possession of my brain.
Or lastly, the strange coincidence that the beautiful betrothed of my
host should have related to me a tale of her childhood of which she
declared she had never spoken before, and that within an hour the two
principal actors in that tale should have appeared before my eyes and
hers (for I may state that from the beginning I had no doubt that they
were the same men), moved me and filled me with quite natural
foreboding. Or all these things together may have tended to a
concomitant effect. At any rate the issue was that I could not sleep.
For hour after hour I lay thinking and in an irritated way listening
for the chimes of the Ragnall stable-clock which once had adorned the
tower of the church and struck the quarters with a damnable
reiteration. I concluded that Messrs. Harût and Marût were a couple of
common Arab rogues such as I had seen performing at the African ports.
Then a quarter struck and I concluded that the elephants’ cemetery
which I beheld in the smoke undoubtedly existed and that I meant to
collar those thousands of pounds’ worth of ivory before I died. Then
after another quarter I concluded that there was no elephants’
cemetery—although by the way my old friend, Dogeetah or Brother John,
had mentioned such a thing to me—but that probably there was a tribe,
as he had also mentioned, called the Kendah, who worshipped a baby, or
rather its effigy.
Well now, as had already occurred to me, the old Egyptians, of whom I
was always fond of reading when I got a chance, also worshipped a
child, Horus the Saviour. And that child had a mother called Isis
symbolised in the crescent moon, the great Nature goddess, the mistress
of mysteries to whose cult ten thousand priests were sworn—do not
Herodotus and others, especially Apuleius, tell us all about her? And
by a queer coincidence Miss Holmes had the mark of a crescent moon upon
her breast. And when she was a child those two men, or others very like
them, had pointed out that mark to each other. And I had seen them
staring hard at it that night. And in her vapour-invoked dream the
“Heavenly Child,” _alias_ Horus, or the double of Horus, the _Ka_, I
think the Egyptians called it, had awakened at the sight of her and
kissed her and given her the necklace of the goddess, and—all the rest.
What did it mean?
I went to sleep at last wondering what on earth it _could_ mean, till
presently that confounded clock woke me up again and I must go through
the whole business once more.
By degrees, this was towards dawn, I became aware that all hope of rest
had vanished from me utterly; that I was most painfully awake, and what
is more, oppressed by a curious fear to the effect that something was
going to happen to Miss Holmes. So vivid did this fear become that at
length I arose, lit a candle and dressed myself. As it happened I knew
where Miss Holmes slept. Her room, which I had seen her enter, was on
the same corridor as mine though at the other end of it near the head
of a stair that ran I knew not whither. In my portmanteau that had been
sent over from Miss Manners’s house, amongst other things was a small
double-barrelled pistol which from long habit I always carried with me
loaded, except for the caps that were in a little leather case with
some spare ammunition attached to the pistol belt. I took it out,
capped it and thrust it into my pocket. Then I slipped from the room
and stood behind a tall clock in the corridor, watching Miss Holmes’s
door and reflecting what a fool I should look if anyone chanced to find
me.
Half an hour or so later by the light of the setting moon which
struggled through a window, I saw the door open and Miss Holmes emerge
in a kind of dressing-gown and still wearing the necklace which Harût
and Marût had given her. Of this I was sure for the light gleamed upon
the red stones.
Also it shone upon her face and showed me without doubt that she was
walking in her sleep.
Gliding as silently as a ghost she crossed the corridor and vanished. I
followed and saw that she had descended an ancient, twisting stairway
which I had noted in the castle wall. I went after her, my stockinged
feet making no noise, feeling my way carefully in the darkness of the
stair, for I did not dare to strike a match. Beneath me I heard a noise
as of someone fumbling with bolts. Then a door creaked on its hinges
and there was some light. When I reached the doorway I caught sight of
the figure of Miss Holmes flitting across a hollow garden that was laid
out in the bottom of the castle moat which had been drained. The
garden, as I had observed when we walked through it on the previous day
on our way to the first covert that we shot, was bordered by a
shrubbery through which ran paths that led to the back drive of the
castle.
Across the garden glided the figure of Miss Holmes and after it went I,
crouching and taking cover behind every bush as though I were stalking
big game, which indeed I was. She entered the shrubbery, moving much
more swiftly now, for as she went she seemed to gather speed, like a
stone which is rolled down a hill. It was as though whatever might be
attracting her, for I felt sure that she was being drawn by something,
acted more strongly upon her sleeping will as she drew nearer to it.
For a while I lost sight of her in the shadow of the tall trees. Then
suddenly I saw her again, standing quite still in an opening caused by
the blowing down in the gale of one of the avenue of elms that bordered
the back drive. But now she was no longer alone, for advancing towards
her were two cloaked figures in whom I recognized Harût and Marût.
There she stood with outstretched arms, and towards her, stealthily as
lions stalking a buck, came Harût and Marût. Moreover, between the
naked boughs of the fallen elm I caught sight of what looked like the
outline of a closed carriage standing upon the drive. Also I heard a
horse stamp upon the frosty ground. Round the edge of the little glade
I ran, keeping in the dark shadow, as I went cocking the pistol that
was in my pocket. Then suddenly I darted out and stood between Harût
and Marût and Miss Holmes.
Not a word passed between us. I think that all three of us
subconsciously were anxious not to awake the sleeping woman, knowing
that if we did so there would be a terrible scene. Only after motioning
to me to stand aside, of course in vain, Harût and Marût drew from
their robes curved and cruel-looking knives and bowed, for even now
their politeness did not forsake them. I bowed back and when I
straightened myself those enterprising Easterns found that I was
covering the heart of Harût with my pistol. Then with that perception
which is part of the mental outfit of the great, they saw that the game
was up since I could have shot them both before a knife touched me.
“You have won this time, O Watcher-by-Night,” whispered Harût softly,
“but another time you will lose. That beautiful lady belongs to us and
the People of the White Kendah, for she is marked with the holy mark of
the young moon. The call of the Child of Heaven is heard in her heart,
and will bring her home to the Child as it has brought her to us
to-night. Now lead her hence still sleeping, O brave and clever one, so
well named Watcher-by-Night.”
Then they were gone and presently I heard the sound of horses being
driven rapidly along the drive.
For a moment I hesitated as to whether I would or would not run in and
shoot those horses. Two considerations stayed me. The first was that if
I did so my pistol would be empty, or even if I shot one horse and
retained a barrel loaded, with it I could only kill a single man,
leaving myself defenceless against the knife of the other. The second
consideration was that now as before I did not wish to wake up Miss
Holmes.
I crept to her and not knowing what else to do, took hold of one of her
outstretched hands. She turned and came with me at once as though she
knew me, remaining all the while fast asleep. Thus we went back to the
house, through the still open door, up the stairway straight to her own
room, on the threshold of which I loosed her hand. The room was dark
and I could see nothing, but I listened until I heard a sound as of a
person throwing herself upon the bed and drawing up the blankets. Then
knowing that she was safe for a while, I shut the door, which opened
outwards as doors of ancient make sometimes do, and set against it a
little table that stood in the passage.
Next, after reflecting for a minute, the circumstances being awkward in
many ways, I went to my room and lit a candle. Obviously it was my duty
to inform Lord Ragnall of what had happened and that as soon as
possible. But I had no idea in what part of that huge building his
sleeping place might be, nor, for patent reasons, was it desirable that
I should disturb the house and so create talk. In this dilemma I
remembered that Lord Ragnall’s confidential servant, Mr. Savage, when
he conducted me to my room on the previous night, which he made a point
of doing perhaps because he wished to talk over the matter of the
snakes that had found their way into his pockets, had shown me a bell
in it which he said rang outside his door. He called it an “emergency
bell.” I remarked idly that it was improbable that I should have any
occasion for its use.
“Who knows, sir?” said Mr. Savage prophetically. “There are folk who
say that this old castle is haunted, which after what I have seen
to-night I can well believe. If you should chance to meet a ghost
looking, let us say, like those black villains, Harum and Scarum, or
whatever they call themselves—well, sir, two’s better company than
one.”
I considered that bell but was loath to ring it for the reasons I have
given. Then I went outside the room and looked. As I had hoped might be
the case, there ran the wire on the face of the wall connected along
its length by other wires with the various rooms it passed.
I set to work and followed that wire. It was not an easy job; indeed
once or twice it reminded me of that story of the old Greek hero who
found his way through a labyrinth by means of a silken thread. I forget
whether it were a bull or a lady he was looking for, but with care and
perseverance he found one or the other, or it may have been both.
Down staircases and various passages I went with my eye glued upon the
wire, which occasionally got mixed up with other wires, till at length
it led me through a swing door covered with red baize into what
appeared to be a modern annexe to the castle. Here at last it
terminated on the spring of an alarming-looking and deep-throated bell
that hung immediately over a certain door.
On this door I knocked, hoping that it might be that of Mr. Savage and
praying earnestly that it did not enclose the chaste resting-place of
the cook or any other female. Too late, I mean after I had knocked, it
occurred to me that if so my position would be painful to a degree.
However in this particular Fortune stood my friend, which does not
always happen to the virtuous. For presently I heard a voice which I
recognized as that of Mr. Savage, asking, not without a certain quaver
in its tone,
“Who the devil is that?”
“Me,” I replied, being flustered.
“‘Me’ won’t do,” said the voice. “‘Me’ might be Harum or it might be
Scarum, or it might be someone worse. Who’s ‘Me’?”
“Allan Quatermain, you idiot,” I whispered through the keyhole.
“Anna who? Well, never mind. Go away, Hanna. I’ll talk to you in the
morning.”
Then I kicked the door, and at length, very cautiously, Mr. Savage
opened it.
“Good heavens, sir,” he said, “what are you doing here, sir? Dressed
too, at this hour, and with the handle of a pistol sticking out of your
pocket—or is it—the head of a snake?” and he jumped back, a strange and
stately figure in a long white nightshirt which apparently he wore over
his underclothing.
I entered the room and shut the door, whereon he politely handed me a
chair, remarking,
“Is it ghosts, sir, or are you ill, or is it Harum and Scarum, of whom
I have been thinking all night? Very cold too, sir, being afraid to
pull up the bedclothes for fear lest there might be more reptiles in
them.” He pointed to his dress-coat hanging on the back of another
chair with both the pockets turned inside out, adding tragically, “To
think, sir, that this new coat has been a nest of snakes, which I have
hated like poison from a child, and me almost a teetotaller!”
“Yes,” I said impatiently, “it’s Harum and Scarum as you call them.
Take me to Lord Ragnall’s bedroom at once.”
“Ah! sir, burgling, I suppose, or mayhap worse,” he exclaimed as he
threw on some miscellaneous garments and seized a life-preserver which
hung upon a hook. “Now I’m ready, only I hope they have left their
snakes behind. I never could bear the sight of a snake, and they seem
to know it—the brutes.”
In due course we reached Lord Ragnall’s room, which Mr. Savage entered,
and in answer to a stifled inquiry exclaimed,
“Mr. Allan Quatermain to see you, my lord.”
“What is it, Quatermain?” he asked, sitting up in bed and yawning.
“Have you had a nightmare?”
“Yes,” I answered, and Savage having left us and shut the door, I told
him everything as it is written down.
“Great heavens!” he exclaimed when I had finished. “If it had not been
for you and your intuition and courage——”
“Never mind me,” I interrupted. “The question is—what should be done
now? Are you going to try to arrest these men, or will you—hold your
tongue and merely cause them to be watched?”
“Really I don’t know. Even if we can catch them the whole story would
sound so strange in a law-court, and all sorts of things might be
suggested.”
“Yes, Lord Ragnall, it would sound so strange that I beg you will come
at once to see the evidences of what I tell you, before rain or snow
obliterates them, bringing another witness with you. Lady Longden,
perhaps.”
“Lady Longden! Why one might as well write to _The Times_. I have it!
There’s Savage. He is faithful and can be silent.”
So Savage was called in and, while Lord Ragnall dressed himself
hurriedly, told the outline of his story under pain of instant
dismissal if he breathed a word. Really to watch his face was as good
as a play. So astonished was he that all he could ejaculate was—
“The black-hearted villains! Well, they ain’t friendly with snakes for
nothing.”
Then having made sure that Miss Holmes was still in her room, we went
down the twisting stair and through the side doorway, locking the door
after us. By now the dawn was breaking and there was enough light to
enable me in certain places where the snow that fell after the gale
remained, to show Lord Ragnall and Savage the impress of the little
bedroom slippers which Miss Holmes wore, and of my stockinged feet
following after.
In the plantation things were still easier, for every detail of the
movements of the four of us could be traced. Moreover, on the back
drive was the spoor of the horses and the marks of the wheels of the
carriage that had been brought for the purposes of the abduction. Also
my great good fortune, for this seemed to prove my theory, we found a
parcel wrapped in native linen that appeared to have fallen out of the
carriage when Harût and Marût made their hurried escape, as one of the
wheels had gone over it. It contained an Eastern woman’s dress and
veil, intended, I suppose, to be used in disguising Miss Holmes, who
thence-forward would have appeared to be the wife or daughter of one of
the abductors.
Savage discovered this parcel, which he lifted only to drop it with a
yell, for underneath it lay a torpid snake, doubtless one of those that
had been used in the performance.
Of these discoveries and many other details, on our return to the
house, Lord Ragnall made full notes in a pocket-book, that when
completed were signed by all three of us.
There is not much more to tell, that is of this part of the story. The
matter was put into the hands of detectives who discovered that the
Easterns had driven to London, where all traces of the carriage which
conveyed them was lost. They, however, embarked upon a steamer called
the _Antelope_, together with two native women, who probably had been
provided to look after Miss Holmes, and sailed that very afternoon for
Egypt. Thither, of course, it was useless to follow them in those days,
even if it had been advisable to do so.
To return to Miss Holmes. She came down to breakfast looking very
charming but rather pale. Again I sat next to her and took some
opportunity to ask her how she had rested that night.
She replied, Very well and yet very ill, since, although she never
remembered sleeping more soundly in her life, she had experienced all
sorts of queer dreams of which she could remember nothing at all, a
circumstance that annoyed her much, as she was sure that they were most
interesting. Then she added,
“Do you know, Mr. Quatermain, I found a lot of mud on my dressing-gown
this morning, and my bedroom slippers were also a mass of mud and wet
through. How do you account for that? It is just as though I had been
walking about outside in my sleep, which is absurd, as I never did such
a thing in my life.”
Not feeling equal to the invention of any convincing explanation of
these phenomena, I upset the marmalade pot on to the table in such a
way that some of it fell upon her dress, and then covered my retreat
with profuse apologies. Understanding my dilemma, for he had heard
something of this talk, Lord Ragnall came to my aid with a startling
statement of which I forget the purport, and thus that crisis passed.
Shortly after breakfast Scroope announced to Miss Manners that her
carriage was waiting, and we departed. Before I went, as it chanced, I
had a few private words with my host, with Miss Holmes, and with the
magnificent Mr. Savage. To the last, by the way, I offered a tip which
he refused, saying that after all we had gone through together he could
not allow “money to come between us,” by which he meant, to pass from
my pocket to his. Lord Ragnall asked me for both my English and my
African addresses, which he noted in his pocket-book. Then he said,
“Really, Quatermain, I feel as though I had known you for years instead
of three days; if you will allow me I will add that I should like to
know a great deal more of you.” (He was destined to do so, poor fellow,
though neither of us knew it at the time.) “If ever you come to England
again I hope you will make this house your headquarters.”
“And if ever you come to South Africa, Lord Ragnall, I hope you will
make my four-roomed shanty on the Berea at Durban your headquarters.
You will get a hearty welcome there and something to eat, but little
more.”
“There is nothing I should like better, Quatermain. Circumstances have
put me in a certain position in this country, still to tell you the
truth there is a great deal about the life of which I grow very tired.
But you see I am going to be married, and that I fear means an end of
travelling, since naturally my wife will wish to take her place in
society and the rest.”
“Of course,” I replied, “for it is not every young lady who has the
luck to become an English peeress with all the etceteras, is it? Still
I am not so sure but that Miss Holmes will take to travelling some day,
although I _am_ sure that she would do better to stay at home.”
He looked at me curiously, then asked,
“You don’t think there is anything really serious in all this business,
do you?”
“I don’t know what to think,” I answered, “except that you will do well
to keep a good eye upon your wife. What those Easterns tried to do last
night and, I think, years ago, they may try again soon, or years hence,
for evidently they are patient and determined men with much to win.
Also it is a curious coincidence that she should have that mark upon
her which appeals so strongly to Messrs. Harût and Marût, and, to be
brief, she is in some ways different from most young women. As she said
to me herself last night, Lord Ragnall, we are surrounded by mysteries;
mysteries of blood, of inherited spirit, of this world generally in
which it is probable that we all descended from quite a few common
ancestors. And beyond these are other mysteries of the measureless
universe to which we belong, that may already be exercising their
strong and secret influences upon us, as perhaps, did we know it, they
have done for millions of years in the Infinite whence we came and
whither we go.”
I suppose I spoke somewhat solemnly, for he said,
“Do you know you frighten me a little, though I don’t quite understand
what you mean.” Then we parted.
With Miss Holmes my conversation was shorter. She remarked,
“It has been a great pleasure to me to meet you. I do not remember
anybody with whom I have found myself in so much sympathy—except one of
course. It is strange to think that when we meet again I shall be a
married woman.”
“I do not suppose we shall ever meet again, Miss Holmes. Your life is
here, mine is in the wildest places of a wild land far away.”
“Oh! yes, we shall,” she answered. “I learned this and lots of other
things when I held my head in that smoke last night.”
Then we also parted.
Lastly Mr. Savage arrived with my coat. “Goodbye, Mr. Quatermain,” he
said. “If I forget everything else I shall never forget you and those
villains, Harum and Scarum and their snakes. I hope it won’t be my lot
ever to clap eyes on them again, Mr. Quatermain, and yet somehow I
don’t feel so sure of that.”
“Nor do I,” I replied, with a kind of inspiration, after which followed
the episode of the rejected tip.