CHAPTER VIII

A MASTER OF FENCE

Lady Mallowbloom's reception rooms were more than usually crowded. And

every other man or woman in the glittering salon was a celebrity. There

was a strong sprinkling of the aristocracy to leaven the lump; here and

there the flash of red cloth and gold could be seen.

In his quiet, masterly style Tchigorsky pushed his way up the stairs.

Ralph Ravenspur followed, his hand upon the Russian's arm. He could feel

the swish of satin draperies go by him; he caught the perfume on the

warm air.

"Why do you drag me here?" he grumbled. "I can see nothing; it only

bewilders me. I should have been far happier in your study."

"You mope too much," Tchigorsky said gaily. "To mingle with one's

fellows is good at times. I know so many people who are here to-night."

"And I know nobody; add to which circumstances compel me to be dumb.

Place me in some secluded spot with my back to the wall, and then enjoy

yourself for an hour. I dare say I shall manage to kill the time."

There were many celebrities in the brilliantly-lighted room, and

Tchigorsky indicated a few. A popular lady novelist passed on the arm of

a poet on her way to the buffet.

"A wonderful woman," the fair authoress was saying. "Eastern and full of

mystery, you know. Did you notice the eyes of the Princess?"

"Who could fail to?" was the reply. "They say that she is quite five and

forty, and yet she would easily pass for eighteen, but for her

knowledge of the world. Your Eastern Princess is one of the most

fascinating women I have even seen."

Others passed, and had the same theme. Ralph stirred to a faint

curiosity.

"Who is the new marvel?" he asked.

"I don't know," Tchigorsky admitted. "The last new lion, I suppose. Some

pretty Begum or the wife of some Oriental whose dark eyes appear to have

fired society. By the crowd of people coming this way I presume the

dusky beauty is among them. If so, she has an excellent knowledge of

English."

A clear, sweet voice arose. At the first sound of it, Ralph jumped to

his feet and clutched at his throat as if something choked him. He shook

with a great agitation; a nameless fear had him in a close grip.

"Do you recognize the voice?" Ralph gasped.

The Russian was not unmoved. But his agitation was quickly suppressed.

He forced Ralph down in his seat again.

"You will have to behave better than that if you are to be a trusty ally

of mine," he said. "Come, that is better! Sit still; she is coming this

way."

"I'm all right now," Ralph replied. "The shock of finding myself in the

presence of Princess Zara was overpowering. Have no fear for me."

A tall woman, magnificently dressed, was making her way towards

Tchigorsky. Her face was the hue of old ivory, and as fine; her great

lustrous eyes gleamed brightly; a mass of hair was piled high on a

daintily poised head. The woman might have been extremely young so far

as the touch of time was concerned, but the easy self-possession told

another tale.

The red lips tightened for an instant, a strange gleam came into the

dark magnetic eyes as they fell upon Tchigorsky. Then the Indian

Princess advanced with a smile, and held out her hand to the Russian.

"So you are still here!" she said.

There was the suggestion of a challenge in her tones. Her eyes met

those of Tchigorsky as the eyes of two swordsmen might meet. There was a

tigerish playfulness underlying the words, a call-note of significant

warning.

"I still take the liberty of existing," said Tchigorsky.

"You are a brave man, doctor. Your friend here?"

"Is my cousin Nicholas Tchigorsky? The poor fellow is blind and dumb, as

the result of a terrible accident. Best not to notice him."

The Princess shrugged her beautiful shoulders as she dropped gracefully

into a seat.

"I heard you were in London," she said, "and something told me that we

should meet sooner or later. You are still interested in occult

matters?"

Again Ralph detected the note of warning in the speech. He could see

nothing of the expression on that perfect face; but he could judge it

fairly well.

"I am more interested in occult matters than ever," Tchigorsky said

gravely, "especially in certain discoveries placed in my hands by a

traveler in Tibet."

[Illustration: "I am more interested in occult matters than ever,"

Tchigorsky said gravely, "especially in certain discoveries placed in my

hands by a traveler in Thibet."--Page 43.]

"Ah, that was your fellow-countryman. He died, you know!"

"He was murdered in the vilest manner. But before the end, he managed to

convey important information to me."

"Useless information unless you had the key."

"There was one traveler who found the key, you remember?"

"True, doctor. He also, I fancy, met with an accident that,

unfortunately, resulted in his death."

Ralph shuddered slightly. Princess Zara's tones were hard as steel. If

she had spoken openly and callously of this man being murdered, she

could not have expressed the same thing more plainly. A beautiful woman,

a fascinating one; but a woman with no heart and no feeling where her

hatreds were concerned.

"It is just possible I have the key," said Tchigorsky.

The eyes of the Princess blazed for a moment. Then she smiled.

"Dare you use it?" she asked. "If you dare, then all the secrets of

heaven and hell are yours. For four thousand years the priests of the

temple at Lassa and the heads of my family have solved the future. You

know what we can do. We are all powerful for evil. We can strike down

our foes by means unknown to your boasted Western science. They are all

the same to us, proud potentate, ex-meddling doctor."

There was a menace in the last words. Tchigorsky smiled:

"The meddling doctor has already had personal experience," he said. "I

carry the marks of my suffering to the grave. I remember how your

peasants treated me and this does not tend to relax my efforts."

"And yet you might die at any moment. If you persist in your studies you

will have to die. The eyes of Western men must not look upon the secrets

of the priests of Lassa and live. Be warned, Dr. Tchigorsky, be warned

in time. You are brave and clever, and as such command respect. If you

know everything and proclaim it to the world----"

"Civilization will come as one man, and no stone in Lassa shall stand on

another. Your priests will be butchered like wild beasts; an infernal

plague spot will be wiped off the face of the outraged earth!"

The Princess caught her breath swiftly. Just for one moment there was

murder in her eyes. She held her fan as if it were a dagger ready for

the Russian's heart.

"Why should you do this thing?" she asked.

"Because your knowledge is diabolical," Tchigorsky replied. "In the

first place, all who are in the secret can commit murder with impunity.

As the Anglo-Saxon pushes on to the four corners of the earth that

knowledge must become public property. I am going to stop that if I

can."

"And if you die in the meantime? You are bold to rashness. And yet

there are many things that you do not know."

"The longer I live, the more glaring my ignorance becomes. I do not know

whence you derive your perfect mastery of the English tongue. But I do

know that I am going to see this business through."

"Man proposes, but the arm of the priests is long."

"Ah, I understand. I may die to-night. I should not mind. Still, let us

argue the matter out. Say that I have already solved the problem. I

write a detailed account of the whole weird business. I write twenty

detailed statements; I enclose the key in each. These statements I

address to a score of the leading savants in Europe.

"Then I place them in, say, a safe deposit until my death. I write to

each of those wise men a letter with an enclosure not to be opened till

I die. That enclosure contains a key to my safe, and presently in that

safe all those savants find a packet addressed to themselves. In a week

all Europe would ring with my wonderful discoveries. Think of the

outcry, the wrath, the indignation!"

The Princess smiled. She could appreciate a stratagem like this. With

dull, stolid and averted face, Ralph Ravenspur listened and wondered. He

heard the laugh that came from the lips of the Princess; he detected the

vexation underlying it. Tchigorsky was a foeman worthy of her steel.

"That you propose to do?" she asked.

"A question you will pardon me for not answering," said Tchigorsky. "You

have made your move and I have made mine. Whether I am going to do the

thing, or whether I have done so, remains to be seen. Whether you dare

risk my death now is a matter for you to decide. Check to your king."

Again the Princess smiled. She looked searchingly into Tchigorsky's

face, as if she would fain read his very soul. But she saw nothing there

but the dull eyes of a man who keeps his feelings behind a mask. Then,

with a flirt of her fan and a more or less mocking curtsey, she turned

to go.

"You are a fine antagonist," she said; "but I do not admit yet that you

are a check to my king. I shall find a way. Good-night!"

She turned and plunged into the glittering crowd, and was seen no more.

A strange fit of trembling came over Ravenspur as Tchigorsky led him

out.

"That woman stifles me," he said. "If she had only guessed who had been

seated so near to her! Tchigorsky, you played your cards well."

Tchigorsky smiled.

"I was glad of that opportunity," he said. "She meant to have me

murdered; but she will hesitate for a time. We have one great

advantage--we know what we have to face and she does not. The men are on

the board, the cards are on the table. It is you and I against Princess

Zara and the two priests of the temple of Lassa. And we play for the

lives of a good and innocent family."

"We do," Ralph said grimly. "But why--why does this fascinating Asiatic

come all those miles to destroy one by one a race that she can scarcely

have heard of? Why does she do it, Tchigorsky?"

"You have not guessed who the Princess is, then?"

Tchigorsky bent down and whispered three words in Ralph's ear. And not

until Brant Street was reached had Ralph come back from his amazement to

the land of speech.

The Mystery of the Ravenspurs A Romance and Detective Story of Thibet and England · 第 8 / 57 章