THE LEVANTINE WHO GUARDED A CURTAIN
Garth, in spite of Nora's fears, went confidently enough to the
hospital. If he could learn all Brown knew the case should be easy
sailing.
In Brown's room the blinds were down. The greenish light scarcely found
the upturned face. It sought rather the bandage, ghastly and white,
wound thickly about the head. From time to time Brown's lips moved with
a pitiful futility. Garth, while the nurse cautioned him to silence,
bent closer, so that at last he could define the pallid face and the
closed eyelids that trembled. Suddenly the eyes opened. From them into
Garth's brain sprang an impression of immeasurable terror as if they
still secreted the outline of some monstrous vision.
Garth started back as the injured man, apparently spurred by that
recollection, struggled to rise, sat bolt upright, his head swaying
drunkenly, while from his wide throat vibrated an accusing and
despairing cry:
"The veiled woman! Oh, my God! The veiled woman!"
Garth's nerves tightened. Again that incredible feature of the case
startled him. Here was proof he needed. The figure that had frightened
Alsop and Marvin was probably involved in the attack on Brown. The
inspector was right. She was the brains of the affair. Brown must tell
him all he knew. He urged the man desperately.
"Take hold of yourself! You've seen this woman! You've got to talk to
me!"
But Brown screamed incoherently with a diminishing power. The nurse had
run into the hall. Through the open doorway her voice tore anxiously,
summoning a house physician.
Garth's feeling of a desperate helplessness increased. Before him was
the knowledge that would safeguard Alsop and his friends, that would
insure Garth's own life, that would destroy, perhaps, a dangerous
foreign influence, and the man couldn't speak.
At last the nurse's calls seemed to seep through the bandage into that
tortured brain, suggesting the necessity for caution. In a whisper
coherent words came again from the trembling lips.
"For God's sake, don't look behind the white veil! No! No! I have.
That's madness!"
The doctor slipped in and hurried to the bedside. In response to his
touch Brown lay down.
"Don't dope him," Garth begged. "That man knows things on which many
lives depend. He must tell them to me before night. When will he be able
to talk straight?"
The doctor smiled tolerantly.
"You don't seem to understand. A frightful fracture at the base of the
brain. He seems inclined to be quiet enough now."
The doctor turned away. Garth followed him to the door, urging him to
use his skill to make Brown talk. The nurse had remained by the bed.
Garth heard her sharp cry through his own pleading. The sound puzzled
him because it was a trifle strangled. The doctor, however, turned like
a flash and hurried back to the bed. Garth looked. The nurse bent over
the bandaged head. The doctor fumbled quickly beneath the bed clothes.
He arose, glanced at Garth, and spread his hands. Garth picked at his
hat, unwilling to believe.
"You mean," he whispered, "that he's--gone?"
The doctor nodded. The nurse sobbed once. Garth had not noticed how
young her face was.
* * * * * *
The block where the murdered man had been found was flanked by long rows
of similar houses. Its cobblestones, unfriendly to traffic, made it an
ideal place for the brutal deception which had been attempted.
Opposite the spot where Brown had been picked up Garth paused and looked
curiously across the street. The dreary house line was broken there by a
number of basement and first-story shops. His eyes, alert for the
unusual, had found it. A basement window displayed intricately patterned
rugs, lamps of the Orient, unfamiliar and barbaric jewelry. The fact
that he had not noticed the window sooner testified to a significant
discretion in its arrangement. It was, he fancied, designed less to
attract curiosity than to satisfy it once it was aroused. Probably it
was that idea that suggested a fantastic connection between what he had
heard at the flat and the hospital and what he saw now. Half derisively
he recalled that Oriental women went veiled--customarily secreted their
faces behind white veils.
He had intended entering all these shops and houses in search of a
witness of the attack on Brown. He determined now to proceed rather more
warily. Suppose Brown spying, or about to spy, had been assaulted in one
of these basements--for instance, in the Oriental shop which had
straightway aroused his interest?
He crossed the street and darted quickly down the steps from one side,
so that he was sure he had taken by surprise whoever was in the place.
What he saw was sufficient proof of his success, and his special
detective sense was immediately impressed by much that was ominous in
the shadowed room. The echoes of such an attack as Brown had suffered
could have been easily smothered here.
Rugs were draped against the walls or flung at haphazard on the floor.
Carved tables supported lacquer work. From a glass case jewelry gleamed
with a dull beauty. But it was on the rear of the shop that Garth's eyes
rested, while a cold fear grasped him.
A long, low divan sprawled there against a tapestry hanging of a
colorful and grotesque design. On this divan, seated cross-legged, was
the figure of a man, at first quite motionless, like an image in a
somber and guarded temple. He wore a fez, set formally on his head. One
hand clasped the sinuous stem of a water pipe.
The round, flaccid, repulsive face defied classification. Garth could
not be sure whether it was Egyptian, Turkish, Arabian, or Semitic. He
only knew that it was evil and accustomed to perfect control, for he
suspected that his rapid entrance had made the concealment of the fez
and the alteration of that ritual attitude impossible. In a
matter-of-fact tone Garth spoke of examining the rugs and antiques.
The figure did not stir. The sallow face remained as if carved. The only
motion in the room was a lazy curling from the water pipe of white smoke
which faded in the darkened, perfumed air. Then the curtain moved
stealthily at one end, disclosing a dark face of a Levantine cast. This
man came through, carefully replacing the curtain behind him, stroked
his bony hands, and demanded Garth's desires. The immobility of the
cross-legged creature ceased. The stem of the water pipe as he raised it
to his mouth writhed in sinuous curves. He commenced to puff. The water
bubbled unevenly.
Garth examined the rugs with growing excitement. He was prepared to
believe that he had stumbled on a meeting place. And after all wasn't
this an ideal rendezvous? The shop had probably been here for years. The
town was full of such stores. At any rate his impression of a calculated
evil increased. He felt himself the object of suspicion. It was
conceivable to him that he might suffer a fate similar to
Brown's--perhaps behind that hideous curtain which the Levantine and the
cross-legged figure seemed to guard.
Garth started. The unequal bubbling of the pipe had accompanied all his
thoughts. Constantly it would pause, then recommence. The idea which had
been struggling unconsciously in the detective's brain took shape. That
uneven bubbling possessed a significance beyond the pleasures of
nicotine. It suggested a means of communication, a code.
While he bargained with the Levantine his confidence in this eccentric
explanation increased. It condemned the occupants of the shop. Whether
or not the men were connected with the plot Brown had feared against
Alsop, they were decidedly objects of interest to the police. Still, if
Brown had spied here, the danger was obvious. The Levantine and the man
in the fez were sinister opponents. Yet Garth wanted to see behind that
grotesque curtain.
For a time, listening to the bubbling, he wondered if they would let him
leave the shop at all. He was in no hurry to go until he had made sure
of one or two things. While fingering a rug he managed stealthily to
examine the wall. It was about what he had hoped, what he had expected.
The house was very old. It was one of a row built simultaneously before
the fire laws had amounted to much. He was sure that the dividing walls
between these basements were not fireproof. As nearly as he could tell
from the surface he examined, they would probably be lath-and-plaster,
with, perhaps, rubble in the space between. His next step was to measure
as accurately as he could with his eye the distance between the entrance
and the curtain, which was like a ceremonial background for the man in
the fez. Stooping to inspect one of the rugs, he struck the flooring
with his fist, as if by accident. He was satisfied. There was no cellar
beneath this basement. He dared hope that he would see what lay behind
the curtain.
Approximating as nearly as he could the subtleties of a buyer, he
promised to make up his mind and return with his decision the next
morning. He knew that sharp and angry eyes followed him from the shop.
He had a feeling that the darkened place had become active as soon as he
had turned his back.
He walked slowly to the corner, studying the houses on either side of
the shop. The one to the right was a cheap boarding house. The one on
the other side was evidently a private dwelling.
At the nearest hardware store he bought an auger and a screwdriver. Then
he entered the alley that bisected the block, and, counting the houses,
knocked at the kitchen door of the one to the right of the Oriental
shop. The servant who admitted him verified his hazard. At this hour the
occupants were at work. She was, for the present, alone in the house.
Garth showed her his badge, warned her to make no noise, and to stay
close to him. The girl, frightened and unable to comprehend, followed
him into the basement. He paced from the front of the house along the
wall to a point which, according to his calculations, was opposite the
hidden portion of the shop. He glanced up then with satisfaction.
Against a thin and antiquated partition was suspended one of those heavy
and unwieldy gas meters which are found only in very old buildings.
Garth drew up a table, climbed upon it, and examined the thick screws
which held the contrivance in place. With his screwdriver he commenced
noiselessly to remove one of these. He thought it likely that the screw
hole would go all the way through. If it did not, his auger would
complete the journey. He instructed the girl to draw the blinds and
close the door so that the room would be darker. He pulled the screw
from the rotten wall. The aperture was sufficiently large. It admitted
the repellent odor he had noticed in the shop; so he put his eye to the
hole and waited for his brain to accustom itself to these new
conditions.
The drone of voices reached him, but at first he could see very
little--shadowy outlines circling a dull, glowing thing close to the
floor--a brazier, he decided, about which men sat. Then he started, for
he thought he saw something long and white, like a woman. But the smoke
from the aperture hurt his eye. He had to close it. When he opened it
again there was nothing white, but out of the droning voices came words
in English with a foreign accent, and he crouched against the wall,
listening.
He marveled that he should hear just these words at this particular
moment.
"The police are suspicious," he heard, "so it's been put ahead. At nine
o'clock to-night. Two raps on the west door at Alsop's. The veiled woman
will open the door and take the bomb, and then, by God, we'll show
them!"
A sibilant demand for caution reached Garth. The droning recommenced.
Garth fancied that it continued in the guttural accents of some eastern
dialect.
He replaced the screw. He got down from the table, able to plan
definitely. Against her protests, he took the girl to headquarters and
warned the matron to let her communicate with no one before nine-thirty.
He hurried to the flat then, and told the inspector and Nora of Brown's
death and of his experience at the shop.
"That's where Brown was struck," he ended, "and Brown was right. They
are after Alsop and his crowd to-night with dynamite, and the veiled
woman's the figure of chief danger. Do you know, chief, I'm going to let
them hand her that bomb, then I'll try to handle her."
The inspector shook his head.
"It's taking too big chances to let them get as far as the house with
the thing."
"It's the veiled woman I'm thinking of," Garth answered. "Grab these
people before her share commences, and you'll probably never see her.
She'll bob up here and there, causing infinite trouble, because
everything she does has the marks of a fiendish cleverness. Let me take
the risk and land her."
"It's utter madness your way," Nora said quietly. "How could you control
her with a thing like that in her hands?"
"I think I can take care of her and the bomb, too," Garth said quietly.
The inspector thought for a long time. It was clear the idea tempted
him. If Garth could ambush the mysterious creature at the proper moment,
her capture would be certain. His own share in the night's work was
simple. He had arranged to surround the Alsop place quietly with his
best detectives. They would keep themselves hidden. They would permit
the conspirators to enter the grounds. Garth, at the house, would use
his own judgment. When he blew his whistle this small army would close
in and make the arrests. Meantime the Oriental shop would be raided. The
dictaphone, which undoubtedly carried the signaling of the pipe, would
probably lead the police to another rendezvous.
"It looks like a big haul," the inspector said. "We can't let Alsop's
ghost slip us."
With a grumbled oath the inspector tossed his blankets aside and
lumbered to his feet. He stood for a moment swaying against the chair.
His pudgy fingers tore at the bandage about his throat. Nora ran to him
and grasped his arm.
"What are you doing, father?"
"Haven't you any eyes?" he roared. "Getting well. I'm tired being sick.
I want to get on this job. Working, I can cough my head off as
comfortably as I can sitting here."
Nora spread her hands.
"You are both mad," she said. "You both want to take too great
risks--impossible risks."
Garth was warmed by her concern for him. For the first time since their
quarrel in the house with the hidden door the barrier of reserve which
had risen between them lost a little its solidity.
The inspector had gone into his bedroom. From the sounds there Garth
gathered that the huge man fought his way into his clothing. Nora stared
helplessly from the door to Garth and back again. Then he saw resolution
tighten the lines of her face. Her eyes flashed. She laughed. Without
shaking hands she turned and walked to the door of the inspector's room.
"Good-by, Jim," she called. "I suppose I'll have to look after this
reckless one first."
* * * * * *
Garth went. Nora's words and manner had made him a trifle uneasy. Little
time, however, remained for speculation. It was seven o'clock when he
had completed his arrangements. He took the subway to Harlem and
continued in a taxicab.
Alsop's great wealth permitted him a rural loneliness even in this
expensive neighborhood. Garth dismissed the cab at the edge of a wide
property along the river, made sure he had not been followed, then
climbed the fence, and entered a thick piece of woods.
Certainly nature favored the police as thoroughly as it did the
conspirators. There was no moon, and sullen clouds hid the stars.
Suddenly in the dense obscurity of the woods he experienced that
sensation Marvin had described of no longer being alone. He paused and
waited, scarcely breathing, aware of the dangers, perhaps fatal, that
might lurk for him here. And, as he stood, not knowing what to expect,
he wondered if the veiled woman was abroad in the woods. He became
filled with a passionate desire to learn her identity. The somber,
perfumed atmosphere of the shop came back to him. There were odd things
in the Orient--happenings, apparently occult, for which no explanation
had ever been offered. Marvin was young and imaginative, but Alsop was
not the type to be frightened by fancies, yet both of these men believed
that the woman could pass through locked doors, that she could appear
and disappear as she wished. And Brown had said that to look behind the
veil was madness. Was she abroad in these woods? He had waited for some
time. There was nothing. He stepped forward.
Immediately he knew there was someone. He sprang aside, whipping out his
revolver, crouching against an expected attack; for a figure blacker
than the night had glided in his path from behind a tree trunk, and the
hands carried something round, black--
"Put that thing down," Garth whispered, "then up with your hands!"
Her laugh barely reached him.
"I thought it was you, Jim."
He dropped his revolver in his pocket and strode forward, angry and
anxious.
"What are you doing here, Nora?"
He laughed uncomfortably.
"For a minute I looked for the veiled woman."
"I've come," she said confidently, "for her, and to see that you don't
throw your life away, because you won't admit the possibility of
incomprehensible forces."
"You must go back," he said. "What's in that bundle you're carrying?"
She held the bundle up, and Garth touched it. It was a soft substance
wrapped in a black shawl.
"What is it?" he repeated.
"A white gown," she answered simply, "and a white veil, so that I may
take the bomb after I have trapped this queer creature; so that I may
talk to these men and learn how wide the organization is."
She argued logically enough that there was less risk this way than the
other. Once she had the bomb in her hands the great danger would be
over. Try as he might, Garth could not move her. She walked on towards
the house.
They paused at the edge of the woods. The dark, vague mass of the
building frowned at them. The windows, Garth gathered, were heavily
curtained, for no gleam of light escaped.
"I am going in with you, Jim, to see it through," Nora whispered. "Don't
be disapproving. I only want to help."
Impulsively he grasped her hand. For a moment he forgot the restraint
she had forced upon him.
"Nora," he said hoarsely, "since I lost my temper with Black, you've not
been kind. You know I want you with all my heart--"
Through the darkness her voice was filled with wistful regret and
sympathy. It reminded him again that her tragic love affair, preceding
their capture of Slim and George, still touched her with fingers of
sorrow; had not yet given her time to adjust herself to this new ardor.
"Hush! You were not to speak of that."
But he would not let her hand go.
"And you--will you ever speak?" he asked.
"I don't know," she answered dully.
She snatched her hand away. Her voice rose.
"Don't you see? It's because I don't know that I can't let you take such
chances with death. That's why I'm here, Jim."