THE WATCHING EYE
Not a clue was left by the kidnappers when they so mysteriously
spirited Elaine away from the apartment of Wu Fang. She had disappeared
as completely as if she had vanished into the thin air.
Kennedy was frantic. Wu and Long Sin themselves seemed to have
vanished, too. Where they held her, what had happened to her was a
sealed book. And yet, no move of ours was made, no matter how secret,
that it did not seem to be known to them. It was as though a weird,
uncanny eye glared at us, watching everything.
Craig neglected no possibility in his eager search. He even visited the
little house in the country which Elaine had given to Aunt Tabby, and
spent several hours examining the collapsed subterranean chamber in the
vain hope that it might yield a clue. But it had not.
It was half filled with debris from above, where the pillar had given
way that night when we had all so nearly lost our lives. Still, there
was enough room in what remained of the cavern so that we could move
about.
Kennedy had even dug away some of the earth and rock, in the hope of
discovering some trace of the strange visitor whom we had surprised at
work. But here, also, he had found nothing.
It was maddening. What might at any moment be happening to Elaine--and
he powerless to help her?
Unescapably, he was forced to the conclusion that not only Elaine's
amazing disappearance, but the tragic succession of events which had
preceded it, had been caused, in some way, by the curiously engraved
ring which Aunt Josephine had taken from Elaine.
Craig had taken possession of the mystic ring himself, and now, forced
back on this sole clue, it had occurred to him that if the ring were so
valuable, other attempts would, without doubt, be made to get
possession of it.
I came into the laboratory, one afternoon, to find Kennedy surrounded
by jeweler's tools, hard at work making an exact copy of the ring.
"What do you think of it, Walter?" he asked, holding up the replica.
"Perfect," I replied, admiringly. "What are you going to do with it?"
"I can't say--yet," answered Kennedy, forlornly, "but if I understand
these Chinese criminals at all, I know that the only way we can ever
track them is through some trick. Perhaps the replica will suggest
something to us later."
He placed the copy in a velvet-lined box closely resembling that in
which the real ring lay, and dropped both into his pocket.
"Let's see if Aunt Josephine has received any word," he remarked
abruptly, putting on his hat and coat, and nodding to me to follow.
Kennedy and I were not the only visitors to the subterranean chamber
where it had seemed that the clue to the Clutching Hand's millions
might be found.
It was as though that hidden, watching eye followed us. The night after
our own unsuccessful search, Wu Fang, accompanied by Long Sin, made his
way into the cavern.
As they flashed their electric bull's-eyes about the place, they could
see readily that we had already been digging there.
Wu examined the safe which had been broken into, while Long Sin
repeated his experiences there.
"And you say there was nothing else in it?" demanded Wu.
"Nothing but the ring which they got from me," replied Long Sin,
ruefully.
"Strange--very strange," ruminated Wu, still regarding the empty strong
box.
Long Sin was now going over the walls of the cavern minutely, his
close-set, beady black eyes examining every square inch of it.
A sudden low guttural exclamation caused Wu to turn to him quickly.
Long Sin had discovered, back of the debris, a small oblong slot, cut
into the rock. Above it were some peculiar marks.
Wu hurried over to his henchman, and together they tried to decipher
what had been scratched on the rock.
As Long Sin's slender and sinister forefinger traced over the
inscription, Wu suddenly caught him by the elbow.
"The ring!" he cried, as at last he interpreted the meaning of the
cryptic characters.
But what about the ring? For a moment Wu looked at the slot in deep
thought. Then he reached down and withdrew a ring from his own finger
and dropped it through the slot.
They listened a moment. They could hear the ring tinkle as though it
were running down some sort of track-like declivity inside the rock.
Then, faintly, they could hear it drop. It had fallen into a little cup
of a compartment below at their feet.
Nothing happened. Wu recovered his ring. But he had hit at last upon
the Clutching Hand's secret!
Bennett had devised a ring-lock which would open, the treasure vault.
No other ring except the one which he had so carefully hidden was of
the size or weight that would move the lever which would set the
machinery working to open the treasure house.
Again Wu tried another of his own rings, and a third time Long Sin
dropped in a ring from his finger. Still there was no result.
"The ring which we lost is the key to the puzzle--the only key,"
exclaimed Wu Fang finally. "We must recover it at all hazard."
To his subtle mind a plan of action seemed to unfold almost instantly.
"There is no good remaining here," he added. "And we have gained
nothing by the capture of the girl, unless we can use her to recover
the ring."
Long Sin followed his master with a sort of intuition. "If we have to
steal it," he suggested deferentially, "it can be accomplished best by
making use of Chong Wah Tong."
The Tong was the criminal band which they had offended, which had in
fact stolen the ring from Long Sin and sold it to Elaine. Yet in a game
such as this enmity could not last when it was mutually
disadvantageous. Wu took the suggestion. He decided instantly to make
peace with his enemies--and use them.
Later that night, in his car, Wu stopped near the little curio shop
kept by the new Tong leader.
Long Sin alighted and entered the shop, while the Tong man eyed him
suspiciously.
"My master has come to make peace," he began, saluting the Tong leader
behind the counter.
Nothing, in reality, could have pleased the Tong men more, for in their
hearts they feared the master-like subtlety of Wu Fang. The conference
was short and Long Sin with a bow left quickly to rejoin Wu, while the
Tong leader disappeared into a back room of the shop where several of
the inner circle sat.
"All is well, master," reported Long Sin when he had made his way back
to the car around the corner in which Wu was waiting.
Wu smiled and a moment later followed by his slave in crime entered the
curio shop and passed through with great dignity into the room in the
rear.
As the two entered, the Tong men bowed with great respect.
"Let us be enemies no more," began Wu briefly. "Let us rather help each
other as brothers."
He extended his right hand, palm down, as he spoke. For a moment the
Tong leader parleyed with the others, then stepped forward and laid his
own hand, palm down, over that of Wu. One by one the others did the
same, including Long Sin, the aggrieved.
Peace was restored.
Wu had risen to go, and the Tong men were bowing a respectful farewell.
He turned and saw a large vase. For a moment he paused before it. It
was an enormous affair and was apparently composed of a mosaic of rare
Chinese enamels, cunningly put together by the deft and patient fingers
of the oriental craftsmen. Extending from the widely curving bowl below
was an extremely long, narrow, tapering neck.
Wu looked at it intently; then an idea seemed to strike him. He called
the Tong leader and the others about him.
Quickly he outlined the details of a plan.
. . . . . . .
"Have you received any word yet?" asked Aunt Josephine anxiously, when
Jennings had ushered us into the Dodge library.
Kennedy shook his head sadly. There was no need to repeat the question
to Aunt Josephine. The tears in her eyes told only too plainly that she
herself had heard nothing, either.
Craig bent over and placed his hand on her shoulder. For the moment,
none of us could control our emotions.
A few minutes later, Jennings entered the room softly again. "The
expressmen are outside, ma'am, with a large package," he said.
"A package?" inquired Aunt Josephine, looking up, surprised. "For
me--are you sure?"
Jennings bowed and repeated his remark. Aunt Josephine followed him out
into the hall.
There, already, the delivery men had set down a huge oriental vase with
a remarkably long and narrow neck. It was, as befitted such a really
beautiful object of art, most carefully crated. But to Aunt Josephine
it came as a complete surprise. "I can't imagine who could have sent
it," she temporized. "Are you quite sure it is for me?"
The expressman, with a book, looked up from the list of names down
which he was running his finger. "This is Mrs. Dodge, isn't it?" he
asked, pointing with his pencil to the entry with the address following
it. There seemed to be no name of a shipper.
"Yes," she replied dubiously, "but I don't understand it. Wait just a
moment."
She went to the library door. "Mr. Kennedy," she said, "may I trouble
you and Mr. Jameson a moment?"
We followed her into the hall and there stood gazing at the mysterious
gift while she related its recent history.
"Why not set it up in the library?" I suggested, seeing that the
expressmen were getting restive at the delay. "If there is any mistake,
they will send for it soon. No one ever gets anything for nothing."
Aunt Josephine turned to the expressmen and nodded. With the aid of
Jennings they carried the vase into the library and there it was
uncrated, while Kennedy continued to question the man with the book,
without eliciting any further information than that he thought it had
been reconsigned from another express company. He knew nothing more
than that it had been placed on his wagon, properly marked and prepaid.
When Kennedy rejoined us, the vase had been completely uncrated, Aunt
Josephine signed for it, and, grumbling a bit, the expressmen left.
There we stood, nonplussed by the curious gift.
Craig walked around the vase, looking at it critically. I had a feeling
of being watched, one of those sensations which psychologists tell us
are utterly baseless and unfounded. I was glad I had not said anything
about it when he tapped the vase with his cane, then stuck it down the
long narrow neck, working it around as well as he could. The neck was
so long and narrow, however, that his stick could not fully explore the
inside of the vase, but it seemed to me to be quite empty.
"Well, there's nothing in it, anyhow," I ventured.
I had spoken too soon. Kennedy withdrew his cane and on the ferrule,
adhering as though by some sticky substance, was a note. Kennedy pulled
it off and unfolded it, while we gathered about him.
"Maybe it's from Elaine," cried Aunt Josephine, grasping at a straw.
We read:
DEAR AUNT JOSEPHINE,
This is a token that I am unharmed. Have Mr. Kennedy give the ring to
the man at the corner of Williams and Brownlee Avenues at midnight
to-night, and they will surrender me to him.--ELAINE.
P. S. Have him come alone or my life will be in danger.
We looked at each other in amazement.
"I thought something like this would happen," remarked Craig at length.
"Oh," cried Aunt Josephine, "it's too good to be true."
"We'll do it," exclaimed Kennedy quickly, "only this is the ring that
we'll give them."
He drew from his pocket the replica of the ring which he had made and
showed it to Aunt Josephine. Then he drew from another pocket the real
ring, replacing the replica.
"Here's the real one," he said in a low tone. "Guard it as you would
guard your life."
She took the ring, almost fearfully. It seemed as if nothing but
misfortune had followed it. Still, she realized that it was necessary
that she should take care of it, if the plan was to work.
"And, oh, Mr. Kennedy," she implored, as we rose to go, "please get
back my little girl for me."
Craig clasped her hand. "I'll try my best," he replied fervently,
patting her shoulder to cheer her up, as she sank into a chair.
Aunt Josephine was worn out with the sleepless nights of worry since
Elaine's disappearance. After we had gone, she tried to eat dinner, but
found that she had no appetite.
All the evening she sat in the library, with a book at which she
stared, though she scarcely read a page. However, as the hours
lengthened, she found herself nodding through sheer exhaustion.
It was getting late and her thoughts were still on Elaine, At the desk
in the library, she was examining the curious ring, which she had taken
from her jewel case, thinking of the terrible train of events that had
followed it.
Although she had intended to sit up until she received some word from
Kennedy that night, the long strain had told on her and in spite of her
worry about Elaine, she decided, at length, to retire. She replaced the
ring in the case, locked the case, and turned out the lights.
"Good night, Jennings," she said, as she passed the faithful old butler
in the hall.
"Good night, ma'am," he replied, pausing on his rounds to see that the
doors and windows were locked.
Aunt Josephine, clasping the jewel case tightly, mounted the stairs and
entered her room. She locked the door carefully and put the jewelry
case under her pillow. Then she switched off the light.
The moment Jennings's footsteps ceased down-stairs in the library, a
small piece of the vase seemed to break away from the rest of the
mosaic, as though it were knocked out from the inside. Then a large
piece fell out, and another.
At last from the strange hiding-place a lithe figure, as shiny as
though bathed in oil, naked except for a loin-cloth, seemed to squirm
forth like a serpent. It was Wu Fang--the watchful eye which, literally
as well as figuratively, had been leveled at us in one form or another
ever since the kidnapping of Elaine.
Silently he tiptoed to the doorway and listened. There was not a sound.
Just as noiselessly then he went back to the library table and muffling
the telephone bell, took down the receiver. He whispered a number,
waited, then whispered some directions.
A moment later he wormed his way out of the library and into the
drawing-room. On he went cautiously, snake-like, up the stairs until he
came to the door of Aunt Josephine's room.
He bent down and listened. There was no sound except Aunt Josephine's
breathing. Silently he drew from a fold in the loin-cloth a screwdriver
and removed the screws from the hinges of the door. Quietly he pushed
the bedroom door open, pivoting it on the lock, just far enough open so
that he could slip through.
Creeping along the floor, like a reptile whose sign he had assumed, he
came nearer and nearer Aunt Josephine's bed. As he paused for a moment
his quick eye seemed to catch sight of the bulging lump under her
pillow. His long thin hand reached out for it.
Aunt Josephine moved restlessly in her sleep. Instantly he seized a
murderous-looking Chinese dirk fastened to his side and raised it above
her head ready to strike on the slightest outcry. She moved slightly,
and relapsed into sound sleep again.
Holding the knife above her, Wu slowly and quietly removed the
jewel-case from under her pillow.
. . . . . . .
In a country road-house Long Sin was waiting patiently. The telephone
rang and the proprietor answered. Long Sin was at his side almost
before he could hand over the receiver. It was Long Sin's master, Wu.
"Beware," came the whispered message over the wire. "Kennedy has made a
false ring. I'll get the real one. By the great Devil of Gobi, you must
cut him off."
"It is done," returned Long Sin, hanging up the receiver in great
excitement.
He hurried out of the room and left the road-house. Down the road in an
automobile, bound between two Chinamen, one at her head and the other
at her feet, was Elaine, wrapped around in blankets, not even her face
visible. The guards looked up startled as Long Sin streaked out of the
shadow to the car.
"Quick!" he ordered. "The master will get the ring himself. I will take
care of Kennedy."
An instant and they were gone, while Long Sin slunk back into the
shadows from which he had come.
Through the underbrush the wily Chinaman made his way to an old barn,
which stood back some distance from the road, and entered the front
door. There was another door in the rear, and one quite large window.
In the dim light of a lantern hanging from a rafter could be seen
several large barrels in a corner. Without a moment's hesitation, Long
Sin seized a bucket and placed it under the spiggot of one of the
barrels. The liquid poured forth into the bucket and he emptied the
contents on the floor, filling the bucket again and again and swinging
it right and left in every direction until the barrel had finally run
dry.
Then he moved over to the window, which he examined carefully.
Satisfied with what he had done, he drew a slip of paper from his
pocket and hastily wrote a note, resting the paper on an old box. When
he had finished writing, he folded up the note and thrust it into a
little hollow carved Chinese figure which he took also from his pocket.
These were, apparently, his emergency preparations which he was ready
to execute in case he received such a message from his master as he had
actually received.
With a final hasty glance about he extinguished the lantern, letting
the moonlight stream fitfully through the single window. Then he left
the barn, with both front and rear doors open.
Taking advantage of every bit of shelter, he made his way across the
field in the direction of the crossroads, finally dropping down behind
a huge rock some yards from the finger post that pointed each way to
Williams and Brownlee Avenues.
. . . . . . .
Late that night, Kennedy left his apartment prepared to follow
the instructions in the note which had been so strangely delivered in
the vase.
As he climbed into a roadster, he tucked the robe most carefully into a
corner under the leather seat.
"For heaven's sake, Craig," I gasped from under the robe, "let me have
a little air."
I had taken my place under the robe before the car was driven up before
the apartment, lest some emissary of Wu Fang might be watching to see
that there was no such trick.
"You'll get air enough when we get started, Walter," he laughed back
under his breath, apparently addressing the engine.
Kennedy was a hard driver when he wanted to be and enough was at stake
to-night to make him drive hard. He whizzed along in the roadster, and
I was indeed glad enough to huddle up under the robe.
We had reached a point in the suburbs which was deserted and I did not
recognize a thing when he pulled up by the side of the road with a
jerk. I peered through a crease in the corner of the robe, and saw him
slide out from under the wheel and stand by the side of the car,
looking up and down. Ahead of us the road curved sharply and I had no
idea what was there, though Kennedy seemed to know the place.
A moment later he pulled the robe partly off me, and bent down as
though examining the batteries on the side of the car.
"Get out on the other side in the shadow of the car, Walter," he
whispered hoarsely. "Go down the road a bit--only cut in and keep under
cover. This is Williams Avenue. You'll see a big rock. Hide behind it.
Ahead you'll see Brownlee Avenue. Be prepared for anything. I shall
have to trust the rest to you. I don't know myself what's going to
happen."
I slid out and went along the edge of the road, as Craig had directed,
and finally crouched behind a huge rock, feeling on as much tension as
if I had been a boy playing at Wild West. Only this might at any moment
develop into the reality of a Wild Far East.
After a moment to give me a chance, Craig himself left the car pulled
up close by the side of the road and went ahead on foot. At last he
came to the cross-roads just around the bend, where in the moonlight he
could read the sign: "Williams Avenue" and "Brownlee Avenue." He stood
there a moment, then glanced at his watch which registered both hands
approaching the hour of twelve. He gazed about at the deserted country.
Had the appointment been a hoax, after all, a scheme to get him away
from the city for some purpose?
Suddenly, at his feet in the dust of the road something heavy seemed to
drop. He looked about quickly. No one was in sight.
He reached down and picked up a little Chinese figure. Tapping it with
his knuckle, he examined it curiously. It was hollow.
From the inside he drew out a piece of paper. He strained his eyes in
the moonlight and managed to make out:
The Serpent is all-wise, and his fang is fatal. You have signed the
white girl's death warrant.
Beneath this sinister warning was stamped the serpent sign of Wu Fang.
It was not a hoax, and Kennedy stood there a moment gazing about in
tense anxiety. Had that uncanny watching eye observed his every action?
Was it staring at him now in the blackness?
. . . . . . .
Meanwhile, I had made my way stealthily, peering into the bushes and
careful not even to step on anything that would make a noise and was
now, as I have said, crouched behind the big rock to which Craig had
directed me. I heard him go along the road and looked about cautiously,
but could hear and see nothing else.
I had begun to wonder whether Kennedy might not have made a mistake
when, suddenly, from behind the shadow of another rock, ahead of me,
but toward Brownlee Avenue, I saw a tall, gaunt figure of a man rise in
the moonlight, almost as if it had sprung from the very earth.
My heart gave a leap, as he quickly raised his right arm and hurled
something as far as he could in the direction that Kennedy had taken.
If it had been a bomb, followed by an explosion, I would not have been
surprised. But no sound followed as the figure dropped back as if it
had been a wraith.
I stole out from my own hiding-place in the shadow of my rock and
darted quickly to the shelter of a bush, nearer the figure.
The figure was no wraith. It turned to steal away. I remembered
Kennedy's parting words. If the man ever gained the darkness of a clump
of woods, just beyond us, he was as good as safe. This was the time to
act.
I leaped at him and we went down, rolling over and over in the
underbrush and stubble. We fought fiercely, but I could not seem to get
a glimpse of his face which was muffled.
He was powerful and stronger than I and after a tough tussle he broke
loose. But I had succeeded, nevertheless. I had delayed him just long
enough. Kennedy heard the sound of the struggle and was now crashing
through the hedge at the cross-roads in our direction.
I managed to pick myself up, just as Kennedy reached my side and,
together, we followed the retreating figure, as it made its way among
the shadows. Across the open space before us we followed him and at
last saw him dive into an old barn.
A moment later we followed hot-foot into the barn. As we entered, we
could hear a peculiar grating noise, as though a door was swung on its
rusty hinges. The front door was open. Evidently the man had gone
through and closed the back door.
We threw ourselves against the back door. But it did not yield. There
was no time to waste and we turned to rush out again by the way we had
come, just as the front door was slammed shut.
The man had trapped us. He had left both doors open, had run through,
braced the back door, then had rushed around outside just in time to
brace the front door also.
We could hear his feet crunching the dry leaves and twigs as he went
around the side of the barn again. Together we threw ourselves against
the front door, but, although it yielded a little he had barred it so
that it would resist our united strength for some time.
Again and again we threw ourselves against it. It was horribly dark in
there, except for an oblong spot where the moonlight streamed in
through a window. Suddenly the pale silver of the moonlight on the
floor reddened.
The man had struck a match and thrown it into a mass of oil-soaked
straw and gunpowder which protruded through one of the weather-beaten
boards, near the floor.
It was only a matter of a second or so now when the fire swept into the
barn itself. There was no beating it out. Some one had literally soaked
the straw and the floor with oil. It seemed as though the whole place
burst into a sudden blaze of tinder. Outside, we could hear footsteps
rapidly retreating toward the shelter of the clump of woods.
For a second I looked dismayed at the rapidly-mounting flames.
"A very pretty situation," I forced with a laugh. "But I hope he
doesn't think we'll stay here and burn, with a perfectly good window in
full view."
I took a step toward the window, but before I could take another,
Kennedy yanked me back.
"Don't think for a moment that he overlooked that," he shouted.
Craig looked around hastily. In a corner, just back of us was a long
pole. He snatched it up and moved cautiously toward the window, keeping
the pole as level as possible as he endeavored to get a leverage on the
sash. The flames were mounting faster and higher, licking up everything.
"Keep back, Walter," he muttered, "just as far as you can."
He had scarcely raised the window a fraction of an inch when an old
rusty, heavy anvil and a bent worn plowshare crashed down to the floor
directly over the spot where I should have been if he had not dragged
me away. I started back, aghast. Nothing had been overlooked to finish
us off.
"I think you may try it safely now, all right," smiled Kennedy coolly.
We climbed out of the window, not an instant too soon from the raging
inferno about us.
Having gained the clump of woods, the gaunt figure had paused long
enough to gloat over his clever scheme. Instead, he saw us making good
our escape. With a gesture of intense fury he turned. There was nothing
more for him to do but to zigzag his way to safety across country.
The barn was now burning fiercely and it was almost as light as day
about us. Kennedy paused only long enough to look down at the ground
where the fire had been started.
"See, Walter," he exclaimed pointing to a square indention in the soft
soil. "No white man ever made a footprint like that."
I bent over. The prints had the squareness of those paper-layered soles
of a Chinaman.
"Long Sin," came the name involuntarily to my lips, for I knew that Wu
would delegate just such a job to his faithful slave.
Kennedy did not pause an instant longer, but in the light of the
burning barn, as best he could, started to follow the trail in a
desperate endeavor either to overtake Long Sin, or at least to find the
final direction in which he would go.
. . . . . . .
At the entrance of the passageway which led to the little underground
chamber in which we had sought the treasure hidden by the Clutching
Hand, Wu Fang was seated on a rock waiting impatiently, though now and
then indulging in a sinister smile at the subtle trick by which he had
recovered the ring.
The sound of approaching footsteps disturbed him. He was far too clever
to leave anything to chance and, like a serpent, he wriggled behind
another rock and waited. It was only a glance, however, that he needed
to allay his suspicions. It was Long Sin, breathless.
Wu stepped out beside him so quietly that even the acute Long Sin did
not hear. "Well?" he said in a guttural tone.
Long Sin drew back in fear. "I have failed, oh master," he replied in
an imploring tone. "Even now they follow my tracks."
It was bad enough to confess defeat without the fear of capture.
Wu frowned. "We must work quickly, then," he muttered.
He picked up a dark lantern near-by, indicating another to Long Sin.
They entered the cave, flashing the lights ahead of them.
"Be careful," ordered Wu, proceeding gingerly from one stepping-stone
to another. "We shall be followed no further than this."
He paused a moment and pointed his finger at the earth. Everywhere,
except here and there where a stone projected, was a sticky, slimy
substance. It was an old trick of primitive races.
"Bird lime," hissed Wu, pointing at the viscid substance made of the
juice of the holly bark, extracted by boiling, and mixed with a third
part of nut oil and grease.
They passed on from stone to stone until they came to the subterranean
chamber itself. Without a moment's hesitation, Wu made his way toward
the rock in which they had found the slot with its cryptic inscription.
Long Sin watched his master in silent admiration as, at last, he drew
forth the mystic ring for which they had dared all.
Without a word, Wu dropped it in the slot. It tinkled down the runway,
a protuberance hit a trigger and pushed it a hair's breadth.
A noise behind them caused the two to turn startled. Even Wu had not
expected it.
On the other side of the chamber, a great rock in the ground slowly
turned, as though on a pivot. They watched, fascinated. Even then Wu
did not forget the precious ring, but as the rock turned, reached down
quickly and recovered it from the cup at the floor.
Inch by inch the pivoted rock moved on its axis. They flashed their
lanterns full on it and, as it moved, they could see disclosed huge
piles of gold and silver in coins and bars and ornaments, a chest
literally filled with brilliants, set and unset, rubies, emeralds,
precious stones of every conceivable variety, a cave that would have
staggered even Aladdin--the rich reward of the countless marauding
operations of Bennett's other personality.
For a moment they could merely stand in avaricious exultation.
. . . . . . .
Painfully and slowly, we managed to trail Long Sin's footprints, until
we came to a road where they were lost in the hard macadam. There was
no time to stop. We must follow the road on the chance that he had
taken it. But which way?
Kennedy chose the most likely direction, for the trail had been at an
angle to the road and Long Sin was not likely to double back. We had
not gone many rods before Kennedy paused a minute and looked about in
the moonlight.
"It's right, Walter," he cried. "Do you recognize it?"
I looked about. Then it flashed over me. This was the back road that
led past the entrance to the treasure vault at Aunt Tabby's.
We went on now more quickly, listening carefully to catch any sounds,
but heard nothing. At last Kennedy stopped, then plunged among the
rocks and bushes beside the road. We were at the cave.
"You go in this way, Walter," he directed. "I'll go around and down
where it caved in."
I groped my way along through the darkness.
I had gone only a yard or two, when it seemed as though something had
grasped my foot.
With a great wrench I managed to pull it loose. But the weight on my
other foot had imbedded it deeper. I struggled to free this foot and
got the other caught. My revolver, which I had drawn, was jarred from
my hand and in the effort to recover it, I lost my balance. Unable to
move a foot in time to catch myself, I fell forward. My hands were now
covered by the slimy, sticky stuff, and the more I struggled, the worse
I seemed to get entangled.
. . . . . . .
Wu and Long Sin paused only a minute in astonishment. Then they
literally fell upon the wealth that lay before them, gloating over the
gold, stuffing their hands into the jewels, lifting them up and letting
the priceless gems run through their fingers.
Suddenly they paused. There was the slight tinkle of a Chinese bell.
Kennedy had reached Aunt Tabby's garden, outside the roof of the
subterranean chamber where it had given way, had gone down carefully
over the earth and rock, and in doing so had broken a string stretched
across the passageway. The tinkle of a bell attached to it aroused his
attention and he stopped short, a second, to look about. Wu Fang had
arranged a primitive alarm.
Quickly, Wu and Long Sin blew out their lanterns while Wu gave the rock
a push. Slowly, as it had opened, it now closed and they stood there
listening.
I was still struggling in the bird lime, getting myself more and more
covered with it, when the reverberation of revolver shots reached me.
Wu and Long Sin had opened fire on Kennedy, and Kennedy was replying in
kind. In the cavern it sounded like a veritable bombardment. As they
retreated, they came nearer and nearer to me and I could see the
revolvers spitting fire in the darkness. So intent were they on Kennedy
that they forgot me.
I watched them fearfully as they hopped deftly from one stone to
another to avoid the lime--and were gone.
"Craig! Craig!" I managed to cry feebly. "Be careful. Keep to the
stones."
He strained his eyes toward the ground in the darkness, at the sound of
my voice. Then he struck a match and instantly took in the situation
which, to me, under any other circumstances, would have been ludicrous.
Stepping from stone to stone, he followed the retreating Chinamen. But
they had already reached the mouth of the cave and were making their
way rapidly down the road to a bend, in the opposite direction from
which we had come. There, Wu's automobile was waiting. They leaped into
it and the driver, without a word, shot the car off into the darkness
of early dawn.
A moment later, Kennedy appeared, but they had made their getaway.
Baffled, he turned and retraced his steps to the cave.
I don't think that I ever welcomed him more sincerely than I did as,
finally, I crawled slowly out from the bird lime, exhausted by the
effort that I had made to free myself from the sticky mess.
"They got away, Walter," he said, lighting a lantern they had dropped.
"By George," he added, I think a little vexed that I had not been able
to stop them, "you are a sight!"
He was about to laugh, when I fainted. I can remember nothing until I
woke up over by the wall of the chamber where he dragged me.
Kennedy had been working hard to revive me, and, as I opened my eyes,
he straightened up. His eye suddenly caught something on the rock
beside him. There was a little slot carved in it, and above the slot
was a peculiar inscription.
For several minutes, Kennedy puzzled over it, as Wu had done. Then he
discovered the little cup near the ground.
"The ring!" he suddenly cried out.
I was too muddled to appreciate at once what he meant, but I saw him
reach into his fob pocket and draw forth the replica of the trinket
which had caused so much disaster, as if it had been cursed by the
Clutching Hand himself. He dropped it into the slot.
Struggling to my feet, I saw across from me the very rock itself
moving. Was it an hallucination, born of my nervous condition?
"Look, Craig!" I cried involuntarily, pointing.
He turned. No, it was not a vision. It actually moved. Together we
watched. Slowly the rock turned on a pivot. There were disclosed to our
astonished eyes the hidden millions of the Clutching Hand.
I looked from the gold and jewels to Kennedy, in speechless amazement.
"We have beaten them, anyhow," I cried.
Slowly Craig shook his head sadly.
"Yes," he murmured, "we have found the Clutching Hand's millions, but
we have lost Elaine."