FALCON'S NEST
It seemed to Trent that he had scarcely closed his eyes before a touch
awakened him. Sunlight floated through the window in a cloud of gold,
and Hsiao, the muleteer, stood beside his cot. When he rose he felt
stiff and empty of vitality; the vampire of utter exhaustion had drained
him while he slept. A groove was worn into his brain, a groove into
which all thoughts fell unresistingly.
It was nearly nine o'clock, and a few minutes later when he went below
he found Kee Meng bending over a fire, boiling water for his tea.
"I thought I told you not to move about," he said sternly to the
Mussulman.
Kee Meng tapped his wound. "See, it is well now, _Tajen_!" Then he
inclined his head toward the soldier who lounged in the gateway. "I was
talking to him a while ago, _Tajen_, and he says there is great
excitement at the house of the councillor, Na-chung, because"--Kee Meng
winked--"because Na-chung disappeared last night and they fear he has
been murdered and his body thrown to the dogs and vultures! He says they
are searching the city for the councillor."
Trent did not smile. In his eyes was an absent look, as though his
brain followed a derelict idea. Presently he asked:
"I've had no message from the lama?"
"No, _Tajen_."
Trent spent a restless three hours. He went up on the roof and smoked
and thought. There was something pregnant and repressed in the calm blue
sky, in the gleam of Lhakang-gompa's golden roofs, and in the shimmer
and glare of the whitewashed city. He waited until noon, hoping he would
hear from Kerth; but no message came, and, vaguely troubled, he
descended from the roof. He procured his revolver; slipped it under his
orange-yellow robe. Then he sought Kee Meng, who was in the quadrangle.
"I am going to the Governor's house," he told the muleteer. "As soon as
the soldier and I have gone, get our packs together and you and the men
go to the place where Hsiao and Kang went last night. Stay there, in
hiding, until you hear from me. Under no circumstances leave. Deliver
the--the thing that is hidden in the cellar only in my presence or upon
a written order from me."
"But, _Tajen_," objected Kee Meng, "do you go alone?"
Trent nodded. "Alone."
An expression of genuine concern came into the Mussulman's oblique eyes.
"This is an evil city, _Tajen_; the Governor is an evil man. It was he
who commanded the archers yesterday. And the brother--what of the
brother, _Tajen_?"
"I am going now to find him." Then he called Hsiao. "Tell the soldier I
wish to go to the Governor's house," he directed. "Then bring my horse."
Fifteen minutes later Trent and the soldier rode out of the quadrangle
and toward Lhakang-gompa.
They skirted the outer walls of the monastery and followed a wide street
through a part of the city that was unfamiliar to Trent. The Governor's
residence was at the very end, surrounded by a garden and roofed with
dazzling blue tiles. A soldier admitted them into the courtyard, where
they waited until a man who, Trent imagined, was a chamberlain came out
and spoke in Tibetan to the soldier. Then the former went inside. He
reappeared a moment later and beckoned to Trent. The Englishman
dismounted; left his pony with the soldier; followed the chamberlain
into the dwelling.
He was conducted along a hall that was dark after the bright sunlight.
Curtains parted, swished behind him. As his vision became better
regulated to the dimness he saw a great door, stained cardinal-red. This
was opened by the chamberlain, who stood aside for him to enter.... The
door closed gently behind him.
He was in a room with scarlet-lacquered walls and frescoes like those in
the Armory. The silken hangings, too, were scarlet, and a single window
with an iron grill allowed the sunshine to filter through in golden
rain. Facing him was a silver image of Janesseron, the Three-eyed God of
Thunder; and beneath the idol, at a Burmese teakwood table that struck a
jarring note in the otherwise Tibetan room, and in a teakwood chair
that was equally as incongruous, sat his Transparency Hsien Sgam, the
Governor of Shingtse-lunpo.
The Mongol rose an instant after Trent entered and limped forward, his
hand extended. Realizing it would be unwise to offend Hsien Sgam at the
outset, the Englishman accepted the proffered hand.
"I am delighted to see you,"--Hsien Sgam paused deliberately and
smiled--"Mr. Tavernake." And he added: "We may converse without fear of
being overheard; there are no eavesdroppers in my house. Will you sit
down? I was unprepared for this visit, as I did not expect to receive
you until to-night, when I hoped to have you dine with me--which I still
hope you will do.... I trust no trouble brings you?"
Trent, not surprised by the reception (for east of Suez a dagger lurks
beneath silk), carefully chose his words before he gave tongue to them.
"I've come to report a loss," he announced, looking directly at Hsien
Sgam.
"Ah!" The Mongol uttered the expletive softly.
A long pause followed, each man waiting for the other to resume. Hsien
Sgam took the initiative.
"I am desolated to learn that you have suffered a loss, though of what
nature I am not yet aware. We--er--find it very difficult to control
thievery in the city. May I inquire what you lost?"
The bronze face was as expressionless as that of the Buddha it so
resembled. Nor was Trent's face any less impassive. It was as though
the two had drawn armor about them.
"Last night," said the Englishman, "one of my muleteers disappeared."
"Ah!" Again the soft expletive. "Is that strange--er--Mr. Tavernake? Is
it not likely that he deserted?"
Trent went on:
"He was attacked while returning from the festival with another
muleteer. The latter was wounded in the struggle, knocked unconscious;
and when he awakened his companion was gone. Since then I haven't seen
nor heard of the missing muleteer."
A smile settled upon Hsien Sgam's beautiful face. Once more Trent caught
the illusion: eyes of Lucifer, face of Buddha.
"Be assured, Mr. Tavernake, I shall do all in my limited power to learn
whither your--er--_muleteer_ has been spirited."
Trent rested one hand upon his hip, touching the steel beneath the robe.
"I understand," he began, "that last evening your chief councillor,
Na-chung, who was kind enough to accompany me to the ceremonies
yesterday, was missed from his home."
Hsien Sgam limped back to his table; sat down; folded his hands upon the
surface. The close-cropped head rose, almost as a deformity, from the
dark crimson robe. In that instant he was both sinister and pathetic,
threatening and pleading. Trent saw him as a figure curiously detached
and aloof from human beings (the power of the man could not be denied),
as mentally grotesque and misshapen as his limb.
"It is strange," he declared in those chosen, precise words of his,
"that the two disappeared on the same night, your _muleteer_ and my
chief councillor. It is quite"--the slant eyes smiled--"quite
coincidental." A pause. "Do I--er--strike the nail on the head, as they
put it in your country, when I say that you come for a twofold purpose:
to solicit my aid in finding your _muleteer_, and to inform me that you
have discovered a clue that might lead to the very excellent Na-chung?
In other words, you suggest a compromise: I agree to direct my efforts
toward recovering your--er--lost one, if you produce the clue that will
lead us to the councillor."
Another smile. Trent, too, smiled--only inwardly. There was something
droll in the situation.
"Did you consider," the Mongol continued, "that--er--my duties may be
quite pressing and that I might find it difficult to spare the time to
devote to searching for your--_muleteer_?"
"But surely," Trent parleyed, "in return for the service I can render,
you will find it convenient to spare time enough to repay me?"
Hsien Sgam's eyes contemplated the surface of the table; his fingers
worked with nervous energy.
"Suppose," he suggested, "even _then_ I find it impossible to respond to
a suggestion that under other conditions and at another time would be
welcome. What then?"
"Then," answered Trent, "I should call the compromise a failure."
Silence. Presently Hsien Sgam spoke:
"Let us cast aside pretenses," he said in his quiet, restrained manner.
"You have brought--I hesitate to say it--war into my camp, so to speak,
and you expect me to accept the first terms that are offered." He linked
his hands together. "That is impossible, Mr. Tavernake." He rose. There
was a queer majesty about him. "Nor do I think it wise for you to resort
to--to crude enforcements such as you now contemplate." He smiled with
self-assurance. "Consider the results. You would not gain your
objective; you would be acting as did the man in your very excellent
English parable about a fowl and a golden egg."
Then he lifted his hand and rapped upon the table--and almost instantly
the door behind Trent opened. The Englishman did not turn, though he
heard the footsteps of more than one.
"Suppose"--this suavely from the Mongol--"we declare an armistice, as it
were, until to-night? It will afford me great pleasure to offer you the
hospitality of my residence and thus eliminate the inconvenience of
riding back to your house in the midday sun. At eight o'clock to-night
we will dine--is not that the conventional European hour?--at which time
we can discuss a compromise. Also the duties which you shall assume in
Shingtse-lunpo."
He spoke a few words in what Trent imagined was Tibetan to those
standing behind the Englishman. Then he addressed Trent again.
"Shall I be presuming if I suggest that you give into my keeping that
which you have under your robe?" He smiled. "You see, not being familiar
with the customs of my country, you are not aware that it is considered
an act of discourtesy for a guest to keep any sort of firearm during a
visit, no matter how brief. You will forgive me for assuming the role of
instructor?"
Trent drew the revolver from beneath his garments; passed it to Hsien
Sgam. The latter accepted it with the air of one receiving a token of
surrender. He bowed slightly.
"Now you will accompany my servants to the guest chamber, which I trust
you will find comfortable, although it is not quite up to the standard
of those of your very modern country."
Trent turned. Two soldiers, each armed with ancient-looking jewelled
pistols, were standing just within the doorway. He left the room between
the guards.
2
To a room on the second story of the Governor's residence Trent was
taken. An iron door shut with strident clangor behind him. He saw
neither lock nor bolt as he entered, and, after waiting for several
moments, he tried the door, a purely perfunctory act. To his surprise it
swung back--and showed him, in the corridor-gloom, two mailed, armed
soldiers. This was the first eye-proof of captivity.
Trent closed the door and delivered his attention to the room. It was
large and of stone, and gory frescoes were painted upon the wall-panels.
There were two windows, each barred and offering a view of the city--a
waste of terraced white, almost blinding in the sunlight, crowned by the
monastery and its golden roofs. Trent peered out of one window, then the
other. Both looked down upon a wide roadway. For a moment he gazed at
the few monks and soldiers that came and went below, then moved to a
bench fixed against the wall and sank heavily, with the uncertain air of
a drunken man, upon the red cushions. There was the same suggestion of
intoxication in his eyes, which were veined with red from loss of sleep.
He removed his mushroom-shaped hat and furrowed his black-dyed hair. His
was the despair of a gambler who has plunged, who perceives defeat for
himself in the first hand and after that plays without hope, with only
the will to hope.
Like something remote and beyond reach, something dim as a dream, was
the thought of Dana Charteris. His interview with Hsien Sgam drove out
the mystery surrounding her abduction, but left an infinitude of
apprehensions. The purpose that actuated the Mongol to such a move was
not obscure. Yet if she were a hostage, he need not fear for her
safety--for the present. Eight o'clock--much hinged on that. What would
the Mongol demand?
A deeper tide of thoughts brought to focus interests other than
personal. If Sarojini Nanjee succeeded in her venture, she would be
waiting at the Great Magician's Gate at the appointed time. And if he
was still a prisoner then? But, even if he succeeded in freeing himself,
he could not go without Dana Charteris. Nor could he abandon Kerth....
Knotted cords, and apparently no loose ends with which to work. His only
foil was the fact that he held the secret of Na-chung's whereabouts--a
slim weapon with which to fight a more cunningly armed opponent.
Kerth. Where was Kerth now? In Lhakang-gompa? How could he get word to
him? Bribe the soldiers? He dared not try; his message might fall into
Hsien Sgam's hands and thus destroy Kerth's chances.... But he did not
know where to reach Kerth--a difficulty he had entirely overlooked.
He rose, and his eyes wandered about the room. As a matter of course, he
tried the bars of the windows. His efforts led only to a fuller
realization of his plight. Taken without violence, in a room with an
unlocked door, he was as securely confined as though he were chained and
in a dungeon.
He returned to the bench to wait--wait for eight o'clock. As the minutes
dragged by his nerves underwent a gradual disintegration. Anxiety,
mental and physical weariness--they were the destroying forces. He
walked the floor.... It was exquisite torture, this waiting; something
inquisitional about it. He fled from it, in thoughts, to Dana Charteris,
as a persecuted worshipper to the healing coolness and quiet of temple
corridors....
Sunlight ceased to reflect its glare upon the whitewashed houses, and
the gilded roofs of Lhakang-gompa floated in the gathering twilight like
islands on a dusky sea. A rosy light spread above the city, above the
towering lamasery, and deepened from pink to sullen red, like the
flaming promise of an angry Stromboli. There was something sinisterly
significant--a devil's symbol--in the sunset; thrice significant to
Trent as he paced his prison and watched the crimson dye staining the
city. For what seemed little more than a moment Shingtse-lunpo swam in
the wine-light as in blood; then night touched sun-scorched walls with
soothing hands and drew a veil of secrecy over the sprawling mass of
houses.
As the luminous hands of Trent's watch approached eight o'clock he heard
sounds outside his door--footsteps and muffled tones. Figuratively, he
gave himself into the hands of his kismet.
The door opened. Polished armor shone in the dimly lighted hall. A hand
beckoned to him. Between armed soldiers he left the room and descended
to the lower floor.
Hsien Sgam, in his robes of office, stood waiting in the scarlet chamber
where he had received Trent that morning; and his greeting,--the
quintessence of irony--his quiet, self-assured smile, made Trent falter
in his diplomatic resolution to sheathe his antagonism.
One of the soldiers drew aside a scarlet curtain, revealing an arched
doorway and, beyond, a long, dim hall. There a table was set. Tapers in
a European candelabrum threw flickering light upon European silverware.
"You will observe," said Hsien Sgam, with a wave of his slender hand,
"that I have been educated to your manner of eating. I generally relapse
into barbarism, but this is an occasion--a celebration, as it were, in
honor of the arrival of the first Englishman in Shingtse-lunpo."
Hsien Sgam sat across the table from Trent, and behind him--grim
reminders of his power--stood two soldiers, one on either side of the
scarlet-curtained archway. It was clear that the Mongol was not a
gambler.... Three Tibetan women, their faces smeared with kutch, served.
There was little pretense at conversation, and the trying mockery of the
meal was half over before Hsien Sgam broke the prolonged strain.
"Let us not be deceived," he began, "but understand each other at the
very start; let us, as you would say, commence with clean slates." He
smiled over a cup of tea--tea brewed in the English fashion, and not the
sickening gruel that masquerades under that name in Tibet. "As you have
probably guessed, I know you are not he who the very beautiful Sarojini
Nanjee would have me believe you--one Tavernake, a jeweller--but Major
Trent--er--Major Arnold Ralph Trent, R. A. M. C., I believe is the full
title, working in the interests of those who would commit the lamentable
mistake of interfering with the affairs of others."
The Mongol continued to smile. "Furthermore, let it be understood that
the fact that I know this does not in the least prejudice me against
you. That one is blind is not his own fault. To enlighten you, to give
you true sight--that is my purpose."
Trent met Hsien Sgam's gaze with unwavering eyes.
"At one time you were prejudiced," he suggested pointedly.
The smile seemed painted immortally upon the Mongol's bronze face. He
nodded slightly.
"You refer, I presume, to the incident at Rangoon--when I came near
committing a grave error? For the while I was deluded into believing it
would be wiser for you not to continue to Shingtse-lunpo; I now see that
I was wrong. I crave your forgiveness for that--er--almost
indiscretion."
Once more the grim humor of the situation, the grotesquery of it, became
apparent to Trent. This anomaly of a creature! Eternally the two
elements of his being seemed warring--the Lucifer and the Buddha.
"Perhaps you will understand more clearly," said Hsien Sgam, "if I go
back into the years--the years of the locust, your Christian Bible calls
them.... You will forgive the fact that I am personal. It is
necessary."
He spoke to one of the serving-women and she disappeared behind a
curtain, to return a moment later with a silver tray. Trent almost
laughed aloud; perhaps it was the tension.... Cigarettes!... He welcomed
the smoke; it would clear his brain. Both he and the Mongol lighted
their cheroots in a candle-flame. The latter's face seemed to swim in
the blue clouds, his woman's-mouth twisted into that persistent, graven
smile.
"I am an experiment," Hsien Sgam commenced. "Whether a success or a
failure, I will let you judge. It is the custom in Mongolia to deliver
one child from every family to the lamas for monastic training. I was
chosen from a group of four brothers and destined from birth for holy
orders. Very early--so early that I cannot quite remember it--I was
given into the charge of the abbot of a monastery at Urga. I was a--I
believe 'acolyte' is your word for it. When I was fourteen there was a
celebration at Urga; it is called the Ts'am Haren. During the races I
was injured; my pony fell on my limb. I was ill for many days. When I
grew better they told me I would be lame, always.... That very night my
mother had a vision: she saw me harnessed in golden mail and upon a
white horse, leading a great army. I was on a mountain-top, she said,
with legions about me, on the slopes and in the valleys; and at my feet
was Asia. She saw a flame, with the face of Timur the Lame in it,
descend into my body. Thus the soul of the great conqueror came to rest
in the body of her second born."
The smile had faded from Hsien Sgam's face; there was in his eyes a glow
that hid the devil-light. All the beauty of Buddha shone upon the bronze
features.
"That was how I became a--what is the word?--messiah?" He went on: "A
conference of the princes was held in the palace of the Hut'ukt'u, and
it was proposed that I be sent to acquire the learning of the white
lords. The Hut'ukt'u opposed it, for he was afraid that eventually I
would have more power than he. But in the night I was taken away, by
swiftest camel, and with the treasure of my house in goatskin bags. My
mother accompanied me to Kalgan, then turned back--but my father went on
to Peking. The Manchu woman was on the throne at the time. She had heard
that a Mongol prince was being sent away to be educated in Western
schools and return and establish an independent empire, and she, like
the Hut'ukt'u, was afraid. She sent assassins. I escaped--but my
father...."
He shrugged; smiled. The shining look went from his face; his beauty was
again that of Lucifer, the fallen angel.
"So I went. I studied after the manner of Englishmen.... I wonder"--he
leaned across the table toward Trent--"I wonder if you can understand my
feelings there, a boy, in an alien land? Gray buildings and rushing
trains and electricity--the roar of a modern Babylon--after yourts and
camels and candlelight! There where men denounce polygamy and encourage
prostitution!
"It was a slow death to me, a numbness that commenced in my limbs and
rose up--up--until it touched the very source of my thinking. Your
Civilization with its civilized vices plucked something vital, something
unexplainable, from me.... But I stayed; I learned; and when I had
finished, I returned. But not as he who had left--who had wept when his
father fell under the blade of a Manchu assassin. I had gone as the
dreamer; I came back as the awakened sleeper, incensed toward those who
had replaced visions with sordid reality.... That was in the year that
Christian calendars call nineteen hundred and four--the year Tubdan
Gyatso, the Dalai Lama, forsook Lhassa."
Their cheroots had burned out. The scent of stale tobacco hung in the
air like an unclean aura. To Trent it seemed the essence of Hsien Sgam's
story--his tragedy.
"The Dalai Lama came to Urga," Hsien Sgam continued. "The Hut'ukt'u was
jealous of him and he made his stay as unpleasant as possible. But
before the Dalai Lama left, I spent many hours with him. Our cause was
progressing slowly when the revolution against the Manchus came; then
Yuan Shih-kai, and the restoration of Tubdan Gyatso. But the Church had
lost much power. A conference was called at Lhassa and it was decided
that a new Head be formed--an invisible Head, unknown to the English and
other aggressors. Shingtse-lunpo was chosen. It became the Head of the
Church--a sort of Vatican. It was the will of Gaudama Siddartha that a
certain Grand Lama's body should be the vessel for his spirit. Thus came
the title of Sakya-muni to His Holiness Lobsang Yshe Naktsang, the
Supreme Lama of the Gelugpa. It was also deemed advisable by the Council
of Lamas that I should go to the new monastery of the Head and be
invested with the power of Governor of the city. I was to be
a--er--connecting link between Tibet and Mongolia.
"Dorjieff, the Buriat monk, had promised us the aid of Russia.
Frequently, before the invasion of Lhassa, he acted as an intermediary
between the Czar and the Dalai Lama, and on one occasion the Russian
emperor sent Tubdan Gyatso the vestments of a--how is it called?--a
bishop?--of the Russian church. But the Russian monarch fell in the war,
and hope of Russian aid dwindled. China was strangling Mongolia; Tibet
had asserted her rights. Then came the Kiachta Convention. We thought we
had won. But the Hut'ukt'u is a coward. With Semenov on one side,
threatening, and Japan on the other (it developed later that both were
the same), he became frightened.... You know what happened."
Hsien Sgam passed cigarettes to Trent, who refused; selected one
himself; lighted it.
"It appeared that we were facing defeat," he resumed. "We had no
money--perhaps a little in the treasuries, but not enough to propagate
our plans. It seemed imminent that Japan would build the Kalgan-Kiachta
railway, and such a thing would mean the end of the dream of a Mongol
empire.... Ah, these railways! Keys to power! French--er--capital is
behind the Chinese-Eastern Railway. Also the Yunnan Railways. The South
Manchurian and the Shantung railways are Japanese-controlled. Chinese
sovereignty in the districts where there are foreign-owned railways is a
mere word.
"Thus it would be in Mongolia, if the Kalgan-Kiachta railway were built
by Japanese money. But how could it be stopped? Mongolia herself had no
money. The only way was, as I once told you, through revolution.
Establish Mongolian control and refuse a concession to any power to
construct the rail line. And that way, too, was obstructed by lack
of--er--funds.... Then the gods sent an answer to our prayers in the
form of a foreigner--a man whom you know by the name of Andre Chavigny."
The muscles of Trent's jaw moved perceptibly at this announcement;
otherwise, he sat motionless, hands grasping the edge of the table, eyes
upon Hsien Sgam.
"There was a very great disturbance in Lhakang-gompa," the Mongol
pressed on, "when it was reported one day that a white man had been
discovered--er--masquerading in the city. His Holiness charged me to
interview the prisoner and ascertain how much he had learned. This I
did, and you may imagine my amazement upon discovering that this white
man was the Andre Chavigny of whom I had heard in Europe.
"His true purpose in Shingtse-lunpo I have never learned from his lips,
but I am of the opinion that he might have been deluded by fantastic
tales of jewels and wealth in the vaults of Lhakang-gompa. He knew he
had seen too much to be allowed to leave; that is why he made me a most
amazing--er--proposition. I believe I can recall the very words he
uttered. He said: 'I have heard of your plans for a revolt against
China. Give me my life and I will finance you.'"
Hsien Sgam laughed--a low, soft sound.
"Conceive the situation, major: this adventuring Frenchman, with only a
few _tengas_, offering to finance the revolution! It was--do you say,
_droll_? But I listened to him. In this very room we talked, and he sat
where you are sitting now. He has a tongue as of satin. He talked for
his life that night, and what he told me amazed me. I did not believe it
could be done at first. I told him so, and sent him to the guest chamber
which you occupied, while I thought and thought.... I went out on the
city-walls. I looked toward Mongolia--Mongolia dying--and I realized
that this Andre Chavigny should live."
The serving-women had disappeared; Trent and the Mongol were alone but
for the two mailed sentinels at the doorway.
"It is not difficult for you to imagine what Andre Chavigny told me,"
said Hsien Sgam. "Before venturing into Tibet he had been in India--had
visited the cities of Baroda, Indore, Gwalior.... He had seen jewels
worth many millions of English pounds. He had seen and planned--only
planned. Of those gems he told me--of his plan, too. He had observed,
he said, the monks of Shingtse-lunpo cutting coral and turquoise
ornaments; therefore, why could not they, under the proper direction,
re-cut and re-set diamonds and emeralds and rubies? He knew
of a market--_sub rosa_ is the expression he used. And for a
certain--er--percentage--he offered to finance the revolution.
"I presented the plan to His Holiness--with my approval--and after hours
of contemplation he announced that the gods had sanctioned his consent.
So the Order of the Falcon was formed--the Falcon, whose speedy wings
would enable him to defeat the Japanese Black Dragon.
"When all arrangements were completed, Andre Chavigny and I, with a few
associates, set out for India--through Burma, as you came here. Andre
Chavigny went to Indore, I to Jehelumpore, other members of the Order to
Baroda, Gwalior, Alwar, Jodpur, Tanjore, Bahawalpur and Mysore.
Meanwhile, the abbot of Tsagan-dhuka was journeying with a band of
pilgrims to the Sacred Bo-tree at Buddh-Gaya.
"In the work which I had to do at Jehelumpore it became necessary for me
to cultivate some one who had--_entree_, the French say--who had
_entree_ into the Nawab's palace. The gods decreed that it should be
Sarojini Nanjee. I met her. And to me, for the first time, came love of
woman."
Hsien Sgam's smile underwent a metamorphosis--became the smile of one
who tastes the gall of a bitter memory. Again, as on that night on the
_Manchester_, Trent felt the heat of his words--words drawn from the
vortices of emotion.
"I tell you this," explained the Mongol, "a thing I have told no man, so
that you may fully understand.... _Shinje!_ How I loved! I was the monk
awakened to the world: desiring, as a man who sees a spring in the
desert thirsts--blindly, extravagantly.... I told her of my dream of
empire; I offered her a throne, and she consented to come to Tibet. Thus
Sarojini Nanjee became a member of the Order of the Falcon--and my
betrothed.
"Then came the night of June the fourteenth. You, as well as the English
police, wondered how the jewels were removed when every border, every
means of egress, was guarded. It was not difficult; it merely
necessitated extreme caution. The day following the disappearance
of the gems a _coffin_ left each of the cities, accompanied by
some--er--'relative' of the 'deceased.' These"--his smile
expanded--"were delivered to the Abbot of Tsagan-dhuka and his lamas.
After that, it was very simple. The jewels went with the pilgrims to
Darjeeling. Then--" He gestured expressively.
A pause followed. Before Hsien Sgam took up his narrative he pressed his
nearly burnt-out cigarette into a bowl--stared at the ashes as though
each gray fleck was the dust of a dream.
"I was in Delhi when I first heard of you--and that Sarojini Nanjee had
betrayed me.... Betrayed by the woman I loved!... At first I was
puzzled as to how to meet this situation--that is, your entrance into
our sphere of activities; whether to--to do away with you, or allow you
to continue until a later time. I decided upon the latter course, for it
suddenly occurred to me that you, being a military man, might
be--er--persuaded to direct your efforts into another channel. A servant
of mine in the employ of Sarojini Nanjee--a man named Chandra Lal--kept
me acquainted with your every move. Thus I was able to take the same
boat as you and to realize I had been wise in assuming you might prove
of more value alive than ... otherwise. In Rangoon I suffered a moment
of indecision, and almost defeated my original purpose. By what happened
I saw that the gods disapproved of my--er--quenching the vital spark, as
the Kanjur says.
"I ordered your presence at the festival yesterday because I wished you
to see how we dispose of traitors. The men who died were members of the
Order who committed grave--er--errors.... And speaking of errors reminds
me to acquaint you with the fate which you would have met to-night had
not I intervened."
He rose and limped across the room, halting at a window whose draperies
were drawn. He faced Trent.
"I am informed that Sarojini Nanjee, with the aid of the Great Magician,
penetrated through the old passage into the Armory," he declared
quietly, "and that she plans to leave the city to-night--with you. I am
also told that she has led you to believe that you will travel to
India--while she secretly conspires to have you murdered after leaving
Shingtse-lunpo. This is for a twofold purpose, I understand. She wishes
to rid herself of your presence, so she may continue with the jewels to
Chinese Turkestan; and the other reason.... Well, I--er--believe there
is an old wrong which she wishes to avenge. Last night a messenger left
for India, with instructions from her to report to your Government that
you have fled across Tibet, presumably to Mongolia, with the
jewels--that you ran amuck, as it were."
He parted the window-draperies with one hand, motioning to Trent with
the other. The Englishman got to his feet and joined him.
"Observe those men," Hsien Sgam directed, indicating a group of soldiers
in the courtyard. "Within an hour they start for the ruined gateway of
the old fortifications on the edge of the marsh, outside the city.
Sarojini Nanjee must pass these ruins if she leaves Shingtse-lunpo, as
the road from the Great Magician's Gate leads directly to the old
gateway. There my men will wait. They have specific orders what to
do.... Sarojini Nanjee will attend to the Great Magician and thus
relieve me of that task."
The curtain dropped into place. Trent was struggling with insurgent
thoughts.... Sarojini Nanjee--eleven o'clock.... Kerth.... Where was
he--and Dana Charteris?... He sorted from the many incoherences a
question that had been trembling on his tongue for the past half hour.
"What of Chavigny?" he asked.
"Chavigny?" Hsien Sgam repeated. "You will meet Chavigny before many
hours."
Trent was possessed of a mad desire to laugh. Who was telling the truth,
Sarojini Nanjee or Hsien Sgam?... Chavigny, the celebrated Chavigny!
"As I told you one night on shipboard," he heard the Mongol saying, "our
troops are good fighters, but untrained. They need a competent leader--a
tactician. Organization; training. Those are the necessary elements. And
they must be taught with the technique of modern warfare, by some one
who understands the mechanism of a great unit of men. If you will accept
that post, your title will be that of Commanding General. From
Shingtse-lunpo you will go into Inner Mongolia, where preparations are
under way to launch a big offensive. We have already taken a few
strides. On the fifth of this month Urga was captured and Ungern's
'White Guards' defeated. But without organized force all this work will
have been accomplished for nothing.... You will be well repaid for your
services. When I am Emperor of Mongolia I shall not forget."
Trent's aggressive jaw was shot forward; but for that his expression was
unchanged.
"You seem to forget I am an Englishman," he reminded.
Hsien Sgam merely smiled. "Men have lost their identities before.
Sarojini Nanjee's messenger is on his way to India. That will account
for your absence to the Government."
Trent looked almost amused. "A sort of birthright-for-a-mess-of-pottage
affair, isn't it?"
"I do not comprehend"--thus the Mongol.
Trent did not try to explain. He queried: "What if I prefer to do
otherwise than as you suggest?"
"I am prepared against such a decision." That lurking smile returned.
"Na-chung, who is a very wise councillor, suspected that your _muleteer_
was--er--not as you represented him--or, I should say, _her_. I ordered
an investigation.... That you were accompanied by a woman, evidently one
to whom you are--er--attached, was all I could have wished for.... I
acted. She has not been molested; nor will she be, if you accept the
terms which I have offered."
Trent's nails dug fiercely into his palms. It was with an effort that he
kept his face in an expressionless mold.
"And if I agree?"
"She will be returned to India, unharmed and with the proper escort."
"How can I be sure of that?"
"She will write to you from Darjeeling."
"You forget the councillor, Na-chung."
"We shall find him," Hsien Sgam stated confidently.
"Dead," Trent added. "He is hidden--hidden where you'll not easily find
him. My muleteers are there--with instructions--and if they have not
heard from me by midnight, they'll put an end to Na-chung."
Hsien Sgam continued to smile. "You will countermand that order," he
said evenly.
"No," declared Trent, quite as evenly.
They faced each other for a space of seconds, neither speaking. Then the
Mongol announced:
"If he is murdered, you will be charged with it and properly
punished"--he paused and finished effectively--"_after_ you have done
the work which I intend you shall do. Otherwise, at the conclusion of
the period of service you are free."
A reckless impulse stormed the battlement of Trent's control. Hsien Sgam
seemed to sense it, for he spoke up.
"Consider well, major. One pays for a moment's folly in the coin of
years."
What passed in Trent's mind the next few moments no man ever knew; it is
doubtful if even Trent himself remembered afterward. His thoughts were
laved in poison.... He felt something of purgatorial fire--a burning of
brain and nerves. But in the heat was a sphere of starry luster--a face,
alone cool and composed in the midst of what seemed some terrific
volcanic disorder of the body. It was this luster that led him at length
to a decision.
"There's no alternative." He heard his voice in a queer, separated
manner. "When I have proof that Miss Charteris has reached India, I will
do as you demand ... but...."
"But if you have the opportunity," Hsien Sgam cut in, linking his
slender fingers and smiling, "you will furnish me with a passport to
that--er--sulphurous dominion which your Christian Bible threatens. Be
assured, major, I shall guard against any such--er--personal
catastrophe."
Then he spoke to one of the soldiers, who immediately left the room. He
turned back to Trent.
"We will go now--this very moment--to His Holiness, and--er--draw up the
contract, so to speak, in his auspicious presence. This visit to
Lhakang-gompa will serve a double purpose, for at the same time I shall
initiate you into the mysteries of '_Thatsang_,' or 'Falcon's Nest,' as
you would say it--the room where the Falcon planned the recent
activities in India. It will be necessary for you to ride to the
monastery; therefore, I must have your word of honor not to--er--commit
any act of violence that might force me to adopt an abortive policy."
The soldier reappeared, holding aside the scarlet curtains.
"You will precede me," directed Hsien Sgam, with a polite wave of his
hand, evidently enjoying the exquisite satire of the situation.
Trent moved into the scarlet audience-chamber, followed by his
Transparency the Governor of Shingtse-lunpo and his mailed bodyguard.
3
To Trent there was grim irony in that ride to Lhakang-gompa. Hsien
Sgam's vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair swayed along at his side, and in
front and rear was a file of leather-helmeted men. In a courtyard of the
great building (they rode up a stone causeway to reach it) the Mongol
left his sedan-chair and Trent dismounted. One of the soldiers took the
lead, Trent walking next, with Hsien Sgam and the other guards in the
rear--a formation whose strategic points the Englishman did not fail to
perceive.
With their entrance into the lower halls of Lhakang-gompa the usual
smell of incense and putridity, a combination of odors peculiarly
Tibetan, assaulted their nostrils and clung as they climbed staircase
after staircase; as they plunged along lamp-lit corridors where lamas
moved like wraiths in the dimness; crossed courts and roofs, glimpsing
the stars and the white flame of a rising moon; and even when they
reached a heavily-carpeted, crimson-walled apartment that Hsien Sgam
informed Trent was the first ante-chamber of Sakya-muni's audience hall.
A large room, this, and occupied by several lamas who sat at
pearl-inlaid tables--chamberlains of the Yellow Pontiff. To one of these
cardinals Hsien Sgam spoke, and the former parted lacquered
sliding-doors and disappeared.
"I am told that His Holiness has been indisposed to-day," Hsien Sgam
explained to Trent, "and has refused to see anyone, even his attendant
cardinals. However, the _Donyer-chenpo_ has gone to see if he will grant
us an audience."
Trent showed little interest as they waited--but the pulse in his
throat was throbbing hotly. He watched with expressionless eyes the
lacquered doors from behind which the _Donyer-chenpo_, or chamberlain,
would reappear. And at length the cardinal came. The doors parted and he
stepped out, motioning to Hsien Sgam. The latter moved forward and held
a short conversation with the prelate, then nodded to Trent, who, with
the soldiers at his heels, joined them.
"His Holiness has consented to see us"--this briefly from the Mongol.
Beyond the lacquered doors was a stairway that took them into a chamber
similar to the one they had left. Two lamas were the only occupants, one
on either side of a great door covered with cerise and gold brocade and
ornamented with knobs of gold filagree. Here they exchanged their shoes
for soft black slippers, and here they left the soldiers.
The _Donyer-chenpo_ pushed back the great door. They entered. Trent was
confused by darkness; then came a swishing sound, and a thin line of
light broadened into a triangle as draperies were pulled aside.
The first impression, due to the vastness of the audience hall and the
dim glow of the butter-lamps, was one of space and gloom and mystery. A
double line of pillars strove toward a chain-spanned impluvium through
which stars were visible, and along the walls were idols and holy
vessels-brazen bowls and cymbals and incense-burners. Toward the rear,
at the end of the avenue of columns, was a raised portion of the floor,
covered with yellow silks. There, beneath a canopy and seated upon a
throne whose arms were carved lions, attended by the _Kuchar Khanpo_ and
the _Solen-chenpo_--state officials--was his Holiness, Sakya-muni, the
Grand Lama of Tibet. He wore the yellow mitre, yellow veil and yellow
vestments that Trent had seen at the Festival of the Gods, and his slim
hands rested motionless, as though wrought of bronze, upon the carved
lions of the throne.
Hsien Sgam bowed low, whispering to Trent to do the same. As the latter
drew erect he saw that the _Donyer-chenpo_ had disappeared; the
following instant he heard the muffled sound of a closing door behind
him.
Meanwhile, Sakya-muni motioned them forward, his yellow mitre nodding.
"His Holiness means for us to be seated on the rugs below the
throne-dais," said Hsien Sgam in a hushed voice.
The two, Englishman and Mongol, took seats, cross-legged, upon the
carpets before the raised portion of the floor that supported the
pontifical throne. A thin voice sounded from under the veil....
"His Holiness bids you greeting," translated Hsien Sgam, "and prays that
the blessing of the Three Konchog be upon you. In return, I shall give
him your"--the shadow of a smile slid across the oblique
eyes--"your--er--felicitations."
The two yellow-robed attendants then served tea in golden chalices.
Sakya-muni did not drink his, but blessed it and passed it to the
_Kuchar Khanpo_.... Incense brushed Trent's face, like a tangible
touch.... The ceremony of tea-drinking over, he waited restlessly for
the next move.
The Grand Lama spoke in his thin voice to the attendants, who backed to
a corridor at one side of the audience-hall and vanished, leaving Trent
and Hsien Sgam alone with the Living Buddha.... Sakya-muni was murmuring
to himself--reciting a _mantra_, Trent imagined. There was something
checked and imminent in the solemn quiet....
Suddenly Sakya-muni ceased murmuring. He lifted one hand. Immediately
Hsien Sgam got to his feet, instructing Trent to do the same. The Grand
Lama rose, his yellow vestments shimmering faintly in the
cathedral-dusk. He spoke. Trent, who was watching the Mongol out of the
corner of his eye, saw a look of surprise dwell for a second in the
latter's face; saw Hsien Sgam produce from under his garments an object
that glinted like blue steel; saw him pass it to Sakya-muni.
Then the reincarnation of Gaudama Siddartha removed mitre and veil with
one hand (he held the glinting object in the other) and stepped down
from the dais--only it was not Sakya-muni who did this, but Euan Kerth
in the vestments of the Lamaist pontiff; Euan Kerth, smiling his satanic
smile and looking like some shaven-pated Mephistopheles.
4
The blood pulsed in Trent's temples. For once his stupefaction escaped
the citadel of his impassivity. Nor could Hsien Sgam control his
amazement. The Mongol stared--stared with the air of a man struggling to
grasp something beyond his ken of thought, beyond possibility.
Kerth's voice broke the spell--proof to Trent that what he saw was no
sorcery of the eyes.
"I'm not so sure our friend the Governor has no other firearms on his
person. Suppose you investigate, major."
At the sound of the voice, a voice that spoke English, Hsien Sgam seemed
to awaken to a realization of the situation. Surprise was replaced by a
queer, half-dazed expression.
"I have been without wits," he said, more to himself than to the others.
"I did not for a moment consider that there might be two--that...."
Words perished on his lips. His breathing was audible--the heavy
breathing of one suddenly stricken. He recovered enough to ask: "His
Holiness--what have you done to him? Have you--"
"It's hardly my place to answer questions," drawled Kerth; "surely not
my intention." Then: "Go ahead, major."
As Trent approached, Hsien Sgam lifted his hand.
"Am I to be forced to submit to the indignity of being searched?"
Neither Englishman answered, but Trent paused tentatively.
"If I give my word," Hsien Sgam pursued, "that I am unarmed, will not
that be sufficient?"
"No weapon of any sort?"--thus Kerth, while his eyes sought Trent. The
latter inclined his head slightly.
"None."
Something of the Mongol's poise and dignity had reasserted itself, and a
faint, illusive smile--an almost tolerant smile--touched his
woman's-mouth. His slender hands worked nervously.
"I daresay I can guess your thoughts." Kerth, who was smiling, addressed
Hsien Sgam. "Your Transparency thinks I dare not use this,"--fingering
the steel trigger-guard--"but in that you are mistaken. You must
remember that whereas you are Governor, I am--well--" He touched the
yellow vestments.
As Trent watched Hsien Sgam, an emotion almost of pity smote him. He
felt the titanic conflict within the Mongol, the power--warped
power--behind the Buddha-like face and the heretofore puzzling eyes
(eyes that were no longer puzzling, but that mirrored the raw look of
ancient evil, the bitter corrosion of disappointment); power that was
facing defeat. Dream of empire, of pomp and regal splendor, rusted, as
his every dream had done.... An unfinished vessel, this Hsien Sgam.
(Fragments of the Mongol's story played like illuminating shafts among
Trent's thoughts: the boy who wept for his father--who felt the
strangle-grip of a great gray Babylon--the celibate to whom the wine of
love turned stale.) The gift of life to Hsien Sgam had been ashes. All
this Trent saw in his eyes--eyes that stared ahead with sick
contemplation.
And now Hsien Sgam moved. He clasped his lithe, feminine hands; he took
a few steps, slueing upon his twisted limb; paused; stood motionless;
made a gesture of resignation.
"I am defeated," he declared in his soft voice, "but you will sink with
me. It is as though you had ventured into a web; the threads will tangle
you, and, like flies, you will hang there and die."
Kerth smiled. "Your teeth are extracted, Transparency," he replied. He
removed another revolver from under his pallium, offering it to Trent.
"Major, I think we can talk with more ease if we go to my"--this with a
smile--"my apartments. There are certain matters I wish to discuss with
his Transparency, and I fear we might be interrupted here."
He moved around the dais, pausing by the yellow brocade that hung behind
the throne.
"Suppose I walk first, then his Transparency, then you, major. I believe
that will prevent any complications."
In the rear of the dais, concealed by yellow draperies, was a door that
gave access to a stairway. Kerth took the lead, his robes dragging upon
the stone steps. The stairs mounted at a steep grade, broke their ascent
on three landings, and brought them into a small space, facing
coral-hued curtains. As Kerth gripped the center of the hangings,
preparatory to parting them, he looked around, over his shoulder and
Hsien Sgam's close-cropped head, at Trent.
"Be prepared, major," he drawled. "This is '_Thatsang_' or, as we would
say it, 'Falcon's Nest.'" He laughed--a low, rather grim chuckle. "You
stand face to face with the secret of Lhakang-gompa."
With that he jerked the draperies apart and the clink of the metal rings
from which they hung sent a slight shiver down Trent's spine. He stepped
between the curtains, Hsien Sgam preceding him. He found himself in a
long room. Its floor and walls were bare. At the far end, in an
alcove-like space, raised and sectioned off from the rest of the
apartment by a half-partition, was a bed. Yak-hair curtains partly hid
it--only partly, for they did not conceal the limbs and the crimson
garment of the body that lay upon the gold-fringed bed-robe.
Kerth had crossed the room. Now Trent halted at the break of the
partition, Hsien Sgam at his side.
The face of the sleeper (Trent knew by the fall and rise of his breast
that he was not dead) was Aryan, but the shape of the eyelids and brows
suggested that the eyes, when open, were oblique. Lips thin and
sensitive; features of an ascetic. The skull was high and shaven as bare
as if hair had never grown upon it; a white bandage covered the right
temple and sloped over the dome.... Trent lifted his eyes from the pale,
yellow features to Kerth, who, with a slight smile, answered the
inquisitive look.
"Sakya-muni is the Falcon."
Trent looked down upon the wasted features; looked up again.
"He's been unconscious since noon to-day," Kerth explained. "This
morning I attended a ceremony in the audience-hall. While I was saying a
_mantra_, the idea occurred to me.... I crept into one of the corridors
off the hall and hid there. When the lamas had gone, Sakya-muni went
behind the curtains in the rear of the throne, with two attendants. Soon
the attendants reappeared ... and I went up. Unfortunately, in the
tussle he struck his head. I'm afraid he's done up rather badly. Take a
look, major. Meanwhile, Transparency"--his eyes fastened upon the
Mongol--"be seated--here."
He indicated an armchair and Hsien Sgam sat down. Trent bent over
Sakya-muni.... After several minutes he straightened up.
"It's a bad cut, but I can't tell much without a closer examination. He
has fever--pulse running up, too."
Hsien Sgam rose. "Is it quite serious, Major Trent? Do you think--"
"You will resume your seat, Transparency," ordered Kerth. The Mongol
obeyed. "Now, major, tell me just what has happened to-day--and if
you've learned anything about Miss Charteris."
Trent briefly summarized the situation. Kerth nodded absently when he
had finished; fingered his revolver.
"We're a bit scattered," he commented. Then, after a pause:
"Transparency, you will be good enough to say where you've hidden Miss
Charteris."
Hsien Sgam sat like a carved Buddha; even his fingers ceased their
restless playing upon the arms of the chair.
"If I refuse?"
Kerth thrust forward the blue muzzle of the revolver. "There's to be no
parleying," he declared sternly, the smile gone from his face. "You've
lost. Now come through."
After a moment Hsien Sgam said:
"She is at my residence."
"Good"--this from Kerth. "Before we leave you will write an order to
have her taken to whatever place we specify." Then, as though dismissing
that point as settled, he went on: "Hmm.... Quite scattered, I'd say:
She at his house; we here; Trent's men with Na-chung; Sarojini Nanjee
getting ready to leave; his Transparency's soldiers hidden at the ruined
gate,"--a pause--"with orders to shoot Sarojini Nanjee.... Hmm...."
Suddenly he smiled. "Excellent!... What's the hour, major?"
Trent pulled back his long sleeve. "Five to ten."
Kerth spoke to Hsien Sgam. "You will also send a guard to your men at
the ruins, withdrawing them--but, no--no--won't do. Ends must meet....
We can't trust a messenger. And we must let Sarojini Nanjee leave the
city, as she's planned; for she has the jewels--yet--damn!" His forehead
crinkled into a frown. "Damn!" he repeated. "Ends _must_ meet!"
Silence followed. Hsien Sgam did not stir. Once a faint sound, a
shuddering sigh, came from the alcove-like space. Kerth was the first to
speak, and his smile hinted that he had discovered a solution.
"You may not wholly approve, major," he began, "yet I see no other way.
Why not go ahead and meet Sarojini Nanjee? Meanwhile, I'll have Miss
Charteris freed, and she, in company with myself and his Transparency,
can leave the city by the main gate and Amber Bridge. We'll reach the
ruined gateway before you and Sarojini pass the Great Magician's Gate,
which will give his Transparency time to forestall the soldiers and send
them back to the city. Then we can wait, there at the gateway, for you.
Sarojini may not be particularly pleased when she learns of my presence;
but if she acts up, we have his Transparency to testify that she
intended to do away with an officer of the empire. That ought to
simplify her case."
"What of my muleteers?" Trent queried. "And Na-chung?"
"Na-chung isn't to be considered. As for your men--I can get word to
them to meet us at the main gate. If there's trouble we can make good
use of them. Of course, there's a risk--more for you than for me.
Something might prevent us from reaching the soldiers in time, and--"
Hsien Sgam interrupted.
"You forget his Holiness. Will you leave him to die?"
"Hardly," Kerth answered. "After all that's happened, I fancy the
Viceroy will be pleased to--to _entertain_ his Holiness.... No, we
sha'n't leave him to die. If all goes well, Major Trent and I can
arrange to return to Lhakang-gompa."
"You think," said Hsien Sgam, "it will be easy to leave the city?"
Kerth made a deprecatory gesture. "That is not difficult. I shall ride
in the sedan-chair of His Holiness Sakya-muni, and until we pass Amber
Bridge your Transparency will sit beside me to prevent any interference
with our plans. There you may change to a pony and ride between two of
the major's muleteers. Your own palanquin will be put to good use, as
Miss Charteris can occupy that. And after we leave Shing-tse-lunpo, then
to the South--Gyangtse--and into India."
Hsien Sgam smiled--that smile of inscrutable irony.
"You are only crawling deeper into the web," he asserted quietly. "It
will fall upon you and you will go--like that--" The lithe hands spread
out expressively.
Kerth coolly returned his smile. "If we're caught, you'll perish with
us, in the same web. Threats are useless, Transparency. The scales have
tilted. And your attitude doesn't become a prisoner. We can carry out
our plans with you or without you, although much smoother with you.
Accept my ultimatum--_unconditional surrender_--or reject it."
Hsien Sgam's lips twisted into that ineffaceable smile. His quiescence
was absolute.
"You understand, if I thought my--my demise would prevent you from
executing your plans, I would not hesitate to--er--clog the machinery.
But it would be suicide without a purpose. Therefore, I can only
accept."
"Unconditionally?"
"Unconditionally."
Hsien Sgam's chin sank into his breast.
"Now, major, do you approve of my plan?" asked Kerth. "If so, we'll go
to the audience hall and I'll order the men to take you to your
residence, and his Transparency and I will despatch messengers for Miss
Charteris and your muleteers."
Trent nodded.
Kerth placed the mitre upon his head and let the veil fall over his
features. A blue steel eye glittered in the folds of his robes--an eye
that was focussed upon Hsien Sgam.
"Come, Transparency!"
Kerth leading, they left Falcon's Nest; left it with its silence and its
brooding secrets.
5
A few minutes later Kerth was seated on the throne of Sakya-muni (Trent
and Hsien Sgam stood on the red carpets before the dais) and reaching
toward a gong that hung from one of the carved lions of the chair.
Following the mellow ring, the curtains in the other end of the chamber
parted to admit the _Donyer-chenpo_, who bowed and stood waiting.
The thin voice sounded from under the yellow veil--a stream of Tibetan
words. Trent wondered, irrelevantly, if it was really Kerth who
spoke--Kerth of the satanic smile.
And now he saw the yellow-robed figure motioning him to leave, and
backed slowly to where the _Donyer-chenpo_ stood; backed between the
parted draperies; and the curtains dropped, and he was in darkness.
In the first ante-chamber the _Donyer-chenpo_ resumed his seat at the
nacre-inlaid desk, among the other cardinals, and Trent continued with
the soldiers. Back through the courts and corridors they went (each
glimpse of the stars brought to Trent a sweet recollection of another
lustrous pallor), and down the innumerable staircases. They emerged at
length into the courtyard where the horses were waiting; mounted; rode
out of Lhakang-gompa and down the causeway.
Afterward, Trent could remember no single incident of that brief ride
from the lamasery; it was a panorama of moon and white walls and
darkness. The bewildering events of the past few hours had left him in a
state of mental confusion. The soldiers wheeled about at his gate, and
he rode into the deserted quadrangle alone.
He was about to dismount when a shadow detached itself from the gloom of
the garden--the garden, with its flaming hollyhocks. (Odd that he should
think of flowers now!) It was the long-haired guide of the previous
night. He grunted what Trent supposed was a greeting, and caught the
bridle, guiding the pony back to the gate. Trent turned for a last look
at the dark dwelling--the house where he first partook of the lover's
eucharist. Then the Tibetan swung himself upon the pony, behind him,
clamping his knees upon the beast's flanks, and Trent inhaled the reek
of soiled clothing.
Through familiar streets they clattered, and over a stone bridge toward
the city's ramparts. Few people were astir; dogs prowled in the lurking
shadows. The temple of the Great Magician had a ghostly semblance as
they approached it; its dome was spattered with moonlight, like a huge
anthill flecked with drippings of glow-paint. Something in the sight of
the bulk of masonry brought to Trent's mind what Sarojini Nanjee had
said....
They passed the temple. A narrow foot-path took them to the Great
Magician's Gate. As on the preceding night, there was no guard. When
Trent's pony was brought to a halt, the Tibetan made a gesture which
Trent interpreted to mean that he should stay there and slunk away along
the path to the temple. Trent glanced at his watch as the man left.
To the north, in the maze of houses that lay flat and huddled beneath
the sovereign structure of Lhakang-gompa, a dog was howling. Another
answered it; another took it up; and the melancholy baying wavered from
roof to roof--a tuneless dirge. Irrelevantly, Trent thought of a
vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair that by this time should be at the
ruined gateway. It was a sheer, breathless moment, a moment detached and
charged with exquisite suspense.
The rattle of harness-chains drew him back to earth. His eyes swerved to
the path from the temple. After a moment, shadows took shape in the
moonlight--mounts and riders. He wheeled his pony and rode to meet the
caravan.
Sarojini Nanjee sat erect upon a horse at the head of a string of mules;
the scent of sandalwood awakened in him a queer alertness. She always
breathed of earth-perfume--an odor of the senses. Beyond her were the
looming shapes of three men--muleteers. Trent saw the contours of sacks
on the pack-animals.
"Your men have left the city?" was her first question. Her breath came
quickly and the black opals had been kindled in her eyes.
He answered with a nod.
She insinuated her hand into his; pressed his fingers.
"We win!" she whispered. "You and I!"
He smiled to himself, grimly. What Hsien Sgam had said was fresh in his
ears. One of her men passed and opened the gate. Outside, on the
embankment, she turned her mount, waiting at one side while the caravan
moved out. Trent reined in his pony beside her.
"Look!" she commanded, pointing through the gate at the magnificent mass
of Lhakang-gompa, above whose broken roofs the moon was poised.
"Shingtse-lunpo--Lhakang-gompa--all! I hold them, like this!" And she
made a gesture and laughed--that old familiar laugh that rippled low in
her throat. "All is not finished! Nay! I promised you vengeance--and
to-night, in a few minutes, you shall know that I keep my promises!"
Then she struck her horse in the flanks and dashed down the slope, to
the head of the caravan. Trent followed. Behind, the gate closed softly
and hoofs thudded in the mud of the road.
"_To-night ... you shall know that I keep my promises!_"
That rang in Trent's brain; rang and echoed and reeled away, and left
him to grope for the meaning.
They rode on. Several times Sarojini Nanjee glanced over her shoulder.
The ruins above the tunnel were reached, passed. Ahead the road swerved
and lost itself in high rushes--rushes that swayed and sighed and
shivered. Trent's hand hovered close to his revolver. The flesh over his
spine crawled uncomfortably as they approached the end of the
marsh-belt. He strained his eyes, but saw only the fringed line of tall
reeds against the sky.... And now the white columns of the ruined
gateway loomed, broken sentinels guarding the half-buried remains of an
ancient fortification.
They were within a few yards of the gateway when, ahead, a horse
whinnied.
Trent's heart leaped into his throat, and Sarojini Nanjee swiftly reined
in her horse. Something gleamed in her hand.
From behind the shattered walls appeared a horseman--a robed horseman,
phantom-like in the moonlight. Behind him rode another--another. They
were fairly vomited through the gateway. Trent recognized Kerth at the
head, Kee Meng and Hsaio behind.
The thing in Sarojini's hand coughed, and the red glare of discharged
powder momentarily stained the darkness. But none of the three horsemen
faltered. Before she could fire again Trent gripped her mount's bridle
and dug his heels into his own pony. They plunged forward, side by side.
He was almost dragged from the saddle, but he managed to remain
seated--to cling to the bridle of Sarojini's horse. When they were
outside the broken gate he jerked both animals to a standstill. Melted
fire-opals blazed in the woman's eyes. But he had her revolver.
"You fool!"
Vitriol was in her voice--but he heard her only in a detached way, for
he saw, swimming in the moonlight behind the wall, a sedan-chair, and in
it the pale oval of a face. It was in the midst of mules and packs and
several mounted men. Hsien Sgam was there, in the saddle, between two
muleteers. Kerth, Kee Meng and Hsiao had drawn rein in the gateway, thus
separating Sarojini Nanjee from her caravan.
This, a quick negative, snapped and printed upon Trent's brain.
From him the woman's eyes moved around the group--past Kerth, past the
muleteers and the sedan-chair--to Hsien Sgam.
"You did this!" Her words stung with venom, and her eyes traveled back
swiftly to Trent. "Perhaps he fooled you into betraying me--_but ask him
why he wanted you to believe Chavigny alive and see, then, if you want
him as your ally_!"
A moment of tenseness followed--a moment that seemed to lengthen into a
dead interval of time. The very world ached with dumbness, ached and
waited. Hsien Sgam, who sat stooped upon his pony, was the first to
speak.
"Major Trent, you wish to know who murdered your friend. Sarojini Nanjee
did it. But not with her own hand...." His words were like smooth
pellets emerging from vats of molten metal. "I loved her," the Mongol
declared; "loved her ... and I went to Gaya, to your house, when I
learned of her interest in you.... And there I made a fatal mistake--"
His words were buried as a muffled detonation ruptured the quiet. An
abrupt shock quivered the ground. Eyes swerved to the source of sound.
For an infinitesimal moment the very universe seemed to hang in dreadful
suspense; then came two violent throbs, like the blows of a seismic
hammer. A terrific roar was born out of the womb of inter-stellar
silence--a roar that smote the eardrums of those who heard, that pressed
ponderously against the heart and whipped the blood into throat and
nostrils and eyes.
From the towering mass of Lhakang-gompa rose a quick glare that stabbed
up, sank, and with it the roofs and walls of the monastery.... Smoke
belched upon the sky. The earth shook. The very stars seemed dim with
dread, and a wraith of nebulous black veiled the face of the moon. It
was as though the gigantic machinery of a planet had been suddenly
crippled.
The hush that followed seemed to pluck from Trent's lungs the power to
breathe. He thought the ground still heaved, that the rumbling was still
pouring about his ears.... He was a pigmy in the midst of some cosmic
disorder.... His pony snorted and trembled violently. For a space of
seconds no one spoke; no one dared. All looked toward the cloud that was
settling, doom-black, over what had been Lhakang-gompa, over the seamed
and broken heart of Shingtse-lunpo!... And then came a soft, repressed
voice--a herald of earth recalling them to its dominion after some awful
furlough.
"Sarojini Nanjee is very clever. I should have known better than to
oppose a woman."
A rattling laugh broke from Hsien Sgam, a laugh that was punctuated by a
crash. Trent, turning, saw a rapier of corrosive flame leap from the
Mongol's hand; saw it reflect hideously upon the features of Sarojini
Nanjee. He sought to catch her, but she slipped from the saddle.... Her
face stared up at him from a pool of black hair.
Again the rattling laugh--as the muleteers lunged at Hsien Sgam; again
the crash and the rapier of corrosive flame, a broken rapier, that sank
its hot shaft into the Mongol's own breast.... He hung limp between the
muleteers, and a shining thing dropped from his hand to the ground. But
his eyes were open. Trent saw them; Kerth, who had dismounted, saw them.
"I regret that I killed your friend, Major Trent"--the Mongol spoke in a
stricken voice--"I regret, too, that I was forced to close the lips of a
native who appeared at an inopportune time. It is unpardonable, major,
that I stabbed this Captain Manlove--instead--of you."
Then he swayed; fell forward upon the neck of his mount. He was still
alive when Trent reached him, but the Buddha-like face seemed shrunken
and the oblique eyes, revealed by the searching brilliance of the
moonlight, were half closed with pain. He smiled in a twisted, grotesque
manner.
"Mysteries are exquisite things, major," he whispered. "Consider how
delightful it--it will be, in years to come, to--to wonder whether
Chavigny ... ah, _Shinje_!... whether he was killed in Delhi, as
Sarojini claims, or died in--in Lhakang-gompa; and to wonder if she
really meant to--to murder you, or if I--I lied--" He laughed softly.
"You have heard of the scorpion, major, who, surrounded, stings himself
to death...."
They had to lift him from the pony, and Trent, looking down upon the
huddled body, knew it did not belong to the boy who went forth from
Mongolia with the dream of a messiah shining in his heart.