THE PERILOUS PATH.
Forth we rushed into the darkness, through the streaming deluge of that
tropic clime. For the seraphic frenzy had now come upon the mage in
good earnest, and all the Thought-reader burned in his dusky eyes.
We presented, indeed, a strange spectacle, for the mage, in his silvery
swathings, held Leonora by the hands, and Leonora held me, as we raced
through the gloom.
In any other city our aspect and demeanour had excited attention and
claimed the interference of the authorities.
In Berlin Uhlans would have charged us, in Paris grape-shot would have
ploughed through our ranks. _Here_ they deemed we were but of the
sacred race of Thought-readers, who, by a custom of the strange people,
are permitted to run at random through the streets and even to enter
private houses.
We were not even followed, in our headlong career, by a crowd, for the
public had ceased to interest itself in frenzied research for hidden
pins or concealed cigarettes.
After a frantic chase Jambres (late 'the Mage') paused, breathless, in
front of a building of portentous proportions.
How it chanced I have never been able to understand, but, as I am a
living and honourable woman, this hall had the characteristics of
ancient Egyptian architecture, and that (miraculous as it may appear)
in perfect preservation.
There are the hypostyle halls, the two Osirid pillars--colossal figures
of strange gods, in coloured relief--there is the great blue scarab,
the cartouche, the _pschent_, the _pschutt_, and all that we admire in
the Rameseum of the Ancient Empire.
But all was silent, all was deserted; the vast adamantine portals were
closed.
Jambres paused in dismay.
'Since I last gave an exhibition of mine art in those halls,' said
he, '('twas in old forgotten days, in Bosco's palmy time), much is
altered. OPEN SESAME!' he cried; but, curious to say, _nothing
opened_!
At that moment a dark figure crawled submissively to our feet. It was
old Pellmelli.
His instinct for 'copy' had brought him on our track, and he began--
'As our representative, I am commissioned----'
Jambres (late 'Asher') turned from him, and he fell (still making
notes) prone on his face, where we left him, as the pace was too good
to inquire.
The mage now reconnoitred carefully the vast facade of the Hall of
Egypt, and finally fixed his gaze on a perpendicular leaden column,
adorned with strange symbols, through which (for it was a rainy night)
raging torrents of water were distinctly heard flowing downwards to who
knows what abysmal and unfathomable depths?
In this weird climate it was the familiar yet dreaded _waterspout_!
Jambres, with the feline agility of a catapult of the mountain, began
to climb the perpendicular leaden channel to which he had called our
attention, and of course we had to follow him. It was perfectly
marvellous to see the ease and grace with which he skipped and hopped
up the seemingly naked face of the wall. There were places indeed where
our position was perilous enough, and it did not add to our
cheerfulness to hear the horrid roaring and gurgling of the unseen and
imprisoned waters that poured down the channel with a violence which
seemed as if they might at any moment burst their bonds. Helped,
however, by certain ledges which projected from the wall beneath square
openings filled with some transparent substance, on which ledges from
time to time we rested, we arrived at the steep crest, and paused for
repose beneath the leafy shade of the roof-tree, Jambres lightly
leading the way.
'Now,' said Jambres, 'comes the most delicate part of our journey.'
So indeed it proved, for the mage began rapidly to divest himself of
his mysterious swathings. Wrapper by wrapper he undid, cerement on
cerement, till both Leonora and I wondered when he would stop.
Stop he did, however, and, with a practised hand, shot his linen into
one long rope, which he carefully attached to an erect and smoking
pillar, perhaps of basaltic formation, perhaps an ancient altar of St.
Simeon Skylites. When all was taut, Jambres approached a slanting
slope, smooth and transparent, perhaps of glacial origin. On this he
stamped, and the fragments tinkled as they fell into unknown deeps.
Then he seized the rope, let himself down, and from far below we heard
his voice calling to us to follow him.
Leonora and I descended with agility to some monstrous basin in the
abyss--the Pit, Jambres called it. Here Jambres met us, and bade us
light the railway reading-lamps which, as I forgot to mention, we had
brought with us. Then, jumping off with the lead, he advanced along the
floor, picking his way with great care, as indeed it was most necessary
to do, for the floor was strewn with strange forms, stumbling over the
legs and backs of which it would have been easy to break one's own.
When we halted, brought up by a barrier, of which I did not at first
discern the nature, our lamps (as is sometimes the way of some such
patent lamps[28]) suddenly went out. Jambres whispered hoarsely, 'Wot
are yer waitin' for? Come on; [Greek: all' age]. _Nunc est scandendum._'
We saw before us a vast expanse, of which it was impossible to gauge
the extent, so impenetrable, so overpowering was the gloom of its
blackness. 'It is the abode,' said Jambres, mysteriously, 'of my rival
De Kolta!' He himself, owing to his use of his swathings, was
sufficiently _decollete_
[28]
I think I've managed not to be libellous.--ED.
We shall see.--PUBLISHER.
On the hither side was a row of _lumieres a pied_ which seemed _afloat_
on the darkness, and in their centre a sudden chasm which looked as if
it had been made by human agency. The fitful moonbeams[29] showed us a
most curious and accurately shaped spur, or _run-down_ as it is called
in the native dialect, which connected the floor on which we stood with
the darkness beyond.
[29]
You've not mentioned them before.--PUBLISHER.
That's why I do now.--ED.
What mortal, however hardy, dared cross this quivering wavering bridge
in the total darkness? Beneath our feet it swayed and leaped like
rotten ice on the magic Serpentine.
'Hush,' cried Jambres, 'it comes, it comes! Be still!'
Even as he spoke, we saw a _long shaft of yellow light_ streaming
from an unknown centre, and searching out the recesses of the cavern.
'Be still, as you value your liberty,' whispered Jambres. 'The Bobi is
on his beat.'
Then, as the long shaft smote the swaying bridge, he lightly crossed
it, and beckoned us to follow. We obeyed, and in another instant all
was again darkness.
'He has gone his round,' said Jambres. 'Won't be back for hours!'