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"You give me your life, to do with as I will."
"As you will."
Fo-Hi momentarily raised the blazing eyes.
"Oh, empty sh.e.l.l of a vanished joy!" he cried.
Then, frenziedly grasping Miska by her arms, he glared into her impa.s.sive face.
"Your heart leaps wildly in your breast!" he whispered tenderly.
"Look into my eyes...."
Miska sighed and opened her eyes yet more widely. She shuddered and a slow smile appeared upon her lips.
The lacquer screen making the window was pushed open and Chunda Lal leapt in over the edge. As Fo-Hi drew the yielding, hypnotised girl towards him, Chunda Lal, a gleaming _kukri_ held aloft, ran with a silent panther step across the floor.
He reached Fo-Hi, drew himself upright; the glittering blade quivered ... and Fo-Hi divined his presence.
Uttering a short, guttural exclamation, he thrust Miska aside. She staggered dazedly and fell p.r.o.ne upon the floor. The quivering blade did not descend.
Fo-Hi drew himself rigidly upright, extending his hands, palms downward, before him. He was exerting a superhuman effort. The breath whistled through his nostrils. Chunda Lal, knife upraised, endeavored to strike; but his arm seemed to have become incapable of movement and to be held, helpless, aloft.
Staring at the rigid figure before him, he began to pant like a man engaged in a wrestle for life.
Fo-Hi stretched his right arm outward, and with a gesture of hand and fingers beckoned to Chunda Lal to come before him.
And now, Miska, awakening as from a fevered dream, looked wildly about her, and then, serpentine, began to creep to the table upon which the keys were lying. Always watching the awful group of two, she rose slowly, s.n.a.t.c.hed the keys and leapt across to the open window....
Chunda Lal, swollen veins standing out cord-like on his brow, his gaze set hypnotically upon the moving hand, dropped his knife and began to move in obedience to the will of Fo-Hi.
As he came finally face to face with the terrible Adept of Rache Churan, Miska disappeared into the shadow of the balcony. Fo-Hi by an imperious gesture commanded Chunda Lal to kneel and bow his head.
The Hindu, gasping, obeyed.
Thereupon Fo-Hi momentarily relaxed his giant concentration and almost staggered as he glared down at the kneeling man. But never was that dreadful gaze removed from Chunda Lal. And now the veiled man drew himself rigidly upright again and stepped backward until the fallen _kukri_ lay at his feet. He spoke, "Chunda Lal!"
The Hindu rose, gazing before him with unseeing eyes. His forehead was wet with perspiration.
Fo-Hi pointed to the knife.
Chunda Lal, without removing his sightless gaze from the veiled face, stooped, groped until he found the knife and rose with it in his hand.
Back stepped Fo-Hi, and back, until he could touch the big table. He moved a bra.s.s switch--and a trap opened in the floor behind Chunda Lal. Fo-Hi raised his right hand, having the fingers tightly closed as if grasping the hilt of a knife. With his left hand he pointed to the trap. Again he spoke.
_"Tum samauhe ho?"_
Mechanically Chunda La replied:
_"Ah, Sahib, tumhara huken jaldi: kiya' jaega'"_ (Yes, I hear and obey.)
As Fo-Hi raised his clenched right hand, so did Chunda Lal raise the _kukri._ Fo-Hi extended his left hand rigidly towards the Hindu and seemed to force him, step by step, back towards the open trap. Almost at the brink, Chunda Lal paused, swayed, and began to utter short, agonised cries. Froth appeared upon his lips.
Raising his right hand yet further aloft, Fo-Hi swiftly brought it down, performing the gesture of stabbing himself to the heart. His ghastly reserve deserted him.
_"Jey Bhowana!"_ he screamed--"Yah Allah!"
Chunda Lal, uttering a loud groan, stabbed himself and fell backward into the opening. Ensued a monstrous crash of broken gla.s.s.
As he fell, Fo-Hi leapt to the brink of the trap, glaring down madly into the cellar below. His yellow fingers opened and closed spasmodically.
"Lie there," he shrieked--"my 'faithful' servant! The ants shall pick your bones!"
He grasped the upstanding door of the trap and closed it. It descended with a reverberating boom. Fo-Hi raised his clenched fists and stepped to the door. Finding it locked, he stood looking toward the open screen before the window.
"Miska!" he whispered despairingly.
He crossed to the window and was about to look out, when a high-pitched electric bell began to ring in the room.
Instantly Fo-Hi closed the screen and turned, looking in the direction from whence the sound of ringing proceeded. As he did so, a second bell, in another key, began to ring--a third--a fourth.
Momentarily the veiled man exhibited evidence of indecision. Then, from beneath his robe he took a small key. Approaching an ornate cabinet set against the wall to the left of one of the lacquer doors, he inserted the key in a hidden lock, and slid the entire cabinet partly aside revealing an opening.
Fo-Hi bent, peering down into the darkness of the pa.s.sage below. A m.u.f.fled report came, a flash out of the blackness of the river tunnel, and a bullet pa.s.sed through the end of the cabinet upon which his hand was resting, smas.h.i.+ng an ivory statuette and shattering the gla.s.s.
Hurriedly he slid the cabinet into place again and stood with his back to it, arms outstretched.
"Miska!" he said--and a note of yet deeper despair had crept into the harsh voice.
Awhile he stood thus; then he drew himself up with dignity. The bells had ceased.
Methodically Fo-Hi began to take certain books from the shelves and to cast them into the great metal bowl which stood upon the tripod. Into the bowl he poured the contents of a large gla.s.s jar. Flames and clouds of smoke arose. He paused, listening.
Confused voices were audible, seemingly from all around him, together with a sound of vague movements.
Fo-Hi took up vials and jars and dashed them to pieces upon the tiled hearth in which the furnace rested. Test-tubes, flasks and retorts he shattered, and finally, raising the large gla.s.s case of orchids he dashed it down amid the debris of the other nameless and priceless monstrosities unknown to Western science.
CHAPTER VII
THE WAY OF A SCORPION
A black cloud swept past the face of the moon and cold illumination flooded the narrow lane and patched with light the drive leading up to the front of the isolated mansion. Wrought-iron gates closed both entrances and a high wall, surmounted by broken gla.s.s and barbed wire, entirely surrounded the grounds.
"This one also is locked," said Gaston Max, trying the gate and then peering through the bars in the direction of the gloomy house.
All the visible windows were shuttered. No ray of light showed anywhere. The house must have been p.r.o.nounced deserted by anyone contemplating it.