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Page 17
"Mysterious outrages," said Bristol, "have marked the progress of
the stolen slipper from Mecca almost to London."
"I understand," interrupted the solicitor, "that a fanatic known
as Hassan of Aleppo seeks to restore the relic to its former
restingplace."
"That is so."
"Exactly; and it accounts for the Professor's wish that the safe
should not be touched by any one but a Believer--and for his
instructions that its removal to the Antiquarian Museum and the
placing of the slipper within that institution be undertaken by a
Moslem or Moslems."
Bristol frowned.
"Any one who has touched the receptacle containing the thing," he
said, "has either been mutilated or murdered. I want to apprehend
the authors of those outrages, but I fail to see why the slipper
should be put on exhibition. Other crimes are sure to follow."
"I can only pursue my instructions," said Mr. Rawson dryly. "They
are, that the work be done in such a manner as to expose all
concerned to a minimum of risk from these mysterious people; that
if possible a Moslem be employed for the purpose; and that Mr.
Cavanagh, here, shall always hold the key or keys to the case in
the museum containing the slipper. Will you undertake to look for
some--Eastern workmen, Mr. Bristol? In the course of your
inquiries you may possibly come across such a person."
"I can try," replied Bristol. "Meanwhile, I take it, the safe must
remain at Dulwich?"
"Certainly. It should be guarded."
"We are guarding it and shall guard it," Bristol assured him. "I
only hope we catch someone trying to get at it!"
Shortly afterward Bristol and I left the office, and, his duties
taking him to Scotland Yard, I returned to my chambers to survey
the position in which I now found myself. Indeed, it was a strange
one enough, showing how great things have small beginnings; for,
as a result of a steamer acquaintance I found myself involved in a
dark business worthy of the Middle Ages. That Professor Deeping
should have stolen one of the holy slippers of Mohammed was no
affair of mine, and that an awful being known as Hassan of Aleppo
should have pursued it did not properly enter into my concerns; yet
now, with a group of Eastern fanatics at large in England, I was
become, in a sense, the custodian of the relic. Moreover, I
perceived that I had been chosen that I might safeguard myself.
What I knew of the matter might imperil me, but whilst I held the
key to the reliquary, and held it fast, I might hope to remain
immune though I must expect to be subjected to attempts. It would
be my affair to come to terms.
Contemplating these things I sat, in a world of dark dreams,
unconscious of the comings and goings in the court below,
unconscious of the hum which told of busy Fleet Street so near to
me. The weather, as is its uncomfortable habit in England, had
suddenly grown tropically hot, plunging London into the vapours of
an African spring, and the sun was streaming through my open window
fully upon the table.
I mopped my clammy forehead, glancing with distaste at the pile of
work which lay before me. Then my eyes turned to an open quarto
book. It was the late Professor Deeping's "Assyrian Mythology,"
and embodied the result of his researches into the history of the
Hashishin, the religious murderers of whose existence he had been
so skeptical. To the Chief of the Order, the terrible Sheikh Hassan
of Aleppo, he referred as a "fabled being"; yet it was at the hands
of this "fabled being" that he had met his end! How incredible it
all seemed. But I knew full well how worthy of credence it was.
Then upon my gloomy musings a sound intruded--the ringing of my door
bell. I rose from my chair with a weary sigh, went to the door,
and opened it. An aged Oriental stood without. He was tall and
straight, had a snow-white beard and clear-cut, handsome features.
He wore well-cut European garments and a green turban. As I stood
staring he saluted me gravely.
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