|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 47
"But how--"
"Along the telegraph-wires, Mr. Cavanagh! They cross Wyatt's
Buildings and cross this house. It was a moonless night or we
should have seen it at once! I watched him, saw him drop to this
roof--and brought the men around to the front."
"Did he, that awful thing, escape?"
"He dropped full forty feet into a tree--from the tree to the
ground, and went off like a cat!"
"Earl Dexter has escaped us," I said, "and he has the slipper!"
"God help him!" replied Bristol. "For by now he has that hell-pack
at his heels! What a case! Heavens above, it will drive me mad!"
CHAPTER XIX
A RAPPING AT MIDNIGHT
Inspector Bristol finished his whisky at a gulp and stood up, a tall,
massive figure, stretching himself and yawning.
"The detective of fiction would be hard at work on this case, now,"
he said, smiling, "but I don't even pretend to be. I am at a
standstill and I don't care who knows it."
"You have absolutely no clue to the whereabouts of Earl Dexter?"
"Not the slightest, Mr. Cavanagh. You hear a lot about the machinery
of the law, but as a matter of fact, looking for a clever man hidden
in London is a good deal like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Then, he may have been bluffing when he told you he had the Prophet's
slipper. He's already had his hand cut off through interfering with
the beastly thing, and I really can't believe he would take further
chances by keeping it in his possession. Nevertheless, I should like
to find him."
He leaned back against the mantelpiece, scratching his head
perplexedly. In this perplexity he had my sympathy. No such
pursuit, I venture to say, had ever before been required of Scotland
Yard as this of the slipper of the Prophet. An organization founded
in 1090, which has made a science of assassination, which through
the centuries has perfected the malign arts, which, lingering on in
a dark spot in Syria, has suddenly migrated and established itself
in London, is a proposition almost unthinkable.
It was hard to believe that even the daring American cracksman
should have ventured to touch that blood-stained relic of the
Prophet, that he should have snatched it away from beneath the very
eyes of the fanatics who fiercely guarded it. What he hoped to
gain by his possession of the slipper was not evident, but the fact
remained that if he could be believed, he had it, and provided
Scotland Yard's information was accurate, he still lurked in hiding
somewhere in London.
Meanwhile, no clue offered to his hiding-place, and despite the
ceaseless vigilance of the men acting under Bristol's orders, no
trace could be found of Hassan of Aleppo nor of his fiendish
associates.
"My theory is," said Bristol, lighting a cigarette, "that even
Dexter's cleverness has failed to save him. He's probably a dead
man by now, which accounts for our failing to find him; and Hassan
of Aleppo has recovered the slipper and returned to the East, taking
his gruesome company with him--God knows how! But that accounts
for our failing to find him."
I stood up rather wearily. Although poor Deeping had appointed me
legal guardian of the relic, and although I could render but a poor
account of my stewardship, let me confess that I was anxious to
take that comforting theory to my bosom. I would have given much
to have known beyond any possibility of doubt that the accursed
slipper and its blood-lustful guardian were far away from England.
Had I known so much, life would again have had something to offer
me besides ceaseless fear, endless watchings. I could have slept
again, perhaps; without awaking, clammy, peering into every shadow,
listening, nerves atwitch to each slightest sound disturbing the
night; without groping beneath the pillow for my revolver.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|