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Page 54
He turned his blazing eyes upon me.
"To-morrow, ere noon," he said, "the slipper will again be in the
Museum from which the man of evil stole it. So it is written;
obscure are the ways. We met last night, you and I, but at that
time much was dark to me that now is light. The holy 'Alee spoke
to me in a vision, saying: 'There are two keys to the case in which
it will be locked. Secure one, leaving the other with him who
holds it! Let him swear to be secret. This shall be the price of
his life!'"
The black tube was pointed directly at my forehead.
"Effendim," concluded the speaker, "place in my hand the key of the
case in the Antiquarian Museum!"
Hands convulsively clenched, the girl was looking from me to Hassan.
My throat felt parched. but I forced speech to my lips.
"Your omniscience fails you," I said. "Both keys are at my bank!"
Blacker grew the fierce eyes--and blacker. I gave myself up for
lost; I awaited death--death by some awful, unique means--with
what courage I could muster.
From the court below came the sound of voices, the voices of
passers-by who so little suspected what was happening near to them
that had someone told them they certainly had refused to credit it.
The noise of busy Fleet Street came drumming under the archway, too.
Then, above all, another sound became audible. To this day I find
myself unable to define it; but it resembled the note of a silver
bell.
Clearly it was a signal; for, hearing it, Hassan dropped the tube
and glanced toward the open window.
In that instant I sprang upon him!
That I had to deal with a fanatic, a dangerous madman, I knew; that
it was his life or mine, I was fully convinced. I struck out then
and caught him fairly over the heart. He reeled back, and I made
a wild clutch for the damnable tube, horrid, unreasoning fear of
which thus far had held me inert.
I heard the girl scream affrightedly, and I knew, and felt my heart
chill to know, that the tube had been wrenched from my hand! Hassan
of Aleppo, old man that he appeared, had the strength of a tiger. He
recovered himself and hurled me from him so that I came to the floor
crashingly half under my writing-table!
Something he cried back at me, furiously--and like an enraged animal,
his teeth gleaming out from his beard, he darted from the room. The
front door banged loudly.
Shaken and quivering, I got upon my feet. On the threshold, in a
state of pitiable hesitancy, stood the pale, beautiful accomplice
of Earl Dexter. One quick glance she flashed at me, then turned
and ran!
Again the door slammed. I ran to the window, looking out into the
court. The girl came hurrying down the steps, and with never a
backward glance ran on and was lost to view in one of the passages
opening riverward.
Out under the arch, statelily passed a tall figure--and Inspector
Bristol was entering! I saw the detective glance aside as the two
all but met. He stood still, and looked back!
"Bristol!" I cried, and waved my arms frantically.
"Stop him! Stop him! It's Hassan of Aleppo!"
Bristol was not the only one to hear my wild cry--not the only one
to dash back under the arch and out into Fleet Street.
But Hassan of Aleppo was gone!
CHAPTER XXII
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