|
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 51
"I can see no one," I said, speaking as confidently as possible,
and relighting the lamp, "if I call a cab for you and see you
safely into it, you will have nothing to fear, I think."
"I have a cab waiting," she replied, and lowering the veil she
stood up to go.
"Kindly allow me to see you to it. I am sorry you have been
subjected to this annoyance, especially as you have not attained
the object of your visit."
"Thank you so much for your kindness; there must be some mistake
about the address, of course."
She clung to my arm very tightly as we descended the stairs, and
often glanced back over her shoulder affrightedly, as we crossed
the court. There was not a sign of anyone about, however, and I
could not make up my mind whether the story of the yellow man was
a delusion or a fabrication. I inclined to the latter theory,
but the object of such a deception was more difficult to
determine.
Sure enough, a taxicab was waiting at the entrance to the court;
and my visitor, having seated herself within, extended her hand
to me, and even through the thick veil I could detect her
brilliant smile.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Knox," she said, "and a thousand
apologies. I am sincerely sorry to have given you all this
trouble."
The cab drove off. For a moment I stood looking after it, in a
state of dreamy incertitude, then turned and slowly retraced my
steps. Reopening the door of my chambers with my key, I returned
to my study and sat down at the table to endeavour to arrange the
facts of what I recognized to be a really amazing episode. The
adventure, trifling though it seemed, undoubtedly held some
hidden significance that at present was not apparent to me. In
accordance with the excellent custom of my friend, Paul Harley, I
prepared to make notes of the occurrence while the facts were
still fresh in my memory. At the moment that I was about to
begin, I made an astounding discovery.
Although I had been absent only a few minutes, and had locked my
door behind me, the pigtail was gone!
I sat quite still, listening intently. The woman's story of the
yellow man on the stairs suddenly assumed a totally different
aspect--a new and sinister aspect. Could it be that the pigtail
was at the bottom of the mystery?--could it be that some
murderous Chinaman who had been lurking in hiding, waiting his
opportunity, had in some way gained access to my chambers during
that brief absence? If so, was he gone?
From the table drawer I took out a revolver, ascertained that it
was fully loaded, and turning up light after light as I
proceeded, conducted a room-to-room search. It was without
result; there was absolutely nothing to indicate that anyone had
surreptitiously entered or departed from my chambers.
I returned to the study and sat gazing at the revolver lying on
the blotting-pad before me. Perhaps my mind worked slowly, but I
think that fully fifteen minutes must have passed before it
dawned on me that the explanation not only of the missing pigtail
but of the other incidents of the night, was simple enough. The
yellow man had been a fabrication, and my dark-eyed visitor had
not been in quest of "Raphael Philips," but in quest of the
pigtail: and her quest had been successful!
"What a hopeless fool I am!" I cried, and banged my fist down
upon the table, "there was no yellow man at all--there was-----"
My door bell rang. I sprang nervously to my feet, glanced at the
revolver on the table--and finally dropped it into my coat pocket
ere going out and opening the door.
On the landing stood a police constable and an officer in plain
clothes.
"Your name is Malcolm Knox?" asked the constable, glancing at a
note-book which he held in his hand.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|