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Page 70
"Why do you look at me so?" she said, almost in a whisper. "By what
right do you reproach me?--Have you ever offered me friendship, that I
should repay you with friendship? When first you came to the house
where I was, by the river--came to save some one from" (there was the
familiar hesitation which always preceded the name of Fu-Manchu)
"from--him, you treated me as your enemy, although--I would have been
your friend . . ."
There was appeal in the soft voice, but I laughed mockingly, and threw
myself back upon the divan.
Karamaneh stretched out her hands toward me, and I shall never forget
the expression which flashed into those glorious eyes; but, seeing me
intolerant of her appeal, she drew back and quickly turned her head
aside. Even in this hour of extremity, of impotent wrath, I could find
no contempt in my heart for her feeble hypocrisy; with all the old
wonder I watched that exquisite profile, and Karamaneh's very
deceitfulness was a salve--for had she not cared she would not have
attempted it!
Suddenly she stood up, taking the keys in her hands, and approached
me.
"Not by word, nor by look," she said, quietly, "have you asked for my
friendship, but because I cannot bear you to think of me as you do, I
will prove that I am not the hypocrite and the liar you think me. You
will not trust me, but I will trust you."
I looked up into her eyes, and knew a pagan joy when they faltered
before my searching gaze. She threw herself upon her knees beside me,
and the faint exquisite perfume inseparable from my memories of her,
became perceptible, and seemed as of old to intoxicate me. The lock
clicked . . . and I was free.
Karamaneh rose swiftly to her feet as I stood upright and outstretched
my cramped arms. For one delirious moment her bewitching face was
close to mine, and the dictates of madness almost ruled; but I
clenched my teeth and turned sharply aside. I could not trust myself
to speak.
With Fu-Manchu's marmoset again gamboling before us, she walked
through the curtained doorway into the room beyond. It was in
darkness, but I could see the slave-girl in front of me, a slim
silhouette, as she walked to a screened window, and, opening the
screen in the manner of a folding door, also threw up the window.
"Look!" she whispered.
I crept forward and stood beside her. I found myself looking down into
Museum Street from a first-floor window! Belated traffic still passed
along New Oxford Street on the left, but not a solitary figure was
visible to the right, as far as I could see, and that was nearly to
the railings of the Museum. Immediately opposite, in one of the flats
which I had noticed earlier in the evening, another window was opened.
I turned, and in the reflected light saw that Karamaneh held a cord in
her hand. Our eyes met in the semi-darkness.
She began to haul the cord into the window, and, looking upward, I
perceived that is was looped in some way over the telegraph cables
which crossed the street at that point. It was a slender cord, and it
appeared to be passed across a joint in the cables almost immediately
above the center of the roadway. As it was hauled in, a second and
stronger line attached to it was pulled, in turn, over the cables, and
thence in by the window. Karamaneh twisted a length of it around a
metal bracket fastened in the wall, and placed a light wooden crossbar
in my hand.
"Make sure that there is no one in the street," she said, craning out
and looking to right and left, "then swing across. The length of the
rope is just sufficient to enable you to swing through the open window
opposite, and there is a mattress inside to drop upon. But release the
bar immediately, or you may be dragged back. The door of the room in
which you will find yourself is unlocked, and you have only to walk
down the stairs and out into the street."
I peered at the crossbar in my hand, then looked hard at the girl
beside me. I missed something of the old fire of her nature; she was
very subdued, tonight.
"Thank you, Karamaneh," I said, softly.
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