A brief wire had contained the welcome invitation, and up to the time when I had received it I had been unaware4 that Hilton was back in England. Moreover, beyond the fact that his house, "Uplands," was near H—, for which I was instructed to change at New Street Station, Birmingham, I had little idea of its location. But he added "Wire train and will meet at H—"; so that I had no uneasiness on that score.
I had contemplated5 catching6 the 2:45 from Euston, but by the time I had got my work into something like order, I decided7 that the 6:55 would be more suitable and decided to dine on the train.
Altogether, there was something of a rush and hustle8 attendant upon getting away, and when at last I found myself in the cab, bound for Euston, I sat back with a long-drawn sigh. The quest of the Prophet's slipper9 was ended; in all probability that blood-stained relic10 was already Eastward11 bound. Hassan of Aleppo, its awful guardian12, had triumphed and had escaped retribution. Earl Dexter was dead. I could not doubt that; for the memory of his beautiful accomplice13, Carneta, as I last had seen her, broken-hearted, with her great violet eyes dulled in tearless agony—have I not said that it lived with me?
Even as the picture of her lovely, pale face presented itself to my mind, the cab was held up by a temporary block in the traffic—and my imagination played me a strange trick.
Another taxi ran close alongside, almost at the moment that the press of vehicles moved on again. Certainly, I had no more than a passing glimpse of the occupants; but I could have sworn that violet eyes looked suddenly into mine, and with equal conviction I could have sworn to the gaunt face of the man who sat beside the violet-eyed girl for that of Earl Dexter!
The travellers, however, were immediately lost to sight in the rear, and I was left to conjecture14 whether this had been a not uncommon15 form of optical delusion16 or whether I had seen a ghost.
At any rate, as I passed in between the big pillars, "The gateway17 of the North," I scrutinized18, and closely, the numerous hurrying figures about me. None of them, by any stretch of the imagination, could have been set down for that of Dexter, The Stetson Man. No doubt, I concluded, I had been tricked by a chance resemblance.
Having dispatched my telegram, I boarded the 6:55. I thought I should have the compartment19 to myself, and so deep in reverie was I that the train was actually clear of the platforms ere I learned that I had a companion. He must have joined me at the moment that the train started. Certainly, I had not seen him enter. But, suddenly looking up, I met the eyes of this man who occupied the corner seat facing me.
This person was olive-skinned, clean-shaven, fine featured, and perfectly20 groomed21. His age might have been anything from twenty-five to forty-five, but his hair and brows were jet black. His eyes, too, were nearer to real black than any human eyes I had ever seen before—excepting the awful eyes of Hassan of Aleppo. Hassan of Aleppo! It was, to that hour, a mystery how his group of trained assassins—the Hashishin—had quitted England. Since none of them were known to the police, it was no insoluble mystery, I admit; but nevertheless it was singular that the careful watching of the ports had yielded no result. Could it be that some of them had not yet left the country? Could it be—
I looked intently into the black eyes. They were caressing22, smiling eyes, and looked boldly into mine. I picked up a magazine, pretending to read. But I supported it with my left hand; my right was in my coat pocket—and it rested upon my Smith and Wesson!
My travelling companion watched me; of that I was certain. I could feel his gaze. But he made no move and no word passed between us. This was the situation when the train slowed into Northampton. At Northampton, to my indescribable relief (frankly, I was as nervous in those days as a woman), the Oriental traveller stepped out on to the platform.
Having reclosed the door, he turned and leaned in through the open window.
"Evidently you are not concerned, Mr. Cavanagh," he said. "Be warned. Do not interfere24 with those that are!"
The night swallowed him up.
My fears had been justified25; the man was one of the Hashishin—a spy of Hassan of Aleppo! What did it mean?
I craned from the window, searching the platform right and left. But there was no sign of him.
When the train left Northampton I found myself alone, and I should only weary you were I to attempt to recount the troubled conjectures26 that bore me company to Birmingham.
The train reached New Street at nine, with the result that having gulped27 a badly needed brandy and soda28 in the buffet29, I grabbed my bag, raced across—and just missed the connection! More than an hour later I found myself standing30 at ten minutes to eleven upon the H— platform, watching the red taillight of the "local" disappear into the night. Then I realized to the full that with four miles of lonely England before me there hung above my head a mysterious threat—a vague menace. The solitary31 official, who but waited my departure to lock up the station, was the last representative of civilization I could hope to encounter until the gates of "Uplands" should be opened to me!
What was the matter with which I was warned not to interfere? Might I not, by my mere32 presence in that place, unwittingly be interfering33 now?
With the station-master's directions humming like a refrain in my ears, I passed through the sleeping village and out on to the road. The moon was exceptionally bright and unobscured, although a dense34 bank of cloud crept slowly from the west, and before me the path stretched as an unbroken thread of silvery white twining a sinuous35 way up the bracken-covered slope, to where, sharply defined against the moonlight sky, a coppice in grotesque36 silhouette37 marked the summit.
The month had been dry and tropically hot, and my footsteps rang crisply upon the hard ground. There is nothing more deceptive38 than a straight road up a hill; and half an hour's steady tramping but saw me approaching the trees.
I had so far resolutely39 endeavoured to keep my mind away from the idea of surveillance. Now, as I paused to light my pipe—a never-failing friend in loneliness—I perceived something move in the shadows of a neighbouring bush.
This object was not unlike a bladder, and the very incongruity40 of its appearance served to revive all my apprehensions41. Taking up my grip, as though I had noticed nothing of an alarming nature, I pursued my way up the slope, leaving a trail of tobacco smoke in my wake; and having my revolver secreted42 up my right coat-sleeve.
Successfully resisting a temptation to glance behind, I entered the cover of the coppice, and, now invisible to any one who might be dogging me, stood and looked back upon the moon-bright road.
There was no living thing in sight, the road was empty as far as the eye could see. The coppice now remained to be negotiated, and then, if the station-master's directions were not at fault, "Uplands" should be visible beyond. Taking, therefore, what I had designed to be a final glance back down the hillside, I was preparing to resume my way when I saw something—something that arrested me.
It was a long way behind—so far that, had the moon been less bright, I could never have discerned it. What it was I could not even conjecture; but it had the appearance of a vague gray patch, moving—not along the road, but through the undergrowth—in my direction.
For a second my eye rested upon it. Then I saw a second patch—a third—a fourth!
Six!
There were six gray patches creeping up the slope toward me!
The sight was unnerving. What were these things that approached, silently, stealthily—like snakes in the grass?
A fear, unlike anything I had known before the quest of the Prophet's slipper had brought fantastic horror into my life, came upon me. Revolver in hand I ran—ran for my life toward the gap in the trees that marked the coppice end. And as I went something hummed through the darkness beside my head, some projectile43, some venomous thing that missed its mark by a bare inch!
Painfully conversant44 with the uncanny weapons employed by the Hashishin, I knew now, beyond any possibility of doubt, that death was behind me.
A pattering like naked feet sounded on the road, and, without pausing in my headlong career, I sent a random45 shot into the blackness.
The crack of the Smith and Wesson reassured46 me. I pulled up short, turned, and looked back toward the trees.
Nothing—no one!
Breathing heavily, I crammed47 my extinguished briar into my pocket—re-charged the empty chamber48 of the revolver—and started to run again toward a light that showed over the treetops to my left.
That, if the man's directions were right, was "Uplands"—if his directions were wrong—then...
A shrill49 whistle—minor, eerie50, in rising cadence—sounded on the dead silence with piercing clearness! Six whistles—seemingly from all around me—replied!
Some object came humming through the air, and I ducked wildly.
On and on I ran—flying from an unknown, but, as a warning instinct told me, deadly peril—ran as a man runs pursued by devils.
The road bent51 sharply to the left then forked. Overhanging trees concealed52 the house, and the light, though high up under the eaves, was no longer visible. Trusting to Providence53 to guide me, I plunged54 down the lane that turned to the left, and, almost exhausted55, saw the gates before me—saw the sweep of the drive, and the moonlight, gleaming on the windows!
None of the windows were illuminated56.
Straight up to the iron gates I raced.
They were locked!
Without a moment's hesitation57 I hurled58 my grip over the top and clambered up the bars! As I got astride, from the blackness of the lane came the ominous59 hum, and my hat went spinning away across the lawn!—the black cloud veiled the moon and complete darkness fell.
Then I dropped and ran for the house—shouting, though all but winded—"Hilton! Hilton! Open the door!"
Sinking exhausted on the steps, I looked toward the gates—but they showed only dimly in the dense shadows of the trees.
Bzzz! Buzz!
I dropped flat in the portico60 as something struck the metal knob of the door and rebounded61 over me. A shower of gravel62 told of another misdirected projectile.
Crack! Crack! Crack! The revolver spoke63 its short reply into the mysterious darkness; but the night gave up no sound to tell of a shot gone home.
"Hilton! Hilton!" I cried, banging on the panels with the butt64 of the weapon. "Open the door! Open the door!"
And now I heard the coming footsteps along the hall within; heavy bolts were withdrawn—the door swung open—and Hilton, pale-faced, appeared. His hand shot out, grabbed my coat collar; and weak, exhausted, I found myself snatched into safety, and the door rebolted.
"Thank God!" I whispered. "Thank God! Hilton, look to all your bolts and fastenings. Hell is outside!"
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1
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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breakdown
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| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
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obsessing
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| v.时刻困扰( obsess的现在分词 )；缠住；使痴迷；使迷恋 | |
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4
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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7
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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hustle
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| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
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9
slipper
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| n.拖鞋 | |
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relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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12
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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13
accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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14
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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15
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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16
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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17
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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18
scrutinized
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19
compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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20
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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21
groomed
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| v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的过去式和过去分词 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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22
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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23
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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24
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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25
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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conjectures
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| 推测，猜想( conjecture的名词复数 ) | |
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27
gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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28
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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buffet
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| n.自助餐；饮食柜台；餐台 | |
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30
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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31
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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32
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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34
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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35
sinuous
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| adj.蜿蜒的，迂回的 | |
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36
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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38
deceptive
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| adj.骗人的，造成假象的，靠不住的 | |
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39
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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40
incongruity
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| n.不协调，不一致 | |
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41
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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42
secreted
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| v.（尤指动物或植物器官）分泌( secrete的过去式和过去分词 )；隐匿，隐藏 | |
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43
projectile
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| n.投射物，发射体；adj.向前开进的；推进的；抛掷的 | |
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44
conversant
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| adj.亲近的，有交情的，熟悉的 | |
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45
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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46
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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47
crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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48
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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49
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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50
eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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51
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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52
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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53
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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54
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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55
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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56
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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57
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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58
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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60
portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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61
rebounded
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| 弹回( rebound的过去式和过去分词 )； 反弹； 产生反作用； 未能奏效 | |
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62
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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63
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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64
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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