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CHAPTER I. A CLIENT FOR PAUL HARLEY
CHAPTER I. A CLIENT FOR PAUL HARLEY
Some of Paul Harley’s most interesting cases were brought to his notice in an almost accidental way. Although he closed his office in Chancery Lane sharply at the hour of six, the hour of six by no means marked the end of his business day. His work was practically ceaseless. But even in times of leisure, at the club or theatre, fate would sometimes cast in his path the first slender thread which was ultimately to lead him into some unsuspected labyrinth, perhaps in the underworld of London, perh
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CHAPTER II. THE SIXTH SENSE
CHAPTER II. THE SIXTH SENSE
Paul Harley stepped into his car in Chancery Lane. “Drive in the direction of Hyde Park Corner,” he directed the chauffeur. “Go along the Strand.” Glancing neither right nor left, he entered the car, and presently they were proceeding slowly with the stream of traffic in the Strand. “Pull up at the Savoy,” he said suddenly through the tube. The car slowed down in that little bay which contains the entrance to the hotel, and Harley stared fixedly out of the rear window, observing the occupants of
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CHAPTER III. SHADOWS
CHAPTER III. SHADOWS
“Had you reason to suspect any cardiac trouble, Doctor McMurdoch?” asked Harley. Doctor McMurdoch, a local practitioner who had been a friend of Sir Charles Abingdon, shook his head slowly. He was a tall, preternaturally thin Scotsman, clean-shaven, with shaggy dark brows and a most gloomy expression in his deep-set eyes. While the presence of his sepulchral figure seemed appropriate enough in that stricken house, Harley could not help thinking that it must have been far from reassuring in a sic
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CHAPTER IV. INTRODUCING MR. NICOL BRINN
CHAPTER IV. INTRODUCING MR. NICOL BRINN
At about nine o’clock on the same evening, a man stood at a large window which overlooked Piccadilly and the Green Park. The room to which the window belonged was justly considered one of the notable sights of London and doubtless would have received suitable mention in the “Blue Guide” had the room been accessible to the general public. It was, on the contrary, accessible only to the personal friends of Mr. Nicol Brinn. As Mr. Nicol Brinn had a rarely critical taste in friendship, none but a fo
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CHAPTER V. THE GATES OF HELL
CHAPTER V. THE GATES OF HELL
If Paul Harley had counted upon the word “Fire-Tongue” to have a dramatic effect upon Nicol Brinn, he was not disappointed. It was a word which must have conveyed little or nothing to the multitude and which might have been pronounced without perceptible effect at any public meeting in the land. But Mr. Brinn, impassive though his expression remained, could not conceal the emotion which he experienced at the sound of it. His gaunt face seemed to grow more angular and his eyes to become even less
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CHAPTER VI. PHIL ABINGDON ARRIVES
CHAPTER VI. PHIL ABINGDON ARRIVES
On the following afternoon Paul Harley was restlessly pacing his private office when Innes came in with a letter which had been delivered by hand. Harley took it eagerly and tore open the envelope. A look of expectancy faded from his eager face almost in the moment that it appeared there. “No luck, Innes,” he said, gloomily. “Merton reports that there is no trace of any dangerous foreign body in the liquids analyzed.” He dropped the analyst’s report into a wastebasket and resumed his restless pr
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CHAPTER VII. CONFESSIONS
CHAPTER VII. CONFESSIONS
Paul Harley crossed the room and stood in front of the tall Burmese cabinet. He experienced the utmost difficulty in adopting a judicial attitude toward his beautiful visitor. Proximity increased his mental confusion. Therefore he stood on the opposite side of the office ere beginning to question her. “In the first place, Miss Abingdon,” he said, speaking very deliberately, “do you attach any particular significance to the term ‘Fire-Tongue’?” Phil Abingdon glanced rapidly at Doctor McMurdoch. “
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CHAPTER VIII. A WREATH OF HYACINTHS
CHAPTER VIII. A WREATH OF HYACINTHS
Deep in reflection and oblivious of the busy London life around him, Paul Harley walked slowly along the Strand. Outwardly he was still the keen-eyed investigator who could pry more deeply into a mystery than any other in England; but to-day his mood was introspective. He was in a brown study. The one figure which had power to recall him to the actual world suddenly intruded itself upon his field of vision. From dreams which he recognized in the moment of awakening to have been of Phil Abingdon,
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CHAPTER IX. TWO REPORTS
CHAPTER IX. TWO REPORTS
On returning to his office Paul Harley found awaiting him the report of the man to whom he had entrusted the study of the movements of Nicol Brinn. His mood was a disturbed one, and he had observed none of his customary precautions in coming from Doctor McMurdoch’s house. He wondered if the surveillance which he had once detected had ceased. Perhaps the chambers of Nicol Brinn were the true danger zone upon which these subtle but powerful forces now were focussed. On the other hand, he was quite
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CHAPTER X. HIS EXCELLENCY ORMUZ KHAN
CHAPTER X. HIS EXCELLENCY ORMUZ KHAN
The city clocks were chiming the hour of ten on the following morning when a page from the Savoy approached the shop of Mr. Jarvis, bootmaker, which is situated at no great distance from the hotel. The impudent face of the small boy wore an expression of serio-comic fright as he pushed open the door and entered the shop. Jarvis, the bootmaker, belonged to a rapidly disappearing class of British tradesmen. He buckled to no one, but took an artistic pride in his own handiwork, criticism from a lay
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CHAPTER XI. THE PURPLE STAIN
CHAPTER XI. THE PURPLE STAIN
For more than an hour Harley sat alone, smoking, neglectful of the routine duties which should have claimed his attention. His face was set and grim, and his expression one of total abstraction. In spirit he stood again in that superheated room at the Savoy. Sometimes, as he mused, he would smoke with unconscious vigour, surrounding himself with veritable fog banks. An imaginary breath of hyacinths would have reached him, to conjure up vividly the hateful, perfumed environment of Ormuz Khan. He
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CHAPTER XII. THE VEIL IS RAISED
CHAPTER XII. THE VEIL IS RAISED
Rising from the writing table in the library, Paul Harley crossed to the mantelpiece and stared long and hungrily at a photograph in a silver frame. So closely did he concentrate upon it that he induced a sort of auto-hypnosis, so that Phil Abingdon seemed to smile at him sadly. Then a shadow appeared to obscure the piquant face. The soft outline changed, subtly; the lips grew more full, became voluptuous; the eyes lengthened and grew languorous. He found himself looking into the face of Ormuz K
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CHAPTER XIII. NICOL BRINN HAS A VISITOR
CHAPTER XIII. NICOL BRINN HAS A VISITOR
It was close upon noon, but Nicol Brinn had not yet left his chambers. From that large window which overlooked Piccadilly he surveyed the prospect with dull, lack-lustre eyes. His morning attire was at least as tightly fitting as that which he favoured in the evening, and now, hands clasped behind his back and an unlighted cigar held firmly in the left corner of his mouth, he gazed across the park with a dreamy and vacant regard. One very familiar with this strange and taciturn man might have ob
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CHAPTER XIV. WESSEX GETS BUSY
CHAPTER XIV. WESSEX GETS BUSY
Innes rose from the chair usually occupied by Paul Harley as Detective Inspector Wessex, with a very blank face, walked into the office. Innes looked haggard and exhibited unmistakable signs of anxiety. Since he had received that dramatic telephone message from his chief he had not spared himself for a moment. The official machinery of Scotland Yard was at work endeavouring to trace the missing man, but since it had proved impossible to find out from where the message had been sent, the investig
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CHAPTER XV. NAIDA
CHAPTER XV. NAIDA
Dusk was falling that evening. Gaily lighted cars offering glimpses of women in elaborate toilets and of their black-coated and white-shirted cavaliers thronged Piccadilly, bound for theatre or restaurant. The workaday shutters were pulled down, and the night life of London had commenced. The West End was in possession of an army of pleasure seekers, but Nicol Brinn was not among their ranks. Wearing his tightly-buttoned dinner jacket, he stood, hands clasped behind him, staring out of the windo
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CHAPTER XVI. NICOL BRINN GOES OUT
CHAPTER XVI. NICOL BRINN GOES OUT
Detective Sergeant Stokes was a big, dark, florid man, the word “constable” written all over him. Indeed, as Wessex had complained more than once, the mere sound of Stokes’s footsteps was a danger signal for any crook. His respect for his immediate superior, the detective inspector, was not great. The methods of Wessex savoured too much of the French school to appeal to one of Stokes’s temperament and outlook upon life, especially upon that phase of life which comes within the province of the cr
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CHAPTER XVII. WHAT HAPPENED TO HARLEY
CHAPTER XVII. WHAT HAPPENED TO HARLEY
Some two hours after Paul Harley’s examination of Jones, the ex-parlourmaid, a shabby street hawker appeared in the Strand, bearing a tray containing copies of “Old Moore’s Almanac.” He was an ugly-looking fellow with a split lip, and appeared to have neglected to shave for at least a week. Nobody appeared to be particularly interested, and during his slow progression from Wellington Street to the Savoy Hotel he smoked cigarettes almost continuously. Trade was far from brisk, and the vendor of p
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CHAPTER XVIII. WHAT HAPPENED TO HARLEY—CONTINUED
CHAPTER XVIII. WHAT HAPPENED TO HARLEY—CONTINUED
Not until Harley came within sight of the house, a low, rambling Jacobean building, did he attempt to take cover. He scrambled up a tree and got astride of a wall. A swift survey by his electric torch of the ground on the other side revealed a jungle of weeds in either direction. He uttered an impatient exclamation. He calculated that the car was now within a hundred yards of the end of the lane. Suddenly came an idea that was born of emergency. Swarming up the tree to where its dense foliage be
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CHAPTER XIX. WHAT HAPPENED TO HARLEY—CONCLUDED
CHAPTER XIX. WHAT HAPPENED TO HARLEY—CONCLUDED
He regained the curve of the drive without meeting any opposition. There, slipping the pistol into his pocket, he climbed rapidly up the tree from which he had watched the arrival of the three cars, climbed over the wall, and dropped into the weed jungle beyond. He crept stealthily forward to the gap where he had concealed the racer, drawing nearer and nearer to the bushes lining the lane. Only by a patch of greater darkness before him did he realize that he had reached it. But when the realizat
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CHAPTER XX. CONFLICTING CLUBS
CHAPTER XX. CONFLICTING CLUBS
“Any news, Wessex?” asked Innes, eagerly, starting up from his chair as the inspector entered the office. Wessex shook his head, and sitting down took out and lighted a cigarette. “News of a sort,” he replied, slowly, “but nothing of any value, I am afraid. My assistant, Stokes, has distinguished himself.” “In what way?” asked Innes, dully, dropping back into his chair. These were trying days for the indefatigable secretary. Believing that some clue of importance might come to light at any hour
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CHAPTER XXI. THE SEVENTH KAMA
CHAPTER XXI. THE SEVENTH KAMA
As Nicol Brinn strolled out from the door below his chambers in Piccadilly, a hoarse voice made itself audible above his head. “Police!” he heard over the roar of the traffic. “Help! Police!” Detective Sergeant Stokes had come out upon the balcony. But up to the time that Nicol Brinn turned and proceeded in leisurely fashion in the direction of the Cavalry Club, the sergeant had not succeeded in attracting any attention. Nicol Brinn did not hurry. Having his hands thrust in the pockets of his li
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CHAPTER XXII. FIRE-TONGUE SPEAKS
CHAPTER XXII. FIRE-TONGUE SPEAKS
Absolute darkness surrounded Nicol Brinn. Darkness, unpleasant heat, and a stifling odour of hyacinths. He had been well coached, and thus far his memory had served him admirably. But now he knew not what to expect. Therefore inwardly on fire but outwardly composed, muscles taut and nerves strung highly, he waited for the next development. It took the form, first, of the tinkling of a silver bell, and then of the coming of a dim light at the end of what was evidently a long apartment. The light
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CHAPTER XXIII. PHIL ABINGDON’S VISITOR
CHAPTER XXIII. PHIL ABINGDON’S VISITOR
On the following morning the card of His Excellency Ormuz Khan was brought to Phil Abingdon in the charming little room which Mrs. McMurdoch had allotted to her for a private sanctum during the period of her stay under this hospitable roof. “Oh,” she exclaimed, and looked at the maid in a startled way. “I suppose I must see him. Will you ask him to come in, please?” A few moments later Ormuz Khan entered. He wore faultless morning dress, too faultless; so devoid of any flaw or crease as to have
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CHAPTER XXIV. THE SCREEN OF GOLD
CHAPTER XXIV. THE SCREEN OF GOLD
Paul Harley raised his aching head and looked wearily about him. At first, as might be expected, he thought that he was dreaming. He lay upon a low divan and could only suppose that he had been transported to India. Slowly, painfully, memory reasserted itself and he realized that he had been rendered unconscious by the blow of a sandbag or some similar weapon while telephoning from the station master’s office at Lower Claybury. How long a time had elapsed since that moment he was unable to judge
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CHAPTER XXV. AN ENGLISHMAN’S HONOUR
CHAPTER XXV. AN ENGLISHMAN’S HONOUR
“You have been guilty of a series of unfortunate mistakes, Mr. Harley,” continued the speaker. “Notably, you have relied upon the clumsy device of disguise. To the organization in which you have chosen to interest yourself, this has provided some mild amusement. Your pedlar of almanacs was a clever impersonation, but fortunately your appearance at the Savoy had been anticipated, and no one was deceived.” Paul Harley did not reply. He concluded, quite correctly, that the organization had failed t
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“My God!” cried Innes, “here is proof that the chief was right!”
“My God!” cried Innes, “here is proof that the chief was right!”
Wessex nodded in silent agreement. On the table lay the report of Merton, the analyst, concerning the stains upon the serviette which Harley had sent from the house of the late Sir Charles Abingdon. Briefly, it stated that the serviette had been sprinkled with some essential oil, the exact character of which Merton had found himself unable to determine, its perfume, if it ever possessed any, having disappeared. And the minute quantity obtainable from the linen rendered ordinary tests difficult t
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CHAPTER XXVII. AT HILLSIDE
CHAPTER XXVII. AT HILLSIDE
Phil Abingdon arrived at Hillside in a state of mind which she found herself unable to understand. Mrs. McMurdoch, who had accepted the invitation under protest, saying that if Doctor McMurdoch had been at home he would certainly have disapproved, had so utterly fallen under the strange spell of Ormuz Khan, that long before they had come to Hillside she was hanging upon his every word in a way which was almost pathetic to watch. On the other hand, Phil Abingdon had taken up a definite attitude o
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CHAPTER XXVIII. THE CHASE
CHAPTER XXVIII. THE CHASE
The events which led to the presence of Mr. Nicol Brinn at so opportune a moment were—consistent with the character of that remarkable man—of a sensational nature. Having commandeered the Rolls Royce from the door of the Cavalry Club, he had immediately, by a mental process which many perils had perfected, dismissed the question of rightful ownership from his mind. The fact that he might be intercepted by police scouts he refused to entertain. The limousine driven by the Hindu chauffeur was stil
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CHAPTER XXIX. THE CATASTROPHE
CHAPTER XXIX. THE CATASTROPHE
The first faint spears of morning creeping through the trees which surrounded Hillside revealed two figures upon a rustic bench in the little orchard adjoining the house. A pair incongruous enough—this dark-eyed Eastern woman, wrapped in a long fur cloak, and Nicol Brinn, gaunt, unshaven, fantastic in his evening dress, revealed now in the gray morning light. “Look!” whispered Naida. “It is the dawn. I must go!” Nicol Brinn clenched his teeth tightly but made no reply. “You promised,” she said,
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CHAPTER XXX. NICOL BRINN’S STORY OF THE CITY OF FIRE
CHAPTER XXX. NICOL BRINN’S STORY OF THE CITY OF FIRE
“The statement which I have to make, gentlemen, will almost certainly appear incredible to you. However, when it has been transcribed I will sign it. And I am going to say here and now that there are points in the narrative which I am in a position to substantiate. What I can’t prove you must take my word for. But I warn you that the story is tough. “I have a certain reputation for recklessness. I don’t say it may not be inherent; but if you care to look the matter up, you will find that the cra
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CHAPTER XXXI. STORY OF THE CITY OF FIRE (CONTINUED)
CHAPTER XXXI. STORY OF THE CITY OF FIRE (CONTINUED)
“How I managed to think of any defense against such an attack, and especially in the circumstances, is a matter I have often wondered about since. How, having thought of it, I succeeded in putting it into execution, is probably more wonderful still. But I will just state what happened. “You may observe that I have large hands. Their size and strength served me well on this occasion. At the moment that the rope tightened about my throat I reached up and grasped the Brahmin’s left thumb. Desperati
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CHAPTER XXXII. STORY OF THE CITY OF FIRE (CONTINUED)
CHAPTER XXXII. STORY OF THE CITY OF FIRE (CONTINUED)
“‘Quitting air, must pass through water.’ The meaning of those words became apparent enough. I stood at the foot of the waterfall, looking up at the fissure from which it issued. “Although the fact had been most artistically disguised, I could not doubt that this fissure was artificial. A tunnel had been hewn through the rock, and a mountain stream diverted into it. Indeed, on close inspection, I saw that it was little more than a thin curtain of water, partly concealing what looked like the ent
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CHAPTER XXXIII. STORY OF THE CITY OF FIRE (CONTINUED)
CHAPTER XXXIII. STORY OF THE CITY OF FIRE (CONTINUED)
“My awakening was as strange as anything which had befallen me. I lay upon a silken bed in a pavilion which was furnished with exquisite, if somewhat barbaric, taste. “A silken shaded lamp hung upon a golden chain near to my couch, but it was dimmed by the rosy light streaming in through the open door—a light which I believed to be that of dawn. I ached in every limb and felt weak and ill. There was a bandage about my head, too, but this great physical weakness numbed my curiosity, and I just la
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CHAPTER XXXIV. NICOL BRINN’S STORY (CONCLUDED)
CHAPTER XXXIV. NICOL BRINN’S STORY (CONCLUDED)
“The incidents of the next seven years do not concern you, gentlemen. I had one aim in life—to forget. I earned an unenviable reputation for foolhardy enterprises. Until this very hour, no man has known why I did the things that I did do. From the time that I left India until the moment when fate literally threw me in the way of the late Sir Charles Abingdon, I had heard nothing of the cult of Fire-Tongue; and in spite of Naida’s assurance that its membership was not confined to Orientals, I had
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