The Mystery of the Ravenspurs. Fred M. White
passed, and had the same theme. Ralph stirred to a faint curiosity.
“Who is the new marvel?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Tchigorsky admitted. “The last new lion, I suppose. Some pretty Begum or the wife of some Oriental whose dark eyes appear to have fired society. By the crowd of people coming this way I presume the dusky beauty is among them. If so, she has an excellent knowledge of English.”
A clear, sweet voice arose. At the first sound of it, Ralph jumped to his feet and clutched at his throat as if something choked him. He shook with a great agitation; a nameless fear had him in a close grip.
“Do you recognise the voice?” Ralph gasped.
The Russian was not unmoved. But his agitation was quickly suppressed. He forced Ralph down in his seat again.
“You will have to behave better than that if you are to be a trusty ally of mine,” he said. “Come, that is better! Sit still; she is coming this way.”
“I’m all right now,” Ralph replied. “The shock of finding myself in the presence of Princess Zara was overpowering. Have no fear for me.”
A tall woman, magnificently dressed, was making her way towards Tchigorsky. Her face was the hue of old ivory, and as fine; her great lustrous eyes gleamed brightly; a mass of hair was piled high on a daintily-poised head. The woman might have been extremely young so far as the touch of time was concerned, but the easy self-possession told another tale.
The red lips tightened for an instant, a strange gleam came into the dark, magnetic eyes as they fell upon Tchigorsky. Then the Indian Princess advanced with a smile, and held out her hand to the Russian.
“So you are still here?” she said.
There was the suggestion of a challenge in her tones. Her eyes met those of Tchigorsky as the eyes of two swordsmen might meet. There was a tigerish playfulness underlying the words, a call-note of significant warning.
“I still take the liberty of existing,” said Tchigorsky.
“You are a brave man, doctor. Your friend here?”
“Is my cousin, Nicholas Tchigorsky. The poor fellow is blind and dumb, as the result of a terrible accident. Best not to notice him.”
The Princess shrugged her beautiful shoulders as she dropped gracefully into a seat.
“I heard you were in London,” she said, “and something told me that we should meet sooner or later. You are still interested in occult matters?”
Again Ralph detected the note of warning in the speech. He could see nothing of the expression on that perfect face; but he could judge it fairly well.
“I am more interested in occult matters than ever,” Tchigorsky said gravely, “especially in certain discoveries placed in my hands by a traveller in Thibet.”
“I am more interested in occult matters than ever,” Tchigorsky said gravely,
“especially in certain discoveries placed in my hands by a traveller in Thibet.”
“Ah! that was your fellow-countryman. He died, you know!”
“He was murdered in the vilest manner. But before the end, he managed to convey important information to me.”
“Useless information unless you had the key.”
“There was one traveller who found the key, you remember?”
“True, doctor. He also, I fancy, met with an accident that, unfortunately, resulted in his death.”
Ralph shuddered slightly. Princess Zara’s tones were hard as steel. If she had spoken openly and callously of this man being murdered, she could not have expressed the same thing more plainly. A beautiful woman, a fascinating one; but a woman with no heart and no feeling where her hatreds were concerned.
“It is just possible I have the key,” said Tchigorsky.
The eyes of the Princess blazed for moment. Then she smiled.
“Dare you use it?” she asked. “If you dare, then all the secrets of heaven and hell are yours. For four thousand years the priests of the temple at Lassa and the heads of my family have solved the future. You know what we can do. We are all-powerful for evil. We can strike down our foes by means unknown to your boasted Western science. They are all the same to us, proud potentate, ex-meddling doctor.”
There was a menace in the last words. Tchigorsky smiled.
“The meddling doctor has already had personal experience,” he said. “I carry the marks of my suffering to the grave. I remember how your peasants treated me, and this does not tend to relax my efforts.”
“And yet you might die at any moment. If you persist in your studies you will have to die. The eyes of Western men must not look upon the secrets of the priests of Lassa and live. Be warned, Dr. Tchigorsky; be warned in time. You are brave and clever, and as such command respect. If you know anything and proclaim it to the world—”
“Civilization will come as one man, and no stone in Lassa shall stand on another. Your priests will be butchered like wild beasts; an internal plague spot will be wiped off the face of the outraged earth!”
The Princess caught her breath swiftly. Just for one moment there was murder in her eyes. She held her fan as if it were a dagger ready for the Russian’s heart.
“Why should you do this thing?” she asked.
“Because your knowledge is diabolical,” Tchigorsky replied. “In the first place, all who are in the secret can commit murder with impunity. As the Anglo-Saxon pushes on to the four corners of the earth that knowledge must become public property. I am going to stop that if I can.”
“And if you die in the meantime? You are bold to rashness. And yet there are many things that you do not know.”
“The longer I live the more glaring my ignorance becomes. I do not know whence you derive your perfect mastery of the English tongue. But I do know that I am going to see this business through.”
“Man proposes, but the arm of the priest is long.”
“Ah! I understand. I may die tonight. I should not mind. Still, let us argue the matter out. Say that I have already solved the whole weird business. I write twenty detailed statements; I enclose the key in each. These statements I address to a score of the leading savants in Europe.
“Then I place them in, say, a safe deposit until my death. I write to each of those wise men a letter with an enclosure not to be opened till I die. That enclosure contains a key to my safe, and presently in that safe all those savants find a packet addressed to themselves. In a week all Europe would ring with my wonderful discoveries. Think of the outcry, the wrath, the indignation!”
The Princess smiled. She could appreciate a stratagem like this. With dull, stolid and averted face, Ralph Ravenspur listened and wondered. He heard the laugh that came from the lips of the Princess; he detected the vexation underlying it. Tchigorsky was a foeman worthy of her steel.
“That you propose to do?”
“A question you will pardon me for not answering,” said Tchigorsky. “You have made your move and I have made mine. Whether I am going to do the thing, or whether I have done so, remains to be seen. Whether you dare risk my death now is a matter for you to decide. Check to your king.”
Again the Princess smiled. She looked searchingly into Tchigorsky’s face, as if she would fain read his very soul. But she saw nothing there but the dull eyes of a man who keeps his feelings behind a mask. Then, with a flirt of her fan and a more careless mocking curtsey, she turned to go.
“You are a fine antagonist,” she said; “but I do not admit yet that you are check to my king. I