The Complete Works of H. C. McNeile "Sapper". Sapper

The Complete Works of H. C. McNeile


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glanced at Jim; then rose and followed the boy.

      "This man, sir," began the hall-porter, looking out of his window. He stared round foolishly for a moment or two: the hall was empty.

      "Hey! boy—where's that Arab gone, wot wanted to see Mr. Leyton?"

      But the page-boy didn't know, and the hall-porter didn't know, and the sergeant outside didn't know. One and all were positive that a dark-skinned man who looked like an Arab had entered the club, to inquire for me. After that the situation was obscure. He had arrived: he was no longer there. Therefore, presumably, he had left. But the staff were still arguing about it half an hour later when Jim and I were ready to go.

      "They're on to us, Dick—that's evident," he said gravely. "That man merely came round to find out if you were in the club. And that being the case, I think it's only fair to Selim to throw any possible watchers off the scent if we can. Let us, therefore, announce in a loud tone outside the door that we are going to Hampstead. Then we can double back on our tracks in case we're being followed."

      He gave an address in Eton Avenue, while I looked round. Not a soul, as far as I could see, was in sight—certainly no other vehicle, but we Were taking no chances. So it wasn't until we were in Oxford Street that we gave the driver the real address we wanted in Berkeley Square. And even then we didn't give him the number of the house: we intended to walk the last few yards for greater safety.

      "Have you got a gun, Dick?" said Jim suddenly.

      "I haven't," I answered. "But we shan't want one tonight."

      He laughed shortly. "No—I suppose not. But old habits die hard with me. I don't sort of feel dressed unless I've got one. By Jove! I wonder what this show is going to develop into."

      "We shall know very soon," I said. "It's five to nine, and here is Berkeley Square."

      The door was opened by the Prince himself, and he immediately shut it again behind us. He was in evening clothes, and we murmured an apology for our own attire, which he waved aside.

      "Follow me, please, gentlemen. There is not a moment to be lost."

      He led the way through the hall to a heavy green-baize door at the farther end, and even in the one rapid glance I threw round me it was easy to see that money was no object. Down two flights of steps we hurried after him, till another door barred our progress. The Prince produced a key from his pocket, and the next moment an exclamation of wonder broke from both our lips as we saw into the room beyond. In fact, for a while I forgot the real object of our visit in my amazement.

      It was a big room divided in half by an ornamental grille. There was an opening in the centre, and the grille itself hardly obstructed one's view at all. But it was the beauty of the furniture and the wonderful lighting effect that riveted my attention: it seemed like a room out of a fairy story.

      The general design was Oriental, and save for the perfect taste of everything the display of wealth would have been almost vulgar. Luxurious divans, with costly brocades: marvellous Persian rugs, with small inlaid tables of gold and silver: the sound of water trickling through the leaves of a great mass of tropical flowers: and over everything the soft glow of a thousand hidden lights. Such was my first impression of that room, and the Prince, seeing my face, smiled faintly.

      "A room on which I have expended a good deal of time and money," he remarked. "The general effect is, I think, not unpleasing. I use it a lot when I am in London. And I may say without undue pride that some of the things in here are absolutely unique. For instance, that chair in which you are sitting, Mr. Leyton, is one that was used by the Doges of Venice. Now put your arms along the sides as you would do when sitting comfortably—oh! by the way, Maitland, there's a head through there that will interest you. A record specimen, I'm told."

      "That's comfortable now," I said as Jim strolled into the other half of the room.

      "Well, all I do," said the Prince, "is to turn this little lever behind our head, and there you are."

      "Well, I'm damned!" I exclaimed. "That's neat."

      Two curved pieces of metal, which were normally parallel to the arms and quite unnoticeable, turned inwards through a right angle and pressed lightly on my wrists. But though the pressure was negligible, it was none the less effective. The curve of the metal prevented me from disengaging my hands by moving them inwards: my elbows, hard up against the back of the chair, prevented me moving my arms in that direction. And by no possible contortion could I reach the lever at the back of the chair. I was a prisoner.

      "That's extraordinarily neat, Prince," I repeated. "So absurdly simple, too."

      And at that moment there came a faint clang: the opening in the grille through which Jim had passed a moment or two before had shut.

      "Absurdly so," agreed the Prince pleasantly. "But then, my friend—so are you."

      For a moment or two the silence was absolute. On the other side of the grille Jim swung round; then he took three quick steps to the place where be opening had been, and shook the grille. It refused to budge.

      "Is this a game, Prince?" he asked quietly.

      "I don't know whether you will find it so, Mr. Maitland. I have every intention of enjoying myself thoroughly, but you may not see the humour of it."

      "So it was a trap, was it?" Jim said thoughtfully. "At the moment I confess I'm a little in the dark as to your intentions, but doubtless I shall not remain so for long."

      "You will not," agreed the other. "In fact, I propose to enlighten you now. When you first went into that half of the room, it was just a normal room. You could have sat on any of the chairs, Mr. Maitland, with perfect impunity. You could have stretched yourself on either of the two sofas and been none the worse. You could have stood anywhere on the floor, touched anything on the walls. That was when you first went in. Now I regret to state things are rather different."

      He stretched himself out in an easy-chair and lit a cigarette.

      "You may happen to have heard, Mr. Maitland, that I am somewhat of an expert on electricity. And during the last week I have been very busy on a little electrifying scheme. Having been cheated by you of my excitement at the Pool of the Sacred Crocodile, I am sure you will agree with me that you owe me some reparation."

      "So you were there, were you?" said Jim slowly. "You damned swine!"

      "Certainly I was there," answered the Prince. "And though I confess I was quite amused by the evening, it had not quite the same zest as if the charming Molly had gone into the pool."

      "You foul blackguard," I roared, struggling impotently to free my arms.

      "This room is sound-proof," murmured the Prince. "So when I ask you to moderate your voice you will realise that I am merely considering my own hearing, and nothing else. And don't please let any thought of Molly mar your enjoyment, Mr. Leyton. I will look after her with great pleasure when—er—you are unable to."

      He turned once again to Jim, who had slipped his hand into his pocket.

      "Take it out, and have a chat," said the Prince with a faint smile.

      "Confound it!" cried Jim furiously. "What's the matter with the gun? Who is tugging at my pocket?"

      He swung round with his fists clenched, and an amazed look on his face. He was alone: there was no one there. And yet I could see the pocket that contained his revolver being dragged away from him, as if pulled by an invisible hand.

      "I told you that I had carried out a small electrification scheme," went on the Prince affably, and just then Jim managed to extricate his revolver. Simultaneously the Egyptian leant forward and pressed a button.

      It looked as if the revolver was wrenched from Jim's hand. It crashed to the floor at his feet, while he stared at it bewildered: then he stooped to pick it up. It was resting on two small pillars which stuck up a few inches from the floor; it continued to rest there. He tugged at it with all his great strength, and he might have been a child trying to push a locomotive up a hill.

      Once


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