The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories. Sapper
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 again the Prince smiled faintly.
"Magnetism, my dear Maitland," he murmured. "Perfectly simple and saves such a lot of trouble."
I saw the beads of sweat beginning to gleam on Jim's forehead.
"What's all this leading to?" he said a little hoarsely, staring at the Egyptian through the grille.
"What I told you before—an evening's amusement for me."
And suddenly Jim lost his temper. He sprang at the gate in the centre and shook it wildly, only to give a shout of pain and jump backwards again.
"What the devil was that?" he muttered.
"A severe electric shock," said the Prince genially. "Not enough to do you any real harm—but enough to prove to you that I am not romancing or bluffing—when I tell you of my little scheme. You know the principles of electricity, don't you?"
The Prince lit another cigarette, and lay back luxuriously in his chair.
"You remember them doubtless from your school days—anyway those that count. For instance, you must certainly remember the method of getting a shock, by holding two terminals in your hands. That is what happened a moment ago, except that you were standing on one terminal, and holding the other."
"Suppose you quit fooling and get down to it," said Jim grimly.
"Certainly," said the Prince pleasantly. "In the week since I last saw you I have occupied myself in fixing scores of similar terminals all over your half of the room. For instance—the chair just behind you. There are two there. And though you might sit in that chair for quite a time in perfect safety, some chance movement might make the connection. And then you'd get another shock."
"Am I to understand," snarled Jim, "that you propose to keep me here hopping round the room having electric shocks?"
He again took a step forward towards the grille, to stop abruptly at the Prince's shout of warning.
"Good heavens! My dear fellow, not yet. I couldn't bear to lose you so soon."
"What do you mean?" said Jim.
"You see, when you shook the gate before only one-fiftieth of the current was switched on. And now it's all on. Why, you'd have been electrocuted far too soon. I should have had no fun at all."
The Prince lay back as if appalled at such a narrow escape from disaster, and Jim stood very still.
"You see, they're all over the room," he explained. "For all you know, at this very moment you may be within an inch of death. And I mean that literally. Perhaps if you moved your right foot an inch, you would complete the circuit and be electrocuted. On the other hand, you may not be within a yard of it. That's the game. Just like hunt the thimble. Sometimes as you move about the room you'll be warm, and sometimes you'll be cold—and I wait and watch. How long will you last? It may be next minute; it may not be for an hour or more. Some of the death spots I know; some I do not. They were put in by another. And that makes it more exciting for me."
He pressed a button, and an Arab came swiftly in with champagne and caviare sandwiches, to depart again as noiselessly as he had entered. And still Jim stood there motionless, staring at the Prince. Was it bluff or was it not? That was the thought in both our minds.
"You can, of course, continue standing exactly where you are with perfect impunity," continued the Prince suavely. "And as a matter of fact— this being my first experiment of this nature—I am quite interested in the psychology of the thing. How long will you go on standing there? Four hours—five? The night is yet young. But sooner or later, my dear Maitland, you will have to move. Sleep will overcome you, and it will be dangerous to sleep, Maitland, very dangerous for you. But interesting for me."
"What's your object in doing this?" said Jim slowly, after a long pause.
"Amusement principally—amusement and revenge. How dared you, you miserable Englishman, profane our temple, and put the authorities on our track?"
With his teeth bared like a wolf's, the Egyptian rose and approached the grille. He stood there snarling, and Jim yawned.
"You murdered a man," went on the Prince, and his voice was shaking with rage, "a man who had forgotten more of the mysteries of life than you and all your miserable countrymen put together will ever know. And the penalty for that is death, as I told you."
"So it was you who wrote those notes, was it?" said Jim in a bored voice. "You wretched little nigger."
In a frenzy of rage at the insult the Egyptian shook both his fists.
"Yes, it was I," he screamed. "And it was I who went round to your club this evening, and it was I who heard you order the car to go to Hampstead; and it is I who have bluffed you all through. It was considerate of you, Maitland, to tell the taxi-driver that. There are numbers of excellent places on the tube line out there where both your bodies can be found—electrocuted. And as I've told you before,"—he turned to me—"I will look after Molly."
With a great effort he recovered himself and sat down again to his interrupted meal. And once more silence reigned. Motionless as a statue, Jim still stood there, and his eyes never left the Prince's face.
I sat there watching him helplessly. In my own mind I knew that this was not bluff; in my own mind I knew that in all his life of adventure Jim had never stood in such deadly peril as he did at that moment. And the thing was so diabolically ingenious. Sooner or later he must move and then with every step he ran the risk of sudden death. But the hand that held and lit his cigarette was steady as a rock.
He smoked it through calmly and quietly, while the Egyptian watched him as a cat watches a mouse. It couldn't go on; we all knew that. It had to finish, and as Jim flung the end away the Prince rose and approached the grille. On his face was a horrible look of anticipation; his sinewy hands were clenched tight.
"Well, old Dick," said Jim steadily, "this appears to be the end of a sporting course. I refuse to stand here any more for the amusement of that foul nigger. So I propose to sit down. And in case I sit the wrong way— so long."
He turned and lounged towards the big chair. Then he sat down and polished his eye-glass, while the Egyptian clutched the grille and gloated. I could have told then if I hadn't known it before that it was no bluff—that he was waiting in an ecstasy of anticipation for Jim to die. Anyway, it would be sudden, but when—when?
"A poor chair this, nigger," said Jim mildly—and then it happened. Jim gave one dreadful convulsive leap and slithered to the floor, where he lay rigid and stiff. For a moment I was stunned; for a moment I forgot that it was my fate, too. I could only grasp that Jim was dead. Murdered by a madman—for there was madness in the eyes of Prince Selim, as I cursed him for a murderer.
"Your turn next," he snarled, "but first we will remove the body."
He pressed over a switch on the wall, and a great blue spark stabbed the air. Then he went to the central gate and pulled it back.
"Not much sport that time," he remarked. "Too quick. But, anyway, my dear Leyton, you will now know one place to avoid."
"Which is more than you do," came a terrible voice, and the Prince screamed. For Jim's hands were round his throat, and Jim's merciless eyes were boring into his brain.
"You're not the only person who can bluff, nigger."
The grip tightened, and the Egyptian struggled madly to free himself, until quite suddenly he grew limp, and Jim flung him into the chair, where he lay sprawling. Then, picking up his revolver, Jim came towards me.
"Touch and go that time, Dick," and there was a strained look in his eyes as he set me free.
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