Presently the door creaked open and I
heard the noise of breathing. I followed it as gently as a shadow,
halting sharply when I could not hear it or it grew too near. I was
weaponless--for I had left Belleville's revolver in the laboratory
ere for the first time leaving it. But still, I dared not arm myself,
for to have done so would have given my adversaries, sooner or later,
a certain clue to my position; and my only hope of worsting them now
consisted in preserving my absolute invisibility and at the same
time knowing where, in the general sense, they were. My first great
difficulty arose in the passage of the outer door. I dared not slip
out with them, and since they locked it after them, I was forced to
wait some time before I deemed it safe to open it again. Thus, when I
reached the outer passage there was absolutely nothing left to guide
my steps. However, I hurried to the arch and thence looked forth along
the bifurcated corridor. Seeing and hearing nothing, I sank to the
floor, and like an Indian pressed my ear against the boards. One
far-off panel a little later creaked distinctly. Wood, though carpeted,
is a fine sound conductor. This gave me the direction. Hot foot I
followed it. But soon I came to a corner and beyond a short, wide
cul-de-sac, with three closed doors. Here I stopped with straining ears
and listened with a beating heart and bated breath. The conspirators
were there, beyond the scope of doubt; and presently I knew the door
they wished to pass. I saw the handle turn and heard a sigh. "Locked,"
murmured a voice in English--then in Arabic it breathed. "Keep closely
by me, Ptahmes, hold my coat!" Three sharp raps followed on the panels. A voice that thrilled me, asked within the room, "Who is there?" A voice, the cleverly twisted voice of Belleville, answered in a sharp
falsetto from without, "It is I, my dear young lady, Sir Philip Lang." The door was immediately opened and I saw the sad face of my sweetheart. "Sir Philip!" she cried--then, seeing no one, she stopped, dismayed. Of
a sudden she uttered a shriek and fell back into the room, back, back,
clasping her hands to her neck and struggling to cry out. I guessed the
reason instantly--Belleville had seized her by the throat. I sprang
to her assistance, but paused again--by a miracle, in time--just
across the threshold. Miss Ottley--I shall not, cannot call her Mrs.
Belleville, though, indeed, she was--went spinning across the room,
free, I saw. I slipped along the wall beside the lintel and waited,
holding breath. What next? The door slammed and the bolt shot in answer
to my question. Then came a long silence. Miss Ottley stood beside the
farthest wall, supporting herself on the back of a saddle-bag chair,
a picture of horror and fear personified. I would have given all the
world for liberty to soothe her fears, to take her in my arms and
comfort her. But it was not to be. Everything depended on my cunning
and my silence. Tearing my glances from her ashen face, I looked around
the room. It was her bedroom. The bed occupied one corner. Beside the
canopy was an open window through which the light streamed in, striking
full upon the door. Against another wall stood a Duchesse toilet table
and a huge bemirrored clothes chest of carven ivory and ebony. The
floor was covered with a thick pile carpet of dark crimson hue. The
window curtains were of purple velvet. The bed's canopy of crimson
silk. The walls were painted black and gold. It was, indeed, a mourning
chamber. "Who is it--who is it?" gasped the white-faced, black-robed mourner. I
glanced at her again and saw that one hand was pressed tightly to her
side. No answer coming, she repeated her demand with more composure. Then a
curious thing happened. A board creaked, and looking swiftly at the
floor, I saw the imprint of a foot marked in the pile. It vanished
and the pile sprang up again resiliently, but, twenty inches farther
onward towards the girl, a second sole-shaped hollow formed itself
and there remained. An instant's flashing search disclosed three
others. I now knew for certain the position of my enemies, and with a
wild heart-throb of joy I nerved myself for action. The shape of the
footmarks showed me that both men faced the girl, and that they were
standing about a yard apart. With two noiseless strides, I stepped
behind the rearmost. Then I stooped and seized a pair of hard, lean
thighs and heaved a body up and sent it hurling through the air above
the second set of footprints. "I've got you again, you dog!" I cried;
then stepped back swift and noiseless to my former place. The trick
was perfectly successful. Silent, save for their heavy breathing and
the trembling of their feet, the rascals writhed and stamped about the
room, locked, doubtless, in a close embrace, although I could not see
them. As for me, I slipped presently to a chair, caught it up, and
guided by a sound, I brought it crashing down upon the head of one of
them. There followed a heavy groan, then a dagger blade flashed out of
nothingness and once, twice, thrice, it rose and fell. Murder was being
done before my eyes, but I had only half a mind to stay it, and indeed,
before I could the knife had vanished into mist again, and all to be
seen was a dark flow of scarlet fluid that welled in air and sank upon
the carpet. I waited spellbound. Which was alive--which was dead? Belleville's voice put the question at rest suddenly. "Well done,
Ptahmes," he gasped in Arabic. "He had me throttled when you struck. You shall have fifty pounds for this day's work." "Thanks, good master." I returned and edged towards his voice. But at
that moment Miss Ottley fell in a swoon, and death could hardly have
availed to keep me from her side. With a bound I was across the room,
and in another second she was in my arms. Belleville must have seen, but thinking me the Arab, instead of
chiding, he commended me. "Carry her to the laboratory," he commanded. "I'll follow with this carrion. We must dispose of it. Nay, wait. I'll
go first. Damn him, how he bleeds!" he added in English. Then a little
later, "He is wonderfully light for so tall and strong a man." By then he must have had the Arab's body in his arms. I heard heavy
footfalls stamping to the door. Carrying my burden, I followed them. The door opened and we both passed out. I hated the thought of taking
my sweetheart to that room of horror, but I could not bear to leave
her where she had been so terrified, to recover by herself. And in the
next place I did not dare to let Belleville even for a moment out of
my reach. He would soon be bound to discover his mistake and then the
fight would be renewed with the advantage all on his side, since he
was armed with a weapon, which, it was evident, he could conceal till
the time came for using it. Prudence demanded that I should seize and
disarm Belleville before his suspicions became excited. Prudence also
demanded that I should leave my sweetheart somewhere on the journey.