CHAPTER VII
NIGHT fell on Redmoat. I glanced from the window at the nocturne insilver and green which lay beneath me. To the west of the shrubbery,with its broken canopy of elms and beyond the copper beech which markedthe center of its mazes, a gap offered a glimpse of the Waverney whereit swept into a broad. Faint bird-calls floated over the water.These, with the whisper of leaves, alone claimed the ear.
Ideal rural peace, and the music of an English summer evening; but tomy eyes, every shadow holding fantastic terrors; to my ears, everysound a signal of dread. For the deathful hand of Fu-Manchu wasstretched over Redmoat, at any hour to loose strange, Oriental horrorsupon its inmates.
"Well," said Nayland Smith, joining me at the window, "we had dared tohope him dead, but we know now that he lives!"
The Rev. J. D. Eltham coughed nervously, and I turned, leaning my elbowupon the table, and studied the play of expression upon the refined,sensitive face of the clergyman.
"You think I acted rightly in sending for you, Mr. Smith?"
Nayland Smith smoked furiously.
"Mr. Eltham," he replied, "you see in me a man groping in the dark. Iam to-day no nearer to the conclusion of my mission than upon the daywhen I left Mandalay. You offer me a clew; I am here. Your affair, Ibelieve, stands thus: A series of attempted burglaries, or something ofthe kind, has alarmed your household. Yesterday, returning from Londonwith your daughter, you were both drugged in some way and, occupying acompartment to yourselves, you both slept. Your daughter awoke, andsaw someone else in the carriage--a yellow-faced man who held a case ofinstruments in his hands."
"Yes; I was, of course, unable to enter into particulars over thetelephone. The man was standing by one of the windows. Directly heobserved that my daughter was awake, he stepped towards her."
"What did he do with the case in his hands?"
"She did not notice--or did not mention having noticed. In fact, aswas natural, she was so frightened that she recalls nothing more,beyond the fact that she strove to arouse me, without succeeding, felthands grasp her shoulders--and swooned."
"But someone used the emergency cord, and stopped the train."
"Greba has no recollection of having done so."
"Hm! Of course, no yellow-faced man was on the train. When did youawake?"
"I was aroused by the guard, but only when he had repeatedly shaken me."
"Upon reaching Great Yarmouth you immediately called up Scotland Yard?You acted very wisely, sir. How long were you in China?"
Mr. Eltham's start of surprise was almost comical.
"It is perhaps not strange that you should be aware of my residence inChina, Mr. Smith," he said; "but my not having mentioned it may seemso. The fact is"--his sensitive face flushed in palpableembarrassment--"I left China under what I may term an episcopal cloud.I have lived in retirement ever since. Unwittingly--I solemnly declareto you, Mr. Smith, unwittingly--I stirred up certain deep-seatedprejudices in my endeavors to do my duty--my duty. I think you askedme how long I was in China? I was there from 1896 until 1900--fouryears."
"I recall the circumstances, Mr. Eltham," said Smith, with an odd notein his voice. "I have been endeavoring to think where I had comeacross the name, and a moment ago I remembered. I am happy to have metyou, sir."
The clergyman blushed again like a girl, and slightly inclined hishead, with its scanty fair hair.
"Has Redmoat, as its name implies, a moat round it? I was unable tosee in the dusk."
"It remains. Redmoat--a corruption of Round Moat--was formerly apriory, disestablished by the eighth Henry in 1536." His pedanticmanner was quaint at times. "But the moat is no longer flooded. Infact, we grow cabbages in part of it. If you refer to the strategicstrength of the place"--he smiled, but his manner was embarrassedagain--"it is considerable. I have barbed wire fencing, and--otherarrangements. You see, it is a lonely spot," he added apologetically."And now, if you will excuse me, we will resume these gruesomeinquiries after the more pleasant affairs of dinner."
He left us.
"Who is our host?" I asked, as the door closed.
Smith smiled.
"You are wondering what caused the 'episcopal cloud?'" he suggested."Well, the deep-seated prejudices which our reverend friend stirred upculminated in the Boxer Risings."
"Good heavens, Smith!" I said; for I could not reconcile the diffidentpersonality of the clergyman with the memories which those wordsawakened.
"He evidently should be on our danger list," my friend continuedquickly; "but he has so completely effaced himself of recent years thatI think it probable that someone else has only just recalled hisexistence to mind. The Rev. J. D. Eltham, my dear Petrie, though hemay be a poor hand at saving souls, at any rate, has saved a score ofChristian women from death--and worse."
"J. D. Eltham--" I began.
"Is 'Parson Dan'!" rapped Smith, "the 'Fighting Missionary,' the manwho with a garrison of a dozen cripples and a German doctor held thehospital at Nan-Yang against two hundred Boxers. That's who the Rev.J. D. Eltham is! But what is he up to, now, I have yet to find out.He is keeping something back--something which has made him an object ofinterest to Young China!"
During dinner the matters responsible for our presence there did nothold priority in the conversation. In fact, this, for the most part,consisted in light talk of books and theaters.
Greba Eltham, the clergyman's daughter, was a charming young hostess,and she, with Vernon Denby, Mr. Eltham's nephew, completed the party.No doubt the girl's presence, in part, at any rate, led us to refrainfrom the subject uppermost in our minds.
These little pools of calm dotted along the torrential course of thecircumstances which were bearing my friend and me onward to unknownissues form pleasant, sunny spots in my dark recollections.
So I shall always remember, with pleasure, that dinner-party atRedmoat, in the old-world dining-room; it was so very peaceful, soalmost grotesquely calm. For I, within my very bones, felt it to bethe calm before the storm. When, later, we men passed to the library,we seemed to leave that atmosphere behind us.
"Redmoat," said the Rev. J. D. Eltham, "has latterly become the theaterof strange doings."
He stood on the hearth-rug. A shaded lamp upon the big table andcandles in ancient sconces upon the mantelpiece afforded dimillumination. Mr. Eltham's nephew, Vernon Denby, lolled smoking on thewindow-seat, and I sat near to him. Nayland Smith paced restlessly upand down the room.
"Some months ago, almost a year," continued the clergyman, "aburglarious attempt was made upon the house. There was an arrest, andthe man confessed that he had been tempted by my collection." He wavedhis hand vaguely towards the several cabinets about the shadowed room.
"It was shortly afterwards that I allowed my hobby for--playing atforts to run away with me." He smiled an apology. "I virtuallyfortified Redmoat--against trespassers of any kind, I mean. You haveseen that the house stands upon a kind of large mound. This isartificial, being the buried ruins of a Roman outwork; a portion of theancient castrum." Again he waved indicatively, this time toward thewindow.
"When it was a priory it was completely isolated and defended by itsenvironing moat. Today it is completely surrounded by barbed-wirefencing. Below this fence, on the east, is a narrow stream, atributary of the Waverney; on the north and west, the high road, butnearly twenty feet below, the banks being perpendicular. On the southis the remaining part of the moat--now my kitchen garden; but fromthere up to the level of the house is nearly twenty feet again, and thebarbed wire must also be counted with.
"The entrance, as you know, is by the way of a kind of cutting. Thereis a gate at the foot of the steps (they are some of the original stepsof the priory, Dr. Petrie), and another gate at the head."
He paused, and smiled around upon us boyishly.
"My secret defenses remain to be mentioned," he resumed; and, opening acupboard, he pointed to a row of batteries, with a number of electricbells upon the wall behind. "The m
ore vulnerable spots are connectedat night with these bells," he said triumphantly. "Any attempt toscale the barbed wire or to force either gate would set two or more ofthese ringing. A stray cow raised one false alarm," he added, "and acareless rook threw us into a perfect panic on another occasion."
He was so boyish--so nervously brisk and acutely sensitive--that it wasdifficult to see in him the hero of the Nan-Yang hospital. I couldonly suppose that he had treated the Boxers' raid in the same spiritwherein he met would-be trespassers within the precincts of Redmoat.It had been an escapade, of which he was afterwards ashamed, as,faintly, he was ashamed of his "fortifications." "But," rapped Smith,"it was not the visit of the burglar which prompted these elaborateprecautions."
Mr. Eltham coughed nervously.
"I am aware," he said, "that having invoked official aid, I must beperfectly frank with you, Mr. Smith. It was the burglar who wasresponsible for my continuing the wire fence all round the grounds, butthe electrical contrivance followed, later, as a result of severaldisturbed nights. My servants grew uneasy about someone who came, theysaid, after dusk. No one could describe this nocturnal visitor, butcertainly we found traces. I must admit that.
"Then--I received what I may term a warning. My position is a peculiarone--a peculiar one. My daughter, too, saw this prowling person, overby the Roman castrum, and described him as a yellow man. It was theincident in the train following closely upon this other, which led meto speak to the police, little as I desired to--er--court publicity."
Nayland Smith walked to a window, and looked out across the slopinglawn to where the shadows of the shrubbery lay. A dog was howlingdismally somewhere.
"Your defenses are not impregnable, after all, then?" he jerked. "Onour way up this evening Mr. Denby was telling us about the death of hiscollie a few nights ago."
The clergyman's face clouded.
"That, certainly, was alarming," he confessed.
"I had been in London for a few days, and during my absence Vernon camedown, bringing the dog with him. On the night of his arrival it ran,barking, into the shrubbery yonder, and did not come out. He went tolook for it with a lantern, and found it lying among the bushes, quitedead. The poor creature had been dreadfully beaten about the head."
"The gates were locked," Denby interrupted, "and no one could have gotout of the grounds without a ladder and someone to assist him. Butthere was no sign of a living thing about. Edwards and I searchedevery corner."
"How long has that other dog taken to howling?" inquired Smith.
"Only since Rex's death," said Denby quickly.
"It is my mastiff," explained the clergyman, "and he is confined in theyard. He is never allowed on this side of the house."
Nayland Smith wandered aimlessly about the library.
"I am sorry to have to press you, Mr. Eltham," he said, "but what wasthe nature of the warning to which you referred, and from whom did itcome?"
Mr. Eltham hesitated for a long time.
"I have been so unfortunate," he said at last, "in my previous efforts,that I feel assured of your hostile criticism when I tell you that I amcontemplating an immediate return to Ho-Nan!"
Smith jumped round upon him as though moved by a spring.
"Then you are going back to Nan-Yang?" he cried. "Now I understand!Why have you not told me before? That is the key for which I havevainly been seeking. Your troubles date from the time of your decisionto return?"
"Yes, I must admit it," confessed the clergyman diffidently.
"And your warning came from China?"
"It did."
"From a Chinaman?"
"From the Mandarin, Yen-Sun-Yat."
"Yen-Sun-Yat! My good sir! He warned you to abandon your visit? Andyou reject his advice? Listen to me." Smith was intensely excitednow, his eyes bright, his lean figure curiously strung up, alert. "TheMandarin Yen-Sun-Yat is one of the seven!"
"I do not follow you, Mr. Smith."
"No, sir. China to-day is not the China of '98. It is a huge secretmachine, and Ho-Nan one of its most important wheels! But if, as Iunderstand, this official is a friend of yours, believe me, he hassaved your life! You would be a dead man now if it were not for yourfriend in China! My dear sir, you must accept his counsel."
Then, for the first time since I had made his acquaintance, "ParsonDan" showed through the surface of the Rev. J. D. Eltham.
"No, sir!" replied the clergyman--and the change in his voice wasstartling. "I am called to Nan-Yang. Only One may deter my going."
The admixture of deep spiritual reverence with intense truculence inhis voice was dissimilar from anything I ever had heard.
"Then only One can protect you," cried Smith, "for, by Heaven, no MANwill be able to do so! Your presence in Ho-Nan can do no possible goodat present. It must do harm. Your experience in 1900 should be freshin your memory."
"Hard words, Mr. Smith."
"The class of missionary work which you favor, sir, is injurious tointernational peace. At the present moment, Ho-Nan is a barrel ofgunpowder; you would be the lighted match. I do not willingly standbetween any man and what he chooses to consider his duty, but I insistthat you abandon your visit to the interior of China!"
"You insist, Mr. Smith?"
"As your guest, I regret the necessity for reminding you that I holdauthority to enforce it."
Denby fidgeted uneasily. The tone of the conversation was growingharsh and the atmosphere of the library portentous with brewing storms.
There was a short, silent interval.
"This is what I had feared and expected," said the clergyman. "Thiswas my reason for not seeking official protection."
"The phantom Yellow Peril," said Nayland Smith, "to-day materializesunder the very eyes of the Western world."
"The 'Yellow Peril'!"
"You scoff, sir, and so do others. We take the proffered right hand offriendship nor inquire if the hidden left holds a knife! The peace ofthe world is at stake, Mr. Eltham. Unknowingly, you tamper withtremendous issues."
Mr. Eltham drew a deep breath, thrusting both hands in his pockets.
"You are painfully frank, Mr. Smith," he said; "but I like you for it.I will reconsider my position and talk this matter over again with youto-morrow."
Thus, then, the storm blew over. Yet I had never experienced such anoverwhelming sense of imminent peril--of a sinister presence--asoppressed me at that moment. The very atmosphere of Redmoat wasimpregnated with Eastern devilry; it loaded the air like some evilperfume. And then, through the silence, cut a throbbing scream--thescream of a woman in direst fear.
"My God, it's Greba!" whispered Mr. Eltham.