CHAPTER XXXVI
AT HIGHGATE CEMETERY
Odette Rider sat back in a corner of the smooth-running taxicab. Her eyeswere closed, for the inevitable reaction had come. Excitement and anxietyhad combined to give her the strength to walk to the cab with a firm stepwhich had surprised the matron; but now, in the darkness and solitude,she was conscious of a depression, both physical and mental, which lefther without the will or power for further effort.
The car sped through interminably long streets--in what direction sheneither knew nor cared. Remember that she did not even know where thenursing home was situated. It might have been on the edge of London forall she was aware. Once, that was as the car was crossing Bond Streetfrom Cavendish Square, she saw people turn and look at the cab and apoliceman pointed and shouted something. She was too preoccupied to worryher head as to the cause.
She appreciated in a dim, vague way the skill of the taxi-driver, whoseemed to be able to grope his way through and around any obstruction oftraffic; and it was not until she found the cab traversing a country roadthat she had any suspicion that all was not well. Even then her doubtswere allayed by her recognition of certain landmarks which told her shewas on the Hertford Road.
"Of course," she thought. "I should be wanted at Hertford rather than inLondon," and she settled herself down again.
Suddenly the cab stopped, backed down a side lane, and turned in thedirection from whence they had come. When he had got his car's headright, Sam Stay shut off his engine, descended from his seat, and openedthe door.
"Come on out of that!" he said sharply.
"Why--what----" began the bewildered girl, but before she could go muchfarther the man dived in, gripped her by the wrist, and pulled her outwith such violence that she fell.
"You don't know me, eh?" The words were his as he thrust his face intohers, gripping her shoulders so savagely that she could have cried outin pain.
She was on her knees, struggling to get to her feet, and she looked up atthe little man wonderingly.
"I know you," she gasped. "You are the man who tried to get into myflat!"
He grinned.
"And I know you!" he laughed harshly. "You're the devil that lured himon! The best man in the world ... he's in the little vault in HighgateCemetery. The door is just like a church. And that's where you'll beto-night, damn you! Down there I'm going to take you. Down, down, down,and leave you with him, because he wanted you!"
He was gripping her by both wrists, glaring down into her face, and therewas something so wolfish, so inhuman, in the madman's staring eyes thather mouth went dry, and when she tried to scream no sound came. Then shelurched forward towards him, and he caught her under the arms and draggedher to her feet.
"Fainted, eh? You'll faint, me lady," he chuckled. "Don't you wish youmight never come round, eh? I'll bet you would if you knew ... if youknew!"
He dropped her on the grass by the side of the road, took a luggage strapfrom the front of the cab, and bound her hands. Then he picked up thescarf she had been wearing and tied it around her mouth.
With an extraordinary display of strength he lifted her without effortand put her back into the corner of the seat. Then he slammed the door,mounted again to his place, and sent the car at top speed in thedirection of London. They were on the outskirts of Hampstead when he sawa sign over a tobacconist's shop, and stopped the car a little waybeyond, at the darkest part of the road. He gave a glance into theinterior. The girl had slid from the seat to the floor and laymotionless.
He hurried back to the tobacconist's where the telephone sign had been.At the back of his fuddled brain lingered an idea that there was somebodywho would be hurt. That cruel looking devil who was cross-examining himwhen he fell into a fit--Tarling. Yes, that was the name, Tarling.
It happened to be a new telephone directory, and by chance Tarling'sname, although a new subscriber, had been included. In a few seconds hewas talking to the detective.
He hung up the receiver and came out of the little booth, and theshopman, who had heard his harsh, loud voice, looked at him suspiciously;but Sam Stay was indifferent to the suspicions of men. He half ran, halfwalked back to where his cab was standing, leaped into the seat, andagain drove the machine forward.
To Highgate Cemetery! That was the idea. The gates would be closed, buthe could do something. Perhaps he would kill her first and then get herover the wall afterwards. It would be a grand revenge if he could get herinto the cemetery alive and thrust her, the living, down amongst thedead, through those little doors which opened like church doors to thecold, dank vault below.
He screamed and sang with joy at the thought, and those pedestrians whosaw the cab flash past, rocking from side to side, turned at the sound ofthe wild snatch of song, for Sam Stay was happy as he had not been happyin his life before.
But Highgate Cemetery was closed. The gloomy iron gates barred allentrance, and the walls were high. It was a baffling place, becausehouses almost entirely surrounded it; and he was half an hour seeking asuitable spot before he finally pulled up before a place where the walldid not seem so difficult. There was nobody about and little fear ofinterruption on the part of the girl. He had looked into the cab and hadseen nothing save a huddled figure on the floor. So she was stillunconscious, he thought.
He ran the car on to the sidewalk, then slipped down into the narrowspace between car and wall and jerked open the door.
"Come on!" he cried exultantly. He reached out his fingers--and thensomething shot from the car, something lithe and supple, something thatgripped the little man by the throat and hurled him back against thewall.
Stay struggled with the strength of lunacy, but Ling Chu held him in agrip of steel.