The Beetle Part 11

I expected that he would address me in the lingo which these gentlemen call French,-but he didn't.

'You are Mr Atherton?'

'And you are Mr-Who?-how did you come here? Where's my servant?'

The fellow held up his hand. As he did so, as if in accordance with a pre-arranged signal, Edwards came into the room looking excessively startled. I turned to him.

'Is this the person who wished to see me?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Didn't I tell you to say that I didn't wish to see him?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then why didn't you do as I told you?'

'I did, sir.'

'Then how comes he here?'

'Really, sir,'-Edwards put his hand up to his head as if be was half asleep-'I don't quite know.'

'What do you mean by you don't know? Why didn't you stop him?'

'I think, sir, that I must have had a touch of sudden faintness, because I tried to put out my hand to stop him, and-I couldn't.'

'You're an idiot.-Go!' And he went. I turned to the stranger.

'Pray, sir, are you a magician?'

He replied to my question with another.

'You, Mr Atherton,-are you also a magician?'

He was staring at my mask with an evident lack of comprehension.

'I wear this because, in this place, death lurks in so many subtle forms, that, without it, I dare not breathe,' He inclined his head.-though I doubt if he understood. 'Be so good as to tell me, briefly, what it is you wish with me.'

He slipped his hand into the folds of his burnoose, and, taking out a slip of paper, laid it on the shelf by which we were standing. I glanced at it, expecting to find on it a pet.i.tion, or a testimonial, or a true statement of his sad case; instead it contained two words only,-'Marjorie Lindon.' The unlooked-for sight of that well-loved name brought the blood into my cheeks.

'You come from Miss Lindon?' He narrowed his shoulders, brought his finger-tips together, inclined his head, in a fas.h.i.+on which was peculiarly Oriental, but not particularly explanatory,-so I repeated my question.

'Do you wish me to understand that you do come from Miss Lindon?'

Again he slipped his hand into his burnoose, again he produced a slip of paper, again he laid it on the shelf, again I glanced at it, again nothing was written on it but a name,-'Paul Lessingham.'

'Well?-I see,-Paul Lessingham.-What then?'

'She is good,-he is bad,-is it not so?'

He touched first one sc.r.a.p of paper, then the other. I stared.

'Pray how do you happen to know?'

'He shall never have her,-eh?'

'What on earth do you mean?'

'Ah!-what do I mean!'

'Precisely, what do you mean? And also, and at the same time, who the devil are you?'

'It is as a friend I come to you.'

'Then in that case you may go; I happen to be over-stocked in that line just now.'

'Not with the kind of friend I am!'

'The saints forefend!'

'You love her,-you love Miss Lindon! Can you bear to think of him in her arms?'

I took off my mask,-feeling that the occasion required it As I did so he brushed aside the hanging folds of the hood of his burnoose, so that I saw more of his face. I was immediately conscious that in his eyes there was, in an especial degree, what, for want of a better term, one may call the mesmeric quality. That his was one of those morbid organisations which are oftener found, thank goodness, in the east than in the west, and which are apt to exercise an uncanny influence over the weak and the foolish folk with whom they come in contact,-the kind of creature for whom it is always just as well to keep a seasoned rope close handy. I was, also, conscious that he was taking advantage of the removal of my mask to try his strength on me,-than which he could not have found a tougher job. The sensitive something which is found in the hypnotic subject happens, in me, to be wholly absent.

'I see you are a mesmerist.'

He started.

'I am nothing,-a shadow!'

'And I'm a scientist. I should like, with your permission-or without it!-to try an experiment or two on you.'

He moved further back. There came a gleam into his eyes which suggested that he possessed his hideous power to an unusual degree,-that, in the estimation of his own people, he was qualified to take his standing as a regular devil-doctor.

'We will try experiments together, you and I,-on Paul Lessingham.'

'Why on him?'

'You do not know?'

'I do not.'

'Why do you lie to me?'

'I don't lie to you,-I haven't the faintest notion what is the nature of your interest in Mr Lessingham.'

'My interest?-that is another thing; it is your interest of which we are speaking.'

'Pardon me,-it is yours.'

'Listen! you love her,-and he! But at a word from you he shall not have her,-never! It is I who say it,-I!'