Читать книгу Exit A Dictator - E. Phillips Oppenheim - Страница 6

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Alexander, a man who had never known fear, lay panting upon his bed in the early hours of the following morning, a new, unanalysable sense of terror chilling his blood. He was breathing in short, laboured gasps, at the back of his head was a feeling of giddiness, a strange lack of control which he had never before in his life experienced. A sense of terrible weakness and depression was upon him. He had an almost overmastering impulse to close his eyes, lean back amongst his pillows and court sleep, forgetfulness, to step out of the world of action the nearest and the easiest way. The thing came in waves, followed by faint reactions during which his will made frantic efforts to reassert itself. It was during one of these that he realised what was happening and with a mighty effort plunged into battle, a battle with himself. He sat up in bed and turned on the light. He looked around him in amazement. All three portholes were firmly closed. There was a slight mist in the room, a curious sickly and yet not altogether unpleasant odour, and a faint hissing sound in his ears. He crawled out of bed and staggered to his feet. By the side of the lamp which he had just turned on was an ordinary medicine bottle, from the cork of 36 which protruded a tube of rubber. Something in the bottle was bubbling. Out of the end of the tube came little spirals of the grey mist. He laid his thumb upon the bell. Almost immediately, he felt a curious desire to withdraw it and crawl back to bed. He set his teeth. His thumb remained rigid. In the background of his mind he knew that there was something to be done. He began to ask himself furiously what it was—something outside the room—something to be done even while this nightmare laid its clammy fingers about him. A knock at the door. He called out, although he failed to recognise his own voice.

“Come in!”

The handle was turned. The door was locked from the outside. Alexander rose to his feet, though his knees trembled. He tightened the muscles all through his body and moved towards the door.

“Passkey! Use passkey!”

When the steward entered he found his passenger half upon the floor, gasping.

“Open port—open port—”

The man looked around the room and grasped at any rate the obvious part of what was happening. He hurried to the portholes, struggled with them for a few moments, flung them open and hooked them up. A fresh breeze swept into the room. Even with its first breath, Alexander felt relieved. He pointed to the bottle.

“The bath,” he cried. “Take the cork out of the bottle. Turn on the water.”

The steward was a man who had his wits about him. He himself was already coughing but he gripped the bottle, flung open the bathroom door and in a few seconds there was the sound of rushing water. He came back to find his passenger standing up without support, a ghastly colour but steadily breathing in the fresh air.

“What’s it all about, sir?” he asked. “Someone’s been fiddling about with them portholes.”

Alexander was grasping his forehead. There was something he had to do. It was there at the back of his mind. Something—

“God!” he muttered. “Three hundred and two, steward. Hurry to number three hundred and two.”

“That’s the young Russian lady’s room, sir.”

“Hurry! Get there quickly. Break open the door if you have to. I will come after you as soon as I can.”

The man nodded.

“You had better lie down, sir,” he cried. “I’ll go and see if the lady’s all right.”

With a sudden access of strength, Alexander pushed past him. The two men made their way down the corridor. A word from the steward to the night-watchman whom they found doing his accustomed promenade, and the latter followed behind. They reached the door of three hundred and two. Even as they stood there, Alexander fancied that he could 38 detect that ghastly sickly odour. The steward knocked. There was no reply. He knocked again.

“Passkey!” Alexander cried.

He himself was first in the cabin. Notwithstanding that clogged sense which seemed to deprive him of everything except a sort of instinct, he felt a throb of relief as he realised that Anna’s ordeal had been a shorter one than his. There was a mist in the room but only in little spirals. She was awake, her frightened eyes staring at them as they entered, her breath coming in quick, convulsive jerks. The steward threw open the portholes. Alexander seized the bottle with its hissing liquid which stood by her bedside.

“The bath,” he cried, “the bath. Turn on the water.”

The watchman nodded and holding the bottle gingerly in his hand disappeared into the inner room. Alexander grasped Anna’s cold hands and held them tightly in his.

“You are all right?” he asked anxiously. “How long have you been awake?”

She shook her head.

“I do not know,” she moaned. “It hurts me to breathe. Oh, the air!”

He lifted her into his arms and carried her to a porthole, staggering unexpectedly, but recovering his strength. The wind blew through her hair. Her breathing was instantly more regular. Her head fell back.

“Keep me here,” she begged. “Hold me closer to the wind.”

He obeyed, although his knees were tottering beneath him. He called to the steward.

“Get some brandy.”

The man hurried off. The girl’s cold fingers were clasped round Alexander’s neck, her head moved slightly from side to side, her eyes were half-closed.

“I cannot remember what happened,” she faltered. “I was asleep and when I awoke I was stifling. There was someone closing the portholes. I tried to call out but he was close to the switch and it was all dark.”

“How long ago?” he asked.

“I do not know. Then you came—I am tired.”

The steward brought the brandy. Alexander forced a little between her lips, then he gulped some down himself.

“There is an empty stateroom opposite,” the steward told them. “The stewardess has it all prepared—hot-water bottles, anything else the young lady would like.”

“That is excellent,” Alexander replied. “Lock up this stateroom as soon as we have left it.”

He carried her into the cabin across the alleyway. The stewardess threw back the bedclothes and placed a hot-water bottle at her feet.

“The poor young lady!” she exclaimed curiously. “Has she had a shock or something, sir?”

Alexander shook his head. He was leaning against 40 the wall recovering his own breath slowly. The breeze was streaming in at the open portholes. The air of the room, fragrant with ozone, was like wine to him.

“She will soon be all right in this atmosphere,” he said.

The night-watchman prepared to take his leave.

“Do you wish me to report anything, sir?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Alexander replied. “Wait until the morning.”

The man departed and the steward followed a moment later. The stewardess bent over her charge. Anna was looking round and there was trouble in her now wide-open eyes.

“Please do not leave me,” she whispered to Alexander.

He forced a little more brandy between her lips. The stewardess, whose hour it was for going off duty, felt her pulse.

“The young lady is quite all right now, sir,” she reported. “Is there anything more I can do?”

“You had better stay. I shall have to remain till she goes to sleep. You can lie down on the other bed for a time.”

She breathed a sigh of resignation, folded her arms and sat in the easy chair.

“Send her away,” the girl whispered. “I do not like her being here. I like to be alone with you. I am 41 afraid something has happened to my brain. I feel different. What is it?”

“Nothing that you will not easily get over,” he assured her.

“You, too,” she went on. “You look strange.”

He forced a smile.

“Never mind. We will talk about it all in the morning. Can you sleep?”

“Perhaps. If you do not go away.”

Ten minutes passed. Alexander himself was desperately sleepy. He closed his eyes and opened them with a start to find her hands holding him more tightly and her eyes wide open.

“Send that woman away,” she begged once more. “I cannot bear her here. Please.”

Her distress was manifest in her twitching features. He motioned to the stewardess.

“You can go,” he directed. “If we need you again I will ring.”

She rose promptly to her feet.

“Ring the bell twice if it is urgent, sir,” she enjoined. “I will come or send my relief.”

The woman departed, closing the door. The girl’s eyes followed her. She smiled when at last they were absolutely alone. Her other arm stole round his neck.

“Lean down more,” she begged. “What has happened to me, Alexander? I can only feel that I must have you there. Do not go away.”

“I will stay so long as you are afraid,” he promised.

“I am not afraid now,” she said. “Only I do not understand myself. I cannot think. Do you believe anything has happened to my head?”

“Nothing that will not have passed in the morning,” he assured her. “Have you any pain?”

“None whatever. I just feel—comfortable, almost happy. You will not go? You will not leave me here all alone?”

“Of course I will not,” he promised.

“You are very cold, Alexander. You are very far away,” she whispered.

“You must close your eyes,” he insisted. “You must sleep, Anna Prestnoff. Hear me tell you that, please—you must sleep.”

There was a faint indication of the little pout that he had once or twice admired. She closed her eyes but her grip upon him tightened. He looked at the clock. It was ten minutes to four. She began to breathe more naturally. At six o’clock he opened his eyes. He looked around the cabin in amazement—moved a little. Her arms fell away slowly. He stood up and looked down at her, he himself aching in every limb. She was asleep. He rang the bell twice and opened the door softly.

“You stay with her,” he told the stewardess who answered him. “Listen—you will receive a present from me later on, but you must not leave until you see me again or hear from me.”

“I quite understand, sir,” the woman said. “Mrs. 43 Hanner told me that the young lady had been ill. I will not leave her alone.”

Alexander staggered off. He made his way back to his own room. The fresh air was sweeping in and through the portholes there was a gleam of sunshine. He threw himself down and slept.

He was awakened a few hours later by the steward, who brought him his usual cup of tea. Directly he opened his eyes and looked around him he remembered what had happened. He had no definite feeling of illness but a deadly sense of inanition. It was a trouble to answer the man. It was almost agony to contemplate rising. He set his teeth and fought.

“How is the young lady, James?” he asked.

“Still sleeping, sir. Mrs. Hanner went round some time ago. We thought you might like the few drops of what was left in the bottles kept. Anyhow, I have them in my pantry.”

“Excellent. Turn on my bath and send Paul to me.”

“How are you feeling yourself, sir?” the steward asked a little curiously.

“Quite well, thank you. You need not wait.”

Alexander dressed and made his way out on deck. The sky was grey and a thin, drizzling rain was falling. He mounted to the upper deck, wrapped his mackintosh around him and walked steadily for over an hour. When at last he sank exhausted into a chair, 44 he felt the blood once more warm in his veins. There was a slight glow in his cheeks. He knew that he was winning. He made his way into the saloon, drank some coffee and made a light breakfast. Then, with the bottle which the steward had given him in his hand, he presented himself at the surgery.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Alexander?” the doctor asked, rising at once to his feet.

“Tell me the contents of this bottle,” Alexander replied, handing it over.

The doctor smelt it, moistened his finger with it and tasted it. He shook his head.

“I am not a chemist,” he confessed. “I have no means on board for making an intricate analysis. Why do you ask me?”

“Because something which requires explanation has happened upon this boat,” was the calm reply. “May I ask if you are in possession of any drugs the properties of which might be described as unusual?”

The doctor’s expression of polite indifference was suddenly changed. He had the appearance of a man who had received an unexpected shock. He stared at his visitor wonderingly.

“Good God!” he exclaimed.

Alexander waited—stonily silent. The doctor recovered himself in a few seconds.

“I have parted with, to a passenger,” he confided, “a very small quantity of a drug I know nothing about and which has a similar odour. Here is the remainder of the bottle.”

He opened the cupboard, withdrew the bottle labelled Texacon, and handed it to his visitor. Alexander held the bottle up to the light, drew out the cork and smelt the contents. He returned it to the doctor.

“Would you care to tell me how you came into possession of this stuff?” he asked.

“In a somewhat curious manner,” the doctor explained. “Professor Hartlow, who is President of the Society of Analysts, Chairman of the Metropolitan Hospital in New York, and a very famous scientist, brought this bottle on board an hour or so before we left. It was wrapped up in a brown-paper parcel and sealed. He brought a letter of introduction from a friend even more famous than himself and a request that I should convey it to Southampton and hand it over to someone whose name was given. It was explained to me that the drug was extraordinarily scarce, it had only recently been discovered and it was likely to revolutionise certain classes of medicine. The Society did not wish to trust it to any ordinary method of transmission so they asked me to put it in my surgery cupboard and, as I have said, hand it over to someone who would be waiting for it at Southampton.”

“And you agreed?”

“Wait a moment,” the doctor begged. “I agreed, but thank God, although I was very rushed, I insisted upon putting the matter before the Commander first. We went to see him. He, of course, was 46 terribly busy, as we were just sailing, but he listened to what my visitor had to say and he gave permission. He insisted upon it, however, that the parcel be unsealed and the bottle placed with my other medicines in my cupboard. Naturally enough, he could not countenance anything which looked in the least like smuggling.”

“It was apparently, then, only in your charge,” Alexander remarked. “How did you come to part with any?”

The doctor told his story in a few words.

“I am a married man,” he concluded. “My insurance policy has just lapsed. I have two children, and the man into whose revolver I had to look meant business. A small phialful of the drug as against a man’s life. I do not pretend I played the part of a hero but I did what ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have done. I accepted his offer of five hundred dollars and he marched off with the phial.”

Alexander reflected for a moment.

“I wonder how the fellow knew that you had it on board,” he remarked.

“I think that I can explain that,” the doctor said. “He paid me a visit on behalf of a seasick friend and the door of my cupboard was open. He could see the label on the bottle from where he was seated.”

“Have you ever heard of a new drug,” Alexander asked, “which is powerful enough to paralyse at the same time mind and body, to destroy the human will and to induce a complete lack of resistance to all the ordinary energies of life?”

“There was an article in the Lancet last month,” the doctor acknowledged, “about a new drug which they said had been discovered in the Kremlin Laboratory at Moscow.”

“Well, that drug, or something very much like it, thanks to your parting with the phial of the preparation you were taking to Southampton,” Alexander said, “was administered last night to myself and another person on board. I have been through the whole of the symptoms and I am still suffering from exhaustion. My fellow-sufferer did not inhale the fumes as long as I did and I hope her recovery, too, will be complete.”

The doctor was evidently thunderstruck. He reached for his cap and glanced at his watch.

“This is terrible news, Mr. Alexander,” he declared. “I must face it out at once. Will you come with me to the Commander?”

Alexander held out his hand.

“Wait a few moments, please,” he begged. “This is a serious matter and I do not wish to act rashly. I know the man to whom you delivered the phial, of course, and I can guess at his motive. I know the man with whom he is travelling, also. I have been watching them ever since we started on the voyage.”

“In any case, sir,” the doctor pointed out, “I feel sure you will agree with me that it is necessary to interview the Commander at once.”

“That is naturally the obvious course,” Alexander meditated, “but sometimes the obvious course is not the best. So far, only the young lady and I have been 48 the sufferers by your action. We may decide that we would prefer to deal with the matter in our own way.”

The doctor was frankly puzzled.

“But I don’t understand,” he exclaimed.

“Is it necessary for you to understand?” Alexander asked gently. “You must be content when I tell you that in dealing with this matter there are larger issues at stake than the attempted destruction of any two human beings. The young lady and myself are alone concerned. We may decide that it is better to act upon our own initiative.”

“But what action could you take?” the doctor protested. “You could not even have the fellow put out of harm’s way for the rest of the voyage.”

“Could you?” Alexander asked shrewdly. “No one saw him put this abominable preparation in our cabins, nor could anyone identify the drug which you supplied to him. I cannot prevent your reporting the affair to the Commander, if you choose, but my advice would be that you leave it alone for a few hours. Suppose you come and pay the young lady a professional visit?”

The doctor acquiesced with alacrity. He had steeled himself to face the inevitable, but if there was any chance of escaping that interview with the Commander he was all for it.

“We will go round at once,” he proposed.

Anna Prestnoff was still in bed when the two men were admitted to her stateroom, but she confessed 49 wearily that it was an intense laziness which kept her there. She was wearing a dressing-jacket négligé and had taken her coffee. She was singularly colourless, however, and the easy vivacity of her manner seemed temporarily to have departed. She took no notice whatever of his companion but she held out both hands to Alexander.

“Give me something to make me want to get up, doctor,” she begged, without even glancing in his direction, “and you please, you must not leave me alone like this,” she went on, her fingers tightening on Alexander’s wrists. “I have had a long sleep but I am too lazy to sleep any more. Can you understand that, doctor?”

“It is unusual,” he admitted. “Forgive me.”

He took her pulse and blood pressure, asked her a few questions and stood for a moment deep in thought.

“Young lady,” he pronounced, “your symptoms seem to indicate that you have taken an overdose of some strong narcotic. I should advise you to get up at once and go on deck. This feeling of exhaustion of which you complain is unnatural. It would be better for you to fight it.”

“Very well, I will get up presently. Do not go away, please,” she begged Alexander as he showed signs of leaving.

“I will come back soon,” he promised, following the doctor out into the passage.

“Well?” he asked.

“The symptoms are a little puzzling,” the other confessed, “but there is absolutely nothing the matter which will not pass off in a matter of hours, I should think.”

“Very well,” Alexander said. “We will let the matter rest, if you please, doctor, for the present.”

“At your request, sir,” the doctor assented cheerfully. “Remember, I am perfectly willing to face the music.”

“We will see about that later on. I will take the responsibility of your silence for the moment.”

Alexander returned to his place by Anna’s side. She took his hands in hers and stroked them. There was a revealing tenderness in her tone and manner which at the same time thrilled and embarrassed him.

“I think the doctor’s advice was good,” he said. “You must get up, Anna Prestnoff. I will ring for the stewardess.”

“Five minutes,” she begged. “I am far too exhausted to dress. Could we not sit down here and talk for a time? Why do you look so stern? I would like you to be a little kinder.”

“I can assure you,” he declared cheerfully, “I never felt more kindly disposed towards anyone in my life. All the same, what you need, and what you are going to have, is a salt-water bath with a spray almost cold afterwards and then a brisk walk on deck.”

She shivered.

“You are being very stern with me,” she complained.

“I am behaving like a sensible person,” he assured her.

“I have behaved like a sensible person all my life,” she went on. “Just now I feel—”

He rang the bell for the stewardess. A shadow of the old petulant grimace lightened and then darkened her expression.

“You should offer to be lady’s maid,” she suggested sleepily. “The stewardess is so clumsy.”

“I am afraid that I should be much worse. I will come down for you in half an hour.”

“And you will not leave me all the rest of the day?” she begged.

“That is hard to promise. And when you get up and walk about you will feel differently. I must do some writing.”

“I will be your secretary,” she declared eagerly. “It is quite time I, too, did some work.”

The stewardess bustled in. She set the bath running and remained waiting. Alexander slipped away and hurried to the doctor’s quarters.

“For God’s sake can you not give us some sort of a tonic, doctor?” he begged. “Both the young lady and I seem to be getting a little weak in the head.”

“I cannot give you any sort of direct antidote,” the other confessed, as he shook up one or two bottles and prepared a concoction, “because I have no knowledge of the drug itself. This cannot do you 52 harm. It ought to give you strength to fight the inertia. Drink your dose off now.”

Alexander obeyed. The doctor poured the rest of the mixture into a phial and handed it to his patient.

“I cannot claim that it is anything very original,” he continued. “The best cure for you and the young lady is sea air, and heaps of it. Eat whatever you feel like and alcohol won’t do you any harm, but if you take my advice you will hurry Mademoiselle up on the top deck, set her with her face to the wind and both of you do breathing exercises for as long as you can stick it. Perhaps I shall hear from you later in the day,” he added a little wistfully.

“I will give you a call,” Alexander promised. “I do not think you need worry unduly about this,” he added with a pleasant though rather forced smile. “We are on the fringe of a very serious matter but your personal share in it exposes you to little blame. No man can be censured for saving his own life.”

The doctor produced a roll of notes from his pocket.

“The five hundred dollars,” he explained. “They were left on my table this morning.”

Alexander waved them away.

“Put them back and forget all about it, doctor,” he advised.