Читать книгу The Missing Angel (Sci-Fi Novel) - Erle Cox - Страница 12

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Minutes passed before he moved again. At last he leaned back with a sigh. As he did so, he started erect with an exclamation of astonishment. In the armchair reserved for visitors at the end of the table, sat a stranger. For a moment anger got the better of his surprise. How could Miss Brand have dared to admit him after the order he had given? Never before had she so lapsed from duty. Then anger and surprise gave way to curiosity. Although Tydvil stared in a manner in which he would scarcely have permitted himself in ordinary circumstances, the stranger seemed quite unabashed. He met the questioning stare frankly, with just a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

The intruder was apparently tall, and slender without being thin. As he leaned back in his chair, perfectly composed, Tydvil was struck with a sense of latent power and authority in the man, although there was nothing in the pose to suggest it. Tydvil seldom took particular notice of another man's appearance, but the distinction of his visitor's person forced itself to his attention. He might have been anything between thirty and sixty years of age. There was youth in the smooth and nobly formed forehead and in the clear, olive cheeks. There was youth, too, and boundless vitality in the dark, flashing eyes, and in the straight, shapely mouth.

But then, again, there was age in the powder of grey on either temple, that seemed the finishing touch to his distinguished head. But there was something more than age—something that spoke of tremendous experience. His poise and self-assurance could be guessed at rather than seen. His dark grey tweed coat was perfect without the blunder of being too perfect. From the sleek, black head to the polished shoes, there was no discordant note. One hand held his hat, and the other, brown, but well cared for, rested on his knee.

As Tydvil took in these details, it dawned on him that, though the stranger might be an uninvited intruder, his whole appearance and bearing bore testimony that he was one to be treated with deference.

During the long minutes of Jones's survey, the stranger sat motionless, almost as motionless as Jones did in his amazement. At last, the head of Craddock, Burn, and Despard found his voice. "I really beg your pardon," he said, "I had no idea there was anyone in the room. I certainly did not hear you enter."

The dancing lights flickered for a moment in the stranger's eyes. "And I, too, must ask your pardon for coming unannounced, but, as it happened, I had no option."

"Oh! I understand; my secretary was not at her post?" queried Tydvil.

"On the contrary, she was," came the answer, simply. "I did not consult her because I felt sure she would refuse me admission. I was obliged to take other steps."

There was a trace of annoyance in Tydvil Jones's face. He felt that the reply was tinged with impertinence. His response was rather stiff. "Then I have no doubt that since you took such unusual steps to obtain an interview, your business is of some importance."

The dark, finely arched eyebrows lifted slightly. "I am really sorry if my action has caused you any annoyance, Mr. Jones..."

"You have an advantage of me in knowing my name," interrupted the other crisply.

His visitor waved a deprecating hand, but paused a moment before answering. "I am afraid," he said, "that I shall have some trouble in explaining myself. But as you so urgently and expressly sent for Me, I trust, as I said before, that my coming has not inconvenienced you."

"I sent for you!" There was no mistaking the genuine astonishment in Tydvil's voice. "Why, my dear sir, I am perfectly sure I have never seen you before."

The other nodded. "Quite so," he said. "Until now you have only come into contact with my agents."

Jones mentally ran over in his mind the names of any of his overseas business connections who might, by any chance, be visiting Australia, but none occurred to him. "I am afraid I must ask you to explain yourself more clearly," he said finally.

His visitor looked at him thoughtfully a moment before replying. "As I said before, I am afraid I will have some little trouble in making myself clear. I can perhaps best explain my presence by asking you to recall to your memory a wish you expressed aloud some five or ten minutes ago."

Tydvil reddened to the roots of his hair. Had the man been in the room all that time? he wondered. And being there, had he the audacity to refer to what he might have heard? For the moment Jones had forgotten exactly what he had said, but he felt sure the words were not such as he would care to have overheard. "I have no distinct recollection of having said anything that might interest you," he replied coldly. "As you apparently overheard my words, there will be no need for me to repeat them."

The stranger received the rebuke unmoved. He passed his hand to the inner pocket of his coat and produced a flat leather wallet. He placed his hat and glove carefully on the table, and drew from the wallet a card about six by four inches in size. To Jones, it looked like a ledger index card. This he consulted carefully for a moment, and then looked up. "The exact words you used, Mr. Jones, were, 'If these be saints, may Satan himself come and free me from them!' And, therefore," he continued, "I feel myself justified in reiterating that I am here at your express and urgent invitation."

Again Tydvil's face flushed from a mixture of shame and anger. It was bad enough that his words had been overheard, but worse still that this quiet and impressive stranger should see fit to make a jest of them.

"Sir!" he insisted angrily, "you have apparently listened to something that was not intended for other ears than my own. You have seen fit to use those words against me in a spirit of ill-timed levity and banter. I find your behaviour intolerable, sir, and I must ask you to leave this room, instantly!" He emphasised the last word so as to leave no room for argument.

Instead of being abashed or annoyed at the outbreak, the visitor settled himself coolly back in his chair. With an elbow on either arm, he joined the outspread tips of his fingers and thumbs and regarded Jones above them with a smile twitching at his lips.

"My friend," he said with gentle suavity, "you will find, as many others have done before you, that it is far easier to call me up than to dispose of me. I did not think it likely that you would accept my claim to the personality, which, for the present, we may define as 'Satan,' without hesitation. Still, on reflection, you may not find it so preposterous after all."

Tydvil stared at the speaker, with not only wide open eyes, but a slightly opened mouth. His feelings were a blend of anger and curiosity. Of course, one could never tell, but insanity takes such strange forms. The man did not look mad. But it might be as well to humour him.

"Do you mean to affirm," he asked severely, "that you claim to be the Prince of Evil in person?"

The other pursed his lips slightly and answered. "Well, I cannot say I am altogether in love with the title, Mr. Jones, it is not flattering, and of the two I almost prefer the word 'Satan,' but since you choose it, it may do as well as another. I repeat that you see before you His Highness in person."

Jones moved very uneasily in his seat, then his eyes and hands both sought the button on the table beside him. Before he could press it, the other intervened, "That line of communication is closed—temporarily." He spoke a little incisively.

Then Tydvil began to lose his temper. "Sir!" he said angrily, "I am very busy and this absurd interview has already lasted too long. I must again ask you to leave—instantly!"

Had he expected his amazing visitor to obey him at all, he expected him to do so in a conventional manner, and through the door. His method of leaving, however, left Tydvil staring blankly at the empty armchair from which the stranger had vanished as he spoke. He did not fade out; he just went out like the flame of a candle, leaving no trace of his presence. Stay, though! There was an expensive, new hat with a glove lying beside it on the corner of the table to impress upon Jones the fact that the amazing interview had not been the outcome of an overwrought nervous system.

Tydvil half rose from his chair and stared around his room, and then at the empty chair and very inexplicable hat and glove. Then he said, slowly, and in an awed voice, "Well, I'll be..."

"Softly! Softly! All in good time, my dear Mr. Jones! All in good time!" came a mocking voice from the chair, and with the words the stranger re-appeared as suddenly as he had vanished. Apparently he had never moved from his place.

"The Duce!" exclaimed Tydvil.

"Precisely!" smiled the claimant to the title.

"You were there all the time?" demanded Jones, sinking back in his chair.

"Exactly," the other replied. "Mere gallery play, you know—but— nothing else would convince you that I had at least some ground for my claim."

Jones pressed his hand to his head. "Am I losing my reason?" he muttered.

"Not at all, my friend, not at all!" came the quick answer, though the muttered words were scarcely audible. "You are certainly undergoing a most unusual experience for these days. None the less if you will listen to me for a few moments I think I can convince you of my bona fides."

"You wish me to listen to you, assuming your claims to be genuine?"

The other nodded. "Why not? Does not what you have just seen convince you that I am no ordinary human being?"

Tydvil waved his hands helplessly. "Go on then! Go on!" he said weakly.

"My dear sir," commenced the claimant to the throne of darkness. "I do not blame you in the slightest for your scepticism. I must admit that I have neglected your world very much for the last few centuries, and it is but natural that you should doubt my existence. You see, I recognise it is all my own fault. My work has been going on so well without my personal attention. However, here is the position." He settled himself down more comfortably as he spoke.

Jones felt there was no comment he could make.

"It has lately been borne on me," continued the visitor confidentially, "that I have become too conservative in my business policies. My methods of administration of home affairs are rather out of date. I feel I should move with the times."

"Of late years there has been a distressing and disturbing intrusion of terrestrial politics into my kingdom. The new element of Communism is now almost more numerous than the old aristocracy of my kingdom. My gentlemen are rather proud and they resent association with these Communists."

Jones nodded. There seemed nothing else to do.

"I warned Judas Iscariot," said the visitor reflectively, "that he was making a mistake in inventing the Marx doctrines. He thought he was causing something smart in the way of trouble. He did not see the probable reaction on our politics as I did. However, the fact remains and the situation has to be met. You follow me so far?" he enquired.

Jones nodded again. He considered the man, or whatever his visitor was, was doubtless in earnest. If he were insane, he was an interesting bird. If, on the other hand, he were what he claimed to be, then he was worthy of sympathy.

"Well," continued the stranger, "after turning the matter over, I thought I could obtain a better grasp of the situation by visiting the earth and looking into things for myself. There was one difficulty, however."

"I should not have thought," put in Tydvil, "that you would find any difficulty insuperable."

"Usually, no," he replied. "In this instance, however, I was under a certain disability in that I am unable to make a visit unless especially called upon by one of the inhabitants; and I have been waiting a considerable time for the invitation. That alone ought to convince me times have changed. A few centuries ago there was always some churchman or scientist invoking my aid. So, my dear Mr. Jones. I am indeed in your debt for your assistance."

"I'm afraid it was a quite unconscious service." In the circumstances Tydvil was not anxious to assume the credit for his visitor's presence. "Nevertheless, my obligation remains," said the stranger civilly.