Читать книгу The King Diamond - Fred M. White - Страница 5

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THAT eminent man of science and savant with a reputation extending over the whole of the civilised world occupied, in the intervals between his expeditions, what ought to have been a luxurious flat in Devonshire Mansions. With a fine suite of rooms adapted eminently to social purposes, the place had been turned into something little better than a rabbit warren. There was a kitchen devoted to such casual cookery as was called for from time to time, and the smallest bedroom in the house where Sir Hercules slept on a straw mattress was practically the only living-room in the flat. The rest was given over entirely to collections of various kinds of curiosities from all over the world, whilst the drawing-room and dining-room were devoted to research work. Out of one of these led a small room which was lined throughout from floor to ceiling with cages filled with rats of various colours, ranging through the spectrum from white to jet black. These Sir Hercules looked after himself, and nobody was allowed to touch them; indeed, there was no one to touch them, because it was the great scientist's whim to live in his flat entirely by himself—even Bly had been obliged to obtain a temporary lodging somewhere near at hand.

It was here, then, that Sir Hercules worked when he was in London. What food he needed he obtained from a little restaurant hard by, and if he were engaged upon something more intriguing than usual he would cook something for himself over the gas stove in the kitchen and eat it standing. It was his regular habit to shut himself up in the flat after a frugal dinner and refuse to answer the door even to the most pressing of callers. Moreover, he would take the telephone receiver from its hook, so that he lived behind his stout outer oak in a state of total seclusion, much as if he had lived in the centre of a desert.

He was a tall, thin man, hard as iron and tough as whipcord, and capable of an endurance which would have shamed the average athlete who was a third of his age. He had a great bald head and a straggly beard, both of which were strangely at variance with an absolutely perfect set of teeth, which, somehow, seemed to detract from the coming burden of years. He possessed, too, certain attributes which are supposed to belong to the lower animal kingdom. For instance, he had an amazing sense of smell and a hearing so acute that, at times, it must have been absolutely painful. These were secrets that he had learnt from nature and a constant contact with almost aboriginal tribes with which it had been his custom to mingle all his life. On the whole, an extraordinary man, with a marvellous, almost uncanny intellect, so that most people were afraid of him. Not that Sir Hercules troubled in the least what anyone thought so far as he was concerned.

It was a little after 10 o'clock in the morning and Sir Hercules was just beginning his day's work. He was absolutely alone in the flat, for Bly had not yet arrived, nor was he expected for half an hour or more. Meanwhile, the scientist had disposed of his hasty breakfast, cooked over a gas stove, and was now in the room in which he kept his small army of rodents. The cages entirely covered the wall, small, brass cages, each containing so many of the rather repulsive little creatures, with, here and there, other cages where it was necessary that the sexes should be divided. Sir Hercules slouched into the room, his big head on one side and an almost fatherly smile on his otherwise heavy features. He looked rather like a parody of a fond parent who has just joined his children in the nursery. He made a peculiar clicking noise with his mouth, and, immediately, the rats set up a shrill screaming which might almost have been heard in the street outside. It was evident that every one there recognised and welcomed his or her master.

"Oho, my children," Sir Hercules chuckled. "Glad to see me this morning, eh? Had a good breakfast, all of you? Yes, I see you have, for most of the dishes are empty."

An ingenious arrangement of sliding doors and little traps enabled the occupants of every cage to draw their own food much as a grain hopper works in connection with the filling of a cargo. So that those tiny, intelligent creatures with strange acumen and cunning could draw their supplies as they needed them and even raise their own water by means of an automatic bucket from a miniature well. Then two or three of the cage doors were opened and, immediately, the rats scuttled all over the floor and swarmed up the legs and round the shoulders of the professor, uttering little cries of delight as he fondled them. There was something almost parental in all this and yet, at the same time, rather repulsive. But not to the Professor, who fondled the little creatures much as if he loved them, which, undoubtedly, he did.

"Ah, my pretties," he went on, in that harsh, husky voice of his that suggested chronic asthma. "Ah, my little ones. You go back again because father is going to be busy."

It was strange to see how the rats of all colours and sizes immediately ceased their cries and immediately returned to their cages again as if they understood exactly what was said to them. Then the doors were closed, and the man of science went back to what in different circumstances would have been the drawing-room, but which was now fitted as a laboratory.

The whole place was in a stale of dusty disorder. Only the tables in the centre of the room, on which stood retorts and other mysterious instruments, were reduced to something like tidiness. There were several tables, piled high with the various appliances, and in one corner of the room a smaller table on which were piled up numerous packs of cards. There were patience cards diminutive in size, and on the table itself was set out what appeared to be a patience problem. This was one of the professor's minor hobbies, and at such times as he came up against some abtruse problem he found change and relaxation in turning away to what seemed to be an innocent pastime. Even as he sat at work with knitted brow and concentrated frown he would turn every now and then to the card table, and mechanically move one or two of the pasteboards lying there.

Then, presently, he rose and stretched himself, and smiled with the air of a man who is not displeased with himself. It was in one of these moments of unbending that the door opened and Bly quietly entered the room.

"Ah, here you are," Sir Hercules said, in his husky whisper. "I wish you would look over those accounts for me. When you have checked them, I want you to go round into Regent-street and pay those people. They are always bothering me for money."

"Shall I draw a cheque, sir?" Bly asked.

"No, boy," Sir Hercules said shortly. "No more cheques for me. I am going to pay everything in cash for the future. What is the good of banks? They never help me. They cringe and fawn before me when I have a balance, but when I overdraw my account, to use their own jargon, they refuse to cash my cheques and thus cause me endless trouble. No, my boy, when you have checked those accounts I will give you the cash to pay them."

Bly rose to his feet presently, and, crossing the room, laid a sheet of paper covered with figures before his employer. Sir Hercules gave it a careless glance and handed it back again, as if he were no longer concerned in the matter.

"They are pretty heavy figures, sir," Bly pointed out. "They embrace all the new appliances which you ordered from Germany, Over £2000 altogether."

Sir Hercules shrugged his shoulders impatiently.

"Well, what of it?" he demanded. "What is money in comparison with my great work? And yet I must have money—everything would stand still without it. The State ought to see to those things. It ought to be their privilege to place ample funds at my disposal. Am I not doing a great work on behalf of humanity? Am I not on the verge of solving the American colour problem? I tell you the American problem is a standing menace to the peace and progress of the world. I can see the day coming when it will be a fight for life itself between black and white. And yet the solution lies in the hollow of my hand. I could go on—but why continue the subject?"

The speaker rose and opened a safe in the wall. From this he took a great handful of notes and tossed them over to his assistant as if they had been waste paper.

"Here you are," he said. "Help yourself."

Bly obeyed discreetly enough, but strange thoughts were flashing through his mind. He was anxious and uneasy and wondering vaguely where all this money came from. He could see that it was in crisp Bank of England notes in value to a far greater extent than the amount of the bills he had to pay, and he knew that only a few days before that Slaney had been absolutely at his wit's end to know how to pay his rent. Moreover, he had just discovered on his desk a letter from the agent who managed the flats enclosing a receipt for the overdue amount. The money appeared to have come out of nowhere. All Bly's dark doubts and suspicions were once more aflame. His mind went back to those days at Maggersfont and the strange things that had happened there.

And yet, he told himself, this was no business of his. All he had to do was to follow instructions, knowing full well that if he asked any indiscreet questions or ventured upon the least objection, he would speedily find himself without occupation. And that, just now, was the last thing in the world he wanted.

He took the notes that he required and replaced the balance in the safe. There was nothing more to be said or done, and already Sir Hercules was watching him frowningly.

"Do you want me to go round at once, sir," he asked.

"Yes, of course," Sir Hercules said curtly. "And I don't know that you need return, at least not to-day. I have reached the crisis of one of my experiments, I am on the verge of a stupendous discovery and I must not be disturbed. You quite understand that, Bly; I must not be disturbed on any account. It matters nothing who wants to see me. But stop just a moment. You might as well take the week-end off, because on Saturday I am going down to a place called Ravenswood, which is the country beat of Sir Samuel Oscar, the head of the Maggersfont Diamond Corporation. He has very kindly asked me to spend the Saturday and Sunday with him and I have consented. That sort of thing is quite out of my line, but I have reasons which I need not go into. Therefore, you need not return till Monday afternoon."

"That is rather a strange thing, sir," Bly said guardedly. "Because I have been asked to join the same party myself."

Sir Hercules darted a suspicious glance at his subordinate.

"Oh, indeed, and how did that come about? Does Sir Samuel happen to be a friend of yours?"

As lightly and casually as he could, Bly explained the circumstances. Nor did he fail to mention the fact that he knew Ravenswood in his boyhood, and that Sir Samuel's private secretary happened to be an old friend of his own. He saw the suspicion and the heavy cloud gradually disperse from the massive features of his employer, and those wonderful teeth of his expand in something that might have passed for a friendly grin.

"If that is all, sir," he suggested.

Sir Hercules waved him impatiently aside, and Lionel left the flat, carefully closing the heavy oak doors behind him. He heard the latch click as he walked down the stone staircase, his mind given over to the problem which had preoccupied him during the last quarter of an hour. And then, as he turned into the street, he found himself confronted with a strange apparition.

He saw before him an enormous buck nigger. It was impossible to judge exactly to what nationality the man belonged; probably there was all sorts of native blood in his veins. But his prominent features were strongly Central African, with a dash of the Kafir. Anyway, all native as Bly well knew from his long experience of the African tropical belt. This black and polished individual was clad in the height of fashion—glossy top hat, well-cut morning coat, and cashmere trousers with patent leather boots and white spats. He wore a big flower in his buttonhole and in his tie was a diamond pin which, to Bly's experienced eye, was worth a considerable sum. It was a gorgeous vision altogether, so that Bly smiled as he took it in. But he was considerably astonished when the man pulled up before him and addressed him in quite fair English with an easy familiarity that caused Lionel's fingers to itch and his right toe to shoot out menacingly.

"Morning to you, sah," the dusky man said. "You Mr. Lionel Bly, I think. But you not know me now."

"I certainly have not the pleasure," Lionel said readily.

The nigger did not seem displeased. On the other hand, there was something in his manner that suggested a certain satisfaction in the knowledge. The stranger beamed down upon him and displayed his teeth in a flashing smile.

"No, you not know me," he said. "Nobody know me. I am an African gentleman who has made his own fortune. And I come to England to spend it. Loyal subject of the King and all that. As good as white man any day. Specially as I have money. But if you not know me, I know you and all about you, and I come this morning to pay my respects to Sir Hercules. You tell me where he lives, yes? And you go tell him that African gentleman wish see him. And you go now, yes?"

"Look here," Lionel said. "I suppose you mean well, but if you want to be kicked from here all round Regent Quadrant, you are making a successful effort to achieve that end. If you take my advice, you will reconsider your position. I don't suppose you know what that means, but you can guess."

The big man ceased to grin; indeed, he ceased to be a gentleman altogether. There was something subtly sinister and menacing in his attitude, so that the amiable atmosphere entirely vanished and the beginning of an electrical disturbance commenced to loom threateningly overhead.

"You insult me, sah," the native said. "You mean say that Sir Hercules he not see me?"

"Precisely," Bly said curtly. "I am quite certain he won't. He never sees anybody except by appointment, and even I dare not go near him when he tells me he wants to be alone. Still, if you are particularly anxious to be thrown down a flight of stone stairs, enter that door yonder and go up to the second floor. Right in front of you you will see a small brass plate with Sir Hercules' name upon it. Knock on that door two or three times, and I will wait down here to pick up the pieces. I am rather at a loose end this morning and a bit of excitement of that sort would not be unwelcome Sir Hercules is an elderly man, but I assure you not to be trifled with. Now, go on."