Читать книгу The Great Green Diamond; Or, Thief Against Thief - Inspector Stark - Страница 4

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Seated in the neat and cozy parlor of an up-town flat was a very dark-skinned young woman and her maid. The former was almost black, but her features were oval, her lips small, and her hair straight and long. The maid was a French girl and rather pretty.

The pair were startled by a loud rap at the door.

“Open the door, Marie.”

The French girl obeyed. A small man with dark skin and still darker eyes entered. His eyes were of extraordinary size, and for all that they had a piercing expression.

“You!”

The expression seemed to have been painfully wrung from the woman’s heart. The visitor laughed.

“Zulima,” he said, “I would be alone with you.”

Marie did not recognize the strange language used by the pair. For all that she noticed a hunted and frightened expression in her mistress’ eyes.

“Go!”

Zulima spoke in English, and waved her maid from the apartment. Very reluctantly Marie obeyed the command. She had taken an instant dislike to the visitor.

Marie was smart beyond her class, and knew the newcomer meant her mistress no good. She determined to remain in the hallway, where she would be within call.

“So, my pretty song-bird,” said the visitor, when the door closed behind Marie, “I guess you did not expect to see me so soon?”

“I believed, uncle, you were in Gondar,” said Zulima.

“Your Uncle Ajeeb, you see, could not bear to have you out of his sight.”

“You do not come to drag me back to Abyssinia?”

“Would you not like to go?”

“No.”

“Has this Western world made you forget that the son of our good King John would make you queen of his harem?”

“Did he send you to bring me back?” said Zulima, greatly affrighted at the prospect.

“He is the son of a king.”

“And is that any reason why I should become his slave?”

“I am your guardian.”

“True, Uncle Ajeeb.”

“You ran away from me?”

“Yes, and was glad of the opportunity. In the world of the white man, women are looked up to and not downtrodden, as in our unhappy country.”

Ajeeb laughed ironically.

“You are not of age, and even the laws of this country will restore you to my possession,” he said.

Zulima shuddered. She had been taught to look up to this man and made to believe that his wisdom surpassed even that of the head sheik of Gondar.

“I would die rather than go back,” the girl said.

“You mean,” said Ajeeb, and his face became distorted with rage, “that you would die rather than leave this American.”

“Look what Mr. Stolburst has done for me, uncle.”

“Don’t speak to me of what he has done,” thundered Ajeeb.

“He has shown me that I have a better life before me than that of a slave, even if my master should be a prince.”

“Stolburst tore you away from home,” said the visitor.

“It was because I asked him to help me that he did so.”

“He enchanted you with his white face and lying promises.”

“He only promised to have my voice cultivated.”

“And then?”

“I shall become rich, and courted by the great and mighty,” said Zulima. “Already I am learning the language of the Franks.”

“They will not crowd to see you; forget not you are an African, and a black.”

“I can overcome that.”

Again Ajeeb laughed.

“Can you make your skin white?” he inquired.

“No, but my genius will overcome even that,” she replied enthusiastically.

“Who told you that you were a great singer, or should ever become one?”

“The American.”

“Again he lied to you.”

“Do not speak harshly of him,” said the girl.

“Ah, has he already espoused you?”

A flush showed beneath the girl’s features.

“No.”

“You love him?”

“Why should I not? Has he not been more than a father to me?”

“He did not so act when he induced you to leave those to whom you were bound by ties of blood. Zulima, you will never be a singer for the public; I, Ajeeb, have said it.”

The man’s eyes blazed with a strange light, and a thrill seemed to pass through him.

“What do you mean?” cried the girl, greatly frightened.

“My meaning will be made plain in due time,” said Ajeeb.

“You would not harm me.”

He laughed derisively.

“Would I not? You should know I never allow aught to stand in the way of the accomplishment of anything I set about.”

“What has this American done that you hate him so?”

“I was not speaking of him just now,” replied Ajeeb.

“I care not what may happen to me, I would not have harm come to him,” exclaimed the dark-skinned beauty.

“Ah!” said the visitor; “the curse of Jobu be upon you!”

Zulima shuddered. She had left Africa behind her forever, she hoped, but not so the superstitious belief in which she was raised. She believed the false god Jobu as great as his devotees claimed.

None had been more devout in their worship of the misshapen wooden idol than Zulima herself. She was quite certain that Jobu would one day make the Abyssinians rulers of the whole of Africa.

Stolburst had endeavored to teach the dark beauty Christianity. She had listened patiently to him, but he found himself unable to convince his charge that there could be a greater god than her own Jobu.

“Why should I be cursed?” Zulima asked, after a pause.

“You are a princess.”

“True.”

“You were promised in marriage to a son of the king.”

“Yes, but I was not consulted in the matter.”

“Why should you be consulted? What woman among us can elect or reject a husband without the consent of her male relatives?”

“I know it, and believed the custom was right before I had my eyes opened to the truth,” replied the girl.

“In a spirit of rebellion you ran away with an unbeliever. It was not altogether to bring you back to Gondar myself, Ashah, and Deth came across the great seas.”

“Is that terrible man, Ashah, with you?” cried Zulima.

“Have I not said so? and I do not lie,” replied Ajeeb.

The girl shuddered.

“Ashah,” she said, “does not go forth except to kill.”

“And he came out here into the West to kill,” hissed Ajeeb, his great black eyes sparkling.

“Me?”

“Perhaps.”

The girl was now, indeed, startled.

Ashah, as she said, never went forth except to do murder. He was the executioner at the temple of the great Jobu. Hundreds, probably thousands, had met death at his hands. His very name was mentioned in Gondar with bated breath, and women frightened refractory children by naming him.

“Why should I die?” asked Zulima, and she cowered beneath her uncle’s fierce glance.

“Because you may have been the American’s accomplice.”

“I do not understand.”

“Do you still adore Jobu?”

“That was the faith of my fathers, and it shall always be mine.”

The girl spoke in a spirit of religious fervor.

Ajeeb looked hard at her, believing she might be shamming. He satisfied himself that Zulima was sincere.

“Don’t you know that this American has desecrated our god?”

She gave a great start.

“That cannot be.”

“It is true; and that is the principal reason I had for crossing the great seas.”

“Uncle, you must be wrong.”

“The wretch who was on guard at the time,” said Ajeeb, his cheeks aflame with anger, “confessed all before he died.”

“What did he confess?”

“That he admitted the American, and allowed him to insult the great Jobu.”

“In what manner?”

“He removed his eye.”

“The green diamond?” cried Zulima, in great terror.

“Yes; and more than that, he carried it away with him.”

“What! Stole Jobu’s eye?”

“’Tis true.”

Zulima trembled with nervous excitement.

“Is your charge a just one?”

“Aye.”

“Perhaps the eye was taken by one of the American’s servants?”

“No.”

“But it may be so. Have you seen him?” questioned Zulima.

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“As I expected, he lied to me.”

“He denied taking the stone?”

“Yes; and he became pale as death and trembled all over.”

Zulima believed her uncle was right in the premises. She did love Henry Stolburst. Far better did she love Jobu. Then, besides, she feared the god of her people.

“Ajeeb, I will return home.”

“Yes, when our work is done.”

“What have we to do?”

“I shall ask very little of you.”

“Tell me what it is.”

“Does the American come here often?” asked Ajeeb.

“About once a week.”

“Will he be here to-day?”

“No; he was here yesterday.”

“He would come to-night if you were to send for him?”

“True.”

“Then that is all I request you to do.”

“Thy will shall be done,” said Zulima, and her heart was stricken with terror.