Chapter Five One of Ah Wing’s Door Keepers
Colonel Knight awoke and lay staring at the ceiling. It seemed a surprisingly long distance from him—and then his glance narrowed.
He turned his head, and suddenly sat up in bed. He had just remembered the events preceding his loss of consciousness.
Ponderingly, he examined his surroundings. He was in a big room, with a high ceiling. There were two windows at his right and one straight ahead, the latter partly open. Several easy chairs, a handsome mahogany house desk, and a row of bookcases flanking a fireplace came to him as successive details of his environment. A bar of yellow sunlight streamed through the end window.
A door behind him opened, and he turned to see a grinning, brown-faced Chinese boy approaching his bedside, bearing a breakfast tray.
“Ah Wing say he coming to see you by-m-by,” the newcomer commented placidly. “You hab breakfast now.”
He drew up a table and placed the tray in position, then skillfully arranged napkin and silverware—which were of the best quality—convenient to Colonel Knight’s hand. Afterward he withdrew.
Knight’s head felt clear enough, but, mentally and physically, he was relaxed to the point of incoherence. He wanted to think, but couldn’t.
Mechanically, he lifted to his lips the cup of steaming coffee that the servant had poured for him. The taste of the hot, bitter fluid—he drank it without cream or sugar—helped him pull himself together. He remembered everything now: his visit to the mysterious Chinaman; the coming of his enemies, and their attack on the basement room; his flight with Ah Wing; and the latter’s ruse for bringing Knight fully within his power.
Sharply he turned his head and looked again at the end window; it was barred with heavy iron rods, and so were the two windows at the side. This room in which he lay was a luxurious prison!
The door opened again, softly, and Colonel Knight turned his head to find Ah Wing advancing toward him, dressed in white flannel trousers, silk shirt, and serge coat. In such a rig the newcomer looked every inch a Chinaman.
“Good morning, Colonel,” Ah Wing greeted his guest courteously. “I am glad to see you looking so fresh and rested this morning!”
Knight began to tremble.
“You yellow crook!” he croaked, his hands drawing up into knots. “So that was your scheme—to rob me, and then kidnap me? But don’t think you can get away with it—”
Ah Wing approached the bed and deftly reached under the nearer of the two pillows. From this place of concealment he drew two things: the morocco jewel case, and a revolver that Knight remembered having carried in his inside coat pocket.
“Here are the principle articles of your property, Colonel Knight,” said the master of the house. “The other things you will find after you are dressed.”
He paused to watch the man in the bed open the leather box and stare hungrily at the flashing jewels. Then he continued.
“There was an ordeal ahead of you, my friend, and you were in no condition to go through with it. You needed rest, but your nerves were screwed up to the snapping point. There was only one way to get you safely out of the city, and I used it.”
“You mean that the Wolves don’t know where I am?” Knight demanded.
“Not yet. I shall remedy that presently.”
Colonel Knight’s voice rose into a snarl:
“Remedy it? You mean you want them to know?”
“Of course I want them to know. I want them here, where I can deal with them. But never fear, my friend. Your old enemies will never be able to hurt you!”
He paused and looked around the apartment, then turned again to the man in the bed.
“These are your quarters. Adjoining your bedroom is the bath. This door opens into your sitting-room, and adjoining that is my conservatory, which you are at liberty to visit when you choose. There are no conditions placed upon your residence here except that you are not to try to leave the house without my permission—and you are to leave the end window exactly as it is. Don’t even lay your hand upon it, or upon the sill! This is important!”
Knight stared again at the single end window through which the sun was shining. He stared from it to the face of the strange being who continued to regard him with the impersonal interest of a Buddha. A sense of baffled curiosity arose within him, and he made a nervous, protesting movement with one of his puffy hands.
“Who the devil are you, anyway?” he broke out. “Ah Wing! That doesn’t mean anything to me—as well say ‘Mr. X!’ You are not a Chinaman. What and who are you?”
Ah Wing continued to stare imperturbably down at his guest, but the ghost of a smile showed at the corners of his usually expressionless mouth.
“No,” he agreed, “I am not a Chinaman. And I am not a Caucasian. You see that, dressed as I am today, I look unmistakably Oriental. Dressed like a man of Hong Kong, on the other hand, I look American or English. That has been my curse, and perhaps my blessing: the mixing of two irreconcilable blood lines has made me an outcast. I have no place in the government of any country, and therefore I have organized a government of my own.
“I am the emperor, the president, the king, of an invisible empire. I rule by right of intellect and will, and my first failure will be my death warrant; for, judged even by the standards of a thief like you, Colonel Knight, I am an outlaw—one who is outside the protection of the laws of men!”
He laughed, a short, mirthless laugh. As he crossed toward the door he said over his shoulder, “Remember about the window. I shall be going out from time to time, but if you carry out my instructions to the letter, no harm can come to you even in this house of hidden dangers.”
Try as he would, Colonel Knight could find nothing wrong with his situation as it had been outlined to him by Ah Wing. He spent most of the first day in the room in which he had awakened. From the windows in one direction he could see a landscaped lawn and hillside, dotted with shrubbery and intersected by winding gravel paths.
From the rear window concerning which he had been so curiously warned by the master of the house, he looked out over a bit of lawn bordering a kitchen garden. Beyond the garden lay a marshy field, and in the distance he made out a canal along which an occasional motor boat chugged industriously. No, there was nothing wrong here—he could hardly have hoped for a more peaceful place in which to rest and grow strong.
But—there was an air of brooding watchfulness over the silent house. He heard an occasional padded footstep passing the door of his sitting-room. Once he looked out. At the farther side of an extensive conservatory the brown-faced servant who had brought him his breakfast was spraying some snaky-looking vines bearing huge orange-colored flowers. Colonel Knight closed the door. Something about the place—the quiet and the isolation, perhaps, were getting on his nerves.
The second day passed as the first, but toward noon of the third day Ah Wing knocked at his door and entered noiselessly. He was dressed in his Oriental garb, and again looked like a poorly-disguised white man.
“I will be going out for a few hours this afternoon, Colonel,” he explained, regarding the man before him with his habitual unwinking stare. “I am taking Lim with me, and I think it will be best for you to remain in your quarters.”
Although his words had taken the form of a request, there was back of them the force of a command. The white man eyed him suspiciously, but presently nodded.
Some time later he heard the whir of a starting motor. Lim had brought him his luncheon, and now Knight figured the house would be deserted. He smiled. This would be his opportunity to look around a bit. The instincts of the crook were strong within him, and he was immensely curious with regard to the house of Ah Wing.
He waited an hour after he had heard the car leave the garage—from the back window he had caught a glimpse of it: a gray roadster of moderate size and power. Now he felt sure that he would not be interrupted.
Crossing to the door of the conservatory, he passed into it. Along one side were orchids, Colonel Knight realized vaguely that the collection must be priceless. Many of them were growing in diminutive glass rooms, upon whose walls he saw heavy drops of moisture.
One pale green blossom near him had weird markings in white and yellow, which gave it a disturbing resemblance to a grinning human face. The man thrust out a curious finger and touched it: the blossom drew itself together like a conscious thing, and he became aware of a sickening perfume which in an instant turned him dizzy.
He shrank back and continued his journey. The concrete floor narrowed, and at his left he saw a lily pond, upon whose surface great white blossoms showed their buttery yellow centers. Between the pads and blossoms of the lilies the water showed, deep and dark.
Colonel Knight leaned forward to peer into the pool; then, with a choking cry he staggered back, his face drained of blood: an ugly black snout had shot up out of the murky depths, and a huge lizard, with short, powerful forelegs armed with long claws, stared hungrily up at him.
He found his appetite for exploration losing its edge. He was tempted to turn back, but he wanted to settle one point: in case he should want to leave this house, how could he best do it? The windows were securely barred, but there must be plenty of doors.
A hall opened out from the conservatory, and on either side were rooms, variously furnished. He hurried on. Ahead, he saw a door which seemed to give upon the outer world. He grasped the knob. The door was locked, and the lock was one which a glance told him could be neither picked nor smashed.
Turning, he explored the rear of the house. In the east wing he found the kitchens and servants’ quarters, but a door which probably communicated with the kitchen gardens was locked.
Suddenly his wandering eyes caught the handle of a door in an angle of the pantry. He approached it and found that it opened upon a stair leading down. A gust of warm, damp air came up through the stairway, and for a moment Knight paused, sniffing curiously.
He found himself thinking of a certain sultry afternoon in India, when he had gone out into the simmering jungle. There was the same wild smell here—
He had his revolver in his hip pocket. That gave him confidence, and he must know if it would be possible for him to escape in this direction.
A phrase spoken by Ah Wing came to him—“Even in this house of hidden dangers!” But what dangers could there be?
Colonel Knight felt his way down into the basement. He found that it lay almost entirely below the level of the grounds, but presently his eyes became accustomed to the dusk and he could discern his surroundings.
He was in a broad and deep room, filled with a litter of packing cases, discarded articles of furniture, and a few garden tools. At its farther side was a door. Slowly and cautiously, the investigator made his way toward this.
It opened into a dark and narrow passage. He made his way along this, trying the handles of two locked doors, one on the right and the other on the left. Then he came to the end of the passage and to another door.
Cautiously, he opened it and looked inside: before him lay a room somewhat better lighted than the passage, but absolutely destitute of furniture. He crossed the threshold and stood for a long moment looking about him. The smell which he had associated with that hot afternoon in the jungle came to him almost overpoweringly now, but beyond he saw a door with an iron-barred transom. He wanted to try that door.
He had crossed halfway toward it when some subtle sense of danger brought him to a stop. He looked back. Nothing.
Then, with a start, he looked up, into the dusky ceiling. Something was moving there—he stepped back, drawing in his breath with a sharp hissing intake of terror. He backed toward the door. It was taking shape, up there among some uncovered beams and pipes—a huge column that seemed to have come alive! Slowly it swung down in a great curve.
Colonel Knight stood frozen in his tracks. It was a snake—but such a snake! He knew that this was no waking vision, but a horrible reality—
With a choking cry, he turned and ran as he had never run before in his life. Behind him he heard a hissing as of sand being poured from an elevation into a tin pail. A box was overturned. The thing was gaining on him—he turned, and with bulging eyes he saw the python strung out along the floor, its great body undulating, its flat head raised, its unblinking eyes burning through the dusk.
He could never make the stairs. At the left was a small door. He threw himself upon it and clutched the handle—it came open and, without looking before him, he threw himself forward. Something struck against the door as he jerked it shut, and he could hear that uncanny sand blast louder than before.
Groping about him in the utter darkness of this refuge, he found a metal contrivance—a wheel, with a metal stem connecting it with a large iron pipe. He was in the closet which housed the intake of the water system.
Then he remembered his revolver. It would be of little use to him against the horrible thing coiled outside.
When Ah Wing returned to the house, several hours later, he went quietly through the hall and conservatory to the door of Colonel Knight’s apartment.
Satisfied by a brief inspection that his “guest” was not in his rooms, the Chinaman turned and made his way to the basement door. His face was as serene as usual, but his eyes shone with a metallic gleam. He opened the door and for a moment stood listening.
An angry and prolonged hiss, which sounded like a great jet of steam, came plainly to him. He stepped into the hallway and deliberately closed the door behind him. Then he felt his way down the stairs, pausing within a few steps of the bottom to look unwinkingly about.
Something was moving in the dim shadows at the farther side of the room. It came slowly toward him, and he could make out the undulating length of the python. Ah Wing’s glowing eyes rested unwaveringly on the flat, evil head of the great snake, which came toward him more and more slowly.
With a final prolonged hiss, the python drew itself up into a huge coil. It was a tremendous creature, as large as a man’s body at its greatest diameter: but now it seemed to be turning slowly to stone. Its beady eyes grew dull, and its swaying head became rigid.
A muffled cry reached the ears of the motionless Chinaman. Without the flicker of an eyelid, he continued to stare down at the python.
Presently he descended to the foot of the stairs. The snake was still.
Ah Wing crossed to the closet door and threw it open.
“You can leave your retreat now, Colonel Knight,” he said. “My little playmate is temporarily in a condition of catalepsy—but I would not advise you to repeat this visit!”