The Riddle of the Purple Emperor

Cleek looked at the boy keenly.

"Was it Miss Jennifer, Miss Wynne again?" he asked. "Try and place the woman in your mind, lad."

"No, it wasn't, worse luck," responded Dollops, ruefully, for he would dearly have loved to have caught his erstwhile captive red-handed again.

"I seen 'er this morning, and she's in a blue creepy-crawly kind of dress wot tears if yer looks at it. But this 'ere female was in a black dress. I see it plain as plain."

Cleek twitched up an enquiring eyebrow.

"Sure it was a woman and not a Hindoo priest?" he said.

"Certain sure," was the disappointing answer. "You're backing the wrong 'orse there, sir. It was a woman right enough."

Cleek's disappointment showed in his grave face, for in his own mind he was still inclined to lay the murder and even the abduction of Lady Margaret, at the door of the priests of Brahma, tenders of the far-distant Temple of Shiva. He knew the main object of their lives would be achieved could they but once get into their possession again the ill-fated Eye of Shiva, known to the European world as the Purple Emperor.

"Are you sure?" he persisted, laying a tense hand upon Dollops' arm. "Don't jump to a conclusion, Dollops."

That worthy tossed up his carrotty head.

"Not 'arf I ain't, gov'nor," said he, fervently, only wishing in his loyal heart that it could have been one of them beastly "niggers." He would cheerfully have sworn them to be snow-white could it give Cleek any satisfaction. "I see 'er face the second time and it was a middle-aged woman. Why you didn't 'ear 'er tramping around beats me. Anyway, she was evidently a watchdog for someone, too, for she looked right down vicious-like. Lor-lumme, sir, if she ain't there again! Look! Look!"

Cleek did look, switching round on his heel, and gazing up at the window on his left. Sure enough, a woman was there, a woman in a dark dress and with a pale, lined face. She was a stranger to Cleek, as well as to Dollops, and a chill of excitement went through him at the thought of what her presence in this house of mystery and death meant.

At a silent signal from Cleek Dollops crouched lower in the bushes.

"Can't be up to much good in there," he whispered with a backward jerk of his thumb in the direction of the house. "Shall I nip back to Mr. Narkom and bring him along?"

Cleek pondered a moment.

"H'mn, yes, you might do that, but no, on the other hand, it will look suspicious. Keep here, out of sight, if you can, and if I don't come out in half an hour, then you might cut along. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," said Dollops, obediently, but in his own mind he was saying, "me stay out 'ere if there's going to be any danger for 'im?"

He watched Cleek's features writhe into the face of the gallant Lieutenant Deland, so that he should be unrecognizable should he encounter any one he knew and saw him fit in the heavy key which had been found for the front door. But it had hardly closed upon his figure when Dollops was up and round the back to see whether it were not possible to effect an entrance of his own.

Meanwhile Cleek, his foot on the threshold of the door, took out the key, and closed the hall door behind him. It was very gloomy within, but not so dark as to prevent him seeing the figure of a woman, standing at the foot of the stairs, the woman Dollops had seen but a few short minutes ago.

He advanced a step forward and raised his chin.

"Who are you?" he said, imperatively. "And what are you doing here?"

"That's what we'd like to know of you," came a harsh, raucous voice behind him.

Cleek wheeled round sharply, but a moment too late. For once in his life his customary caution had left him. From the gloom of the door a man's figure sprang forward, bearing him down by the impetus and the total unexpectedness of the attack.

A little cry of triumph burst from the lips of the woman as she rushed forward and helped him bind Cleek's struggling figure with the ropes which he had drawn from his pocket. When this was done, she turned upon her companion and spoke to him.

"I thought you were never coming, Jack," she said, looking up into the sullen though triumphant face of the man whom Cleek had recognized as the immaculate butler of that day so long ago when he and Constable Roberts had come post haste to the Court.

"I came as quick as I could, but those fools of police are all over the place," the man answered, viciously. "As to you, my fine fighting cock," jerking Cleek's bound figure to his feet, "we want a little explanation from you, and we're going to see that we get it. Come along, Aggie, let's make for the wine cellar. I can do with a drink, can't you?"

Cursing himself for his folly, Cleek was forced to let his captors drag him downstairs into what were evidently the wine-cellars of Cheyne Court. How either of his opponents had entered and re-entered the house was still a mystery to him, and when he looked at their grim, triumphant faces he wondered dully exactly what was likely to become of him. There was desperation in their eyes and hatred in their looks. This was a tighter corner than he had yet experienced. His thoughts were not permitted to continue long, for —

"Now, my friend," said the man, as he pushed Cleek roughly into a stout kitchen chair. "What have you done with the girl? Come, out with it! We've no intention of having dangerous witnesses against us. Tell us where that girl is, and we'll let you off with your life. But if you don't – "

Cleek looked as surprised as he honestly felt.

"What girl?" he asked, bluntly.

"Now, then, none of your tricks," snarled the woman with a nasty laugh. "You know right enough, the girl you drove here and came back in such a precious stew about afterwards! Lord, how we took you in! A proper old 'do' it was."

She laughed hysterically. "The clever devil! He was a bit too clever, eh? Didn't get over me, though." Her voice broke, and it was evident that she had already been drinking heavily.

The man, seeing this, interrupted her.

"Stow it, Aggie, my girl," said he with an oath. "We've had enough of that. Now, then, you tell us quick or it will be the worst for you."

"If you mean Lady Margaret Cheyne," Cleek said in a calm voice, "you know more about her than I do. She was in your hands!"

"Yes, and safe and sound, too!" snarled Aggie. "What we want to know is who broke in 'ere and took 'er away? You're the only person wot's bin actually near the place, so it's no use your denying it."

Cleek shook his head, and favoured her with a bewildered smile.

"I do, and I give you my oath. I have not seen her since I left her asleep in the chair upstairs," he responded. "I wish to God I had! We've been searching for her long enough, goodness knows!"

The man stared at the woman and the woman stared at the man. There was dismay written large on both their faces. It looked as if a mistake had been made after all.

"What are you going to do now?" asked Aggie in a breathless whisper. "I don't believe it – still – "

"Believe it or not, I'm going to finish him," growled the man in response. "Dead men tell no tales, my girl, and her precious ladyship won't do us no harm. And as for other things – "

Their laughter filled the vaulted chamber, sending the echoes chasing back and forth. Cleek's heart sank like lead. So this was to be the end. This. After all his escapes, all his plans for the precious future with Ailsa. His soul was sick within him.

"Come, let's have one more drink of the old girl's wine. Pretty good taste, too, and then we'll put this johnny to sleep for good," went on the man in a calm, steady voice as though the task of putting people to sleep for good was an easy matter.

"Are you sure it's safe to leave 'im?" asked Aggie. "There might have been someone else on the watch."

"Not a soul, my dear. Come on!"

Still laughing, they passed into the inner room, leaving Cleek trussed up like a fowl upon the floor and utterly helpless to assist himself.

In his anxiety to find the girl whom he had driven all unconsciously into danger, Cleek had had no thought for himself, and he felt that any help that Dollops might bring would be too late to save him. The studded door swung back on its hinges, and all was as silent as the grave it would so soon become.

Two minutes passed, three – five – perhaps ten, and still the quiet was unbroken. Cleek, his eyes strained toward the window which he would have given worlds to be able to reach or drag himself to, waited like a mouse in a trap.

Suddenly an odd gleam of sunlight came through the dust-laden, begrimed window, and as it did so, it lit up two tiny shreds of substance which caused Cleek's heart to leap to his throat. With his unmistakable gift of memory, he knew from whence they came, he knew now many things.

He knew how Lady Margaret had escaped and also, if his memory served him rightly, the identity of the person who had assisted her, though for what ends it was impossible to know.