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<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> <h2>KISMET!</h2> Words cannot paint the nauseating horror of that moment. Fear—cold, abject, awful fear—ran through my veins like a drug; my face was clammy with the sweat of utter terror; my hands clutched wildly at some drapery, which tore from its fastenings and came down in my grasp.... Three shafts of lights swept across the floor, and almost at once picked up that horrid shape. It was coiled with head raised, ready to strike, and I saw that one side of its hood had been shot away. I have, more than once, referred to Simmonds as hard-headed and wanting in imagination—not always, I fear, in terms the most respectful. For that I ask his pardon; I shall not make that mistake again. For, in that nerve-racking moment, he never lost his coolness. Revolver in hand, he crept cautiously forward, while we others held our breath; then the pistol spoke, one, twice, thrice, and the ugly head fell forward to the floor. At the same moment, Godfrey sprang to the door from which volumes of heavy, scented smoke still eddied, and disappeared inside. I scarcely noticed him; I was staring at that foul object on the floor; and then I stared at Francisco Silva, motionless on the divan, his eyes fixed on the crystal sphere, undisturbed amid all this terror and tumult. It is impossible for me to remember him, as he was in that moment, without admiration—yes, and a little awe. But Godfrey's voice, shrill with excitement, brought me around with a start. "Lester!" he shouted. "Lend a hand here!" Wondering what new horror lay in wait, I fought my way into the other room, stumbled over the body of the Thug, barely saved myself, my scalp prickling with terror, from falling upon it, and pitched forward to where Godfrey was bending above that huddled shape I had glimpsed through the smoke. "Catch hold!" he panted; and choking, staggering, suffocating, we dragged it into the outer room. "Get a window open!" he gasped. "Get a window open!" And Simmonds, whom nothing seemed to shake, groped along the wall until he found a window, pulled the hangings back, threw up the sash, and flung back the shutters. "Quick!" said Godfrey. "Over there. Now hold the torch." And as I took it and pressed the button with a trembling finger, the halo of light fell upon a bloodless face—the face of Marjorie Vaughan. Simmonds was supporting her, and Godfrey, with frantic fingers, was loosening her robe at the throat. My terrified eyes, staring at that throat, half-expected to find a cruel mark there, but its smoothness was unsullied. The robe loosened, Godfrey snatched his cap from his head and began to fan the fresh air in upon her. "Pray heaven it is not too late!" he murmured, and kept on fanning, watching the white lips and delicate nostrils, so drawn and livid. "We must try artificial respiration," he said, after a moment. "But not here—this atmosphere is stifling. Take her feet, Lester." We staggered out with her, somehow, across the hall, into her room, and laid her on her bed. Godfrey, kneeling above her, began to raise and lower her arms, with a steady, regular rhythm. "Open the windows wide," he commanded, without looking up. "Wet a towel, or something, in cold water, and bring it here." Simmonds threw open the windows, while I went mechanically to the bath-room, wet a towel, and slapped it against her face and neck as Godfrey directed. The moments passed, and at last the lips opened in a fluttering sigh, the bosom rose with a full inhalation, and a spot of colour crept into either cheek. "Thank God!" said Godfrey, in a voice that was almost a sob. "Now, Simmonds, go out and bring that Irish girl, and send one of your men to 'phone for Hinman." Simmonds sent one of his men scurrying with a word, and himself dashed up the stairs to the other floor. He was back in a moment, almost dragging the frightened girl with him. Her teeth were chattering and she started to scream when she saw that still form on the bed, but Simmonds shook her savagely. "There's nothing to be afraid of," Godfrey assured her. "Your mistress isn't dead—she'll soon come around. But you must get her undressed and to bed. And then keep bathing her face with cold water till the doctor comes. Understand?" "Ye—yes, sir," faltered the girl. "But—oh!" and a burst of hysterical sobbing choked her. Simmonds shook her again. "Don't be a fool, Annie Crogan!" he said. "Get hold of yourself!" Godfrey stepped off the bed and picked up one of the limp wrists. "Her pulse is getting stronger," he said, after a moment. "It will soon—hello, what's this!" Clasped tight in the slender fingers was something that looked like a torn and crumpled rubber glove. He tried to unclasp the fingers, but when he touched them, they contracted rigidly, and a low moan burst from the unconscious girl. So, after a moment, he desisted and laid the hand down again. "You understand what you're to do?" he asked the maid, and she nodded mutely. "Then come along, boys," he added, and led the way back to the hall. His face was dripping with perspiration and his hands were shaking, but he managed to control them. "And now for Señor Silva," he said, in another tone, taking the torch from my hand. "I fear he will have a rude awakening." "He sat there like a statue, even when I shot the snake," remarked Simmonds. "He's a wonder, he is." "Yes," agreed Godfrey, as he stepped into the entry, "he's a wonder." Then he stopped, glanced around, and turned a stern face on Simmonds. "Where's the man I left on guard here?" he asked. "Why," faltered Simmonds, "I remember now—he helped us carry the young lady. But we were all right there in the hall—you don't mean ..." Godfrey stepped to the inner door and flashed his torch about the room. The divan was empty. Simmonds paused only for a single glance. "He can't be far away!" he said. "He can't get away in that white robe of his. Come along, Tom!" and, followed by his assistant, he plunged down the stairs. I saw Godfrey half-turn to follow; then he stopped, ran his hand along the wall inside the door, found the button, and turned on the lights. His face was pale and angry. "It's my fault as much as anyone's," he said savagely. "I might have known Silva would see the game was up, and try to slip away in the excitement. I ought to have kept an eye on him." "Your eyes were fairly busy as it was," I remarked. "Besides, maybe he hasn't got away." Godfrey's face, as he glanced about the room, showed that he cherished no such hope. "Let's see what happened to Mahbub," he said. "Maybe he got away, too," and he crossed to the inner door. The flame in the brazier had died away, and the smoke came only in fitful puffs, heavy with deadening perfume. The Thug had not got away. He lay on the floor—a dreadful sight. He was lying on his back, his hands clenched, his body arched in a convulsion, his head drawn far back. The black lips were parted over the ugly teeth, and the eyes had rolled upward till they gleamed, two vacant balls of white. At the side of his neck, just under the jaw, was a hideous swelling. Godfrey's torch ran over the body from head to foot, and I sickened as I looked at it. "I'm going out," I said. "I can't stand this!" and I hurried to the open window. Godfrey joined me there in a moment. "I'm feeling pretty bad myself," he said, putting the torch in his pocket and mopping his shining forehead. "It's plain enough what happened. I caught a glimpse of Miss Vaughan on the floor there, realised that we couldn't do anything with the snake in the way, and shot at it, but I only ripped away a portion of the hood, and the thing, mad with rage, sprang upon the Hindu. Nothing on earth could have saved him after it got its fangs in his neck. Ugh!" He shivered slightly, and stood gazing for a moment down into the garden. Then he turned back to me with a smile. "It's a good night's work, Lester," he said, "even if we don't catch Silva. I fancy Miss Vaughan will change her mind, now, about becoming a priestess of Siva!" "But, Godfrey," I asked, "what happened? What was she doing in there? What ..." He stopped me with a hand upon my arm. "I don't know. But she'll tell us when she comes around. I only hope they'll get Silva. That would make the victory complete." He paused, for the hum of a motor-car came up the drive, and an instant later we caught the glare of the acetylenes. Then a voice hailed us. "Hello, there," it called. "Shall I come up?" "Is it you, doctor?" asked Godfrey, leaning out. "Yes." "Come right up, then, to Miss Vaughan's room." We met him at the stair-head. "Oh, it's you!" he said, recognising us. "What has happened now?" "It's Miss Vaughan—she's been half-suffocated. But how did you get in?" "The gates were open," Hinman answered, "so I drove right through. Is Miss Vaughan in here?" and when Godfrey nodded, he opened the door and closed it softly behind him. "Open!" repeated Godfrey, staring at me. "Open! Then that is the way Silva went!" "Yes, yes," I agreed. "He had the key. It was he who let me out." "And locked the gate after you?" "Yes—I heard the key turn." Without a word, Godfrey hurried down the stairs. At the foot we met Simmonds. "We've searched the grounds," he said, "but haven't found anyone. I've left my men on guard. I 'phoned for some more men, and notified headquarters." "He's not in the grounds," said Godfrey. "He went out by the gate," and he told of Hinman's discovery. "I'll stretch a net over the whole Bronx," said Simmonds. "I don't see how a fellow dressed as he is can get away," and he hastened off to do some more telephoning. "Well, we can't do anything," said Godfrey, "so we might as well rest awhile," and he passed into the library and dropped into a chair. I followed him, but as I sat down and glanced about the room I saw something that fairly jerked me to my feet. A section of the shelving had been swung forward, and behind it the door of the safe stood open. In an instant, I had flung myself on my knees before it, groped for the locked drawer, pulled it out, and hurried with it to the table. The five packets of money were gone. "What is it, Lester?" asked Godfrey, at my side. "There was—fifty thousand dollars—in money in—this drawer," I answered, trying to speak coherently. Godfrey took the drawer from my hands and examined its contents. "Well, it isn't there now," he said, and replaced the drawer in the safe. "Sit down, Lester," and he pressed me back into my chair and flung himself into another. "I wish I knew where Vaughan kept his whiskey!" he murmured, and ran his fingers furiously through his hair. "This is getting too strenuous, even for me!" He fell silent for a moment, and sat looking at the open safe. "What astonishes me," he mused, "is the nerve of the man, stopping at such a moment to work that combination. Think what that means, Lester; to work a combination, a man has to be cool and collected." "A man who could sit without stirring through that scene upstairs," I said, "has nerve enough for anything. Nothing Silva does can surprise me after that!" "I wonder how he knew the combination?" "I was sure he knew it. I had to stop Miss Vaughan to keep her from telling it to me." "Well, he lessened his chance of escape by just that much. Every minute he spent before that safe was a minute lost. Ah, here's Simmonds. What do you think of that, Simmonds?" he added, and pointed to the safe. "Señor Silva stopped on his way out to gather up fifty thousand dollars in cash to pay his travelling expenses." Simmonds walked over to the safe and looked at it. "Fifty thousand?" he repeated. "But Vaughan must have been a fool to keep that much money here." "Oh, I don't know. It's a fireproof safe, and mighty well concealed." "I'll tell you what I think," I said; "I think he intended to give the money to Silva. He was going to give him a million—left him that in his will, you know." "So Silva was only taking what belonged to him, eh?" and Godfrey laughed. "Well, I hope you'll get him, Simmonds." It was at this moment that Dr. Hinman entered, a curious, repressed excitement in his face, and his eyes shining strangely. "How is she, doctor?" Godfrey asked. "She'll be all right in the morning. She is still pretty nervous, so I gave her a sleeping-draught and waited till it took effect." Godfrey looked at him more closely. "Did she tell you anything?" he asked. "Not much," said Hinman; "I wouldn't let her talk. But she told me enough to let me guess one thing—she's the bravest girl I ever knew or heard of!" "What do you mean?" "I mean," cried Hinman, his eyes glowing more and more, "that she stayed in this house and faced the deadliest peril out of love for that man Swain; I mean that, if he's cleared, as he's certain to be now, it will be she who clears him; I mean that, if the real murderer is brought to justice, it will be because of the evidence she stayed here to get, and did get!" His voice had mounted shrilly, and his face was working as though he could scarcely keep back the tears. "Wait a minute, doctor," broke in Godfrey. "Don't go too fast. What evidence?" For answer, Hinman flipped something through the air to him. Godfrey caught it, and stared at it an instant in bewilderment; then, with a stifled exclamation, he sprang to the light and held the object close under it. "By all the gods!" he cried, in a voice as shrill as Hinman's own. "The finger-prints!" <hr style='width: 65%;' /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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