Edgar Wallace

“ THE LAST OF THE NINE
To a calm sea, to a dawn all pearl and rose, the crew of the Maria Braganza woke. In the night, the speed of the warship had been accelerated until she was moving at her top speed, and two columns of black smoke belched from her great funnels. The two men who came on deck at the same moment did not speak one to the other. Baggin was pale; there were dark circles about his eyes; he looked like a man who had not slept. But Count Poltavo was unperturbed. ”

“ He shook his head in well-simulated bewilderment.
"Lord," said the poor chief of the Akasava, "perhaps men have told us lies—such things have happened——"
"That is true," said Sanders gravely. "This is a country of lies; some say that I am dead; and, lo! the news has gone around that there is no law in the land, and men may kill and war at their good pleasure."
"Though I die at this minute," said the chief virtuously, "though the river turn to fire and consume my inmost stomach, though every tree become a tiger to devour me, I have not dreamt of war." ”

“ In the forest, a league beyond the dead village, they came upon an old man, so old that you might have lifted him with a finger and thumb.
"Where do the young men go in their strength?" he mumbled childishly; "into the land of small devils? Who shall guide them back to their women? None, for the devils will confuse them, opening new roads and closing the old. Oh, Ko Ko!"
He snivelled miserably.
"Father," said Elebi, dangling strips of red flannel from his hand, "this is white man's magic, we come back by the way we go." ”

“ The play of color in her pretty face, the rise and fall of her narrow chest, the curve of chin and the velvet smoothness of her throat—he marked them all with the eye of the gourmet who watches lambs frisking in the pasture and sees, not the poetry and beauty of young life, but a likeable dish that will one day mature. "If you were a beggar-maid and I were a prince"—he began.
"I'm not much better, am I?" she asked ruefully, "and you are a prince, to me, Ronnie—" She was thinking.
"Yes?"
"How can anything come right for us? ”

“ What would Gwenda think of him? He remembered enough to know that he had not made a fool of himself, but it were better that he were the laughing-stock of Monte Carlo and of all the world than that he should have disappointed Gwenda. "Terrible," murmured Chick, "terrible!"
He shook his head, whence the pain had gone, leaving only a queer sawdust sensation.
A brisk walk toward Cap Martin and back almost completed his cure. Gwenda was at breakfast with Mrs. Phibbs when he went into the sitting-room, and she greeted him with her old smile. ”

“ In the broad light of day he would have presented a somewhat comic figure, sitting cross-legged on his bed, his long fishing-rod reaching out to the middle of the room and resting on the footboard; but at the moment Mr. J.G. Reeder had no sense of the ridiculous, and, moreover, there were no witnesses. From time to time he swayed the rod left and right, like an angler making a fresh cast. He was very wide awake, his ears tuned to differentiate between the normal noises of the night—the rustle of trees, the soft purr of the wind—and the sounds which could only come from human activity. ”

“ The man was half mad. He cursed and blessed her alternately, called her his little pigeon and his little devil in the same breath. She felt the tickle of his beard against her bare shoulder, and strove to push him off.
"Come, my little peach," he said. "Who shall say that there is no justice in Russia, when Yaroslav's daughter is the bride of Boolba!"
His back was to the curtain, and he was half lifting, half drawing her to the two grey strips which marked its division, when the girl screamed.
"Again, again, my little dear," grinned Boolba. "That is fine music." ”

“ Half-way down the cliff face was a spring, and, staggering across the beach, she drank eagerly from her cupped hands. She was parched; her throat was so dry that she could hardly articulate. Hunger she might bear, but thirst was unendurable. She might remain alive for days, supposing she were not discovered before that time.
There was now no need for her to make a long reconnaissance of the beach; the way of escape lay open to her. A water-hollowed tunnel led through the bluff and showed her yet another beach beyond. Siltbury was not in sight. ”

“ Heloise brought up her heavy guns.
“I was a good woman before I met him,” she said with a little sob. Gordon, a horrified listener, came gasping into the kitchen.
“You—you——!”
“Silence!”
Under the flashing eyes of Diana Ford his courage failed. Like the fisherman’s wife, he could only stand and watch and suffer.
“He just naturally dragged me down.” Heloise was playing for safety and freedom, and she was a champion player.
Diana’s voice quivered as she turned on the shrinking man.
“You brute! To think that a man like you should be allowed to prey upon humanity! ”

“ She turned to him unexpectedly and asked:
"Jasper, who killed John Minute?"
He made no reply. His wistful eyes were fixed hungrily upon the glories of light and shade, of space, of inaccessibility, of purity, of coloring, of all that dawn upon Mont Blanc comprehended. When he spoke his voice was lowered to almost a whisper.
"I know that the man who killed John Minute is alive and free," he said.
"Who was he?"
"If you do not know now, you may never know," he said. ”

“ The man was speechless with rage. If looks could kill, Tarling would have died.
"A clumsy trick," said Tarling, shaking his head mournfully. "Now go back to your boss, Mr. Thornton Lyne, and tell him that I am ashamed of an intelligent man adopting so crude a method," and with a kick he dismissed Sam Stay to the outer darkness.
The girl, who had been a frightened spectator of the scene, turned her eyes imploringly upon the detective.
"What does it mean?" she pleaded. "I feel so frightened. What did that man want?"
"You need not be afraid of that man, or any other man," said Tarling briskly. ”

“ The Lovers' Chair was carved in the face of the rock and she sat down to view the beauty of the scene. The solitude, the stillness which only the lazy waves broke, the majesty of the setting, brought a strange peace to her. Beyond the edge of the ledge the cliff fell sheer to the water, and she shivered as she stepped back from her inspection.
Mordon did not see her go. He sat on the running board of his car, his pale face between his hands, a prey to his own gloomy thoughts. There must be a development, he told himself. ”

“ Jack laughed.
"If you had been with her much longer, Lydia, she would have turned you into a first-class criminal," he said. "I hope you do not forget that she has exactly a hundred thousand pounds of yours—in other words, a sixth of your fortune."
Lydia shook her head.
"That is almost a comforting thought," she said. "I know she is what she is, Jack, but her greatest crime is that she was born six hundred years too late. If she had lived in the days of the Italian Renaissance she would have made history."
"Your sympathy is immoral," said Jack. ”

“ This is a miracle," said Bosambo profoundly but cautiously, "which I have heard but which I have not seen. Now this I ask you who see all things, and here is the puzzle which I will set to your honour. If Sandi is so great and so wise, and is so loved by the greater King, how comes it that he stays for ever in one place, having no beautiful stars about his neck nor wonderful ribbons around his stomach such as the great Frenchiman—and the great Allamandi men, and even the Portuguesi men wear who are honoured by their kings?" ”

“ For two days London had lain under the pall, and if the weather experts might be relied upon, yet another two days of fog was to be expected.
The cheery room, with its polished oak panelling and the chaste elegance of its electroliers, offered every inducement to a lover of comfort to linger. The fire glowed bright and red in the tiled fireplace, a silver clock on the mantelpiece ticked musically, and at his hand was a white-covered tray with a tiny silver teapot, and the paraphernalia necessary for preparing his meal—that strange tea-supper which was one of T. B. Smith's eccentricities. ”

“ Oberzohn’s office might have stepped from the pages of a catalogue of men’s fashions. He was, to the initiated eye, painfully new. His lemon gloves, his dazzling shoes, the splendour of his silk hat, the very correctness of his handkerchief display, would have been remarkable even in the Ascot paddock on Cup day. He was good-looking, smooth, if a trifle plump, of face, and he wore a tawny little moustache and a monocle. People who did not like Captain Monty Newton—and their names were many—said of him that he aimed at achieving the housemaid’s conception of a guardsman. ”

“ For an eternity, as it seemed, she stood helpless, incapable of movement, and it was he who spoke.
“How many men love you, Ella Bennett?” he asked. “Gordon and Johnson—and The Frog, who loves you most of all!”
He paused, as though he expected her to speak, but she was incapable of answering him.
“Men work for women, and they murder for women, and behind all that they do, respectably or unrespectably, there is a woman,” said the Frog. “And you are that woman for me, Ella.” ”

“ In Flanders Lane they pointed to the ears that stood away from the head, and hugged themselves with unholy joy when they related, one to the other, the queer gift of a man whose will commanded even the muscles that in ordinary mortals had no control over those appendages. There was nobody like the Ringer—nobody in the world. Sympathy was general in Flanders Lane. He had half-killed a "screw" and had "done" a snout—but who loves a prison guard or a sneaking police spy? Certainly no Laner. They would have turned out to a man and a woman in his defence—it would have been an honour to die for him. ”

“ She was in a blind panic; a thousand formless terrors gripped her and turned her resolute soul to water. She could have screamed her relief when she saw that the sliding door was half-open—the man had not stopped to close it—and she passed through and down the first flight. He had vanished before she reached the half-way landing and the hall below was empty. It was a wide hall, stone-flagged, with a glass door between her and the open portal.
She flew down the stairs, pulled open the door and ran straight into van Heerden's arms. ”

“ At last Mr. Flower found his voice. "He doesn't know," he said hollowly. "You're not going to put that into his hands—an ancient title like the—er—Pelborough marquisate? Remember, Lord Pelborough, that you are responsible to your ancestors."
"Blow my ancestors!" said Chick. "And if I'm responsible, so is he. Will you wire for me and let me know in the morning?"
Mr. Jagg Flower had been in many peculiar and unnerving situations, but he had never paralleled this experience. He walked down the drive, beneath the shade of those ancient elms which he had so admired, like a man in a dream. ”

“ No disrespect, you understand, dear old miss."
"Quite," she said, and wondered.
"I take a subject for a verse," said Bones airily, waving his hand toward Throgmorton Street. "A 'bus, a fuss, a tram, a lamb, a hat, a cat, a sunset, a little flower growing on the river's brim, and all that sort of thing—any old subject, dear old miss, that strikes me in the eye—you understand?"
"Of course I understand," she said readily. "A poet's field is universal, and I quite understand that if he writes nice things about his friends he doesn't mean it."
"Oh, but doesn't he?" said Bones truculently. ”

“ Jack Glover had come unexpectedly from London, so Lydia told her, and Jack himself met her with extraordinary geniality.
"You lucky people to be in this paradise!" he said. "It is raining like the dickens in London, and miserable beyond description. And you're looking brown and beautiful, Miss Briggerland."
"The spirit of the warm south has got into your blood, Mr. Glover," she said sarcastically. "A course at the Riviera would make you almost human."
"And what would make you human?" asked Jack blandly.
"I hope you people aren't going to quarrel as soon as you meet," said Lydia. ”

“ There were sleepless nights ahead for Sanders, nights of swift marchings and doublings, of quick runs up the river, of unexpected arrivals in villages, of lonely vigils in the forest and by strange pools. But he had no word of the Devil Man, though he learnt many things of interest. Most potent of his magical possessions was a box, "so small," said one who had seen it, and indicated a six-inch square. In this box dwelt a small and malicious god who pinched and scratched (yet without leaving a mark) , who could stick needles into the human body and never draw blood. ”

“ Penne was sitting cross-legged on a silken divan, his eyes watching the gyrations of a native girl as she twirled and twisted to the queer sound of native guitars played by three solemn-faced men in the darkened corner of the room. Gregory wore a suit of flaming red coloured pyjamas, and his glassy gaze and brute mouth told Stella all that she wanted to know about her evil friend.
Sir Gregory Penne was no less and no more than a slave to his appetites. Born a rich man, he had never known denial of his desires. ”

“ One morning, when swirls of grey mist looped from tree to tree and the east was growing grey, Imgani came back from the forest bearing on his shoulders all that was material of a small buck which he had snared in the night.
When he saw a little fire before his hut and a man squatting chin on knee, he twirled those spears of his cheerfully and went on, for he was afraid of no man.
"Is the world so full of people that you come to disturb my loneliness?" he asked. "I have a thought that I shall kill you and fry your heart, for I do not like to see you sitting by a fire before my hut." ”

“ Sanders stood before the fire, one hand raised, and silence fell, curiosity dominating resentment.
"People of the Isisi," said Sanders, "let no man move until the god-stone has passed, for death comes quickly to those who cross the path of gods."
He had an automatic pistol in each hand, and the particular deity he was thinking of at the moment was not the one in the box.
The people hesitated, surging and swaying, as a mob will sway in its uncertainty. ”

“ Sanders was taking a short cut through the forest to avoid the interminable twists and bends of the river, when he came suddenly upon a village of death—four sad little huts, built hastily amidst a tangle of underwood. He called, but nobody answered him. He was too wary to enter any of the crazy habitations.
He knew these little villages in the forest. It was the native custom to take the aged and the dying—especially those who died sleepily—to far-away places, beyond the reach of man, and leave them there with a week's food and a fire, to die in decent solitude. ”

“ Bones was impressed. He stared, wide-eyed, at the chief, tilted his helmet back a little from his damp brow, folded his hands on his knees and opened his mouth a little.
"But it is you, O my lord," said Bosambo, extravagantly, "who asks this question. You, who have suddenly come amongst us and who are brighter to us than the moon and dearer to us than the land which grows corn; therefore must I speak to you that which is in my heart. If I lie, strike me down at your feet, for I am ready to die." ”

“ Frank turned to the girl.
"But did your husband look like me?"
She nodded.
"And did he call himself Frank Merrill?"
Again she nodded.
"Where is he now?"
She nodded, this time at him.
"But, great heavens," said Frank, with a gesture of despair, "you do not suggest that I am the man?"
"You are the man," said the girl.
Again Frank looked appealingly at his friend, and Saul Arthur Mann saw dismay and laughter in his eyes.
"I don't know what I can do," he said. "Perhaps if you left me alone with her for a minute—"
"Don't! Don't!" she breathed. "Don't leave me alone with him. Stay here." ”

“ He bent down and smoothed with gentle fingers the soft dusky hair. The fragrance of it filled his nostrils. Its softness sent a delicious ecstasy thrilling from his finger-tips up his arm. He trembled throughout his entire frame. All his life, he declared to himself with passionate sincerity, he would love her like this. All his life he would remember this one moment. He gazed down at her tenderly, a wonderful light in his young face.
"Dear!" he whispered again.
She lifted a pallid face to him. Her violet eyes were misty, and tiny drops of dew were still tangled in her lashes. ”

“ Poltavo was interested.
"Please go on," he said.
The girl smiled. "I am afraid you are an awful gossip," she rallied, but became more serious. "I don't like him very much, but uncle says that is my prejudice. He is one of those quiet, sure men who say very little and make one feel rather foolish. Don't you know that feeling? It is as though one were dancing the tango in front of the Sphinx."
Poltavo showed his white teeth in a smile.
"I have yet to have that experience," he said.
She nodded.
"One of these days you will meet Dr. Fall and you will know how helpless one can feel in his presence." ”

“ Ronnie was amused.
"Are you traveling back to town tonight, Ronnie?"
"No, Sir John. I leave in the morning."
Sir John wrinkled his brows in thought.
"You saw him? Did you ever see a man like him? I am bewildered and baffled. Poor Sault, and yet why 'poor'? Poor world, I think, to lose a soul as great as his."
"He is also a murderer," said Ronnie with gentle sarcasm. "He has brutally killed two men—"
"There is nothing brutal in Ambrose Sault," Sir John checked himself. ”

“ She bustled into an ante-room.
"Here is your dress, my little bride. See, there is everything, even to stockings—Boolba has thought of all, yet he will not see! La! la! What a man!"
Numerous articles of attire were laid out on chairs and on the back of the sofa, and the girl, looking at them, shuddered. It was Boolba's idea—nobody but Boolba would have thought of it. Every garment was of red, blood red, a red which seemed to fill the room with harsh sound. Stockings of finest silk, shoes of russian leather, cobweb underwear—but all of the same hideous hue. ”

“ Kitson, I'm going to put all my cards on the table," said Beale quietly, "will you sit down a moment? There are certain facts which we cannot ignore. Fact one is that Oliva Cresswell is in the hands of a man who is absolutely unscrupulous, but has no other object in view than marriage. Her beauty, her charm, all the attractive qualities which appeal to most men and to all brutes have no appeal for him—to him she is just a money proposition. If he can't marry her, she has no further interest for him." ”

“ Thornton Lyne seemed fantastic, and fantastic indeed was his end. Milburgh, with his perpetual smirk, his little stoop, his broad, fat face and half-bald head; Mrs. Rider, a pale ghost of a woman who flitted in and out of the story, or rather hovered about it, never seeming to intrude, yet never wholly separated from its tragic process; Ling Chu, imperturbable, bringing with him the atmosphere of that land of intrigue and mystery and motive, China. Odette Rider alone was real. She was life; warm, palpitating, wonderful.
Tarling frowned and rose stiffly from his chair. ”

“ It was a gratifying fact, which Blackie had remarked, that Second Lieutenant, late Sergeant, Tam, had taken to the mess as naturally as a duck to water. He showed neither awkwardness nor shyness, but this was consonant with his habit of thought. Once attune your mind to the reception of the unexpected, so that even the great and vital facts of life and death leave you unshaken and unamazed, and the lesser quantities are adjusted with ease. ”

“ Chick was momentarily staggered. "But you don't, Gwenda," he said, in amazement.
She nodded. "Yes, I do. You've got to fight for that title, Chick, just as hard as you've ever fought in the ring, because if you don't want it, I do."
He looked at her steadily. "You're not telling the truth, Gwenda," he said quietly. "You're saying that to spur me on, and I'm not going to be spurred. I think too much of you to believe that a title has any attraction for you. I love you too much to believe that." ”

“ The beach here was shorter, the cliff considerably higher. Across the shoulder of rock running to the sea she saw the white houses of Siltbury, and the sight gave her courage. Descending from the rocky ridge was even more difficult than climbing, and she was grateful when at last she sat upon a flat ledge and dangled her bruised feet in the water.
Swimming back to the land taxed her strength to the full. It was nearly an hour before her feet touched firm sand and she staggered up the beach. Here she rested, until the pangs of hunger drove her toward the last visible obstacle. ”

“ The American looked at him doubtfully. The man seemed limpid. Was he, in truth, as Grayson had once said, as deep as the bottomless pit? Grayson, he knew, had favoured him.
"You have no money," he objected, finally.
"I have something better."
"What?" In Baggin's mouth the question was an insult.
"Genius!" returned the young man simply.
He disregarded Baggin's scornful ejaculation, and continued impersonally, as if reading aloud from a book.
"Genius, my friend! Genius is as high above mere money as the stars wheeling in their celestial courses are above the earth. ”

“ Evie Colebrook poked the furrel of her sunshade into the grass and turned up a tuft of clover. "There is only one way it can ever end—happily," she said in a low voice, "and that is—well you know, Ronnie."
He laughed. "With you in a beautiful white dress and a beautiful white veil and a wreath of orange blossoms round your glorious hair, and a fat and nasty old man in a surplice reading a few passages from a book; and people leering at you as you go down the aisle and saying—well, you know what they say. I think a wedding is the most indelicate function which society affects." ”

“ By the miraculous interposition of Providence Bones reached the Ochori village in the grey clouded dawn, and Bosambo, early astir, met the lank figure of the youth, his slick sword dangling, his long revolver holster strapped to his side, and his helmet on the back of his head, an eager warrior looking for trouble.
"Lord, of you I have heard," said Bosambo, politely; "here in the Ochori country we talk of no other thing than the new, thin Lord whose beautiful nose is like the red flowers of the forest." ”