The Wrath of Fu Manchu and Other Stories (20 page)

I had hoped to find something that would serve to confirm Bode’s theory; but beyond the fact that the work was of undoubted antiquity, I could establish nothing. The hieroglyphics might possibly contain a clue to the matter, but they were peculiarly complicated and difficult, and I felt too weary after my day’s labours to attempt their immediate translation. Being seized with a desire to learn whether any degree of comfort could be enjoyed upon so strangely shaped a piece of furniture, I placed a large cushion in the hollow behind the leopard’s head, and, lighting a fresh cigarette, stretched myself upon the couch.

The result was surprising. A more delicious sense of restfulness stole over me than I had ever before experienced. I had only to close my eyes to believe that I was suspended in space. The aroma of the Turkish tobacco seemed to gain an added fragrance, and almost unconsciously I abandoned myself to the seductive languor that grew upon me. At what point I slept I am unable to state; but I recollect feeling the cigarette drop from my listless fingers. It must have been some little time after this that I began to wonder, or to dream that I wondered, why the odour was still in my nostrils. Without opening my eyes I made up my mind that the cigarette lay smouldering upon the floor just beneath the head of the couch. This reflection would seem to indicate that I was not really asleep; yet no other theory can cover the extraordinary facts of my subsequent experience.

Realising that this sweet, heavy perfume was dissimilar to anything I had ever known to arise from a cigarette, I reached down, still keeping my eyes drowsily closed, to find if it were really still burning. My hand failed to touch the floor!

As the mysterious nature of this circumstance came home to me, I sprang up into full wakefulness. Good heavens! What was this? I am not an exceptionally nervous man; but I can say with all truthfulness that my heart seemed to cease beating!

The familiar room was no longer there, nor did I recline upon a couch. I was upon a long, narrow balcony, having a low parapet, with pillars at frequent intervals supporting the roof. It was constructed entirely of marble and overhung a garden. Brilliant moonlight threw into bold relief arbours of strange design and vines trained over artistic trellis-work. Beds of many-hued flowers, tastefully blended and arranged in groups intersected by paths, extended to the bank of a river. In the distance, apparently rising out of the water, could be seen a huge white temple, significant and majestic even beneath the great vault of the gleaming heavens. The real origin of the heavy aroma now became evident. It was wafted from the flowers but six feet below me.

I will not attempt to give an analysis of my feeling, save to state that I seemed to be a bodiless entity, enjoying all my faculties but two—the sense of touch and of hearing. Try how I would, I could hear no sound, nor was I conscious of being in contact with anything palpable; in short, I was myself impalpable! I seemed to feel my heart throbbing, yet realised in some strange way that, being but an immaterial mind, I could have no heart.

At this moment, I discerned a boat upon the water, and, becoming conscious of an ability to change my location by merely willing it, passed without perceptible effort from the marble balcony to the brink of the river.

A man and woman were in the boat, which was rowed from the bow in the manner of a gondola by a gigantic Nubian. The woman was robed in white, and as she lay, with her head upon the man’s shoulder, and the moonlight fell upon her upturned face, I saw her to be as beautiful as a nymph of classic lore. A strange resentment, such as Zeus might have experienced toward a mortal lover of Io or Dana, possessed me; and when a shaft gleamed through the air and the man in the boat sprang up, to fall dead into the river, an incredible satisfaction took the place of my former resentment.

An eight-oared galley shot out from the dense shadows of a huge bed of rushes, and then ensued a scene such as should have moved the heart of a stone; yet I observed it to its close without being conscious of any emotion whatever.

The white-clad form of the girl rose up in the boat, and in another instant would have plunged into the river beside the dead man; but the huge Nubian seized her in one muscular arm and restrained her. A moment afterwards the galley came alongside, and she apparently lost consciousness as her body was roughly hauled on board. I saw her lying upon the deck as still and white as though death had claimed her too. I have no recollection of being actually on board the galley, but I remember vividly the silent journey across the calm bosom of the river, and can recollect that there seemed to be something familiar in it all. I even noticed the infinitely cooler air out there upon the water, and the scene of the arrival at the great temple shall be with me to my dying day.

At the foot of a flight of marble steps the galley was moored, and I saw a number of men clad in long black robes descending slowly. Two of them carried a kind of bier, and as they reached the edge of the water the death-like form was lifted from the galley’s deck and placed upon it. Solemnly raising their beautiful burden, they mounted again to the top, and, passing between two tall towers, advanced along an avenue lined upon either side by the figures of sphinxes. I witnessed all this quite clearly without knowing by what means I was enabled to follow; and when the bearers reached the propylaeum of the temple and passed within I still accompanied them.

Across an area surrounded by high walls they proceeded, and through a doorway that was either gold or gold-plated, into a vast hall, dimly illuminated, and seeming to be a very forest of pillars. At this juncture, I experienced an unaccountable difficulty in following, and, though I made a great effort, soon lost myself amid the innumerable pillars. Like some wandering spirit, I drifted about in that wondrous hall of shadows for what seemed like several hours. I had now apparently lost the power to control my own movements, and how I came to find myself where I ultimately did I do not know.

Since, after all, the whole was nothing but a vivid dream, I will not endeavour to explain. Suffice that I was in a small, rectangular apartment, fitfully lighted by a fire in a tall tripod. A man in a long robe of dull red was standing by a niche in the wall, and before him, ranged on narrow shelves, were rows of phials, apparently of blue glass. In the centre of the place stood an object that I had good cause to remember. It was the leopard-couch! Upon it was stretched the motionless form of the beautiful girl I had seen on the river. Her dark eyes were open now, and fixed in a changeless stare upon a brass vessel suspended above the fire. Her head rested, not upon a cushion, but upon a great crystal sphere which occupied the hollow in the couch.

The man took from the niche in the wall a long metal rod, and, dipping it in the pendent vessel, withdrew it again with what looked like a globule of liquid flame adhering to the end. Advancing to the couch, he thrust the rod into the open jaws of the leopard, and almost immediately the crystal globe beneath appeared to be illuminated by an internal light. I became conscious of a sensation as though an irresistible power were carrying me to destruction; the scene grew dim, and a great despair possessed me. Then I felt myself to be borne away into darkness as by the mighty wind, and a voice was in my ears. Two conflicting wills seemed to be striving for the mastery of my derelict spirit. I struggled madly against some subtle force that sought to overpower me, and awoke—to find Dr Maurice Bode, supporting my head whilst he held a glass to my lips.

“Thank Heaven!” he exclaimed. “You were beginning to frighten me.”

I felt strangely dazed, and stared at him so blankly that he smiled. “I came away as soon after receiving your first message as possible,” he explained, “and learning at Northbie’s that the couch had been sent on to you, I called here immediately, to find you sound asleep upon the identical article. Without disturbing you, I took the liberty to examine it; and I am pleased to say that I have made two highly interesting discoveries. A couple of minutes ago you became so deadly pale that I grew alarmed. Were you dreaming?”

I rose to my feet as unsteadily as though leaving a bed of long illness. “Before I answer your question, what have you discovered?” I asked, sinking into a comfortable arm-chair.

“In the first place, I have partially translated the hieroglyphics, and, in the second place, I have removed the top of the leopard’s head.”

“How could you possibly translate the hieroglyphics in so short a time?” was my incredulous inquiry.

“Well, you have slept for over four hours, and I have, moreover, been engaged upon the inscriptions of this particular period for nearly a year now.”

“You don’t mean to state that this couch dates back to the time of Hatshepsu?”

“There can be little doubt of it. The inscription contains as romantic a love-story as the heart of a modern novelist could desire.”

“Wait a moment, Bode!” I cried. “Does it correspond to the following?” And I related the incidents of my extraordinary dream as I have already set them forth.

He remained silent for a moment at the end of my narrative, his eyes dreamily closed. Then, rising to his feet, he bent over the head of the couch. “Yes,” he said slowly, “there is a narrow channel from the mouth of the leopard that presumably communicates with the hollow at the base.”

He paused, then added irrelevantly: “The rock temple at Deir-el-Bahari.”

“Right, Bode!” I cried, in sudden excitement. “It
was
the temple at Deir-el-Bahari! I understand now why the scene seemed vaguely familiar. But how do you account for the leopard-priesthood being established there?”

“A secret cult, consisting of priests ostensibly following other creeds. You have undoubtedly witnessed the punishment of Neothys, a beautiful priestess of the mystic goddess, who is never named in the inscriptions, but of whom the white leopard is emblematic. This Neothys had a lover, one Neremid, a captain of the warriors, and their trysting-place was in the very shadows of Hatshepsu’s temple at Deir-el-Bahari. He used to await her coming in a boat upon the river. But one night she was followed. Neremid died by the hand of Thi, chief of the temple-guard, and Neothys was dealt with by the high-priest.”

“What was the meaning of the extraordinary experiment I witnessed in my dream?”

“The man in the red robe was undoubtedly Karpusa, whom I believe to have been the last high-priest of the cult. I have previously encountered this singular personality in the course of my investigations; and his knowledge of the ‘unknown’ appears to have exceeded the credible. According to the inscription upon the couch, Karpusa wrecked vengeance upon Neothys by denying her immortality for all ages.”

“I fail to follow.”

Maurice Bode manipulated the head of the leopard in some way so that the top came off in his hand. Inserting a finger and a thumb into the aperture, he drew forth a small ball of sparkling crystal. “Examine that,” he said, handing it to me.

It was no larger than a full-sized walnut, but had all the brilliancy of a precious gem. I was gazing into its changeful depths when an idea occurred to me—an idea that caused me to return the thing with a shudder of revulsion.

“You do not, surely, suggest—” I began.

“I suggest nothing,” said Bode; “but by way of an experiment I propose acting thus.”

Raising the crystal above his head, he dashed it with all his force on to the marble hearth. I had just time to observe that it was shattered, when the electric light went out.

Dense fumes seemed to fill the room, and there was a buzzing in my ears. Then suddenly I caught my breath and listened; for it appeared to me that I had detected the sound of a low, clear voice—singing. Before I could determine whether it were imaginary or otherwise, the sound died away and the electric lamps became relighted.

There was a faint blue vapour in the air. Bode was standing on the other side of the room, and his tense attitude betrayed him.

“You heard it?” I inquired.

“I heard
something
,” he replied. “The extinction of the electric light was highly instructive.” Seeing me about to speak again, “I have no theory,” he said. “The only one that can cover all the facts is too incredible to be entertained.”

“I wanted to ask you what you make of the sudden death of Professor Bayton and M’Quown.”

“Again I have no theory. We should, however, remember that the incidents you mention, though singular, do not justify us—with our present inadequate knowledge of the circumstances under which they occurred—in placing them outside the province of coincidence. But I may mention that when I endeavoured to arouse you this evening, I at first failed to do so. It was not until I treated you as a hypnotised subject, and employed the usual means of restoring consciousness after hypnosis, that you revived.”

They lived in what had been, described as an “artistic apartment”. Bram always referred to it as a “walk down”. Lorna was delighted with it.

If you happened to be passing a reconstructed New York brownstone house between Lexington and Third Avenue, at night, and if the shades weren’t drawn, looking down you had a glimpse of the living-room, lit by a lamp with a square shade of plaited straw which gave out a pleasant glow.