The House of Strange Secrets Part 18

"I know," responded Meadows slowly, "that the 'long arm of coincidence'

is, well, longer than the 'long arm of the law.'"

"What do you mean?"

"I have already told you. I mean that I, the suspected, spied-upon man of mystery (that's so, is it not?), I am the man who alone can throw light upon--can, moreover, effectually solve--the secrets of your father, Major Carrington's life."

"Then he is 'the' Major Carrington, of Madras?"

"He is."

"But," muttered Laurence, half aloud, "he told me that only one man (besides his enemy) ever learned his strange, inviolate secret."

"And I am that one man," responded the "doctor."

"Now," exclaimed Laurence angrily, "now I know you are lying. The man who held the Squire's secret died years ago."

"And," was the "doctor's" quiet reply, "so did I!"

And, before Laurence could find words to express his feelings at such a mad, mysterious remark, there came the sound of flying feet thundering along the stone pa.s.sage and drawing towards the door, through which he had himself been dragged after the attack in the dark.

The oak door now stood open. From within no one would have believed it to be a door, the oak panelling of the walls being so skilfully imitated on it.

Through it, like a madman, rushed the convict servant, Horncastle. His face was white as a sheet, his breath came in jerks. Terror was manifest on his repulsive features.

"Thank G.o.d, I'm free from it," he almost shrieked, as he rushed up to the other two men.

Lighted only by a single tallow candle, the scene was a strange one--one that an artist would have given much to have an opportunity of picturing. The shadows on the men's faces, the cunningly wrought panelling of the great lonesome hall, the air of mystery that seemed to hang about the place--all these made the picture one that Laurence never forgot.

"Well," asked Meadows, "why have you not caught him?"

"The darkness," explained the convict servant, "the darkness, the awful darkness! I'd stand up to any man in the kingdoms, but that cursed silence and gloom and its 'orrors are a bit too much. And that creature, 'arf man, 'arf beast, seemed like the 'old man' 'isself, the way he slipped out of my grasp, which ain't a light one, as this 'ere gent knows." And the fellow had the audacity to pat Laurence on the shoulder.

He was no longer the terrified creature of a moment before, when in the company of two of his fellow-creatures.

Meadows looked at him with ill-disguised expressions of disgust. But he did not speak. Instead, he motioned to the servant to depart.

By this time Laurence was able to rise and move about without being overcome by the pains in his neck and head. He turned to Meadows, who had astounded him a moment before by his casual remark that he was a man who had been dead many years.

"Please explain the strange observation you made when Mr.--er--Horncastle interrupted us by his return." The convict scowled, and looked daggers at Meadows, who, however, did not notice, for he was deep in thought.

"Mr. Carrington," he said at length, "I can tell you a little now, but not all. First tell me in what way you think you were attacked."

"I cannot. I only know that I felt as though someone was cutting my throat."

"Someone," replied "Doctor Meadows," "was doing more. He was trying to break your neck."

"Ah!" Laurence exclaimed, "like he did my poor father's. And how did he do it? It was all so quickly, so cleverly done."

"It was done by a man who has made a careful study of murder."

"Good gracious, for what purpose?"

"For the purpose of murdering your father!"

"No, no, it cannot be!" exclaimed Laurence. "Why this enmity? What has the Squire done?"

"Nothing," responded Meadows; "and can't you see, now, who and what the creature is that is hiding in yonder darkness?"

"No. Who? What?"

"Don't you know what harmless weapon it is that when skilfully wielded deals death more cruelly than knife or gun? Why, a cord, a piece of silk cord!"

"Then," Laurence shouted, for the words shed light upon the dark subject that he had tried so hard to penetrate--"then the man is a--a----"

"A Thug," was the grim reply.

CHAPTER XXVI

LIGHT IN DARK PLACES

"No, I can tell you nothing further," said "Doctor Orlando Meadows," in reply to Laurence's eager requests for information; "but even what little I have told you throws light upon much that was formerly dark to you. For instance, now you know the solution of the mystery of the padded footprints. The Thug, like many native Indians of his cla.s.s--a low one--swathes his feet in strips of linen stuff. So you see he did not have to perform the distinctly difficult operation of removing his boots while on the machine!

"Next, you can now understand the meaning of the marvellous agility of the creature. I wonder you did not put two and two together before and guess that the wonderfully athletic foe who almost broke your father's neck in some mysterious manner was--a Thug. Those fanatics are the finest gymnasts in the world, besides being the most bloodthirsty creatures under heaven.

"One thing I cannot understand is why so desperate a scoundrel should pause in the middle of his deadly work, and leave your poor father living, though unconscious. It is deemed the greatest possible disgrace for a Thug to attack his victim with the 'noose' and fail to kill him.

Of course, as a rule, the Stranglers--as they are called--work together, but against one old man a single Thug should be able to carry out his grim work thoroughly. I speak as one who knows something about India.

You are convinced that nothing unusual was found in the room in which your father was attacked?"

"Nothing, as far as I am aware," replied Laurence. "Of course, I left the detective to look for any clue in the bedroom, but whether he found anything I do not know. Had he done so I think on his departure he would have handed it over to me."

"And he didn't?"

"No--that is, he merely played a practical joke on me by leaving a cardboard box in a cupboard in which he said I should find a clue. On opening it I was disgusted to find nothing but a dead bat----"

"A dead bat!" shrieked "Doctor Meadows"; "had he found it in the Squire's bedroom?"

"As to that I cannot tell you. But why?"

"Because," replied the old gentleman, "if he did I know why the a.s.sa.s.sin did not murder your father outright!"

"Good gracious, what has that got to do with it?"

"Everything. The Thugs are the most superst.i.tious people on earth. When they believe their patron G.o.ddess Kalee does not approve of their sacrifice--they call all murders sacrifices to her--they stop short in their deadly operations. In India if they are carrying out one of their gruesome murders, and a girl with a pitcher happens to pa.s.s near, they stop instantly. It is a sign that the G.o.ddess is displeased with their selection of a victim. That was why I asked you if it was possible that a housemaid with a pail pa.s.sed the half-open bedroom door when the attack was made. Again, should a murdering Thug see his victim's face reflected in water or a mirror, he will, for the same reason, stop in the very middle of his work. But one of the worst omens--a sign that Kalee is greatly displeased--is the pa.s.sing of a small chattering bird, or a bat, while the murder is being carried out. The bat which by chance had got into your father's room must have fluttered about when the a.s.sa.s.sin was carrying out his foul deed. That bat saved your father's life!"

"But how did the Thug get into the room, and how did he escape?"