Radio digest (1922)

66 "Looks like it. Dead drunk!" Savoy came close and for a moment looked down on the white face intently. Mr. Nemo seemed scarcely to breathe. Savoy bent closer; he even caught up one of the lax hands, seeking the pulse. There was but a faint flutter. ""[^RUGGED! Get him out of bed; LJ jerk him out! To his feet, man; walk him up and down. It's poison, all right: an overdose of opium or something of the kind. Mohun, get some strong black coffee, quickly. Of course he'd be drugged: like Mohun was when we had such trouble waking him, only Nemo's had a bigger, more dangerous dose. On his feet with him; keep him moving. Work his legs: his arms, too. Try to encourage respiration," Savoy instructed them. "The danger, the only danger there is, is that his coma will deepen steadily, merging slowly into the deepest of all comas." Mr. Nemo's secretary returned with a cup of steaming liquid. "Here, help me get a bit of coffee down him; then we'll walk him again, lie's pretty far gone, but we can pull him through yet." "I'd like to know how you know it's opium or morphine or that sort of thing?" said Temple between whiles. "What else should it be?" queried Savoy. "What with Andregg's drug on hand, what also with Nemo's own stuff 1 . . ." "You mean he's a hop-head, too?" "The use of the drug is common in the East as you, a great traveller, know better than I. You know also that there they remain masters, not slaves, of the dream-stuff. No, I don't say that this man is a hop-head; that would be to put him in the same category as poor Andregg. But he uses it, of course. . . . How else was he so quick to guess Andregg's secret!" "You mean . . . you don't mean . . ." <<\\Z"HR\" you hectored Andregg at »» the table, demanding to know his secret, asking what it was that he had picked up by Parks' body, you will remember that Mr. Nemo invited and secured a private explanation? Easy enough, since already he knew! He had but to whisper in Andregg's ear, 'Opium,' and Andregg was ready to tell him. That made them akin . . ." "But it was a fountain pen!" "Cuff-links and watch-chains!" snorted Savoy contemptuously. "Not to say ships and shoes and sealing wax! — Here, let's take shifts at this business; we're likely to be a long while." They kept no track of the time but knew that it was a long, long while before consciousness returned to their patient. Still they walked him up and down; they had the windows wide open by now and the wind blew freely across them, stinging them with cold yet filling the room with tinglingly fresh and vigor-inspiring air. They heaped overcoats upon Mr. Nemo's wiry form; they enwrapped him on top of all that in blankets: they marched him on and on and still on. When at last, certain that victory had been won, they allowed him a brief rest, letting him sit on the edge of the bed from which they meant to snatch him into action again at the first sign of any relapse, all eyes focused on him ful! of question. And they were met by a look in his eyes which was like a mirrored reflection of their own: Question. HE BEGAN speaking sharply, addressing Mohun in a tongue unfamiliar to all save these two. With a first sudden evidence of muscular strength Mr. Nemo whipped up his two hands and began tearing away the wrappings in which he had been swathed. Swiftly he bared his chest; his hands slipped down, inside his shirt, to his waist. A look of fearful rage distorted his features. "It is gone!" he cried wildly. "The flower of Heaven is gone!" They sought to remind him that he had told them that he had not brought the Flower of Heaven with him; he swept their words aside, he sprang to his feet; tossed out his arms; sent a shrilling voice to ring throughout the old house. Then all of a sudden he collapsed, dropping back to the bed, his face hidden in his shaking hands. "It is as the master says," said Mohun. "The Flower of Heaven is gone. The master wore it about his body. Desecration has happened. He has called out the Curse of Curses. The man who has dared shall die!" "What 1 want to know," announced Temple impatiently, "is how Nemo was spirited away, or if he went of his own volition. And how he got back, evidently without having anything to say in the matter himself." "TfXACTLY," said Savoy with his -L-rf queer smile. "He was drugged, of course. How? In the wine he had at nesses of walls and widths of halls and rooms." "DAT A lac \TIENCE, if needed, shall not be True Adventure AMERICAN orchestra f^/jf leader of national fame was picked tor a victim by a murderous gang of racketeers. He was to be held prisoner with the suggestion that the Radio listeners should ransom his life for $20,000. The plot failed. The name of the leader and complete story will appear in the August Radio Digest his bedside; just as Mohun was, only more thoroughly. He was then picked up and carried hence, my dear captain. Also, he was gathered up into a pair of good strong arms and brought back. Really, it's quite simple, you know." "There are times, Savoy, when I could strangle you with all the joy in life," said Temple. "Simple? Hmf! Who in the world . . ." "You'll remember, my dear sir, that I've warned you once or twice already that this is the house of a mad man. Despite your searching, there remains somewhere the hidden room, and does not Mr. Nemo's room suggest itself by this time as being connected with the concealed chamber? Dicks and Mr. Nemo were so simply removed and so simply returned to this bed." Mr. Nemo lifted his ashen face from his trembling hands and listened avidly. Weak as he was, he began asking questions. He drank copiously of the hot black coffee which Chee-foo himself brought fresh from the kitchen; a flicker of light came back into his eyes. "In my own country," he said coolly, "I have had some experience with cunningly contrived hiding places. Mohun will look as I direct him. If there is anything, we shall find it quickly." "There's a door of some sort," said Savoy confidently. "That you will find it so readily, I doubt. Why, man, it would take a full convention of architects to gauge the possibilities in that direction of this crazy old building! You'd want a week to measure, to gauge thick An insane man," resumed Savoy, meditatively, "with the cunning to construct such a mechanism, would want something complicated. No, I doubt if you'll come at his secret at all . . . unless you use an ax on walls, floor and ceiling, as we've used it on a door or two. And, with a little patience all this havoc becomes unnecessary. We're not far from the answer to all our questions; why not sit down and wait?" "And let things go on happening?" challenged Temple. "With, as you more than hint at, a murderous mad man running wild? How do we know what will happen next?" "We cannot even guess . . . unless, of course, we use our wits." "Do you mind telling us what that means?" "Of course," Savoy laughed at him. "Captain Temple's treasure, the Seal of Napoleon I" Temple ripped out a thoroughly hearty oath. Stephen Glask (Continued from page 17) onds with uplifted eyebrows, she failed. He returned her gaze with bland and pleasant interest. She turned away, biting her lips. "I want some kitchen lamps," she said; "a saucepan, if you have the sort we use; and a few other oddments. I should like, too, to compare your prices for oil." For a quarter of an hour Eve was overwhelmed with a sheer flood of eloquence. At last the young man paused for lack of breath. His assistant, a son of his predecessor, was listening, rapt in admiration. "I seem to have bought a lot of things," Eve remarked. "^V7"OU have bought just what you J wanted, and you have given no more for anything than you would have done at the Stores," the young man replied, with conviction. "Don't you bother any further. I'll see that you get the things all right. And you shall have the full cash discount if I get the money within a month." "I pay all the household bills on Monday mornings," Eve explained. "Quite satisfactory," Stephen Glask declared. "Going to the golf tournament to-morrow. Miss Malcolm?" She looked at him in precisely the manner in which she was accustomed to look at Simpkins the grocer — only it didn't seem to produce in the least the same effect. "I always go to the golf tournaments," she answered coldly. The young man nodded. "They've asked me to play," he remarked. "Are you any good?" she inquired a little eagerly. He smiled at her confidently. "Fairly so," he replied. "I very nearly went in for being a pro." She abandoned for a moment the attitude which she had thought well to assume. "Then do play!" she begged. "We want to beat Fairford. They are horribly stuck-up about their golf, and the two Sinclairs always play for them." "What, Charlie Sinclair?" Eve stiffened again. "It is Lord Riverstone's second son," she answered, "who is the title holder." "We'll see about that," Stephen Uask declared.