4
The blood pulsed in Trent's temples. For once his stupefaction escaped the citadel of his impassivity. Nor could Hsien Sgam control his amazement. The Mongol stared—stared with the air of a man struggling to grasp something beyond his ken of thought, beyond possibility.
Kerth's voice broke the spell—proof to Trent that what he saw was no sorcery of the eyes.
"I'm not so sure our friend the Governor has no other firearms on his person. Suppose you investigate, major."
At the sound of the voice, a voice that spoke English, Hsien Sgam seemed to awaken to a realization of the situation. Surprise was replaced by a queer, half-dazed expression.
"I have been without wits," he said, more to himself than to the others. "I did not for a moment consider that there might be two—that...." Words perished on his lips. His breathing was audible—the heavy breathing of one suddenly stricken. He recovered enough to ask: "His Holiness—what have you done to him? Have you—"
"It's hardly my place to answer questions," drawled Kerth; "surely not my intention." Then: "Go ahead, major."
As Trent approached, Hsien Sgam lifted his hand.
"Am I to be forced to submit to the indignity of being searched?"
Neither Englishman answered, but Trent paused tentatively.
"If I give my word," Hsien Sgam pursued, "that I am unarmed, will not that be sufficient?"
"No weapon of any sort?"—thus Kerth, while his eyes sought Trent. The latter inclined his head slightly.
"None."
Something of the Mongol's poise and dignity had reasserted itself, and a faint, illusive smile—an almost tolerant smile—touched his woman's-mouth. His slender hands worked nervously.
"I daresay I can guess your thoughts." Kerth, who was smiling, addressed Hsien Sgam. "Your Transparency thinks I dare not use this,"—fingering the steel trigger-guard—"but in that you are mistaken. You must remember that whereas you are Governor, I am—well—" He touched the yellow vestments.
As Trent watched Hsien Sgam, an emotion almost of pity smote him. He felt the titanic conflict within the Mongol, the power—warped power—behind the Buddha-like face and the heretofore puzzling eyes (eyes that were no longer puzzling, but that mirrored the raw look of ancient evil, the bitter corrosion of disappointment); power that was facing defeat. Dream of empire, of pomp and regal splendor, rusted, as his every dream had done.... An unfinished vessel, this Hsien Sgam. (Fragments of the Mongol's story played like illuminating shafts among Trent's thoughts: the boy who wept for his father—who felt the strangle-grip of a great gray Babylon—the celibate to whom the wine of love turned stale.) The gift of life to Hsien Sgam had been ashes. All this Trent saw in his eyes—eyes that stared ahead with sick contemplation.
And now Hsien Sgam moved. He clasped his lithe, feminine hands; he took a few steps, slueing upon his twisted limb; paused; stood motionless; made a gesture of resignation.
"I am defeated," he declared in his soft voice, "but you will sink with me. It is as though you had ventured into a web; the threads will tangle you, and, like flies, you will hang there and die."
Kerth smiled. "Your teeth are extracted, Transparency," he replied. He removed another revolver from under his pallium, offering it to Trent. "Major, I think we can talk with more ease if we go to my"—this with a smile—"my apartments. There are certain matters I wish to discuss with his Transparency, and I fear we might be interrupted here."
He moved around the daïs, pausing by the yellow brocade that hung behind the throne.
"Suppose I walk first, then his Transparency, then you, major. I believe that will prevent any complications."
In the rear of the daïs, concealed by yellow draperies, was a door that gave access to a stairway. Kerth took the lead, his robes dragging upon the stone steps. The stairs mounted at a steep grade, broke their ascent on three landings, and brought them into a small space, facing coral-hued curtains. As Kerth gripped the center of the hangings, preparatory to parting them, he looked around, over his shoulder and Hsien Sgam's close-cropped head, at Trent.
"Be prepared, major," he drawled. "This is 'Thatsang' or, as we would say it, 'Falcon's Nest.'" He laughed—a low, rather grim chuckle. "You stand face to face with the secret of Lhakang-gompa."
With that he jerked the draperies apart and the clink of the metal rings from which they hung sent a slight shiver down Trent's spine. He stepped between the curtains, Hsien Sgam preceding him. He found himself in a long room. Its floor and walls were bare. At the far end, in an alcove-like space, raised and sectioned off from the rest of the apartment by a half-partition, was a bed. Yak-hair curtains partly hid it—only partly, for they did not conceal the limbs and the crimson garment of the body that lay upon the gold-fringed bed-robe.
Kerth had crossed the room. Now Trent halted at the break of the partition, Hsien Sgam at his side.
The face of the sleeper (Trent knew by the fall and rise of his breast that he was not dead) was Aryan, but the shape of the eyelids and brows suggested that the eyes, when open, were oblique. Lips thin and sensitive; features of an ascetic. The skull was high and shaven as bare as if hair had never grown upon it; a white bandage covered the right temple and sloped over the dome.... Trent lifted his eyes from the pale, yellow features to Kerth, who, with a slight smile, answered the inquisitive look.
"Sâkya-mûni is the Falcon."
Trent looked down upon the wasted features; looked up again.
"He's been unconscious since noon to-day," Kerth explained. "This morning I attended a ceremony in the audience-hall. While I was saying a mantra, the idea occurred to me.... I crept into one of the corridors off the hall and hid there. When the lamas had gone, Sâkya-mûni went behind the curtains in the rear of the throne, with two attendants. Soon the attendants reappeared ... and I went up. Unfortunately, in the tussle he struck his head. I'm afraid he's done up rather badly. Take a look, major. Meanwhile, Transparency"—his eyes fastened upon the Mongol—"be seated—here."
He indicated an armchair and Hsien Sgam sat down. Trent bent over Sâkya-mûni.... After several minutes he straightened up.
"It's a bad cut, but I can't tell much without a closer examination. He has fever—pulse running up, too."
Hsien Sgam rose. "Is it quite serious, Major Trent? Do you think—"
"You will resume your seat, Transparency," ordered Kerth. The Mongol obeyed. "Now, major, tell me just what has happened to-day—and if you've learned anything about Miss Charteris."
Trent briefly summarized the situation. Kerth nodded absently when he had finished; fingered his revolver.
"We're a bit scattered," he commented. Then, after a pause: "Transparency, you will be good enough to say where you've hidden Miss Charteris."
Hsien Sgam sat like a carved Buddha; even his fingers ceased their restless playing upon the arms of the chair.
"If I refuse?"
Kerth thrust forward the blue muzzle of the revolver. "There's to be no parleying," he declared sternly, the smile gone from his face. "You've lost. Now come through."
After a moment Hsien Sgam said:
"She is at my residence."
"Good"—this from Kerth. "Before we leave you will write an order to have her taken to whatever place we specify." Then, as though dismissing that point as settled, he went on: "Hmm.... Quite scattered, I'd say: She at his house; we here; Trent's men with Na-chung; Sarojini Nanjee getting ready to leave; his Transparency's soldiers hidden at the ruined gate,"—a pause—"with orders to shoot Sarojini Nanjee.... Hmm...." Suddenly he smiled. "Excellent!... What's the hour, major?"
Trent pulled back his long sleeve. "Five to ten."
Kerth spoke to Hsien Sgam. "You will also send a guard to your men at the ruins, withdrawing them—but, no—no—won't do. Ends must meet.... We can't trust a messenger. And we must let Sarojini Nanjee leave the city, as she's planned; for she has the jewels—yet—damn!" His forehead crinkled into a frown. "Damn!" he repeated. "Ends must meet!"
Silence followed. Hsien Sgam did not stir. Once a faint sound, a shuddering sigh, came from the alcove-like space. Kerth was the first to speak, and his smile hinted that he had discovered a solution.
"You may not wholly approve, major," he began, "yet I see no other way. Why not go ahead and meet Sarojini Nanjee? Meanwhile, I'll have Miss Charteris freed, and she, in company with myself and his Transparency, can leave the city by the main gate and Amber Bridge. We'll reach the ruined gateway before you and Sarojini pass the Great Magician's Gate, which will give his Transparency time to forestall the soldiers and send them back to the city. Then we can wait, there at the gateway, for you. Sarojini may not be particularly pleased when she learns of my presence; but if she acts up, we have his Transparency to testify that she intended to do away with an officer of the empire. That ought to simplify her case."
"What of my muleteers?" Trent queried. "And Na-chung?"
"Na-chung isn't to be considered. As for your men—I can get word to them to meet us at the main gate. If there's trouble we can make good use of them. Of course, there's a risk—more for you than for me. Something might prevent us from reaching the soldiers in time, and—"
Hsien Sgam interrupted.
"You forget his Holiness. Will you leave him to die?"
"Hardly," Kerth answered. "After all that's happened, I fancy the Viceroy will be pleased to—to entertain his Holiness.... No, we sha'n't leave him to die. If all goes well, Major Trent and I can arrange to return to Lhakang-gompa."
"You think," said Hsien Sgam, "it will be easy to leave the city?"
Kerth made a deprecatory gesture. "That is not difficult. I shall ride in the sedan-chair of His Holiness Sâkya-mûni, and until we pass Amber Bridge your Transparency will sit beside me to prevent any interference with our plans. There you may change to a pony and ride between two of the major's muleteers. Your own palanquin will be put to good use, as Miss Charteris can occupy that. And after we leave Shing-tse-lunpo, then to the South—Gyangtse—and into India."
Hsien Sgam smiled—that smile of inscrutable irony.
"You are only crawling deeper into the web," he asserted quietly. "It will fall upon you and you will go—like that—" The lithe hands spread out expressively.
Kerth coolly returned his smile. "If we're caught, you'll perish with us, in the same web. Threats are useless, Transparency. The scales have tilted. And your attitude doesn't become a prisoner. We can carry out our plans with you or without you, although much smoother with you. Accept my ultimatum—unconditional surrender—or reject it."
Hsien Sgam's lips twisted into that ineffaceable smile. His quiescence was absolute.
"You understand, if I thought my—my demise would prevent you from executing your plans, I would not hesitate to—er—clog the machinery. But it would be suicide without a purpose. Therefore, I can only accept."
"Unconditionally?"
"Unconditionally."
Hsien Sgam's chin sank into his breast.
"Now, major, do you approve of my plan?" asked Kerth. "If so, we'll go to the audience hall and I'll order the men to take you to your residence, and his Transparency and I will despatch messengers for Miss Charteris and your muleteers."
Trent nodded.
Kerth placed the mitre upon his head and let the veil fall over his features. A blue steel eye glittered in the folds of his robes—an eye that was focussed upon Hsien Sgam.
"Come, Transparency!"
Kerth leading, they left Falcon's Nest; left it with its silence and its brooding secrets.