The Devil Doctor | Page 8

himself up on to the wooden ledge above the door and swung thence into the
darkened room, I followed and was in close upon his heels. But I admired him, for he had
every ampère of his self-possession in hand; my own case was different.
He spoke close to my ear.
"Is your hand steady? We may have to shoot."
I thought of Kâramanèh, of lovely dark-eyed Kâramanèh, whom this wonderful, evil
product of secret China had stolen from me--for so I now adjudged it.

"Rely upon me!" I said grimly. "I--"
The words ceased--frozen on my tongue.
There are things that one seeks to forget, but it is my lot often to remember the sound
which at that moment literally struck me rigid with horror. Yet it was only a groan; but,
merciful God! I pray that it may never be my lot to listen to such a groan again.
Smith drew a sibilant breath.
"It's Eltham!" he whispered hoarsely, "they're torturing--"
"No, no!" screamed a woman's voice--a voice that thrilled me anew, but with another
emotion. "Not that, not--"
I distinctly heard the sound of a blow. Followed a sort of vague scuffling. A door
somewhere at the back of the house opened--and shut again. Some one was coming along
the passage towards us!
"Stand back!" Smith's voice was low, but perfectly steady. "Leave it to me!"
Nearer came the footsteps and nearer. I could hear suppressed sobs. The door opened,
admitting again the faint light--and Kâramanèh came in. The place was quite unfurnished,
offering no possibility of hiding; but to hide was unnecessary.
Her slim figure had not crossed the threshold ere Smith had his arm about the girl's waist
and one hand clapped to her mouth. A stifled gasp she uttered, and he lifted her into the
room.
"Shut the door, Petrie," he directed.
I stepped forward and closed the door. A faint perfume stole to my nostrils--a vague,
elusive breath of the East, reminiscent of strange days that, now, seemed to belong to a
remote past. Kâramanèh! that faint, indefinable perfume was part of her dainty
personality; it may appear absurd--impossible--but many and many a time I had dreamt
of it.
"In my breast pocket," rapped Smith; "the light."
I bent over the girl as he held her. She was quite still, but I could have wished that I had
had more certain mastery of myself. I took the torch from Smith's pocket and,
mechanically, directed it upon the captive.
She was dressed very plainly, wearing a simple blue skirt, and white blouse. It was easy
to divine that it was she whom Eltham had mistaken for a French maid. A brooch set with
a ruby was pinned at the point where the blouse opened--gleaming fierily and harshly
against the soft skin. Her face was pale and her eyes wide with fear.

"There is some cord in my right-hand pocket," said Smith. "I came provided. Tie her
wrists."
I obeyed him, silently. The girl offered no resistance, but I think I never essayed a less
congenial task than that of binding her white wrists. The jewelled fingers lay quite
listlessly in my own.
"Make a good job of it!" rapped Smith significantly.
A flush rose to my cheeks, for I knew well enough what he meant.
"She is fastened," I said, and I turned the ray of the torch upon her again.
Smith removed his hand from her mouth but did not relax his grip of her. She looked up
at me with eyes in which I could have sworn there was no recognition. But a flush
momentarily swept over her face, and left it pale again.
"We shall have to--gag her--"
"Smith, I can't do it!"
The girl's eyes filled with tears and she looked up at my companion pitifully.
"Please don't be cruel to me," she whispered, with that soft accent which always played
havoc with my composure. "Every one--every one--is cruel to me. I will promise--indeed
I will swear, to be quiet. Oh, believe me, if you can save him I will do nothing to hinder
you." Her beautiful head drooped. "Have some pity for me as well."
"Kâramanèh," I said, "we would have believed you once. We cannot now."
She started violently.
"You know my name!" Her voice was barely audible. "Yet I have never seen you in my
life--"
"See if the door locks," interrupted Smith harshly.
Dazed by the apparent sincerity in the voice of our lovely captive--vacant from wonder of
it all--I opened the door, felt for, and found, a key.
We left Kâramanèh crouching against the wall; her great eyes were turned towards me
fascinatedly. Smith locked the door with much care. We began a tip-toed progress along
the dimly-lighted passage.
From beneath a door on the left, and