The Doomsman by Van Tassel Sutphen (books to get back into reading .txt) 📕

to the temple of the Shining One they stopped and listened. The air was all tremulous with the hum of the rapidly revolving dynamos, the thud of the reciprocating machinery, and the grinding of the badly lubricated shafting.

Piers Minor knew that he was horribly afraid, but for very shame he could not hold back. Together they stole a little way within the vaulted entrance and listened again. Nothing but the roar of the machinery. The vast hall would have been in utter darkness save for the glare of the conflagration; as it was, they could see clearly that there was nobody within.

"The little room beyond," said Nanna, and shivered. These were forbidden sights for a woman's eyes, and the god would be very angry. Yet it must be done. They joined hands like two children and went forward.

Now they stood, wondering, within the little room with its low ceiling and bare white walls. Could it be that so great a god as the Shining One could dwell here? An empty room, save for the oak chair standing in the middle of the floor and that curious-appearing board fixed against the wall, with its multiplicity of keys, knobs, and levers. That was all, and yet a vague terror laid its hand upon them; they remained motionless and speechless.

Something, some one had entered the room—slow footsteps and the rustle of trailing garments. Then the sound of a lever snapped to its connecting points,[Pg 270] and the great, shining face flamed out of the darkness. In his intense absorption, the old priest saw nothing of the two who also waited there. Advancing to the centre of the room, he stood and looked upon the countenance of the Shining One, while a man might count twoscore. Then he spoke, slowly and hesitatingly, as one who excuses himself of grievous fault:

"Let the Shining One be content—it is accomplished. And now, O father, have mercy. For the sins of thy people—a sacrifice——"

With unfaltering step he walked to the great chair and seated himself. Then, in a clear voice, "Lord—if indeed thou art lord——" There was the click of a switch-key; the man's body half rose from its seat and sank back again.

Piers Minor felt the girl's dead weight thrown suddenly upon him. "Nanna!" he cried, and she responded bravely, fighting with all her strength against the inflowing tide of faintness. One forward step, taken with infinite precaution, and then another. The stillness remained unbroken.

The great chair stood with its back towards them, and they could not see the seated figure. But Piers Minor caught one glimpse of a hand gripped hard upon the chair arm, and he saw that it was burned hard and black as a coal. Now the door was within reach and they passed out. In the little room, Prosper, the priest, sat upon the knees of the Shining One, and the great, white face looked down upon him.

Not an instant too soon had Piers Minor and Nanna reached the open street. The wind had shifted back[Pg 271] to the northwest, and the fire, breaking out in one place after another from the gale-scattered brands, was coming down upon them in great bounds, as though it were some gigantic beast of prey. A suffocating smoke choked their throats and nostrils; they could neither speak nor breathe. Then, by the mercy of God, a fierce counter-current drove the smoke back a little way; they ran at full speed towards the south-east. Now they stopped an instant to refill their panting lungs, then on again, for the air about them was full of flying sparks that stung the unprotected flesh and even burned holes in their clothing of stout woollen. On and on, till their heads felt light as a child's toy balloon and the blood in their ears pounded like a mill-wheel. Piers Minor stumbled and fell.

"I am blind," he gasped. "Leave me." But Nanna would not give over, tugging at the man's weight until she had him to his feet again, with a convenient railing at his back. She picked up some water from the gutter with her hands held cup-wise, and dashed the liquid in his face. Piers Minor straightened up, and from his eyes the darkness cleared away.

"Courage!" she said, and he smiled back at her.

There was the shining of the river; now they could see the pier and the boats of the shad-fishers lying alongside. Piers Minor cast off the largest and most seaworthy-looking of the lot, and, without troubling to bail out the standing water, he brought the craft broadside to the wharf and held out his hand to Nanna. But she, looking to the northward, where the gilded cupola of Arcadia House shone out against the sky, neither moved nor spoke.

"Come," he said.[Pg 272]

The girl turned. "She is there," she said, and pointed to the north. "I must go to her—my little sister."

Piers Minor swung himself up on the wharf and seized her.

"You shall not," he said.

She tried to wrench herself free; she struck him full in the face. But Piers Minor only smiled grimly and held on the tighter. And then, to his astonishment, this tiger-cat became suddenly metamorphosed into a dove. Her breast heaved, and she turned her head away; he knew that she was weeping just like any other woman. Whereat Piers Minor smiled again, but not grimly, and held her a little closer.

"Listen," he said, and forced her gently to look at him. "It is impossible to reach Arcadia House; even now the fire is there before you. You must believe that Constans received the message and was able to get there in time. Believe it, because it is I who tell you."

She did believe, but, being a woman, she hesitated again—at the very brink of surrender.

"Let me go," she said, in a low tone, and Piers Minor was so astonished that he immediately complied, and stood looking at her helplessly. But when, coloring like a rose and with downcast eyes, she would have passed him, the masculine instinct of possession awoke again; he barred the way determinedly.

A little distance away an enormous brick storehouse was burning fiercely. A tremendous explosion threw a roof bodily into the air; a shower of incandescent particles descended and drove directly at the [Pg 273]fugitives. Nanna felt herself lifted bodily off her feet and swept with a rush down the wharf. One little gulp of regret for her lost independence and she yielded—deliciously. The boat rocked from side to side, then it shot out upon the open river.

Piers Minor had stopped rowing, for the sparks no longer fell about them. The spectacle of the burning city was a magnificent one. The inverted bowl of the sky shone as though it were made of copper, and the gale had flattened out the flames horizontally so that they resembled the flying masses of a woman's unbound hair.

Nanna's eyes filled with tears.

"It was my world," she said, softly, "the only one I knew."

"Nanna!" said Piers Minor. She let her hand rest in his, and the boat floated on.[Pg 274]

XXVIII

IN THE FULNESS OF TIME

The streets were as light as noonday, and Constans found no difficulty in keeping the dying figure in sight. But, run as he would, he could not gain a yard.

"Arcadia House," muttered Constans, under his breath, as he noticed the direction taken by the runner. What more natural than that a man should seek his own home at such a time? But Constans's brow was clouded as he followed in Quinton Edge's footsteps.

Arcadia House, and why? There could be but one answer to that question after Nanna's message, conveyed to him through Ulick's dying lips. Esmay had disappeared, and yet had remained in Arcadia House. He, who knew Quinton Edge, would understand.

Constans told himself grimly that he did understand. This insolent wanted the girl, just as he had desired many another thing in life, and it had always been his way to take what he coveted. But this time—Constans set his teeth hard, and now, at last, Arcadia House was in sight.

During this last quarter of an hour the progress of the conflagration had been perceptibly slower, and the great sheaf of flame in the western sky had almost[Pg 275] disappeared. It was like the lull that so often takes place in a storm, a period of sudden quiet in the element strife that should warn the prudent that the worst is still to come. To Constans it was the most fortunate of happenings, the comparative darkness enabling him to keep close upon Quinton Edge without risk of discovery.

As though satisfied that he had arrived in time, Quinton Edge now slackened his pace, making for the gateway on the side street. Whereupon Constans determined to scale the wall at the rear and take the short cut through the garden, so as to intercept the Doomsman at the entrance. Once over the wall, the way was clear. Disdaining caution, he crashed recklessly through the shrubbery, the wet and tangled grass wrapping itself exasperatingly about his ankles as he ran. At the carriage-drive he stopped, flinging himself full length on the ground and close against the wall that marked the sunken way. The run had winded him, and he was thankful for the moment's breathing-space.

From where Constans lay he could command sight of the north terrace that connected the porticos of the river and western fronts. Suddenly it seemed to him that the terrace was occupied by some living thing. A moment before he had noticed a darker blur in the shadows at the river corner; it had appeared to move. He heard a soft padding on the flag-stones as of an animal moving cautiously. He strained his eyes, striving to resolve that dusky blotch into shape intelligible; then a new burst of flame lit up the western sky and he saw clearly—it was Fangs, the hound.

The dog stood motionless, her head thrown upward[Pg 276] as though listening. She could not possibly see Constans where he lay, but the smallest noise must betray him.

His revolver was in a side pocket, and he drew it forth with infinite care. Then he discovered that it was unloaded and that he had no more cartridges. His knife also had disappeared from its sheath; he realized that he was absolutely unarmed and helpless.

The hound leaped lightly from the terrace and began ranging in great half-circles. Constans looked on with fascinated eyes. It could be a matter of seconds only when she must cross his scent, and he knew that she would remember it—there was a blood-feud between them—the death of Blazer, who had been her mate.

The pass-key rattled in the lock of the postern-door, and Quinton Edge entered the sunken way. Fangs heard the noise, hesitated a moment, then tossed her black muzzle in the air and bounded forward to meet her master. Constans wiped away the sweat that was blinding his eyes and waited. Quinton Edge, with the hound by his side, went up the steps leading to the terrace.

Some one came forward to meet him—a slim, womanish figure dressed in white. Constans's heart gave a great bound, for who but Esmay carried her small head with so irresistible a grace. She held out her hands as Quinton Edge reached her side, but he crushed her into his arms and kissed her on the lips. They walked slowly along the terrace, turned the corner of the eastern portico, and disappeared. Constans, running up, was just an instant too late; he heard Quinton Edge calling the dog inside, then the sound of the closing door.[Pg 277]

By a supreme exercise of will Constans stopped short of the insanity that impelled him to thunder on the barrier and demand admittance. Yet he must gain instant entrance to the house, and he ran around the terrace to the river portico. As he had expected, the hall-door was fastened, but he had no difficulty in forcing one of the long windows of the drawing-room; he stepped into the dark and empty room and stood listening.

There was perfect silence everywhere, but he could not trust to it—eyes and ears might be in waiting at every turn, and, above all, there was the dog. He wondered that the hound had not already detected his presence in the house, and his pulse thumped at the thought; he fancied that he could hear deep breathing and the oncoming of padded feet.

The minutes passed, and the silence remained unbroken. Then the sense of his cowardice smote him; the jaws of the brute would be preferable to this intolerable inaction, and he went forward through the half-opened door and into the main hall.

This, too, was empty, and, having windows that faced the west,