Dope by Sax Rohmer (desktop ebook reader txt) π
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- Author: Sax Rohmer
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βRight!β cried the Sergeant.
The blows ceased.
Firmly grasping the bar, Burton brought all his weight to bear upon it. There was a dull, cracking sound and a sort of rasping. The door moved slightly.
βThere's where it locks!β said the Inspector, directing the light of a lantern upon the crevice created. βThree inches lower. But it may be bolted as well.β
βWe'll soon get at the bolts,β replied Burton, the lust of destruction now strong upon him.
Wrenching the crowbar from its place he attacked the lower panel of the door, and amid a loud splintering and crashing created a hole big enough to allow of the passage of a hand and arm.
The Inspector reached in, groped about, and then uttered an exclamation of triumph.
βI've unfastened the bolt,β he said. βIf there isn't another at the top you ought to be able to force the door now, Burton.β
The jimmy was thrust back into position, and:
βStand clear!β cried Burton.
Again he threw his weight upon the barβand again.
βDrive it further in!β said Monte Irvin; and snatching up the heavy hammer, he rained blows upon the steel butt. βNow try.β
Burton exerted himself to the utmost.
βTake hold up here, someone!β he panted. βTwo of us can pull.β
Gray leapt forward, and the pair of them bent to the task.
There came a dull report of parting mechanism, more sounds of splintering wood... and the door rolled open!
A moment of tense silence, then:
βIs anyone inside there?β cried the Inspector loudly.
Not a sound came from the dark interior.
βThe lantern!β whispered Monte Irvin.
He stumbled into the room, from which a heavy smell of perfume swept out upon the landing. Quentin Gray, snatching the lantern from the floor, where it had been replaced, was the next to enter.
βLook for the switch, and turn the lights on!β called the Inspector, following.
Even as he spoke, Gray had found the switch, and the apartment of Kazmah became flooded with subdued light.
A glance showed it to be unoccupied.
Gray ran across to the mushrabiyeh cabinet and jerked the curtains aside. There was no one in the cabinet. It contained a chair and a table. Upon the latter was a telephone and some papers and books. βThis way!β he cried, his voice high pitched and unnatural.
He burst through the doorway into the inner room which he had seen Mrs. Irvin enter. The air was laden with the smell of frankincense.
βA lantern!β he called. βI left one on the divan.β
But Monte Irvin had caught it up and was already at his elbow. His hand was shaking so that the light danced wildly now upon the carpet, now upon the green walls. This room also was deserted. A black gap in the curtain showed where the material had been roughly torn. Suddenly:
βMy God, look!β muttered the Inspector, who, with the others, now stood in the curious draped apartment.
A thin stream of blood was trickling out from beneath the torn hangings!
Monte Irvin staggered and fell back against the Inspector, clutching at him for support. But Sergeant Burton, who carried the second lantern, crossed the room and wrenched the green draperies bodily from their fastenings.
They had masked a wooden partition or stout screen, having an aperture in the centre which could be closed by means of another of the sliding doors. A space some five feet deep was thus walled off from this second room. It contained a massive ebony chair. Behind the chair, and dividing the second room into yet a third section, extended another wooden partition in one end of which was an ordinary office door; and immediately at the back of the chair appeared a little opening or window, some three feet up from the floor. The sound of a groan, followed by that of a dull thud, came from the outer room.
βHullo!β cried Inspector Whiteleaf. βMr. Irvin has fainted. Lend a hand.β
βI am here,β replied the quiet voice of Seton Pasha.
βMy God!β whispered Gray. βSeton! Seton!β
βTouch nothing,β cried the Inspector from outside, βuntil I come!β
And now the narrow apartment became filled with all the awe-stricken company, only excepting Monte Irvin, and Brisley, who was attending to the swooning man.
Flat upon the floor, between the door and the ebony chair, arms extended and eyes staring upward at the ceiling, lay Sir Lucien Pyne, his white shirt front redly dyed. In the hush which had fallen, the footsteps of Inspector Whiteleaf sounded loudly as he opened the final door, and swept the interior of an inner room with the rays of the lantern.
The room was barely furnished as an office. There was another half-glazed door opening on to a narrow corridor. This door was locked.
βPyne!β whispered Gray, pale now to the lips. βDo you understand, Seton? It's Pyne! Look! He has been stabbed!β
Sergeant Burton knelt down and gingerly laid his hand upon the stained linen over the breast of Sir Lucien.
βDead?β asked the Inspector, speaking from the inner doorway.
βYes.β
βYou say, sir,β turning to Quentin Gray, βthat this is Sir Lucien Pyne?β
βYes.β
Inspector Whiteleaf rather clumsily removed his cap. The odor of Seton's cheroot announced itself above the oriental perfume with which the place was laden.
βBurton!β
βYes?β
βSee if this telephone in the office is in order. It appears to be an extension from the outer room.β
While the others stood grouped about that still figure on the floor, Sergeant Burton entered the little office.
βHello!β he cried. βYes?β A momentary interval, then: βIt's all right, sir. What number?β
βGentlemen,β said the Inspector, firmly and authoritatively, βI am about to telephone to Vine Street for instructions. No one will leave the premises.β
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