Brood of the Witch-Queen by Sax Rohmer (the top 100 crime novels of all time .TXT) 📕

kept secret the birth of her son but had secluded the child from the mother. No heir resulting from his second marriage, however, the son of Mirza became Baron Lashmore, and after death became what his mother had been before him.

“Lord Lashmore, the curse of the house of Dhoon will prevail until the Polish Jewess who originated it has been treated as her son was treated!”

“Dr. Cairn, it is not known where her husband had her body concealed. He died without revealing the secret. Do you mean that the taint, the devil’s taint, may recur⁠—Oh, my God! do you want to drive me mad?”

“I do not mean that after so many generations which have been free from it, the vampirism will arise again in your blood; but I mean that the spirit, the unclean, awful spirit of that vampire woman, is still earthbound. The son was freed, and with him went the hereditary taint, it seems; but the mother was not freed! Her body was decapitated, but her vampire soul cannot go upon its appointed course until the ancient ceremonial has been performed!”

Lord Lashmore passed his hand across his eyes.

“You daze me, Dr. Cairn. In brief, what do you mean?”

“I mean that the spirit of Mirza is to this day loose upon the world, and is forced, by a deathless, unnatural longing to seek incarnation in a human body. It is such awful pariahs as this, Lord Lashmore, that constitute the danger of so-called spiritualism. Given suitable conditions, such a spirit might gain control of a human being.”

“Do you suggest that the spirit of the second lady⁠—”

“It is distinctly possible that she haunts her descendants. I seem to remember a tradition of Dhoon Castle, to the effect that births and deaths are heralded by a woman’s mocking laughter?”

“I, myself, heard it on the night⁠—I became Lord Lashmore.”

“That is the spirit who was known, in life, as Mirza, Lady Lashmore!”

“But⁠—”

“It is possible to gain control of such a being.”

“By what means?”

“By unhallowed means; yet there are those who do not hesitate to employ them. The danger of such an operation is, of course, enormous.”

“I perceive, Dr. Cairn, that a theory, covering the facts of my recent experiences, is forming in your mind.”

“That is so. In order that I may obtain corroborative evidence, I should like to call at your place this evening. Suppose I come ostensibly to see Lady Lashmore?”

Lord Lashmore was watching the speaker.

“There is someone in my household whose suspicions you do not wish to arouse?” he suggested.

“There is. Shall we make it nine o’clock?”

“Why not come to dinner?”

“Thanks all the same, but I think it would serve my purpose better if I came later.”

Dr. Cairn and his son dined alone together in Half-Moon Street that night.

“I saw Antony Ferrara in Regent Street today,” said Robert Cairn. “I was glad to see him.”

Dr. Cairn raised his heavy brows.

“Why?” he asked.

“Well, I was half afraid that he might have left London.”

“Paid a visit to Myra Duquesne in Inverness?”

“It would not have surprised me.”

“Nor would it have surprised me, Rob, but I think he is stalking other game at present.”

Robert Cairn looked up quickly.

“Lady Lashmore,” he began⁠—

“Well?” prompted his father.

“One of the Paul Pry brigade who fatten on scandal sent a veiled paragraph in to us at The Planet yesterday, linking Ferrara’s name with Lady Lashmores’. Of course we didn’t use it; he had come to the wrong market; but⁠—Ferrara was with Lady Lashmore when I met him today.”

“What of that?”

“It is not necessarily significant, of course; Lord Lashmore in all probability will outlive Ferrara, who looked even more pallid than usual.”

“You regard him as an utterly unscrupulous fortune-hunter?”

“Certainly.”

“Did Lady Lashmore appear to be in good health?”

“Perfectly.”

“Ah!”

A silence fell, of some considerable duration, then:

“Antony Ferrara is a menace to society,” said Robert Cairn. “When I meet the reptilian glance of those black eyes of his and reflect upon what the man has attempted⁠—what he has done⁠—my blood boils. It is tragically funny to think that in our new wisdom we have abolished the only laws that could have touched him! He could not have existed in Ancient Chaldea, and would probably have been burnt at the stake even under Charles II; but in this wise twentieth century he dallies in Regent Street with a prominent society beauty and laughs in the face of a man whom he has attempted to destroy!”

“Be very wary,” warned Dr. Cairn. “Remember that if you died mysteriously tomorrow, Ferrara would be legally immune. We must wait, and watch. Can you return here tonight, at about ten o’clock?”

“I think I can manage to do so⁠—yes.”

“I shall expect you. Have you brought up to date your record of those events which we know of, together with my notes and explanations?”

“Yes, sir, I spent last evening upon the notes.”

“There may be something to add. This record, Rob, one day will be a weapon to destroy an unnatural enemy. I will sign two copies tonight and lodge one at my bank.”

X The Laughter

Lady Lashmore proved to be far more beautiful than Dr. Cairn had anticipated. She was a true brunette with a superb figure and eyes like the darkest passion flowers. Her creamy skin had a golden quality, as though it had absorbed within its velvet texture something of the sunshine of the South.

She greeted Dr. Cairn without cordiality.

“I am delighted to find you looking so well, Lady Lashmore,” said the doctor. “Your appearance quite confirms my opinion.”

“Your opinion of what, Dr. Cairn?”

“Of the nature of your recent seizure. Sir Elwin Groves invited my opinion and I gave it.”

Lady Lashmore paled perceptibly.

“Lord Lashmore, I know,” she said, “was greatly concerned, but indeed it was nothing serious⁠—”

“I quite agree. It was due to nervous excitement.”

Lady Lashmore held a fan before her face.

“There have been recent happenings,” she said⁠—“as no doubt you are aware⁠—which must have shaken anyone’s nerves. Of course, I am familiar with your reputation, Dr. Cairn, as a psychical specialist⁠—?”

“Pardon me, but from whom have you learnt of it?”

“From Mr. Ferrara,” she