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Read book online ยซThe Jade God by Alan Sullivan (snow like ashes series txt) ๐Ÿ“•ยป.   Author   -   Alan Sullivan



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I have my reasons. It may be that there are now assembled all those who were here two years ago, and the Millicents are not far away. One of these men was in the grounds of Beech Lodge when its master met his death, Perkins; was the other here, too?โ€

He shot out these last words in a tone so sharp and commanding that the woman quailed visibly. Her fascinated eyes were fixed on him in a stare that began to be strangely hypnotic, till it seemed that she was receding visibly from his reach, dwindling to a distance, and leaving behind her only a baffling intelligence that mocked and dared him to follow if he could. She had recoiled, but with her secret locked tighter than ever. He became aware that fear, though fear was in her every motion, could not conquer her. She relied apparently on powers that from long use had become stronger than fear. When at last she spoke, it was as though a safe distance had been established and her spirit had caught its breath again. She seemed now safe from further probing.

โ€œI have told you already what happened that night, how I found the masterโ€โ โ€”here she hesitated a littleโ โ€”โ€œand then went for Martin. There was no one at the cottage but him. There is nothing else to be said.โ€

โ€œAnd Blunt,โ€ he said again. โ€œThe man who will be here in a few minutes, the man who is so anxious to enter this room, has he never been here before?โ€

โ€œI am not Bluntโ€™s keeper,โ€ she parried. โ€œI do not know, butโ€โ โ€”and at this point an extraordinary light flickered through her dull eyesโ โ€”โ€œhe may have been. I cannot see in the dark.โ€

โ€œHe made an offer for something this afternoon,โ€ said Derrick quietly, โ€œsomething that seemed of little worth to me.โ€

She looked at him silently, as though in contempt of his childishness.

He felt in his pocket and leaned forward. โ€œThe offer was for the original of this,โ€ he replied, and put the wax image on the desk immediately in front of him.

In the next moment he snatched it away. Perkins, springing with convulsive strength, had laid her nervous grip on the model, her eyes suddenly ablaze with mad cupidity. In a fraction of time she was transfigured into a wild thing dominated by one uncontrollable desire, and her movement had the swiftness of light. Her hands closed like claws, but even as she touched the thing her grip relaxed, for in that instant she knew it was not real. She sent Derrick the same strange look of baffled incredulity he had received from the peddler, then sank back in her chair, trembling and unnerved. Her gaze rested on what lay safe in his grasp, wandered to the picture of her master, and round the paneled walls, searching for what she knew must be somewhere close at hand. The hunger in her eyes slackened, becoming reborn again as though fanned into life by this knowledge, till again she was almost a demon, urged by some driving force, terrible in its power.

Once more the light faded, the tense figure slowly relaxed, the face resumed the sphinx-like character to which he was so well accustomed, and there was before him the former Perkins, silent, mysterious, and remote. She quivered as though from the storm that had passed over her and, with her body limp, waited for what might come.

โ€œDoes Martin want the real image, too, like yourself and Blunt?โ€ he asked deliberately.

She remained silent, her lips pressed tight.

โ€œThen what is this thing?โ€

Even while he spoke there came to him the certain knowledge that in the emerald depths of the hidden figure lay that which passed manโ€™s understanding. Nor could any man tell how this should be. The fact was potent enough, and, as to the rest, it mattered not when or why. The tiny god exemplified something for which there was no explanation. It was absurd to expect Perkins to make one. It rested in the abyss that yawns at the feet of all, whether they see it or not. Sometimes one might touch it in the darkness, only to lose it. The thought of it imposed sudden silence in careless hours and made the lips dry and the blood tingle as it does when we feel on our brows the touch of vanished fingers, and out of nothingness comes the echo of a remembered voice. No, there was no explanation. Perkins spoke after a stinging pause.

โ€œWhere did you find it? I mean the other?โ€

โ€œIt found me. Can you understand that?โ€

She nodded, her eyes still wide. โ€œAll the time I knew it was here. I could hear it talking, talking in the dark.โ€

โ€œIt has been there for two years, and I do not know how much longer. Did it send the fear that was worse than death?โ€

โ€œWhat else could have sent it? But it was not on his desk when I found him.โ€

โ€œThen if the man who killed your master had captured this as he hoped, there would have been no death here that night?โ€

โ€œNo,โ€ she whispered, โ€œno death, and perhaps no fear.โ€

โ€œSo that the man who wanted it then may after all be the same as the one who wants it now, and, having washed his hands, he returns for what he then sought?โ€

Again the sudden light in the baffling eyes, as of torches lit in the gloom. Derrick saw it and racked his brain. It was not an old thought that moved behind the mask now, but some conception new to that mysterious mentality. Were Blunt indeed the criminal, and assuming his return to recapture his prize, why should the suggestion of this produce so vivid a reaction? If this were the truth, why conceal it? What could this woman lose by coming into the open? She would write herself down a liar, and an innocent man be avenged. No, there was something else, and it beckoned a mystical finger to Derrickโ€™s imagination and invited him on. The grim

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