Chapter III: Part 3

"After all, it is the giver, not the gift," she said, advancing with a blush to Count Heindrich, "and 'twas how the order originated," and she handed the pretty bauble to him. It was a dainty notion, cleverly conceived and cleverly carried out, and I could see from the flush that mantled the heavy face of the man that he was her slave from that time.

This incident had hardly terminated, when there was a knock on a door of the room situated beyond the council table and immediately opposite where I stood, and the equerry hastily went out, closing the door behind him. He re-entered almost immediately, bearing a small scrap of paper, twisted in the form of a note, which he handed to the Duchess, who opened and read it.

"Gentlemen," she said, "I am compelled to break up the meeting, and to ask you to retire at once, and by the usual exit."

As soon as their footsteps had died away, the Duchess rose to her feet, and went slowly towards the wall. As she did so, the electric light in her room was suddenly extinguished, while mine became a blaze of light, and at the same time the heavy curtains dividing the rooms rolled wide apart.

The Duchess regarded me for a minute with a quiet smile, then--

"Good evening, Mr. Darcy," she said; "our poor houses seem to have an attraction for you; but may I venture to point out that private houses in Bloomsbury are not such public property as the walks at Felixstowe. Or perhaps," she went on, before I could open my mouth, "another trusty sword has come to range itself under my banner," and she pointed at my weapon.

I shook my head impatiently. "Your Highness knows well enough why I am here," I said, sternly.

"But that is just what Her Highness does not know," she said, petulantly. "Can it be possible you are on the other side--on Baby-face's side?"

"I am on the side where an English gentleman ought to be," I answered, "on the side of justice against injustice, of trust against black deceit, and of innocence against infamy."

"For one who does not know her, you sum up my pretty cousin's virtues very well indeed," she cried. "That is just what she is: trustful and innocent. Ten thousand curses on her doll's face! Fancy that baby on the throne of Schwannenwald in such times as are coming. But she shall never have it."

At that instant the clash of steel upon steel rang through the house. The Duchess sprang away from me as though I had pricked her with my sword.

"Heindrich! Von Zahn!" she called, shrilly, but only the Count rushed into the room. "That man must not escape," she cried, as she ran quickly past him, and out of the door beyond.

But I had no intention of attempting to escape. Now, if at all, was the time arrived when I was to earn that roll of notes which Von Bieberstein had forced on me that morning. I had taken up my position at the door by which I had entered, and waited sword in hand. Nor had I long to wait. With an oath the Count sprang towards me, and as our swords touched I knew I had to deal with an ugly customer.

For some few minutes we fought in silence, and indeed it was all I could do to guard myself from the furious lunges of the Count, and before we had been five minutes at the game I knew the man was my master in fence, and that if I could withstand him for as long again it would be as much as I could do. At the same instant that I recognised this fact, I heard Von Bieberstein's voice below.

"Darcy! Darcy!" it cried, "come on, man."

But whether he called for aid or to warn me I had no means of telling, nor did I dare take my eyes off the Count for a second.

"I am here!" I shouted, as loud as I could, but indeed it was a poor shout at best, as I was well-nigh winded.

At that moment, and by the same trick of fence that Von Bieberstein had used that morning, the Count disarmed me, and my weapon flew jangling against the wall of the room. I heard a hurrying step, a revolver was fired, so close to my ear that it well-nigh deafened me, and the Count, his arm drawn back for the lunge that was to finish me, fell headlong towards me.

"Run, man, for your life," I heard Von Bieberstein's voice say, "we are safer on a volcano than here," and he started off down the passage. I raced after him: down the staircase I tore, and through the open door. I heard a low roar behind me, a sheet of red flame appeared before my eyes, and I remembered no more.

It seems that, after I had left him in the house in Great Coram Square, he had made his way to the Princess Elsa's apartments, and after some difficulty had persuaded her to listen to him. She was on the point of accompanying him from the house, when Von Zahn, who may or may not have suspected something, had come upon and immediately attacked him. He was, however, no match for his antagonist, and Von Bieberstein had, after two minutes, passed his sword through his body. It was the clash of their swords that had alarmed the Duchess when she was with me.

Von Bieberstein, after hastily conducting the Princess to the awaiting carriage, had rushed back to the house for me, arriving in the nick of time. As he had smelt burning on his second entry into the house, and guessed that the fuse connected with the dynamite had been lighted, his bravery in coming to my assistance can better be imagined than described. It was a small portion of falling masonry from the front of the house that had knocked me senseless, and indeed nearly killed me.

The Princess returned safely to Schwannenwald, but when I had nearly recovered my health and strength, Von Bieberstein announced she was on her way back to London again, her father having died, and had taken a suite of apartments at L----'s Hotel, and there we also took up our abode.

But it was not until the day following her arrival that Von Bieberstein announced to me that Her Highness awaited my attendance on her.

She was standing by the open window when I went in (for it was late in June), and she turned to me with a smile. "Your face is not altogether unfamiliar to me, Mr. Darcy," she said, "but I never thought I should be under such obligations to the owner."

"I am always your Highness's most obedient servant," I said, sinking on my knee.

"Nay," she returned, raising me, "if that were so, we should have to put you in livery, and the most I could do would be to let you choose your own."

"I should choose green and tan," I said, enthusiastically.

"That would be rather bizarre for a man, would it not?" she smiled.

"I venture to think otherwise, your Highness," I rejoined.

"Nevertheless, I should not like it," she said.

"Gold is a pretty colour," said I, looking at her hair, "or blue," I added, looking at her eyes.

A blush, a frown, a smile, chased one another across her face, but the smile remained.

"I am afraid you are as foolish as you are brave, Mr. Darcy," she said; "but I shall need an extra equerry, and if you would care to enter my service permanently, the place is at your disposal."

I fell again on my knee, mumbling my acknowledgments, for indeed I had not dared to look for so much.

There was a knock at the door, and Von Bieberstein entered.

"I have offered Mr. Darcy the position of equerry in my service," began the Princess, "and he has consented to fill it. Will you see that the necessary uniforms----"

"Of green and tan," I said, softly.

"What?" ejaculated Von Bieberstein.

"I ought perhaps to have said blue and gold," I answered, as I bowed my way from the room.

Von Bieberstein looked after me anxiously, but there was a smile on the Princess's face.

Such was the way in which I became equerry to a PRINCESS IN GREEN AND TAN.

3,000 MILES ON RAILWAY SLEEPERS.

ONE ASPECT OF MY BICYCLE RIDE ROUND THE WORLD.

BY EDWARD LUNN.

_Illustrated with Photos by F. H. Lowe._

The question most frequently put to me since I returned with my two companions, Mr. Lowe and Mr. Fraser, from my cycling tour round the world has been, "What were the roads like?" and to answer this question fully would require a volume rather than a magazine article.

There were the paved roads of Belgium, the excellent military roads of Germany, the steep slopes of Austro-Hungary and Roumania, the cart-tracks of Southern Russia, the Government highway over the Caucasus, the post-road to Erivan, the camel-tracks of Persia, the Grand Trunk road of India, the bouldered highways of China, and the Tokaido of Japan, not to mention the alkali deserts of Nevada and the old Colonial roads of the Eastern States--the only thoroughfares deserving the name in the Land of the Stars and Stripes, excepting always the excellent pavements in the great American cities.

But of all the roads we traversed, the most interesting to cyclists will probably be the 2,900 miles and upwards on railway tracks that we covered in our circuit of the globe. We were first driven to these tracks in Russia, and this jolting and jarring method of progression may safely be recommended as an even better specific for liver troubles than a ride on the top of a London 'bus. We were crossing the Russian steppes. For several days we had been battling against the icy wind that blows from the Caucasus, dressed always in the light summer clothes which we wore in the smiling valleys of Roumania. The road was so sandy as to render riding impossible. We forced our way along, pushing our machines, through a blinding sandstorm, till at last we had to take to the railway track.

These tracks in Russia are better made than any we have come across elsewhere, and they are laid out with much elaboration. First, an array of stones, neatly planned in patterns like an ornamental flower bed; then the footway; then another pattern of stones, and then the line. Whenever possible, we rode on the path between the two rows of stones; but we were frequently obliged to try the sleepers, the interstices between which were to some extent filled up with "ballast," which assisted our progress materially. The trains near the Caucasus are few and far between, and did not interfere with us to any extent. On our arrival at a station, everybody seemed to think it quite natural that we should come along on the line, and we took our meals in the railway buffets, and slept in the waiting-rooms. Our railway-track riding in Russia amounted to about 150 miles.

Arriving in India, we were accompanied out of Karachi by a dozen Englishmen who were practically novices at cycling. We started on a good road, which ended a little way out of the town in deep sand, as is the way with roads in this part of India. We then suggested to our companions that we should ride on the track--a proceeding which they did not understand at all. However, they took to the idea very kindly after a time, and went with us thirty or forty miles on our way, returning by train.

We rode in this way for 800 miles, till we got within four miles of Lahore, where we struck the Grand Trunk road. At one of the little wayside stations we knocked up the native station-master and asked for food. He told us we could get nothing but rice and chupatties--a bill of fare which did not "smile upon us," as the French say.

"Are there no English people here?" we asked.

"Oh, no; no English people here--this jungle."

"But we saw some English ladies in white dresses," we persisted.

"Oh," said the official, scornfully, "those only missionary."

We had to try the railway track again in Burmah, between Rangoon and Mandalay. There was a road here once, but it has fallen into decay, and in many places is returning to the primæval jungle. In the pelting rain of a Burmese monsoon the so-called road soon became a mere quagmire. Railway-track riding in Burmah is much the same as it is in India, only that, as the climate is moister and more malarial, the adventure involves greater danger to health. The line is banked up on either side to a considerable height--a detail of which I was to have a practical and painful impression. Riding along the footpath one day, my machine stuck in the mud, and unfortunately overbalanced on the wrong side, towards the cutting, so that I could not put my foot to the ground on the other side to dismount. Down I went some ten feet--fortunately with no serious consequences--while, from the bank, my two companions greeted my achievement with loud applause.

My fall into the ditch was not the pleasanter for the probability of disturbing centipedes a foot long, cobras, and scorpions.

What food we got was more highly flavoured than the chutney and curries of India, but we appreciated the lavish supply of bananas and pineapples. One day a native station-master asked us about Lenz, the little American cyclist who went this way and was afterwards murdered in Armenia. We described his sad end, and the jovial Burman was quite overcome. "Very kind smiling face," he said, with tears in his eyes.

When we crossed the frontier into China we left railways behind, though the newspapers have informed us since we came back that a concession has been granted for a railway in Yunnan. I can only say that if that railway is ever made, it will give points to any switchback that was ever invented, so mountainous is the entire country.

When we reached America we little imagined what was before us. We had fondly believed that the most progressive country in the world would at least provide ridable roads for cyclists. But the fact is that while in old countries the road comes before the rail, in newly developed countries the rail comes before the road--and sometimes the road never comes at all. Cyclists, however, are doing a great deal to help themselves in this matter, through the medium of the League of American Wheelmen, one of the most powerful organisations in the United States.

At the Olympic Club in San Francisco we had some hints of what was to befall us. The cycling editor of Hearst's great paper, _The Examiner_, interviewed us during our stay, and gave us the chart of the route followed by the great Trans-Continental Relay race, which had taken place not long before our arrival.

We struck the railway track at Newcastle in California, and on the second day the most perilous part of our experiences in this sort of riding commenced, with our entrance to the "Snow Sheds" crossing the great Sierra Nevada range. These snow-sheds, with the exception of two bridges (of which more hereafter), extend uninterruptedly for forty-three miles, with innumerable twists and turns, and we were in semi-darkness for the entire distance. We were obliged to ride between the rails. The snow had begun to melt, and pools of water extended along either side of the lines, while between the sleepers, which were free of snow, the ice lay in great uneven hummocks. We moved on at the modest pace of some seven miles an hour through the darkness, while the noise of our three machines and the rattling of the baggage we carried prevented us from hearing anything of approaching trains till they were actually upon us. Then we had to leap from our cycles and crouch against the icy walls of the snow-shed while the train thundered past. We took our lives in our hands several times a day.

Our position was worse in this respect when we were going down the other side of the Nevada range. As we ascended, the trains had come up behind us "full steam ahead," so that we could more easily detect their approach; but as we went down from the summit, those following us on the down grade came with steam shut off, and were upon us before we could hear them.

On a bridge near Cisco an incident occurred which might have been serious for me. It is about two hundred yards long, and I was beginning to cross it, when my companions who were on in front beckoned me to stop. I thought that one of my friends wished to take a snap-shot, and stopped accordingly. However, after waiting about five minutes, as nothing happened, I went on. It was a skeleton bridge, with a framework in the middle. I had just reached the framework, carrying my machine, when I heard the shriek of an engine whistle in the shed ahead. I managed to keep my head and my balance, as a false step would have meant death. I reached the end of the bridge, and stepped on to the siding just as the train rushed past.

It was only then that I fully realised the narrow shave I had had.

We joyfully left the railway track shortly before entering Omaha, and from thence to Chicago we had roads that might, in comparison with our previous experiences, be called tolerable.

At Chicago we took to the railway track again for a short time in the suburb of Pullman; but from that point to New York we had the rare and delightful experience of riding on a "made road," with charming scenery about us. And very glad we were not to add to our record of riding 3,000 miles on railway sleepers.

THE CURSE OF THE CATSEYE

A TALE OF SINGAPORE TOLD BY THE THIRD MATE.

BY ALFRED SLADE.

_Illustrated by Ernest Prater._

It isn't my yarn at all by rights; the Second Mate commenced it, and pushed me in, in the middle. So I've annexed it; and the Second won't mind--for he's dead.

The _Mother Carey_ was not a ship to be proud of. I never knew anyone to blow about belonging to her, not even the donkeyman.

We had worked her round to Sydney all right. Then the Health Authorities ordered us off: after which we went and lay off Thursday Island till the firm who had chartered us could wire instructions.

In desperation, our people wired us to go to Singapore in ballast and get any sort of cargo there we could.

I was sorry to leave Thursday Island; the telegraph stationmaster there had a daughter. Her first name was Mary, and, if I can manage it, one of these days her second will be the same as mine.

We got a move on us and were well in the Straits by eight bells that afternoon, and it being the First Mate's watch, the Second Mate came to my cabin to smoke a bit.

"Ever been to Singapore?" he asked.

"No," I said; "never went further than Calcutta that way. Have you?"

"Yes," he answered; "it'll be just about three years ago."

"Nice place?" I asked.

"Terrible hole," he answered. "See that stone? I got that there."

I took the ring off his finger and examined it; it was worth looking at, too. Not for the mounting, which was ordinary enough, but for the jewel it held. I had never seen a stone like it before, and never again since--but I'll tell that part by-and-by.

It was something like a catseye, this jewel; but the outside was perfectly white, the interior was peculiarly greenish, and right in the centre was a spot of dazzling red like a speck of living blood. The general effect was one of a baleful fascination, repellent and at the same time invincibly attractive; and as I looked, I shuddered, yet could not turn my eyes away.

"That's the way it serves me," said the Second, who was observing. "I hate the thing, and yet I can't throw it away. And ever since I've had it, it's brought nothing but bad luck.

"I was on the _Sardanapalus_ when I had the stone first; we were caught in a monsoon in the Indian Ocean, and had to put in at Point de Galle an absolute wreck. My next ship was the _Golden Horn_; the cargo caught fire off Pernambuco, and we were taken off by one of the Brazilian Royal Mails. This'll be third trip; and I shall not live to finish it. I only hope you others'll get through all right."

"How did you come by it?" I asked, beginning, I confess, to feel a little uneasy.

"It was a rum go," answered the Second, "and I don't much like talking about it. But," he added after a moment's reflection, "I'll tell you, in case anything happens to me _there_." And he nodded ahead, where lay Singapore.

"The last time I was there," he went on, "I ran amuck. It was one of Libby's liners I was in, and you know what they are. Rations according to the Act, and as much rum as you can put on a mosquito's left eyelid. So when I went ashore with a couple of dollars I'd subbed from the skipper, I didn't want much to upset me. A bottle of Hamburg square-face soon did the trick; and before I knew where I was I found myself half-seas over.

"It was in one of those shanties back of the garrison barracks where I'd got the stuff; in the daytime respectable merchants' depôts, at night half grog-shop and half opium-den. The long, low, narrow room was divided into two by strips of bamboo matting; I was in the front part at a sort of rude table, alone with my square-face; the back was filled with a crowd of Parsees, squatting in a circle, and gabbling. Between us was a hole for the ladder that went to the cellar, whence came the oppressing fumes of opium; and at the back of the inner room was a door in the wooden wall, opening on a staircase that led to the apartments above.

"I remember all that distinctly; but I don't remember much else. Alone with the noise and smoke and the intoxicating smell of the East that lay all around me, and stupefied by the atmosphere no less than by drink, I must have rested long in a sort of dream.

"I seemed to wake and shiver, and, sitting up, saw the dawn rising in flames of gold. On the floor were people sleeping. I tried to stand up, but felt languid and oppressed, and I sank in my seat, and would have gone to sleep again.

"Then the door from above opened, and a girl came down. And all at once, in spite of myself, and in a manner I cannot explain, all my languor left me and a fever filled my veins. I rose, and, walking across the sleeping bodies, went near to her, threw aside her veil, bent down, and kissed her on the mouth.

"She did not move or speak; only a shudder went through her, and it was not of fear or aversion.

"I drew from her at last, and, the light creeping up through the windows, could look at her.

"She was not a Malay; she was not, I thought, a Hindoo: something of a Cingalese, a Cingalese of the hill-tops, nearly white, of features almost classic, a nose finely Hebraic, and eyes of an Aryan gipsy.

"'I have been watching you,' she said, in perfect English; 'watching and waiting. Did you not feel the incense in your nostrils--that was my love-spell. And it has worked.'

"Again I stooped and kissed her.

"'I like that,' she said, with a little laugh. 'It is a good thing of the white men's. See, I will try to act thus also,' and she in her turn had reached up and kissed me.

"I leaned forward to seize her, but she slid through my grasp and had flown up the stairs.

"'To-night,' she whispered, 'by the old pagoda, I will weave you another love-spell.'

"Then she came down a step. 'Look well to yourself here,' she whispered again; 'there is danger. Take this--it is an amulet--it will protect you,' and she had flown away out of sight, leaving in my hand a tiny square of ivory hollowed through the centre.

"I stood for a minute as in a trance; between my feet I saw a body, and, as I looked, one of its eyes, it seemed, was watching me.

"Had it been there all the while? I did not think so. Yet, looking again, it was not watching me at all; its eyes were firmly closed, and it was sleeping. Yet a fear crept into my heart, and instinctively I felt in my belt for my revolver. It was not there; it was not on the table; it was nowhere.

"And all my courage went from me, and I staggered across the sleeping men and burst through the fragile door and fell out into the sun. And without stopping I ran as hard as I could to the ship, sweating with a terror I dare not think about.

"The boatswain was washing down with the steam hose; I stripped and stood in front of it and took a bath that way. It steadied my nerves, and the bright sea and the bright sunshine did the rest.

"I was at the pagoda that night, sober, without even a cigar, but with another pistol in my belt. It was a weird place.

"Not a soul was in sight. The pagoda was dark and empty. The only sound I could hear was the ripple of the waves on the distant shore.

"All sorts of fancies crept into my brain; I tried in vain to put them away. At last I tried to go. I could not; I was as if rooted to the spot.

"I looked around and fancied I was going mad, and I laughed. And the echoes came back from all around, so that the air seemed full of mocking devils, and I turned round and round to see whence came the sound.

"There was a figure bowing before me, and a voice said: 'Salaam, Sahib,' and in front, by the light of the moon, I saw a man.

"'I have a token for my lord,' he said, 'from one he loves, who begs him to accept it and so depart,' and he handed me the stone you have seen.

"'Stop,' I cried, taking it. 'Are you her servant?'

"'The Flower of the Cinnamon was my daughter,' he answered, 'but now--no longer.'

"'What do you mean?' I cried again.

"'The Flower of the Cinnamon _is not_,' he said; 'and in your hand you hold the token.'

"The moonlight caught the glitter of his evil eye, and I saw then it was the man who had lain between my feet. I sprang forward to seize him, and he was gone; gone like the wind, with not a trace behind.

"In my hand I still clenched the pebble; I took it in my fingers to put it in my pocket. There was the other token, my amulet of ivory. I took it out to look at it, and its veins were red--red with the streaks of blood.

"So I went back to the ship, walking warily and looking behind my shoulder; but I saw nothing and felt nothing--nothing but the stone the man had given me, that lay like a weight on my heart. It was there next morning, but my ivory amulet I could not find; it was gone, and with it, I knew, my salvation."

"That is all?" I asked the Second, as he stopped to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

"All--at present," he answered, "for we sailed that same morning. And I have never seen her since. And I never shall see her," he added, in a tone that made me feel cold to hear.

"But you kept the stone?" I asked again.

"I could not get rid of it," he replied. "Once--you may believe me or not, as you like--once, I took it from my waistcoat pocket and threw it over the bulwarks. It did not touch the sea; next morning it was there again in my pocket. So I made the best of what I knew was a bad job; I got it mounted in London in a ring, and I wear it so in defiance."

There was more of fear than defiance in his eyes just then; he swung on his heel and turned away; nor did any further allusions to the subject pass between us.

We reached Singapore shortly afterwards; and I noticed the Second Mate getting more and more nervous. He tried to hide it and to conquer it, he worked harder than any man on the boat.

At last we had got our cargo in and had finished coaling; the next morning we should (machinery permitting) clear out for home. The Second seemed easier that evening, but he had scarcely been in my cabin half an hour when a convulsive spasm seemed to shoot through him. He stood up, as if in agony, and cried out in a thick guttural voice: "I've got to go," and made towards the alley-way.

I tried to stop him; he dragged me along as easily as if I had been a child. Then, nearing the gangway, he shook me off and cried: "You had better keep out of it; I shall be enough," and passed over the gangway to the quay.

I went after him, just speaking to the watchman; yet even this delay put me far behind, and I had to run to overtake him, so quickly did he walk.

At last we reached the house, and the room he had described: he ordered liquor, which I took care not to drink; and in desperate defiance let his hand lie on the table, stretching out the finger that held the ring.

Strive as I might to keep my head clear, I felt the fumes of the place suffocating me; yet, stupefied as I was, I had a consciousness that myriad eyes were around and watching us.

Below, through the hole where the ladder went, I saw the opium smokers; at the back where the staircase mounted, I saw the door open.

A woman entered, and at once the place seemed empty, save for her and us.

The Second was looking too, and started suddenly. He got up and walked towards her and threw her heavy veil aside. Then, in a voice so calm that it astonished me, he said--

"You are not Flower of the Cinnamon?"

"No," she answered, "the Flower is not. But when she _was_, she was my sister."

And she pressed forward towards me. "I am called," she said, to me, not to him, "I am called the Sheen of Morning." And she made a low obeisance towards me.

I did not speak, but looked towards her, looked passed her and saw into the cellar. I saw a man, dark-skinned, yet no Hindoo, kindle a fire on the ground; and as the flames leaped red, he sprinkled a powder on them and the fire burnt green, and the smoke came through the opening.

The woman was still bowed before me and watching me with entreating eyes; but now the lustre went out of her eyes and they had no more life in them than a sleep-walker's. Then she rose stiffly and walked backward to the staircase door and so passed through; and the door shut of itself, for I saw no one to shut it.

And the man, or devil, in the cellar put more powder on his fire, and the flames burnt red, red as a bullock's blood. And the Second turned slowly round and walked from the room into the street; and, looking neither to the right nor the left, took his way still further across the marsh. And I followed, shivering in my heart.

Nothing before or around us but the darkness and the heat of the night that brought up the fever-fog; and from the distance came the horrid noise of a Chinese sing-song.

And we still walked on, till, in the darkness of the night, there loomed another darkness, thicker and more compact: and I saw it was the shadow of a pagoda.

The Second led the way right to the entrance; as we reached the threshold, a light sprang up within.

The Second was mounting the steps; I seized his arm and with my whole force tried to retain him; he did not even pause, but dragged me after him as if my strength were nothing. And so we went into the temple.

The light shone from the other end: we drew closer to it and stood in front. There, on a shrine, was an enormous figure of Buddha, sitting cross-legged, with six arms extended. The light shone from his eyes; and, glancing along his nostrils, on one side sparkled back. In his nose was a jewel the duplicate of that the Second wore; on the other side was a space for a second jewel, which was the Second's.

As I looked, I cried aloud and started back; my hand was still on the Second's arm, and so great was my terror that I drew him back with me a space. At that moment the pavement in front of us opened where but an instant before we had both been standing; and in the void revealed, I felt and smelt, rather than saw, the foetid moisture of a bottomless water-pit. And the light in the idol's eyes burnt red.

A little finger touched my left hand: I turned. It was a woman, the same woman of the hut; who whispered, so that none but I could hear--

"Come, my lord, and quickly. Leave _him_ to his fate, for he is doomed. But thou, while there is yet time, come."

"Yes," I said to her; "but not alone. _He_ must come too."

"Does my lord command it?" she asked.

"Yes," I said again.

"Then I will try," she whispered; "yet it is Death we three look in the face."

She raised her hand and rubbed my lips with something she held, something that was cold like menthol, and bitter as gall. She did likewise to the Second, who at that seemed to awake from sleep and stare about him bewildered. And taking me by the hand, and I the Second, she led us to the door; and the door was shut and barred, and the light in the idol went out.

"There is another way," she said at last, and led us on; till behind a pillar she stopped and stooped, and, groping for some time, found at last a rude staple in the stonework.

"Pull," she said, "for you are strong." And I pulled, and the stone came round on invisible hinges. In the opening there disclosed I felt rough-hewn steps that went down, and pushing myself through I descended. Three steps I counted, and then there were no more; and I lost my hand-hold and fell. I threw out my hands wildly in search of some support; my head swung forward and struck against a projection; and, insensible, I still fell--down, down....

When I came to myself I was lying on the ground, my head in the woman's lap; and her hair had torn loose and was swathing my temples; and as she bent to kiss me, I felt that her eyes were wet.

But between her and me came the memory of Mary, and the promise the moon had seen at Rockhampton; and I did not kiss her back, but took her hand, and said, "My sister, my sister." And so she understood, and raised me up, and put something on my head that cured its aching; and the Second came to my side and held me, and we went on down the passage.

There was no light to guide us; but the walls shone with phosphorescent drawings, and all the vile gods of Buddha's Pantheon served us as horrid guides. We went on--the woman in tears, I in pain, and the Second in terror and dismay--till there came some rough-hewn steps, and these mounted, some stairs of wood; there the woman left us and bade us wait.

Presently she returned and led us still upward, and lifted a flap and let in a flood of light. And springing through, we were in the room of the grog-shop--all alone, save for the invisible eyes that I knew were watching us all around.

And we sat at the table; and I gave my hand to the woman, and said again, "My sister," and she fell to weeping afresh.

I looked towards the Second, and his brow was wet with sweat, and on his finger gleamed ominously the cursed stone.

I tried to get the ring off. It clung till with a wrench I had twisted it and had it off, and left his finger free; and then, before the woman could prevent me, had put it on my own. At that she shrank, shivering; but I knocked the table loudly in summons.

A coolie came in, and I ordered two bottles of Bass; but in knocking and ordering and talking I took care to show my ring. He saw, and smiled maliciously; and coming back with the beer looked again. The woman had disappeared, spirited away again by some invisible power.

So the Second and I drank--he hugely, I scarcely at all. And then I told him my scheme: that he must go back to the ship alone, for without the ring I felt he had nothing to fear. He was reluctant to do so, for he was a brave man; yet his terror was so great that in the end he departed.

So I was left alone with the ring; and waiting till I thought it time, began to reproach myself for running in danger when my life belonged to Mary. Then I thought again: and I knew at last that Mary herself would have me to do this. So I kept up a stout heart, and ostentatiously leaving a dollar on the table, passed out.

There was a shadow in front of me--it was the woman, who fell at my feet beseechingly.

"Fool," she said, "and foolhardy. Throw it away lest it kill you. For it is a vampire that drinks men's blood."

And she took hold of my finger and tried to wrench the ring away; but the flesh was closed up tightly round it, and it would not budge.

"It is the spell already winding round you," she said. "Yet it was not _you_ that my father cursed. What shall I do, my love, my love?

"Better throw away your finger than your soul," she said again; "cut it off and so escape."

I searched for the knife in my belt, but my sheath was empty; and we looked into each other's eyes in hollow despair.

"I would bite it," she cried, "but I cannot--I cannot; for I love you."

"You must not say that," I answered; "and you must not come with me."

"My lord commands?" she asked, in pained humility.

And I said "Yes." And she disappeared into the darkness.

I strode on quickly across the swamp towards the quay, and already I saw the lights gleam in the harbour. Yet even now I could not feel at ease, and would glance round furtively and yet see nothing--until suddenly the moon shot out from behind a cloud, and in front of my eyes was a gleam that was not of light, but a reflection of light. I quickly put out my left hand, and jagged steel pierced it, and I shrieked aloud.

With my right hand I seized my assailant, who was anointed with oil and slipped through my fingers like an eel. Yet he did not run, but remained at a little distance, waiting to attack me again, and there were others with him. By their stiffened upright black hair I saw they were Malays; but the one who seemed their leader was the devil of the cellar. And my heart thumped and thumped, as I waited.

Then a soft hand again touched me, and a voice said, "It is I," and the woman had taken my finger that held the ring, and saying, "Yet I must do it, _because_ I love him," had bitten it clean through. And shouting to the men in a tongue I knew not, she hurled it in their midst; and their leader seized it, and yelled aloud in triumph, and showed it to the others running round him.

And the woman spoke again, and to some purpose, for then the men departed with the prize. And the moon went in again behind the clouds.

"Do not slay me, my lord," the woman was saying, "for your life is not yet saved."

She tore the veiling from her face and bandaged the stump that had been my finger; and then she took my other hand, and, withdrawing the dagger, sucked softly at the poison of the wound. But the pain was too much for me, and I just leaned over and fell fainting to the ground.

Next morning, I found myself in my bunk, and the Second was watching over me, and the woman was crouching on the floor.

"That's right, old man," said the Second, "and now I'll fetch the doctor."

The doctor was the chief engineer, who forthwith came aft with a hot iron and seared the stump of my finger.

"And now, laddie, ye'll do," he said; "and I must awa, for there is some leetle difficulty with the boilers."

"She carried you here," said the Second, answering my eyes, "though how she managed it I can't say. And she had sucked the poison clean from your wound, and Mac said there was no danger left. Though, mind you, the kriss had enough on it to kill twenty men.

"Yes," he went on, "I'm all right, and you shall tell me how it happened to you afterwards. Now you must swallow this sleeping draught Mac's left for you."

And I swallowed the medicine he gave me.

But I did not sleep; I fell into a stupor. I could not move or speak; yet I could hear and understand.

The sailors were clearing the decks above me; at intervals the steam whistle sounded; we were preparing to get under way.

At last came the cry, "All strangers leave the ship," and there was a bustle across the gangway.

The woman in the corner rose, came to my bunk and kissed me on the lips, opened the door, went into the alley-way and on to the deck. She mounted to the poop above my head, then a shadow passed for a moment athwart my port-hole. I heard a splash--and she had done suttee for her love of me.

The blade of the propeller began to revolve, and the ship to forge slowly forward. My tongue was parched and my temples throbbing, and the delirium of fever came over me.

My eyes still open looked far away forward, into the pagoda of Singapore. And before the Buddha knelt the throng of worshippers, and the idol looked down upon them in content and triumph, and in his nostrils were now the catseyes, sparkling on either side. And a shadowy form that I knew for the ghost of the woman came before the god and fell prostrate, and lay there praying for me; and the idol did not frown, but gazed still content; and I knew that the curse was lifted from me.

Then my eyes could close, and the fire went from them, and the darkness came and gentle sleep.

The next thing I knew was that Mac was pouring quinine down my throat, and we were out at sea and the sun was shining. And at Aden, where we coaled, was a letter from Mary; and I was well again.

The Second met the fate he feared. You know from the papers how the voyage ended; no one knows, and only I can guess, how it came to end as it did. It was off Ushant, almost in sight of home. The Second had the watch. The moon was at its full; there was not a cloud to cast a shadow. The man at the wheel saw a huge rock loom on the starboard bow. He veered off a point to give it a wide berth; the Second came towards him and took the wheel himself. And then, the man declares, he headed straight for the rock, his eyes fixed intently in front of him, his hands a-tremble with unavailing fear. The man thought he was mad, and tried to tear the spokes away; the Second, with strength almost supernatural, with one hand lifted him up, and hurled him to the lower deck. Then the ship forged on, straight to the rock ahead.

The boats were lowered and quickly filled, and were casting off. I sprang up to the bridge--I touched the Second's arm and took his hand in mine.

As I hurried him down the gangway and across the forehold, a boom of the winch pinned him to the deck and he could not move.

Then, as I live, I saw a woman--a black woman--holding him in her arms, holding him down. There came a rush of water. The vessel slid back into the trough of the sea. The woman kissed him--he shrieked aloud--and the waves sucked them in together.

The curse of the catseye was completed.

MICE WORTH THEIR WEIGHT IN GOLD.

SOME EXTRAVAGANT PETS.

BY GAVIN MACDONALD.

Most of us kept mice in the days of our childhood. They were always white with pink eyes, and our elders objected to them tooth and nail.

Without warning, the mouse fancy has sprung into general popularity, and the craze for rearing and showing the tiny creatures has assumed the proportions of an important and fashionable hobby.

There is a National Mouse Club, a National Mouse Show, and a hundred others of less importance. Nor is there lack of prizes. The Mouse Challenge Bowl is a trophy worthy of consideration by a Derby winner; and there are pots and medals and specials galore for competition by enthusiastic members of the fancy.

A first visit to a famous collection is likely to occasion considerable surprise to those who are only familiar with the white and pink-eyed variety and the common little grey-backed member of the household.

During the last two or three years various fanciers have been industriously endeavouring to improve the breed, and they have succeeded in producing the most beautiful specimens. The show mouse is larger than the common household specimen. The eye is much larger and fuller, and the coat would not disgrace a thoroughbred racer. But the chief points are colour and marking. These are simply wonderful. The self colours include not only black and white, but almost every shade between. The black specimens have rich silky coats. The white to be at all valuable must possess black eyes. The pink eye has been eliminated altogether.

Sables exist in every possible shade, and some of them are of the richest and most beautiful quality. Silver grey is a fashionable colour this year, and I have seen some very perfect specimens with bluish-grey coats.

The marked mouse is a most popular fancy, and no wonder, for in this department the most wonderful results have been obtained, as our illustrations prove.

At the present moment a well-known lady fancier is striving to obtain a Dalmatian mouse. She has already a most wonderfully spotted specimen, and hopes before long to show a perfect example.

Apart from their great beauty, fancy mice pay, and pay well. At the National Mouse Show I was shown several specimens worth £5 apiece, and as much as £20 has been given for a champion. The two mice in our picture of judging are both £5 animals.

Another thing about them is that they are practically all profit. The bread and milk and occasional hemp seed upon which they live is used in such small quantities that an expenditure of 6_d_. per week will suffice to keep dozens.

Then there are many fanciers who make a lot of money out of their young mice. A working man in the North of England, who is an ardent fancier, makes no less than £15 per annum in this way, besides an occasional pound or two for an extra-promising specimen.

Many fanciers have very large collections. The secretary of the National Mouse Club possesses some 2,000 in his cages, and I know at least half a dozen others whose collections range between two and five hundred. At one day old the mice are little pink objects scarcely longer than a wax vesta, minus sight and minus coat. I saw a litter of this age in Staffordshire some time ago. A fortnight later they were in full war paint, and were winning prizes at a big show in the "under eight weeks" class. It is well that they develop so quickly, since at two years they get ill and out of condition and are usually destroyed.

There are many collections in this country valued at £30, and I know of one for which £100 has been offered and refused.

As with other fancy animals, the best specimens are selected from a litter and the rest are drowned. The selected mice are reared with the greatest care, and as soon as they are of the right size and age they commence the round of the shows. At home they are kept in immense tenement cages, divided into tiny compartments for two, but they travel to the shows singly in special exhibition cages.

These exhibition cages are packed together in a live-stock box, and on their arrival at their destination are taken charge of by special stewards, who see to the feeding arrangements and place them in their right classes.

Great interest is taken in the judging of these tiny creatures, and the judge is always surrounded by an eager crowd of spectators. Usually he contents himself with a glance in the box, shaking it up if the occupant is of a lazy disposition. When it comes to taking stock of a particularly good exhibit the mouse is taken out of the cage and examined.

They are always lifted and held by their tails during this examination. In the case of it being necessary to compare two competitors, they are held on the sleeve as illustrated in our photograph of judging.

In this picture, Mr. Richards of Dursley, Gloucestershire, is seen judging two specially fine specimens, the mouse to the left being Mr. Singleton's famous champion "Matchless," one of the most perfect show mice living.

The border on the first page of this article is entirely composed of photographs of show animals, and gives a very good idea of the beautiful markings so much sought after by fanciers.

Miss Grimston owns a famous collection, which she keeps at her house in Mayfair. Each mouse is named, and the idiosyncrasies of its character are well known to its mistress. Two fine specimens are shown sitting on her hands. The mouse on the ladder is also hers.

This lady possesses a unique playground, fitted with a tiny gymnasium. The young mice are turned into this for exercise and play. It keeps them in health and coat, two very necessary conditions for show purposes.

Miss Grimston is a particularly successful exhibitor, having captured some dozens of prizes, including cups and medals. Her collection at the present time contains some forty show specimens. They are rarely home for long together. As soon as they return from one show they are off to another.

The exhibition cages shown in the illustration at the foot of this page are a representative collection.

Although more or less of regulation size, shape and ornamentation are left to the individual taste of the fancier.

As a result, many of them are extremely decorative, poker-work sketches and other novel methods of adornment being commonly resorted to.

Many fanciers make their own cages and live-stock boxes, and combine the mouse fancy with amateur carpentry. One fancier who is his own carpenter has received so many applications for the address of the maker of his exhibition cages, that he has taken up cage-making professionally, and makes over £50 per annum in his spare time by the sale of his handiwork.

It is needless to say that cats are unknown in the establishments of show mouse owners, and show committees have to exercise the greatest care in order to exclude cats from the exhibition rooms.

It is a capital hobby, full of interest and fascination.

A CROWDED HOUR

A COMEDY OF THE STREETS.

BY CLARENCE ROOK.

_Illustrated by B. E. Minns._

Very few people knew what really caused the crowd which collected so suddenly one evening in front of a house in the neighbourhood of High Street, Kensington--to be precise, in Lower Phillimore Place--and practically blocked the traffic in that busy thoroughfare.