Mirrikh, or, A Woman from Mars/Chapter 18
CHAPTER XVIII.
GONE—WHERE?
Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Ding, dong!
The lamasery bell was tolling—tolling the funeral knell of a shrine which for all I know stood as we see it now in the day’s of Gladstone’s Juventus Mundi; for the world when young in Europe was very old in Asia. God alone could tell if the tottering old structure would endure the strain to which it was about to be subjected.
Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Ding, dong!
I could think only of the big bell at the gate of Greenwood cemetery, tolling as it tolled on that chill October day when I consigned my baby boy to the dust.
Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Ding, dong!
I could see my wife weeping and protesting that she wanted to die also; begging me to bury her along with the child, when at that very time she
Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Ding, dong!
Ring out, old bell! Ring out your loudest peal and drown these memories forever! If the teachings of this strange land are truth, then may they indeed be forgotten; for not only does the boy still live, but there awaits me in that land, where we know each other as we are, one whose heart will beat in perfect accord with my heart’s beatings: whose soul shall know no thought, no longing that is not in harmony with my own!
Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Ding, dong!
Still the bell kept tolling. Why, I did not know; but this much was certain—our time at Psam-dagong was growing short, for the waters had risen almost to the top of the lamasery wall and the rain was falling in torrents.
“Come, George,” said the Doctor, calling me from the temple doorway. “Come. Padma wants you; he is going to show us the road by which we are to escape!”
The sound of the Doctor’s voice banished the strange spell which had come upon me. At the same moment the bell upon which Ni-fan-lu had been banging away for more than an hour suddenly ceased to toll. I hurried across the courtyard to the temple door.
It was late in the afternoon—the afternoon following the bursting of the Dshambi-nor. Long ago Walla and I had parted, she to crouch before the altar where lay Maurice’s body, I to wander hither and thither, pondering, doubting, wondering, fearing! God knows I could make nothing of it. The only wonder is I did not go raving mad.
Now I would say to myself that I was mad; that Maurice was dead; that the proper thing for me was to immolate myself on that same altar and make an end of it all. Again I was in reverie, and in fancy saw myself floating through the spheres, seeking the voice which through Walla’s lips had spoken those words of cheer. Still again I was execrating Walla for her subtle power of fascination, calling her a fraud and cursing myself for a fool. But I had not told the Doctor what happened in the courtyard beneath the big tree, and I did not tell him now as I followed him into the temple, where we found old Padma waiting for us before the big Buddha, looking as patriarchal and serene as ever.
With his usual self-assurance Philpot began rattling away, assuming that patronizing manner which I had grown to dislike so much.
“Look here, George, I’ve been having a long talk with Padma,” he said as we passed through the temple. “As near as I can understand, this whole region is undermined with vast caverns; we are to pass through these caverns by some means which I can’t make out and are to fetch up at another lamasery close to Lh’asa. You see I’ve been busy while you’ve been moping about.”
“It makes no difference to me where we go,” I replied, “providing we take Maurice’s body with us. Without that I shall not stir.”
“Oh that will be all right. I spoke to Padma, and he seemed surprised that there should be any question about it. If it is any comfort to you to know it, he scouts the idea of Maurice being dead; says he is as sure to come back as the sun is to rise.”
“I shall fulfill my promise in any event,” I replied. “So long as Maurice’s body remains as those other bodies are down there, I shall never leave it, even if it costs me my life.”
“Well, by Jove! You’re a friend worth having; but—wait! Padma wants to speak.”
What was the old priest saying? I would have given anything to have been able to understand.
As it was I could only follow them down into the underground chamber again, where we found Walla beside Maurice, a sight which aroused feelings amounting almost to jealous hatred within me. She could stay there where I felt that I ought to stay; yet to save me I could not do it, for to stand gazing at those still, white features drove me almost mad.
There was no change in the appearance of the face. I took one good look at it as I passed the altar, following Padma over to the side of the chamber opposite to the stone drawers containing the alleged planetary corpses.
Still talking to the Doctor, in his slow, mild fashion, Padma drew from beneath his robe a huge bronze key which he proceeded to fit into a hole in the stone. Turning this he gave the wall a push and a narrow section of the stone moved back revealing a dark opening behind. He caught up a lamp which he had placed behind him on the floor, flashed it into the opening and I saw, extending down from it, a broad sheet of polished brass, pitched at a sharp angle, above which was a wheel and a rope. I could not imagine what all this meant until the Doctor began to explain.
“Padma says that this inclined plane leads into another cavern miles and miles away, Wylde,” he said hurriedly. “There is a car of some sort attached to the rope and we are to be let down in it, From the cavern to Lh’asa the distance is short and the way easy. We are to leave at midnight, providing the water holds off that long. By that time they will have all the treasures of the lamasery safely stored away. See! He is pulling the car up now.”
Padma had seized the rope and was pulling it over the wheel. I perceived at once that it was old and worn and many of the strands had parted. I looked at the priest’s face and saw the expression of calm serenity leave it and something like fear assume its place. Suddenly he ceased to pull and began talking hurriedly with the Doctor who gave one sharp exclamation and turned to me, his countenance as pale as death.
“Bad news, George! The rope is all worn out. It hasn’t been used in many years and can’t possibly take the car down more than once or twice.”
“Then our fate depends upon the size of the car?”
“Precisely.”
“Ask him how big it is? Let us know the worst!”
He turned to Padma and put the question, but instead of replying the priest began tugging at the rope again. In a moment a rumbling sound was heard and I saw a small box-like arrangement come into view; it rested close down upon the brass and seemed to run upon rollers which were invisible. I have neglected to mention that there was a bronze guard about six inches high on either side of the incline to prevent the car from running off.
“By Jove! We’re fixed now!” cried the Doctor. “It’s barely big enough for two!”
We knew the worst in a moment.
Flashing his light upward at the wheel, Padma, having first made the rope fast to a hook, climbed into the car and began a careful examination.
The Doctor was very uneasy.
“George, it’s my opinion the old guy means to go down and save himself,” he whispered. “Let’s grab him and you and I go. He told me just how to manage the machine and it’s as easy as rolling off a log.”
“No, no! There are other lives to be saved besides our own.”
“To the dogs with the others! What are we to do?”
“But how about Maurice?”
“Maurice is dead. We have ourselves to think of. We can’t be sacrificed for a corpse.”
“Unless Maurice’s body leaves this place I remain and take my chances,” I said coldly.
“But this is madness! A man’s life is all he has in this world, and”
“And I am beginning to believe in the existence of another where for our deeds, good or evil, we shall be held in strict account.
“Bah! Leave preaching to me; it’s my business, not yours! We can easily overcome the old fellow and take our chances in the car. I tell you the lamasery is doomed! There is no earthly show for us unless we do it. Have common sense and listen to me. If you don’t want to attack Padma now, we can hang around here and do it later on.”
“Neither sooner or later, without Maurice.”
“But we cannot take the body. There is barely room for you and me to crowd into the car.”
Here we were interrupted by Padma, who stepped out of the car and began speaking again. His face had assumed its wonted expression of calmness, yet when the Doctor came to translate I found that the situation was fully as critical as he had feared.
He declared that there was very little chance of the rope taking the car safely even one trip down into the cavern, but he calmly assured the Doctor that this need not matter, for there still existed another means of escape.
At this point the Doctor turned to listen again. For some moments Padma spoke earnestly and then left us, ascending the stairs. Not until the sound of his footsteps died away did the Doctor deign to answer me, although I had twice addressed him, begging to know what the priest had said.
“Do you want to know?” he exclaimed, turning suddenly upon me, and speaking very rapidly. “He tells me that this other way lies through the cavern beneath the temple, where the fatal gas is stored. He says that it was built ages ago before the gas came and abandoned because it came; he says all we’ve got to do is to inhale the gas, and go at lightning speed by way of the spirit world, sending our bodies down through the cavern and taking them up again at the other end of the route. I tell you, Wylde, it’s all balderdash. The fellow is a sly old rascal. He is trying to throw us off the scent and means to go by the car himself, leaving us to be drowned out here when the water comes. Now then, here’s the last call. Will you go with me, or will you not?”
“Not without Maurice.”
“Fool!”
“Put it as you will.”
“I put it as it is. Think twice.”
“No! Doctor beware! No good can come of so selfish a proceeding. Remember that the rope may hold out. Would you deprive these other poor wretches of their chance of life?”
“Rubbish! What are they to me? Let them go the other way if they want to, I—hark! What was that? A cry above! By the eternal! I believe the water has come.”
We hurried up into the temple, for the Doctor suddenly ceased his argument.
It was as he had feared.
When we reached the courtyard we found the lamas standing in the pouring rain, huddled together beneath the big tree, their eyes fixed upon the wall surrounding the lamasery, over which the water was beginning to come in little splashes here and there.
“Better get your grip, George!” cried the Doctor. “If we do escape we shall need it. Go now and I will have a look over the wall. I shall do nothing until you return.”
There was reason in his suggestion, and relying upon his promise I hurried into the lamasery. Not only did I want to save something of my belongings if possible, but I was anxious to find Ah Schow and give him warning, for I could see nothing of the faithful fellow in the yard.
I was gone perhaps ten minutes; time for the most part spent in search of the Chinaman, whom I found at last in the big room where our meals had been served. Hastily I told him of the danger and together we returned to the yard.
Here the situation had changed but little, except that instead of coming by splashes the water was now running over the wall in places in steady streams.
But where was the Doctor?
To my surprise I could see nothing of him, nor was old Padma visible. Beneath the big tree the lamas stood in silence, showing not the slightest emotion, each grinding away at his own private prayer wheel, the united clicks of the different wheels making the most infernal din. At once the truth flashed upon me. The Doctor had availed himself of my absence to carry his purpose into effect.
I knew it—I was sure of it—I felt as certain of it as though I had seen him go.
Then I felt furious with the fellow, but now as I look back upon that trying hour, I do not know that I so much blame him.
As he viewed the situation it was a question of life or death. He had given me my chance—I had refused to take it—he disposed of me for the moment to save further argument and had started on that strange journey alone.
Without pausing an instant I rushed into the temple, bounded around the big Buddha and down the stone stairs.
How deathly still the chamber was! How ghastly looked poor Maurice’s face as I flew past the altar beside which Walla, with bowed head still crouched, as white and silent as Maurice himself.
I rushed across to the stone door which still stood open. It was as I had supposed. The car was no longer there.
“Selfish pig!” I burst out. “If he has gone to his death he richly deserves it, yet upon my word I would scarcely have had the courage—merciful God!”
You see I caught up the lamp as I approached the opening, and flashing it in saw that no more of the rope was visible than a dangling end, with broken strands hanging down over the wheel.
Taking advantage of my absence the Doctor had gone—gone where?