The Marathon Mystery/Part 5/Chapter 6
CHAPTER VI
Vengeance
IT strikes a chill through me, even yet, to recall the awful horror of that instant. The fer-de-lance—death in a few heartbeats, and such a death!—a death that melts a man into an abomination! For a moment, none of us dared move, scarcely dared breathe, and I saw the band of light from Simmonds’s lantern waving uncertainly across the floor, the walls, the ceiling—evidently poor Simmonds did not understand the exact nature of the danger, but only that it was a terrible one. I had a mad impulse to jump, shrieking, for the door, and should probably have done it had that quivering silence endured a moment longer.
“Simmonds, give me your lantern,” said Godfrey, with an admirable calmness. “Lester, have your cane ready.”
He threw a broad band of light upon the carpet, and keeping carefully within this path, approached the door, felt for the electric button, and switched on the lights.
Half-blinded for an instant, we stood staring at each other, at the floor…
“For God’s sake,” gasped Simmonds, mopping the sweat from his face, “what is it?”
“It’s a snake,” said Godfrey tersely. “The deadliest in the world. If you don’t believe me, look yonder,” and he pointed to the huddled mass on the floor.
I did not look; I was afraid to; I had already seen too much. I was grateful when Godfrey jerked down a curtain and threw it over the body. Then he gave Simmonds the lantern and closed the door, which we had left open when we entered.
“Now,” he continued sharply, “there’s no use in giving way to our nerves. We’re in no danger, but that snake is hid around here somewhere and the first thing for us to do is to find it. Were there two snakes, Lester?”
“No,” I answered, as articulately as I could. “I think not; I never saw but one.”
“I thought you said Cecily took that one with her.”
“So she did—wait; I didn’t see it. She had a cover over the cage.”
Godfrey’s face paled suddenly.
“Good God!” he murmured.
A giddiness seized me; I clutched at a chair for support.
It had been no accident; she had left Fê-Fê behind to avenge her—and what a vengeance! She had not laughed and forgotten!
Then, in a flash, I understood that last strange scene—the change in Cecily, as she stood watching us from the deck of the receding boat, the pressing against the rail, the frantic effort to shout a message to Tremaine—she had relented, she did not wish to kill him, she loved him yet! But of that warning he had caught only a single word…
“The bed!” I cried. “The bed!”
“Right!” agreed Godfrey incisively, and walked to the bedroom door. In an instant, the inner room was ablaze with light. He armed himself with one of Tremaine’s canes, and together we approached the bed.
“Ready, now,” he said, and with a sudden movement, stripped back the covers. But there was nothing under them.
“The pillow, perhaps,” he said, and turned it over.
There was a quick movement, a soft hissing, a vicious head raised itself, two eyes of orange fire glared at us…
I heard the swish of Godfrey’s cane, and the head fell. Fê-Fê would work no more evil.
And then, as I looked more closely at the coils, I perceived something else there-something bright, iridescent, glowing…
Godfrey lifted the mangled body with the end of his cane and threw it into the middle of the bed. Then he bent over and picked up—the necklace!
“I was sure we should find it here,” he said. “But look at it—isn’t it beautiful?”
It was more than that—it was superb. Not dead-white, now, but warm, full of life… was it the salt bath, or was it that the cloud had been removed forever from its owner’s life? As I looked at it, there seemed to be something unearthly in its beauty—it seemed to be rejoicing!
“The snake bit him, probably,” added Godfrey thoughtfully, “as he thrust the necklace under the pillow. It was a fitting punishment.”
“It was greater than he deserved,” I protested hoarsely. “He was not the man to meet a death like that.”
“A man! He was a vampire!” said Godfrey sternly. “He lived on the lives of others. Don’t let your sentimentalism blind you, Lester.”
“Oh, you didn’t know him!” I cried. A hot resentment of fate was sweeping over me; I realised that, down at the bottom of my heart, I had never really believed in Tremaine’s guilt—even now, I hardly believed in it!
Godfrey turned to Simmonds, who stood contemplating the scene with staring eyes, his lantern still open in his hand.
“It’s hard luck, Simmonds,” he said. “You’re not going to get the glory, after all. But who could have foreseen a thing like this?”
Simmonds opened his mouth and shut it again, without uttering a sound.
“You’d better notify the coroner,” continued Godfrey, “and, I suppose, to be strictly regular, I’ll have to turn this necklace over to you for the night. Guard it well, Simmonds; it’s worth a hundred thousand dollars.”
“What!” stammered Simmonds. “Is it the—the—the”
“Yes, it’s the Delroy necklace. You’ll have to go with us to Babylon in the morning, to attend the inquest. I fancy there’ll be something of a sensation when we produce the necklace there—eh, Lester?” and he laughed a grim little laugh of anticipatory triumph.
Then he glanced at his watch.
“I must be going,” he said. “I’ve got to fire this story down to the office. What a scoop it will be! Till to-morrow, gentlemen.”
I heard his footsteps die out along the hall; then a sudden horror of the place seized me; a deadly loathing; and I groped my way blindly from the room.
THE END