The Jewels of Sin

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 735, 7 August 1929, Page 5

The Jewels of Sin

By

Bernard Rowthorine.

Author of " The Claw* of the Dragon.” he.. he.'

I CHAPTER XX (Continued). “Oh, Jack! Jack!” exclaimed the girl, flinging herself on her knees by the bedside. The sick man made no response to her cry. But just at that moment his right arm was flung back, and he cried out sharply: "Rogers is dead—in that room, where Zita goes. And I can't let her know! I can’t stop her.” “He thinks of you,” said Isabella Van Terkamp in a low voice. "For you he is distressed in this delirium which Lobengo has induced.’* "Do you mean that awful man has caused my brother to —to ” "Yes! there was little the matter *ith Jack when he was brought here. A small knock on the head. That was nothing, but that fiendish black has done something. Injected some native extract of herbs of which his race has the secret. I fancy; and so your brother is like this. But do not worry Miss Barrymore. The effect will pass. It wa§ the same yesterday, but when I came to you this afternoon, your brother's mind was clear, and before morning it will be clear again, then —” "But why does he do this terrible thing?” cried the girl in anguish. "Because when your brother is delirious he talks as he will not when he is himself, and I think Lobengo hopes to learn something of the diamonds irom tho delirious chatter ” “But Jack does not know where ” “No! But Lobengo did not know that. He had not seen my brother-in-law since the latter visited Mr. Mallinson's rooms, and no doubt it was this he hoped to get on the track of the diamonds. You see ” "Oh.”' cried Zita Barrymore a little startled. Isabella Van Terkamp turned and "'alkcd noiselessly to the door, then as silently as possible she turned the knob and pulled. The door did not move; and as she released the knob and the catcli slipped back with a click, from T he other side of the panels came a sonorous laugh. The woman turned Yorr the door and looked at Zita with trag'c eyes. "V’hat is it?” cried the girl, quickly. “I forgot the key,” said Isabella Van Terkamp, "and that black villain lias locked the door. We are prisoners, Barrymore—at John Lobengo’s mercy!” CHAPTER XXI. As Isabella Van Terkamp made her f*claration, Zita Barrymore looked ..H) eRBl y round. “The window,” she whispered. "Is II t er 3’ high from the ground?” Book at it, Miss Barrymore. It is not made to open.” ~ But we can break the glass and Kn out the frame and ” ‘while you are doing that what do you suppose Lobengo will be doing? hiHss cannot be broken without noise, * nd if we start to break it we might i w ,ls well ring the bell and inform of our intentions.” Th en what can we do?” . Nothing for the immediate present, Jam afraid. We can only wait on ' e nts and watch over your brother. J; ne thing that black scoundrel cannot jumper with him further without openns the doer, and if he ventured to do ’■ She broke off, and after a foment resumed: "In an hour, two ** a little longer perhaps, the mind hi win grow clear, and you will abl « to talk with him, perhaps to mn“j St . lbat he will give up the diadeath” * n or< * er to save himself from

he has not got ” • N °- I know that. You know it; i. «°w Lobengo and my brother-ip- . * know it. But only your brother is friJ*? orance of the * fact that your j. J-bd knows their whereabouts, and T j K c °uid be persuaded to order them - r De Siven up, those two men would ■5 t * nt to let him go. You under•tanii. To let him go. unhurt, and .. T als °- Miss Barrymore.” «! le Jl me,” asked the girl quickly, as Jack any right to those diamonds? not clear in my mind.” A better right than those two men.” 4 0u , say a better right?” es - the right of treasure trove —

the rightful owner of them being dead.”

“Dead!” echoed the girl. "It was not Peter Rogers?” "No! llis name was Hans Pfliderer —a man who lived in Demaraland, and a German.”

"How did he die?” whispered the girl.

"I do not think I will tell you that,’* said Isabella Van Terkamp. "Perhaps it is sufficient for you to know that be was killed.”

"Killed?” There was a little catcli in the girl’s voice as she asked the question. "Not by Jack ” "No! Though your brother was with the man before he died. That much I know, and perhaps he soothed his dying moments. I cannot tell. And perhaps also the German Pfliderer told him to get the stones ” "Then I shall not persuade my brother to order them to be given up to these wretches.” "But think, Miss Barrymore! It may savo his life, the lives of all of us.”

“Then he must do it of his own will. I shall not persuade him. Hark! What was that?” The sound that had given rise to the question still continued, a gnawing sound vibrating along the skirting board. Isabella Van Terkamp looked round carelessly. "A rat,” she answered. "There are many in this old house. They come up from the river.” "It does not sound like a rat,” answered Zita. "It is too regular. I have heard rats before.” "Possibly. But what else can it be.”

"I do not know, but ” The girl looked round helplessly. Then a little sob of fear escaped. "Oh,” she whispered, "this is a terrible place.” "Yes! And it seems worse because vou are overborne. Miss Barrymore, if you would seat yourself and try to rest it would be better.” "Rest!”

"Yes! You require to be strong for what may lio before us. So be seated, pray, it is not any use to pace the room liko a captured creature in its cage. Please, I beg you.” Thus importuned the girl dropped into a. chair and sat there silent, staring at the sick man on the truckle bed. The gnawing sound continued, breaking off for a moment and then resuming, and she listened to it with nerves a-stretch. Then the light began to grow dim and the stench of a lamp burning an unfed wick began to till the room.

"Oh!” cried Isabella Van Terkamp. "The lamp is going out. The oil is exhausted, and we can do nothing. Soon we shall be in darkness.” "Yes,” answered the girl, "and the smell is horrid.” With tragic eyes they watched the red core which had begun to manifest itself grow more pronounced, while the stink increased. Then the flame guttered out, leaving the red wick tin owing oft a poisonous smoke. "Put it out: ’ said Zita Imploringly, and. as she spoke, she heard her companion stumbling across the r , through the darkness. a hc . n fumbled about the lamp, and the click of an extinguisher followed. ‘ You are not afraid, Miss Baitymore.'-' came Isabella Van Terkamp s "■■Not more than I was. " answered the girl quickly. "But I do wish that rat would give up gnawing. It worries me.” , .... Yes,” came the answer, it There was a sharp rending sound as of yielding wood, and then the gnawing suddenly ceased. , „ ••It must have broken through, said Isabella Van Terkamp. ■■Do you mean it is in the room. • Hardly that. I fancy.” They both sat listening, but foi a time all was quiet, then there came the sound of soft steps on the othei side of the door, and something uas dropped against the door itself. "What was that? -whispeied tingirl. us again the sound of steps was heard, retreating. „ , •I do not know,” answered her companion "I cannot even guess. A-ain they sat listening, in a tense silence that for a time was broken onlv by the occasional babbling of the delirious man. Quite a long tune

passed without anything happening, then from the neighbouring room came sounds of movement. "There is someone in the next room,” whispered Zita. "I wonder what is happening ” Odd sounds reached them, a shuffling tq and fro, and noises as if someone were knocking the skirting board with his knuckles. _ ~ "I don’t know,” answered Isabella Van Terkamp thoughtfully. "Lobengo may be engaged in some wickedness. Ho is diabolically clever, and there is no guessing what he may do.” They listened carefully, but presently the noises ceased, and with the sound of footsteps going down the stairs a quietness fell upon the house that was broken only by the occasional hoot of a steamer on the river, or by some incoherent babble on the part of the sick "How I wish we could let Mr. Mallinson know the fix we are in,” Zita said in a low voice. "I am sure he would do everything he possibly could to he "To U lielp you—yes, certainly,” answered the woman. “There is no doubt of that,” she added in significant tones. "Why do you speak like that? asked Zita quickly. "Because I am sure Air. AT all in son would not trouble about but you he loves, and for you ” "Oh, you must not say that, broke in the girl, some confusion manifest m IC *'*Whv not?” asked Isabella Van Terkamp frankly. "It must be true. A man does not run tlie risks that Ml. Mallinson is running for—how do you say it?—the fun of the thing! Iso! He would not be so foolish. It is you or

Sho broke off and Zita waited for her to finish, then, as she did not do so, pressed for the conclusion. Oi what?” , „ "Well —the diamonds. "You mean that Air. Mallinson wants to —annex them,” asked the girl Sll,, He * appears to have clone that already,” answered the woman with an odd little laugh; "and it is possible that he means to keep them for his

"I am sure Gerald Mallinson would do nothing of the kind,” answered Zita frostily. “He is not that kind of man ' "Perhaps not, but he does not lack a defender apparently, said Isabella Van Terkamp, again with a laugh. " It is only right that I should piotest against such charges,” whispered the girl warmly. "I owe him a very great deal, for he has been very kind t0 ‘‘Exactly, Miss Barrymore. And I do not think for the wink of an eyelid that he wishes to keep the diamonds. No. But I do think there is something - someone whom lie holds more dear than even diamonds; and—

“Hark!” . . , The interruption came m a hurried whisper from Zita, and the woman asked quickly: “What is it: “There is someone m the garden. I heard steps.” “Alv beautiful brother-in-law returning, I imagine,” was the reply. Half a minute later this guess was confirmed, for the outer door opened and closed and then a murmur of voices drifted up the stairs. “Yes! It is Jan; now we shall see what will happen. It will be interesting, and it will be as well to have the little pistol ready, Aliss Zita. These two are very desperate men; and it is not to be told what they will do. That brother-in-law of mine does not love me and would not be sorry to know that I was dead; for then my little fortune would be his.” At the veiled suggestion of her words Zita Barrymore gave a little shudder, and was about to speak, when the sound of steps upon the stairs reached her; and she remained silent, listening intently, and waiting the approaching crisis with wildly beating heart. The footsteps advanced along the gallery, and turned into the room adjoining the one where they were imprisoned. Then came a series of mysterious sounds —a shuffling to and fro; the noise of something heavy being deposited on bare boards, and the odd knocking on the skirting board in the next room. Both the woman and Zita listened in silence, and as the sounds ceased, and one of the two men in the next room left it and went downstairs again, Isabella Van Terkamp whispered in a strained voice: "How I wish I knew what was happening! There is something I am certain.” "Y’es! what—” “S-s-s-h-h. Do you hear anything, Aliss Zita 7” "No! Y-e-e-s-s!” was the answer, the latter word more than doubtfully given. "What is it you hear?” came the question, quick as a pistol crack. "I can't tell you exactly. What I

hear, if indeed I hear anything outside my imagination, is not very clear; but it is like the hissing gurgle of water from a tap that needs a plumber—except that it is not a tenth part as loud. Indeed, it is more like a gentle hiss than a—”

"Yes! yes!” interjected the woman in an emphatic whisper. "That is it! I hear it also. But what is the explanation, the meaning of it?” “Perhaps it is a tap somewhere in the house, maybe in the bathroom—” "No, it is nearer than that—in this very room, though I cannot locate it. But I will—l will, whatever it is.”

Isabella Van Terkamp rose to her feet and making her way to the wall, began to sidle round the room. The girl saw her shadow* pass the window, and heard her stumbling as she felt her way round. Then while she still listened, she was conscious of a quick fluttering of her heart; and a sense of constriction in her lungs. The little sounds that Isabella made in her progress seemed to grow suddenly remote. Bells were ringing in her head, and she felt an inclination to sleep; an inclination against which she fought with all her strength of will.

_ Suddenly through the phantom bells ringing in her brain, came the sound of a stumble, followed by a gasping cry: "The window - ! Quick, break it, we—” Sensing danger, Zita staggered to her feet, and tried to move toward the window in order to obey the woman’s injunction. But her feet were like lead; and her reeling brain was unable to conquer and direct them. She gasped as she took a single step forward; the constriction in her chest increased; and she was almost overcome with nausea. She made a quite gallant effort; but it ended with that single step; and the next moment she also crashed to the floor in unconsciousness. CHAPTER XXII. It was broad daylight when next Zita Barymore became conscious of the world about her, and the wintry sun was shining coldly through the barred window of the room where she lay. A mattress had been thrown on the floor, and on this she was stretched covered by a blanket, whilst about one

of her ankles was a fine steel chain, padlocked and fastened to a strong iron staple driven into the wall. She did not immediately comprehend the position of affairs, however, for her head was swimming, and the objects on which she gazed quivered and danced like things in the desert sun seen through the noonday heat. But presently, as her eyes grew used to the light, external things grew steadier to her vision, and as the feeling of dizziness grew less pronounced, realisation of her situation came to her, and suddenly she sat up. The remembrance of past events came to her— Isabella Van Terkamp’s warning cry, choked before it was completed, her own difficulty in breathing, and feeling of nausea, and the swift descent into the darkness of unconsciousness from which this was the awakening. That she and her companions had been the victims of some subtle scheme of Lobengo’s she had no doubt whatever. What it was that had overcome her she did not know for certain, but conjecture was not impossible, and as she recalled the hissing sound that Isabella and she had remarked she had little doubt that her unconsciousness had

been induced by some sort of gas, which Lobengo and his companion had let loose in the room. But where was Isabella Van Terkamp? What had happened to her? As the question occurred to her she looked round the litle dreary room once more, then listened steadfastly in the hope of hearing something of her. But her prison-house was silent as the grave, and of a sudden she had a sharp fear that she was alone in this dreary house, chained fast, and left there to die. With this thought a swift panic almost overcame her, and for a whole minute that seemed ages long she was deadly afraid. Then the panic subsided as quickly as it had arisen, and her mind grew calmer, and better able to appreciate the facts. The barred window, the chain about her ankle, the miserable room which was her place of confinement, were certainly ominous enough, but the fact that after the experience of the night she was yet alive seemed to point to the further fact that it was not intended that she should die —as yet. Her thoughts flew to her brother and to Airs. Van Terkamp. Where were

they? What had happened to them? She could only guess that they were in some similar situation, as her own, and as certainty was denied her she ceased to speculate, and fell to examining the light steel chain which encircled her ankle, and so made flight impossible. It was, as she saw, very strong in comparison with the fineness of the links, and it would be impossible to break it without tools, while the staple looked equally strong. But it was worth while trying, and. grasping the chain with both hands, she tugged with all her might. Again she tried, and again, with no result beyond breaking the skin of her delicate hands, and making her head swim anew with the violence of her exertions. Dropping the chain, she fell back upon the pallet, realising that she might as well try to snap the anchor chain of a battleship. Presently she caught the sound of a striking clock, and counted the strokes aloud. “One! Two! Three! Four!’* ' (To be continued daily)