The Swoop of the Vulture.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10717, 11 September 1912, Page 2

The Swoop of the Vulture.

BY OWEN MASTERS. Author of "His Heart's Desir o," "One Impassioned Hour," "Captain Emlvn's Bride," "Tho i)evorc:ii Heritage," "The i roa master's Daughter," eto.

OUR SERIAL.)

CHAPTER X. (Continued.) "Are you really serious, Harold'?" she a.-keu, rising from the table, for they iuid just finished breakfast when Hie ill-omened letter arrived. "Never nioro so," lie replied, with a little forward movement of hiscliin which told her unmistakably that ho meant business.

"Very well, then," she said quiet- ; ly, vc-t wondering what the con so- j cj nonces of such ii journey might bo. j "If you are I will go with you. Per- j hans 1 Hi-a-v bo of some use." They dined in tho dignified and quietly luxurious peace of Brown s Hotel* and as soon as they had lin.ished Hreaki'aMrhig tlio next- morning, Harold took a hansom, and drove to Bedford Mansions, which wa.s Halkirio's town address. He found him sitting over the fruit and sweetmeats at the end of a late Oriental breakfast. There was another man at the table with -him, and Harold, hv swift intuition, instantly .recognised that he was in tho presence of no ordinary earth dweller. Never in. all his wanderings had he stood luce to fa-ce with such a personality as this. As they both arose from the table, Jiaikine held out his hand and said in his most genial voice: "Ah, good morning. Mr Enstone. You have given us a pleasant surprise; wo were just talking about you. Allow ine to present to you my eolleague, and now co-trustee, Dr Izah-Ramal, whose name, I am sure caninot bo unfurnikar to you. M.y friend, this is the Mr Enstone, 'son and heir of our lamented friend and brother, Godfrey Enstone." Harold's muscles were quivering under tho great effort of will that afclno prevented 'hiim fxom striking tho smooth-spoken bar to the floor, but he managed just to touch his hand, and civilly say goo<l morning. Then he turned,and his eyes met those of Tzali-Rama!. He saw a face that was at once the most beautiful and the most pitilessly impassive he had ever behefd. There was some- ; thing unearthly -its beauty, some- ; thing almost devilish in his utter lack I of human expression. The skin. Was j a clear, pale olive, the features were of the purest type of the ancient Egyptian aristocracy. It seemed to Harold's wondering eves that he might have stepped straight out of one of the wall paintings at Luxor or Karnac. His hair, which fell alanoHt to his shoulders, was pure white, yet thick and soft as silk. His brows jvero still black, and under them shone a pair of eyes so intensely and brilliantly blue that, unless their owner so willed, it was difficult to look into them for more thnin a few t moments together. Such was IfcalirKtn.ma.!,, reader of thoughts and searcher of semis, the outcast adept of tho holy mysteiics; who had broken tho most awful vows a! mortal ca,n take for the sake of a golden-haired, dark-eyed girl of twenty, To the world lie was _ better known as professor of English languages and literature in the Liu\et- } sity of London, and the most brilliant Oriental .scholar in Europe. I There is no need to record the conversation that- occupied the best pa it of the next hour. Suffice is to say that from the mom ant Izah-Ramal began to speak on the subject of his friend's vast projects for the advancement of true science and the inestimable benefit Sir Godfrey had conferred upon humanity by enabling him to carry them out, |h.is angei began to melt away, and the real object of his visit seemed to recede into ; tho background. Even his conviction as to Halkine's guilt gradually bocame fainter. He was also bound to ' admit that the fact that lie was able to secure as cotrustee a man not only ■ of absolutely blameless reputation, but also one of the most distinguished scholars in the world, went a long way toward discounting the probr ability of fraudulent intention. The magnificent plans that were outlined so distinctly by them completely dazzled him, and ho ended in feeling himself almost in sympathy with the very proceedings that he had come to denounce as an insolent

fraud. And yet, when lie had left the flat and was walking slowly west-ward, lost in puzzling thought, with every step -ho took the spell that had keen cast ov,er -him became weaker and weaker, and his oi*iginal view of Hal kino and alt his works came out stronger and stronger. When lie and Grace mot <ii lunch, ho was one of "tho •angriest and most bewildered men in London. , H told .her exactly what had happe.ned; and when -ho had done, she said in a- voice which betrayed not a little concern : "1 am sorry to hear about Doctor Ramal, Harold —very -sorry. He is really -something very different to what .he appears to the would, something infinitely more powerful and dangerous than a mere scholar and scientist." "In the n'amo of goodness, what do you mean?" -asked her husband, atrifle alarmed by her serious tone. '"Do vou know anything about this man?"

••Too P'licit to ffivo you very great hope of success against my uncle, I'm afraid," she gravely replied. "This doctor, or, as he should be called, lama. Jzah-Kamal, is or was, one of the Tibetan, priests,. Of course, you must have learned something about them on your travels, and you know the extraordinary powers with which

they are credited. My uncle told me several times tlui t all this is actually tnio of lzah-Uamal. I have myself seen him do, apparently just for amusement, the most incomprehensible things. Once he told me the whole course of my thoughts for the previous twelve hours without a mistake. I hato the man, if lie really is an ordinary man, and I'm afraid I fear him even more than I hate him. Whatever yon do, Harold, for Howvon's sake don't let him come near me, or .1 dare not guess what the consequences might he." "Ysv. can ho pretty certain of that, because I've heard of these fellows in their own country, and I know for a fact that they really, some of them, possess powers that the public have no notion of; and," lie went on wit# a laugh, "you may rest quite assured that- I don't want amy one coming around reading my wife's inmost thoughts, when I don't even know them myself." "I don't think many of them are hidden from you," she smiled iin reply. "I should dread meeting this man, especially now that he lias allied himself with my uncle in this terrible piece of work." ' "I'll take very good care you don't," lie said, with confidence that was greater than his knowledge. "But can you tell mo what is the actual connection between these two worthies?" "As far a.s I know, it began wlien my uncle was twenty-five, or so. Ho went as naturalist with an. expedition which attempted to get into the Forbidden City. Every man was killed, except my uncle, and he was spared because Izah-Rainal, who was, then very high up in the cult,, took a fancy to him, 01* saw some possibilities in .him, and claimed him as his disciple. He remained in the monastry with him for three years, and then they both got away. How or why, I don't know. That is all my uncle told me, and I could never | get him to say another word on the subject." ' ! They went out shopping in the ; afternoon, and just as their victoria pulled up in front of Jay's, they I heard a familiar voice say: "Good afternoon. I heard from Halkine this morning that you were in town, and I was about to give myself the pleasure of calling upon you.' They looked up, and there stood Mr Bon,hunt Dcnyer, faultlessly dressed, and looking the very incarnation of prosperous respectability. Harold helped .his wife out, amd they shook hands. As they moved toward the shop door, Mr Donyor murmured, just loud'enough for him to hear' "Will you have a couple of hours to spare before you go back to En- . ■stone? I'm very anxious to 'have a chat with you on a subject which concerns you very deeply." . ; Harold caught a note of real earn- - estness in his voice, and on the lawyer's face there wa,s a look almost of anxio'-V that convinced him that :he really had something of importance to s-ay. Before lie replied, he turned to liia wife, saying: "I don't suppose you want me t-p come and do penance at the. shrine of St. Mode; so, if you don't mind, while you are busy trying on, I'll take a'walk with Mr Denver, and come back for you ii) half an hour/' "I think you had better make it a couple of hours," she replied. "1 have two dresses to lit, and evOr so much elso to do." "In that case," lie said, turning to Denver, "we may as well take the carriage, and dris'e toward the 'Travelers,' and have a smoke and a chat there." '"Delighted,'' replied tilie lawyer, raising liis hat, and bowing, as Grace went into the shop. ; In ten minutes the two men were seated in a secluded coiiner of the almost deserted smoking room, for it was late August and clubland was (almost deserted. Harold turned; to his guest and said : "Now, Mr Denver, I'm entirely at your service. You can speak as'freely hero as you could in your , own office. There is 110 one within earshot,' and those two or three old stagers are either fast asleep or soon will be." (To l)o Continued.)