The Quest of the Sacred Slipper........................................................................................................................1

Sax Rohmer ..............................................................................................................................................1

I was not the only passenger aboard the S.S. Mandalay who perceived the disturbance and wondered what it

might portend and from whence proceed. A goodly number of passengers were joining the ship at Port Said. I

was lounging against the rail, pipe in mouth, lazily wondering, with a large vagueness.

What a heterogeneous rabble it was! a brightly coloured rabble, but the colours all were dirty, like the town

and the canal. Only the sky was clean; the sky and the hard, merciless sunlight which spared nothing of the

uncleanness, and defied one even to think of the term dear to tourists, "picturesque." I was in that kind of

mood. All the natives appeared to be pockmarked; all the Europeans greasy with perspiration.

I turned to the dark, bespectacled young man who leaned upon the rail beside me. From the first I had taken

"There is some kind of undercurrent of excitement among the natives," I said, "a sort of subdued Greek

Mr. Ahmadeen smiled. After a gaunt fashion, he was a handsome man and had a pleasant smile.

A group of men dressed in semiEuropean fashion that is, in European fashion save for their turbans,

The disturbance, which could only be defined as a subdued uproar, but could be traced to no particular

individual or group, grew momentarily louder and died away. It was only when it had completely ceased

that one realized how pronounced it had been how altogether peculiar, secret; like that incomprehensible

murmuring in a bazaar when, unknown to the insular visitor, a reputed saint is present.

Then it happened; the inexplicable incident which, though I knew it not, heralded the coming of strange

things, and the dawn of a new power; which should set up its secret standards in England, which should flood

A shrill scream marked the overture a scream of fear and of pain, which dropped to a groan, and moaned

I started forward. There was a general crowding rush, and a darkly tanned and bearded man came on board,

That was a ship's officer; and the voice of authority served to quell the disturbance. Through a lane walled

"A Copt," he said softly. "Poor devil!" I turned to him. There was a queer expression on his lean,

That was the fact of the matter. And no one knew who was responsible for the atrocity. And no one knew

what had become of the severed hand! I wasted not a moment in linking up the story. The pressman within

"The gentleman just come aboard, sir," said a steward, "is Professor Deeping. The poor beggar who was

assaulted was carrying some of the Professor's baggage. The whole incident struck me as most odd. There

was an idea lurking in my mind that something else something more lay behind all this. With impatience

I awaited the time when the injured man, having received medical attention, was conveyed ashore, and

Professor Deeping reappeared. To the celebrated traveller and Oriental scholar I introduced myself.

"I was unable to see what took place, Mr. Cavanagh," he said. "The poor fellow was behind me, for I had

stepped from the boat ahead of him. I had just taken a bag from his hand, but he was carrying another,

heavier one. It is a clean cut, like that of a scimitar. I have seen very similar wounds in the cases of men who

Nothing further had come to light when the Mandalay left, but I found new matter for curiosity in the

In conversation with Mr. Bell, the chief officer, I learned that the supposed leader of the party was one, Mr.

Azraeel. "Obviously," said Bell, "not his real name or not all it. I don't suppose they'll show themselves on

deck; they've got their own servants with them, and seem to be people of consequence."

This conversation was interrupted, but I found my unseen fellow voyagers peculiarly interesting and pursued

inquiries in other directions. I saw members of the distinguished travellers' retinue going about their duties,

but never obtained a glimpse of Mr. Azraeel nor of any of his greenturbaned companions.

Some curious aroma of mystery floated about the ship. Ahmadeen conveyed to me the idea that he was

concealing something. Then, one night, Mr. Bell invited me to step forward with him.

"It's the lascars," said Bell. "They have been behaving in a most unusual manner ever since the mysterious

Mr. Azraeel joined us. I may be wrong in associating the two things, but I shan't be sorry to see the last of our

The next happening on board the Mandalay which I have to record was the attempt to break open the door of

Professor Deeping's stateroom. Except when he was actually within, the Professor left his room door

He made light of the affair, but later took me aside and told me a curious story of an apparition which had

"It was a crescent of light," he said, "and it glittered through the darkness there to the left as I lay in my

"Possibly," he replied; "but it was very sharply defined. Like the blade of a scimitar," he added.

I stared at him, my curiosity keenly aroused. "Does any explanation suggest itself to you?" I said.

"Well," he confessed, "I have a theory, I will admit; but it is rather going back to the Middle Ages. You see, I

have lived in the East a lot; perhaps I have assimilated some of their superstitions."

He was oddly reticent, as ever. I felt convinced that he was keeping something back. I could not stifle the

impression that the clue to these mysteries lay somewhere around the invisible Mohammedan party.

"Do you know," said Bell to me, one morning, "this trip's giving me the creeps. I believe the damned ship's

haunted! Three bells in the middle watch last night, I'll swear I saw some black animal crawling along the

"Nothing like it," said Mr. Bell. "Mr. Cavanagh, it was some uncanny thing! I'm afraid I can't explain quite

The chief officer shrugged his shoulders. "Just vanished," he said. "I hope I don't see it again."

At Tilbury the Mohammedan party went ashore in a body. Among them were veiled women. They contrived

so to surround a central figure that I entirely failed to get a glimpse of the mysterious Mr. Azraeel. Ahmadeen

was standing close by the companionway, and I had a momentary impression that one of the women slipped

something into his hand. Certainly, he started; and his dusky face seemed to pale.

Then a deck steward came out of Deeping's stateroom, carrying the brown bag which the Professor had

The bag changed hands. Five minutes later, as I was preparing to go ashore, arose a horrid scream above the

berthing clamour. Those passengers yet aboard made in the direction from which the scream had proceeded.

A steward the one to whom Professor Deeping had spoken lay writhing at the foot of the stairs leading to

During the next day or two my mind constantly reverted to the incidents of the voyage home. I was perfectly

convinced that the curtain had been partially raised upon some fantasy in which Professor Deeping figured.

But I had seen no more of Deeping nor had I heard from him, when abruptly I found myself plunged again

into the very vortex of his troubled affairs. I was half way through a long article, I remember, upon the

mystery of the outrage at the docks. The poor steward whose hand had been severed lay in a precarious

I had laid down my pen to relight my pipe (the hour was about ten at night) when a faint sound from the

direction of the outside door attracted my attention. Something had been thrust through the letterbox.

I went to the door. A square envelope lay upon the mat a curious envelope, pale amethyst in colour. Picking

Tearing it open I glanced at the contents. I threw open the door. No one was visible upon the landing, but

when I leaned over the banister a whiteclad figure was crossing the hall, below.

Without hesitation, hatless, I raced down the stairs. As I crossed the dimly lighted hall and came out into the

peaceful twilight of the court, my elusive visitor glided under the archway opposite.

Just where the dark and narrow passage opened on to Fleet Street I overtook her a girl closely veiled and

"Please do not detain me!" Her accent was puzzling, but pleasing. She glanced apprehensively about her.

You have seen the moon through a mist? and known it for what it was in spite of its veiling? So, now,

through the cloudy folds of the veil, I saw the stranger's eyes, and knew them for the most beautiful eyes I

She was breathless from her flight and seemed to be trembling. >From behind the cloud her eyes shone

I was sorely puzzled. The whole incident was bizarre indeed, it had in it something of the uncanny. Yet I

could not detain the girl against her will. That she went in apprehension of something, of someone, was

Past the head of the passage surged the noisy realities of Fleet Street. There were men there in quest of news;

men who would have given much for such a story as this in which I was becoming entangled. Yet a story

I knew that I stood upon the margin of an arena wherein strange adversaries warred to a strange end. But a

mist was over all. Here, beside me, was one who could disperse the mist and would not. Her one anxiety

Suddenly she raised her veil; and I looked fully into the only really violet eyes I had ever beheld. Mentally, I

started. For the face framed in the snowy fur was the most bewitchingly lovely imaginable. One rebellious

lock of wonderful hair swept across the white brow. It was brown hair, with an incomprehensible sheen in the

"Oh," she cried, "promise me that you will never breathe a word to any one about my visit!"

"Honestly, truly, I cannot, dare not, say more! Only promise that you will do as I ask!"

"Thank you oh, thank you!" she said; and dropping her veil again she walked rapidly away from me,

Her conspicuous white figure joined the hurrying throngs upon the pavement beyond. My curiosity brooked

no restraint. I hurried to the end of the courtway. She was crossing the road. From the shadows where he had

lurked, a man came forward to meet her. A vehicle obstructed the view ere I could confirm my impression;

and when it had passed, neither my lovely visitor nor her companion were anywhere in sight.

But, unless some accident of light and shade had deceived me, the man who had waited was Ahmad

It seemed that some astral sluicegate was raised; a dreadful sense of foreboding for the first time flooded my

mind. Whilst the girl had stood before me it had been different the mysterious charm of her personality had

swamped all else. But now, the messenger gone, it was the purport of her message which assumed supreme

Written in odd, square handwriting upon the pale amethyst paper, this was the message

Prevail upon Professor Deeping to place what he has in the brown case in the porch of his house tonight. If

Professor Deeping's number was in the telephone directory, therefore, on returning to my room, where there

still lingered the faint perfume of my late visitor s presence, I asked for his number. He proved to be at home.

"Strange you should ring me up, Cavanagh," he said; "for I was about to ring you up."

"First," I replied, "listen to the contents of an anonymous letter which I have received."

"To me," I added, having read him the note, "it seems to mean nothing. I take it that you understand better

"I understand very well, Cavanagh!" he replied. "You will recall my story of the scimitar which flashed

before me in the darkness of my stateroom on the Mandalay? Well, I have seen it again! I am not an

imaginative man: I had always believed myself to possess the scientific mind; but I can no longer doubt that I

am the object of a pursuit which commenced in Mecca! The happenings on the steamer prepared me for this,

in a degree. When the man lost his hand at Port Said I doubted. I had supposed the days of such things past.

The attempt to break into my stateroom even left me still uncertain. But the outrage upon the steward at the

docks removed all further doubt. I perceived that the contents of a certain brown leather case were the

"It was not necessary in order to further the plan of stealing the bag that the hands were severed," resumed the

Professor. "In fact, as was rendered evident by the case of the steward, this was a penalty visited upon any

"This is attributable to two things. Those who sought to recover what I had in the case feared that my death

en route might result in its being lost to them for ever. They awaited a suitable opportunity. They had

designed to take it at Port Said certainly, I think; but the bag was too large to be readily concealed, and, after

the outrage, might have led to the discovery of the culprit. In the second place, they are uncertain of my faith.

I have long passed for a true Believer in the East! As a Moslem I visited Mecca "

"I had just returned from the hadj when I joined the Mandalay at Port Said! My death, however, has been

"Because," came the Professor's harsh voice over the telephone, "of the contents of the brown leather case! I

will not divulge to you now the nature of these contents; to know might endanger you. But the case is locked

in my safe here, and the key, together with a full statement of the true facts of the matter, is hidden behind the

"The identity of my pursuer has just dawned upon me," he said. "I know that my life is in real danger. I

would give up what is demanded of me, but I believe its possession to be my strongest safeguard."

Mystery upon mystery! I seemed to be getting no nearer to the heart of this maze. What in heaven's name did

"Is our late fellow passenger, Mr. Ahmadeen, connected with the matter?" I asked.

"In no way," replied Deeping earnestly. "Mr. Ahmadeen is, I believe, a person of some consequence in the

"I'm afraid long residence in the East has rendered me something of a fatalist, Cavanagh! Beyond keeping my

A while longer we talked; and with every word the conviction was more strongly borne in upon me that some

I had hung up the receiver scarce a moment when, acting upon a sudden determination, I called up New

Scotland Yard, and asked for DetectiveInspector Bristol, whom I knew well. A few words were sufficient

keenly to arouse his curiosity, and he announced his intention of calling upon me immediately. He was in

I made no attempt to resume work in the interval preceding his arrival. I had not long to wait, however, ere

Bristol was ringing my bell; and I hurried to the door, only too glad to confide in one so well equipped to

analyze my doubts and fears. For Bristol is no ordinary policeman, but a trained observer, who, when I first

made his acquaintance, completely upset my ideas upon the mental limitations of the official detective force.

In appearance Bristol suggests an AngloIndian officer, and at the time of which I write he had recently

returned from Jamaica and his face was as bronzed as a sailor's. One would never take Bristol for a detective.

As he seated himself in the armchair, without preamble I plunged into my story. He listened gravely.

Very quickly Bristol got into communication with the superintendent of P Division. A brief delay, and the

man came to the telephone whose beat included the road wherein Professor Deeping's house was situated.

"Why!" said Bristol, hanging up the receiver after making a number of inquiries, "it's a sort of rambling

cottage in extensive grounds. There's only one servant, a manservant, and he sleeps in a detached lodge. If the

Professor is really in danger of attack he could not well have chosen a more likely residence for the purpose!"

"As I see the case," he said slowly, "it stands something like this: Professor Deeping has . . . "

"Deeping! I have rung up the police, and they are sending some one. But I wish . . . "

A shriek a deathful, horrifying cry and a distant babbling alone answered me. There was a crash. Clearly,

"Very good, sir. But I shan't be able to take you further back than the Brixton Garage. You can get another

A clock chimed out an oldworld chime in keeping with the loneliness, the curiously remote loneliness, of

the locality. Less than five miles from St. Paul's are spots whereto, with the persistence of Damascus attar,

clings the aroma of former days. This iron gateway fronting the old chapel was such a spot.

The power of speech seemed to desert me. It was unthinkable that Deeping, with whom I had been speaking

less than an hour ago, should now be no more; that some malign agency should thus murderously have thrust

In that kind of silence which seems to be peopled with whispering spirits we strode forward along the elm

avenue. It was very dark where the moon failed to penetrate. The house, low and rambling, came into view,

its facade bathed in silver light. Two of the visible windows were illuminated. A sort of loggia ran along one

On our left, as we made for this, lay a black ocean of shrubbery. It intruded, raggedly, upon the weedgrown

We entered the cottage, crossed the tiny lobby, and came to the study. A man, evidently Deeping's servant,

was sitting in a chair by the door, his head sunken in his hands. He looked up, haggardfaced.

"My God! my God!" he groaned. "He was locked in, gentlemen! He was locked in; and yet something

"I was away on an errand, sir. When I returned, the police were knocking the door down. He was locked in!"

It was a museumlike room, lighted by a lamp on the littered table. At first glance it looked as though some

"He rung us up at the station and said that something or somebody had got into the house. It was evident the

poor gentleman's nerve had broken down, sir. He said he was locked in his study. When we arrived it was all

"Key is in the lock on the inside of the door," he said. "Is that where you found it?"

Professor Deeping lay half under the table, a spectacle so ghastly that I shall not attempt to describe it.

I clutched dizzily at the mantelpiece. It was all so utterly, incredibly horrible. How had Deeping met his

"You can see, sir," replied the officer, "that there isn't a spot in the room where a man could hide! And there

"Yes. I think he must have been trying to prise open that box yonder when he was attacked."

Bristol and I looked, together, at an oblong box which lay upon the floor near the murdered man. It was a

kind of small packing case, addressed to Professor Deeping, and evidently had not been opened.

"When did this arrive?" asked Bristol. Lester, the Professor's man, who had entered the room, replied shakily

Inspector Bristol and the officer dragged the box fully into the light. It was some three feet long by one foot

It is perfectly evident," remarked Bristol, "that the murderer stayed to search for "

"Exactly. If the men really heard sounds here, it would appear that the assassin was still searching at that

"I assure you," the officer interrupted, "that there was no living thing in the room when we entered."

"See if the key is in the place mentioned by the Professor, Mr. Cavanagh, whilst I break the box."

I went to a great, open bookcase, which the frantic searcher seemed to have overlooked. Removing the bulky

"Assyrian Mythology," there, behind the volume, lay an envelope, containing a key, and a short letter. Not

caring to approach more closely to the table and to that which lay beneath it, I was peering at the small

At his words, I joined him where he knelt on the floor. Mysteriously, the chest had defied all his efforts.

"I see the key is safe," said Bristol. "Possibly the letter may throw some light upon all this."

He took the letter from my hand, stepped up to the table, and by the light of the lamp read as follows

It has now become apparent to me that my life is in imminent danger. You know of the inexplicable outrages

which marked my homeward journey, and if this letter come to your hand it will be because these have

The idea of a pursuing scimitar is not new to me. This phenomenon, which I have now witnessed three times,

is fairly easy of explanation, but its significance is singular. It is said to be one of the devices whereby the

Hashishin warn those whom they have marked down for destruction, and is called, in the East, "The Scimitar

The Hashishin were the members of a Moslem secret society, founded in 1090 by one Hassan of Khorassan.

There is a persistent tradition in parts of the Orient that this sect still flourishes in Assyria, under the rule of a

certain Hassan of Aleppo, the Sheikhaljebal, or supreme lord of the Hashishin, My careful inquiries,

however, at the time that I was preparing matter for my "Assyrian Mythology," failed to discover any trace of

I accordingly assumed Hassan to be a myth a first cousin to the ginn. I was wrong. He exists. And by my

supremely rash act I have incurred his vengeance, for Hassan of Aleppo is the selfappointed guardian of the

traditions and relics of Mohammed. And I have Stolen one of the holy slippers of the Prophet!

He, with some of his servants, has followed me from Mecca to England. My precautions have enabled me to

retain the relic, but you have seen what fate befell all those others who even touched the receptacle containing

If I fall a victim to the Hashishin, I am uncertain how you, as my confidant, will fare. Therefore I have locked

the slipper in my safe and to you entrust the key. I append particulars of the lock combination; but I warn you

do not open the safe. If their wrath be visited upon you, your possession of the key may prove a safeguard.

Take the copy of "Assyrian Mythology." You will find in it all that I learned respecting the Hashishin. If I am

doomed to be assassinated, it may aid you; if not, in avenging me in saving others from my fate, I fear I shall

never see you again. A cloud of horror settles upon me like a pall, Do not touch the slipper, nor the case

Bristol returned the letter to me without a word, and turning to Lester, who had reentered carrying a heavy

Through the house of death the sound of the blows echoed and rang with a sort of sacrilegious mockery. The

The box, I have said, was but three feet long by one foot square, and had clearly defied poor Deeping's efforts

Dimly to my ears came the ceaseless murmur of London. The night now was far advanced, and not a sound

Professor Deeping's "Assyrian Mythology" lay open before me, beside it my notebook. A coal dropped from

the fire, and I half started up out of my chair. My nerves were all awry, and I had more than my horrible

When, after assisting, or endeavouring to assist, Bristol at his elaborate inquiries, I had at last returned to my

chambers, I had become the victim of a singular delusion though one common enough in the case of

During the latter part of my journey I found myself constantly looking from the little window at the rear of

the cab. I had an impression that some vehicle was tracking us. Then, when I discharged the man and walked

up the narrow passage to the court, it was fear of a skulking form that dodged from shadow to shadow which

Finally, as I entered the hall and mounted the darkened stair, from the first landing I glanced down into the

I will confess that I leapt up the remaining flight of stairs to my door, and, safely within, found myself

When I sat down to write (for sleep was an impossible proposition) I placed my revolver upon the table

beside me. I cannot say why. It afforded me some sense of protection, I suppose. My conclusions, thus far,

The apparition of the phantom scimitar was due to the presence of someone who, by means of the moonlight,

or of artificial light, cast a reflection of such a weapon as that found in the oblong chest upon the wall of a

A group of highly efficient assassins, evidently Moslem fanatics, who might or might not be of the ancient

order of the Hashishin, had pursued the stolen slipper to England. They had severed any hand, other than that

of a Believer, which had touched the case containing it. (The Coptic porter was a Christian.)

Uncertain, possibly, of Deeping's faith, or fearful of endangering the success of their efforts by an outrage

upon him en route, they had refrained from this until his arrival at his house. He had been warned of his

Who was Ahmadeen? And who was his beautiful associate? I found myself unable, at present, to answer

either of those questions. In order to gain access to Professor Deeping, who so carefully secluded himself, a

box had been sent to him by ordinary carrier. (As I sat at my table, Scotland Yard was busy endeavouring to

It was of the kind used by Eastern conjurors for what is generally known as "the Box Trick." That is to say, it

could only be opened (short of smashing it) from the inside! You will remember what we found within it?

Something (it is not possible to speak of someone in connection with so small a box) had been concealed

inside, and had killed Professor Deeping whilst he was actually engaged in endeavouring to force it open.

This inconceivable creature had then searched the study for the slipper or for the key of the safe.

Interrupted and trapped by the arrival of the police, the creature had returned to the box, reclosed it, and had

For a creature so small as the murderous thing in the box to slip out during the confusion, and at some time

prior to Bristol's arrival, was no difficult matter. The inspector and I were certain that these were the facts.

I turned to the chapter in "Assyrian Mythology" "The Tradition of the Hashishin."

The legends which the late Professor Deeping had collected relative to this sect of religious murderers were

truly extraordinary. Of the cult's extinction at the time of writing he was clearly certain, but he referred to the

popular belief, or Moslem legend, that, since Hassan of Khorassan, there had always been a Sheikhaljebal,

and that a dreadful being known as Hassan of Aleppo was the present holder of the title.

He referred to the fact that De Sacy has shown the word Assassin to be derived from Hashishin, and quoted

ElIdrisi to the same end. The Hashishin performed their murderous feats under the influence of hashish, or

Indian hemp; and during the state of ecstasy so induced, according to Deeping, they acquired powers almost

superhuman. I read how they could scale sheer precipices, pass fearlessly along narrow ledges which would

scarce afford foothold for a rat, cast themselves from great heights unscathed, and track one marked for death

in such a manner as to remain unseen not only by the victim but by others about him. At this point of my

studies I started, in a sudden nervous panic, and laid my hand upon my revolver.

I thought of the eyes which had seemed to look up from the black well of the staircase I thought of the

horrible end of this man whose book lay upon the table . . . and I thought I heard a faint sound outside my

The key of Deeping's safe, and his letter to me, lay close by my hand. I slipped them into a drawer and locked

it. With every nerve, it seemed, strung up almost to snapping point, I mechanically pursued my reading.

"At the time of the Crusades," wrote Deeping, "there was a story current of this awful Order which I propose

to recount. It is one of the most persistent dealing with the Hashishin, and is related today of the apparently

mythical Hassan of Aleppo. I am disposed to believe that at one time it had a solid foundation, for a similar

So very slowly, so gently, nay, all but imperceptibly, did it move, that had my nerves been less keenly

attuned I doubt not I should have remained unaware of the happening. Frozen with horror, I sat and watched.

My direct gaze never quitted the door, but in some strange fashion I saw the words of the next paragraph

"As making peculiarly efficient assassins, when under the influence of the drug, and as being capable of

(At this moment I remembered that my bathroom window was open, and that the wastepipe passed down

" the Sheikhaljebal took young boys of a certain desert tribe, and for eight hours of every day, until their

What looked like a reed was slowly inserted through the opening between door and doorpost! It was brought

I seemed to put forth a mighty mental effort, shaking off the icy hand of fear which held me inactive in my

Revolver in hand, I leapt across the room, dashed the door open, and fired blindly again and again and

I cannot call it man, but I saw the thing which, I doubt not, had killed poor Deeping with the crescentknife

It was a tiny dwarf! Neither within nor without a freak exhibition had I seen so small a human being! A kind

of supernatural dread gripped me by the throat at sight of it. As it turned with animal activity and bounded

into my bathroom, I caught a threequarter view of the creature's swollen, incredible head which was

Never while my mind serves me can I forget that yellow, grinning face and those canine fangs the tigerish,

Like nothing so much as a cat, the gleaming body (the dwarf was but scantily clothed) streaked through the

Certain death, I thought, must be his lot upon the stones of the court far below. I ran and looked down,

shaking in every limb, my mind filled with a loathing terror unlike anything I had ever known.

Brilliant moonlight flooded the pavement beneath; for twenty yards to left and right every stone was visible.

Human, homely London moved and wrought intimately about me; but there, at sight of the empty court

below, a great loneliness swept down like a mantle a clammy mantle of the fabric of dread. I stood remote

from my fellows, in an evil world peopled with the creatures of Hassan of Aleppo.

Moved by some instinct, as that of a frightened child, I dropped to my knees and buried my face in trembling

Here is no doubt," said Mr. Rawson, that great personal danger attaches to any contact with this relic. It is the

Mr. Bristol, of Scotland Yard, standing stiffly military by the window, looked across at the grayhaired

"My late client's wishes," continued Mr. Rawson, "are explicit. His last instructions, evidently written but a

short time prior to his death, advise me that the holy slipper of the Prophet is contained in the locked safe at

his house in Dulwich. He was clearly of opinion that you, Mr. Cavanagh, would incur risk great risk from

your possession of the key. Since attempts have been made upon you, murderous attempts, the late Professor

"Mysterious outrages," said Bristol, "have marked the progress of the stolen slipper from Mecca almost to

"I understand," interrupted the solicitor, "that a fanatic known as Hassan of Aleppo seeks to restore the relic

"Exactly; and it accounts for the Professor's wish that the safe should not be touched by any one but a

Believer and for his instructions that its removal to the Antiquarian Museum and the placing of the slipper

"Any one who has touched the receptacle containing the thing," he said, "has either been mutilated or

murdered. I want to apprehend the authors of those outrages, but I fail to see why the slipper should be put on

"I can only pursue my instructions," said Mr. Rawson dryly. "They are, that the work be done in such a

manner as to expose all concerned to a minimum of risk from these mysterious people; that if possible a

Moslem be employed for the purpose; and that Mr. Cavanagh, here, shall always hold the key or keys to the

case in the museum containing the slipper. Will you undertake to look for some Eastern workmen, Mr.

Bristol? In the course of your inquiries you may possibly come across such a person.

"I can try," replied Bristol. "Meanwhile, I take it, the safe must remain at Dulwich?"

"We are guarding it and shall guard it," Bristol assured him. "I only hope we catch someone trying to get at

Shortly afterward Bristol and I left the office, and, his duties taking him to Scotland Yard, I returned to my

chambers to survey the position in which I now found myself. Indeed, it was a strange one enough, showing

how great things have small beginnings; for, as a result of a steamer acquaintance I found myself involved in

a dark business worthy of the Middle Ages. That Professor Deeping should have stolen one of the holy

slippers of Mohammed was no affair of mine, and that an awful being known as Hassan of Aleppo should

have pursued it did not properly enter into my concerns; yet now, with a group of Eastern fanatics at large in

England, I was become, in a sense, the custodian of the relic. Moreover, I perceived that I had been chosen

that I might safeguard myself. What I knew of the matter might imperil me, but whilst I held the key to the

reliquary, and held it fast, I might hope to remain immune though I must expect to be subjected to attempts. It

Contemplating these things I sat, in a world of dark dreams, unconscious of the comings and goings in the

court below, unconscious of the hum which told of busy Fleet Street so near to me. The weather, as is its

uncomfortable habit in England, had suddenly grown tropically hot, plunging London into the vapours of an

African spring, and the sun was streaming through my open window fully upon the table.

I mopped my clammy forehead, glancing with distaste at the pile of work which lay before me. Then my eyes

turned to an open quarto book. It was the late Professor Deeping's "Assyrian Mythology," and embodied the

result of his researches into the history of the Hashishin, the religious murderers of whose existence he had

been so skeptical. To the Chief of the Order, the terrible Sheikh Hassan of Aleppo, he referred as a "fabled

being"; yet it was at the hands of this "fabled being" that he had met his end! How incredible it all seemed.

Then upon my gloomy musings a sound intrudedthe ringing of my door bell. I rose from my chair with a

weary sigh, went to the door, and opened it. An aged Oriental stood without. He was tall and straight, had a

snowwhite beard and clearcut, handsome features. He wore wellcut; European garments and a green

"Quite correct, sir; but you should apply at the offices of Messrs. Rawson & Rawson, Chancery Lane."

"Many thanks; I understood so much. But, my position being a peculiar one, I wished to speak with you as

I hesitated. The old man looked harmless enough, but there was an air of mystery about the matter which put

"I am not undertaking it myself. I wished to explain to you the conditions under which I could arrange to

His patient explanation disposed me to believe that he was merely some kind of small contractor, and in any

He entered, with that Oriental meekness in which there is something majestic. I placed a chair for him in the

study, and reseated myself at the table. The old man, who from the first had kept his eyes lowered

deferentially, turned to me with a gentle gesture, as if to apologize for opening the conversation.

"From the papers, Mr. Cavanagh," he began, "I have learned of the circumstances attending the death of

Professor Deeping. "Your papers" he smiled, and I thought I had never seen a smile of such sweetness

"your papers know all! Now I understand why a Moslem is required, and I understand what is required of

him. But remembering that the object of his labours would be to place a holy relic on exhibition for the

amusement of unbelievers, can you reasonably expect to obtain the services of one?"

"Perhaps not," I replied. "For my own part I should wish to see the slipper back in Mecca, or wherever it

"Nevertheless his wishes must be considered," I said, "and the methods adopted by those who seek to recover

"You speak of the Hashishin?" asked the old man. "Mr. Cavanagh, in your own faith you have had those who

"My good sir, the existence of such an organization cannot be tolerated today! This survival of the dark ages

must be stamped out. However just a cause may be, secret murder is not permissible, as you, a man of

culture, a Believer, and" I glanced at his unusual turban " a descendant of the Prophet, must admit."

"I can admit nothing against the Guardian of the Tradition, Mr. Cavanagh! The Prophet taught that we should

"Then assist me to rid England of what you have called a survival of the dark ages. I will furnish porters to

"That is madness!" I cried. "In the first place I should be compromising with my conscience, and in the

"I have with me a written promise from one highly placed one to whose will Hassan of Aleppo bows!"

My mind greatly disturbed, I watched the venerable speaker. I had determined now that he was some

religious leader of Islam in England, who had been deputed to approach me; and, let me add, I was sorely

tempted to accede to his proposal, for nothing would be gained by any one if the slipper remained for ever at

the museum, whereas by conniving at its recovery by those who, after all, were its rightful owners I should be

I think I should have agreed, when I remembered that the Hashishin had murdered Professor Deeping and had

mutilated others wholly innocent of offence. I looked across at the old man. He had drawn himself up to his

great height, and for the first time fully raising the lids, had fixed upon me the piercing gaze of a pair of eagle

eyes. I started, for the aspect of this majestic figure was entirely different from that of the old stranger who

"It is impossible," I said. "I can come to no terms with those who shield murderers."

"Esselam 'aleykum!" I added ("Peace be on you!") closing the interview in the Eastern manner.

"Wa'aleykum!" he said ("And on you!"). I conducted him to the door and closed it upon his exit. In his last

salute I had noticed the flashing of a ring which he wore upon his left hand, and he was gone scarce ten

seconds ere my heart began to beat furiously. I snatched up "Assyrian Mythology" and with trembling fingers

Each Sheikh of the Assassins is said to be invested with the "Ring of the Prophet." It bears a green stone,

On the following morning I was awakened by the arrival of Bristol. I hastened to admit him.

He tugged irritably at his moustache. "I don't know!" he replied. "Of course it was no surprise to find that

there isn't a Mohammedan who'll lay his little finger on Professor Deeping's safe! There's no doubt in my

mind that every lascar at the docks knows Hassan of Aleppo to be in England. Some other arrangement will

have to be arrived at, if the thing is ever to be taken to the Antiquarian Museum. Meanwhile we stand to lose

"Last night," he resumed, "a member of P Division was on point duty outside the late Professor's house, and

two C.I.D. men were actually in the room where the safe is. Result someone has put in at least an hour's

"Someone has been at the lock!" I cried. "But that is impossible, with two men in the room unless "

"Oh, no! It was done artistically. They both came round about four o'clock this morning."

My amazement grew by leaps and bounds. "But, Bristol, one of them must have seen the other succumb!"

"That's not surprising. Listen: When I got on the scene about five o'clock, Marden and West, the two C.I.D.

men, had quite recovered their senses, though they were badly shaken, and one had a cracked skull. The

"In exactly the same way! I'll give you Marden's story, as he gave it to me a few minutes after the surgeon

had done with him. He said that they were sitting in the study, smoking, and with both windows wide open. It

"No. West sat in an armchair near the writingtable; Marden sat by the window next to the door. I had

arranged that every hour one of them should go out to the gate and take the constable's report. It was just after

"They were sitting as I tell you when Marden thought he heard a curious sort of noise from the gate. West

appeared to have heard nothing; but I have no doubt that it was the sound of the constable's fall. West's pipe

had gone out, and he struck a match to relight it. As he did so, Marden saw him drop the match, clench both

fists, and with eyes glaring in the moonlight and his teeth coming together with a snap, drop from his chair.

"Marden says that he was half up from his seat when something struck him on the back of the head with

fearful force. He remembered nothing more until he awoke, with the dawn creeping into the room, and heard

West groaning somewhere beside him. They both had badly damaged skulls with great bruises behind the ear.

It is instructive to note that their wounds corresponded almost to a fraction of an inch. They had been stunned

by someone who thoroughly understood his business, and with some heavy, blunt weapon. A few minutes

later came the man to relieve the constable; and the constable was found to have been treated in exactly the

"Marden was seated by the open window, but I cannot conjecture how any one can have got at West, who sat

"The case of Marden is little less remarkable; he was some distance from the window. No one could possibly

"The constable can give us no clue. He was suddenly struck down, as the others were. I examined the safe, of

course, but didn't touch it, according to instructions. Someone had been at work on the lock, but it had defied

their efforts. I'm fully expecting though that they'll be back tonight, with different tools!"

"Of course. But it's unlikely that anything will be attempted in daylight. Tonight I am going down myself."

"Mr. Cavanagh, it's uncanny!" said Bristol. "I can understand that one of these Hashishin could easily have

got up behind the man on duty out in the open. I know, and so do you, that they're past masters of that kind of

thing; but unless they possess the power to render themselves invisible, it's not evident how they can have got

"Rely upon me to do so. My only fear is that they may anticipate it and change their tactics. Hassan of

Inspector Bristol, though a man of considerable culture, clearly was infected with a species of supernatural

At four o'clock in the afternoon I had heard nothing further from Bristol, but I did not doubt that he would

advise me of his arrangements in good time. I sought by hard work to forget for a time the extraordinary

business of the stolen slipper; but it persistently intruded upon my mind. Particularly, my thoughts turned to

the night of Professor Deeping's murder, and to the bewitchingly pretty woman who had warned me of the

impending tragedy. She had bound me to secrecy a secrecy which had proved irksome, for it had since

appeared to me that she must have been an accomplice of Hassan of Aleppo. At the time I had been at a loss

to define her peculiar accent, now it seemed evidently enough to have been Oriental.

I threw down my pen in despair, for work was impossible, went downstairs, and walked out under the arch

into Fleet Street. Quite mechanically I turned to the left, and, still engaged with idle conjectures, strolled

Passing the entrance to one of the big hotels, I was abruptly recalled to the realities by a woman's voice.

I stopped, and turned. A woman who had just quitted a taxicab was entering the hotel. The day was hot and

thunderously oppressive, and this woman with the musical voice wore a delicate costume of flimsiest white.

A few steps upward she paused and glanced back. I had a view of a Greek profile, and for one magnetic

Then, shaking off inaction, I ran up the steps and overtook the lady in white as a porter swung open the door

"Madame," I said in a low tone, "I must detain you for a moment. There is something I have to ask."

She turned, exhibiting the most perfect composure, lowered her lashes and raised them again, the gaze of the

I felt myself flush; for this encounter in the foyer of an hotel, with many curious onlookers, was like to prove

embarrassing if my beautiful acquaintance persisted in her attitude. I fully realized what construction would

be put upon my presence there, and foresaw that forcible and ignominious ejection must be my lot if I failed

She turned away, and crossed in the direction of the staircase. A sunbeam sought out a lock of hair that

strayed across her brow, and kissed it to a sudden glow like that which lurks in the heart of a blush rose.

That wonderful sheen, which I had never met with elsewhere in nature, but which no artifice could lend,

served to remove my last frail doubt which had survived the evidence of the violet eyes. I had been deceived

by no strange resemblance; this was indeed the woman who had been the harbinger of Professor Deeping's

death. In three strides I was beside her again. Curious glances were set upon me, and I saw a servant

"You must listen to what I have to say!" I whispered. "If you decline, I shall have no alternative but to call in

She stood quite still, watching me coolly. "I suppose you would wish to avoid a scene?" I added.

"You have already made me the object of much undesirable attention," she replied scornfully. "I do not need

your assurance that you would disgrace me utterly! You are talking nonsense, as you must be aware unless

you are insane. But if your object be to force your acquaintance upon me, your methods are novel, and, under

The musical voice had lost nothing of its imperiousness, but for one instant the lips parted, affording a

Her sudden change of front was bewildering. Now, she entered the lift and I followed her. As we ascended

side by side I found it impossible to believe that this dainty white figure was that of an associate of the

Hashishin, that of a creature of the terrible Hassan of Aleppo. Yet that she was the same girl who, a few days

after my return from the East, had shown herself conversant with the plans of the murderous fanatics was

beyond doubt. Her accent on that occasion clearly had been assumed, with what object I could not imagine.

Then, as we quitted the lift and entered a cosy lounge, my companion seated herself upon a Chesterfield,

As I did so she lay back smiling, and regarding me from beneath her black lashes. Thus, half veiled, her great

"There is no occasion for pretence," she replied lightly; and I found myself comparing her voice with her

figure, her figure with her face, and vainly endeavouring to compute her age. Frankly, she was bewildering

"It is quite useless! Come, I know New York, London, and I know Paris, Vienna, Budapest. Therefore I know

mankind! You thought I was pretty, I suppose? I may be; others have thought so. And you thought you would

like to make my acquaintance without troubling about the usual formalities? You adopted a singularly brutal

method of achieving your object, but I love such insolence in a man. Therefore I forgave you. What have you

I perceive that I had to deal with a bold adventuress, with a consummate actress, who, finding herself in a

dangerous situation, had adopted this daring line of defence, and now by her personal charm sought to lure

But with the scimitar of Hassan of Aleppo stretched over me, with the dangers of the night before me, I was

in no mood for a veiled duel of words, for an interchange of glances in thrust and parry, however delightful

For a long time I looked sternly into her eyes; but their violet mystery defied, whilst her redlipped smile

"Unfortunately," I said, with slow emphasis, "you are protected by my promise, made on the occasion of our

previous meeting. But murder has been done, so that honour scarcely demands that I respect my promise

"I believe you to be a member of a murderous organization, and unless you can convince me that I am wrong,

"Please do not be so cruel," she whispered, "as to drag me into a matter with which truly I have no concern.

She rose, and before I could make move to detain her, quitted the room; But the door scarcely had closed ere

I was afoot. The corridor beyond was empty. I ran on. The lift had just descended. A dark man whom I

"Quick!" I said, "I am Cavanagh of the Report! Did you see a lady enter the lift?"

In such a giant inn as this I knew full well that one could come and go almost with impunity, though one had

no right to the hospitality of the establishment; and it was with a premonition respecting what his answer

"You see," said Bristol, "the Hashishin must know that the safe won't remain here unopened much longer.

"It seems likely," I replied; and was silent. Outside the open windows whispered the shrubbery, as a soft

breeze stole through the bushes. Beyond, the moon made play in the dim avenue. From the old chapel hard by

the sweettoned bell proclaimed midnight. Our vigil was begun. In this room it was that Professor Deeping

had met death at the hands of the murderous Easterns; here it was that Marden and West had mysteriously

Tonight was every whit as hot, and Bristol and I had the windows widely opened. My companion was

seated where the detective, Marden, had sat, in a chair near the westerly window, and I lay back in the

I may repeat here that the house of the late Professor Deeping was more properly a cottage, surrounded by a

fairly large piece of ground, for the most part run wild. The room used as a study was on the ground floor,

and had windows on the west and on the south. Those on the west (French windows) opened on a loggia;

those on the south opened right into the dense tangle of a neglected shrubbery. The place possessed an

oppressive atmosphere of loneliness, for which in some measure its history may have been responsible.

The silence, seemingly intensified by each whisper that sped through the elms and crept about the shrubbery,

grew to such a stillness that I told myself I had experienced nothing like it since crossing with a caravan I had

slept in the desert. Yet noisy, whirling London was within gunshot of us; and this, though hard enough to

believe, was a reflection oddly comforting. Only one train of thought was possible, and this I pursued at

By what means were Marden and West struck down? In thus exposing ourselves, in order that we might trap

"No one," he replied, "came through the windows. West saw absolutely nothing. But if any one comes that

Powerful mantraps were set in such a way that any one or anything, ignorant of their positions, coming up to

the windows must unavoidably be snared. These had been placed in position with much secrecy after dusk,

and the man on duty at the gate stood with his back to the wall. No one could approach him except from the

Was the girl with the violet eyes an ally of the Hashishin? Thus far, although she so palpably had tricked me,

I had found myself unable to speak of her to Bristol; for the idea had entered my mind that she might have

learned of the plan to murder Deeping without directly being implicated. Now came yet another explanation.

The publicity given to that sensational case might have interested some third party in the fate of the stolen

slipper! Could it be that others, in no way connected with the dreadful Hassan of Aleppo, were in quest of the

Scotland Yard had taken care to ensure that the general public be kept in ignorance of the existence of such

an organization as the Hashishin, but I must assume that this hypothetical third party were well aware that

they had Hassan, as well as the authorities, to count with. Granting the existence of such a party, my beautiful

"Bristol," I said,"has it occurred to you that there may be others, as well as Hassan of Aleppo, seeking to gain

"It has not," he replied. "In the strictest sense of the expression, they would be out for trouble! What gave you

"I hardly know," I returned evasively, for even now I was loath to betray the mysterious girl with the

The chapel bell sounding the halfhour, Bristol rose with a sigh that might have been one of relief, and went

out to take the report of the man on duty at the gate. As his footsteps died away along the elm avenue, it came

to me how, in the darkness about, menace lurked; and I felt myself succumbing to the greatest dread

All that I knew of the weird group of fanatics survivals of a dim and evil past who must now be watching

this cottage as bloodlustful devotees watch a shrine violated, burst upon my mind. I peopled the still

blackness with lurking assassins, armed with the murderous knowledge of bygone centuries, armed with

I glanced toward the corner of the room where the safe stood, reliquary of a worthless thing for which much

Then sounded footsteps along the avenue, and my fear whispered that they were not those of Bristol but of

I snatched the revolver from my pocket and crossed the darkened room. Just to the right of one of the French

windows I stood looking out across the loggia to the end of the avenue. The night was a bright one, and the

room was flooded with a reflected mystic light, but outside the moon paved the avenue with pearl, and

Was it Bristol? It had his build, it had his gait; but my fears remained. Then the figure crossed the patch of

"I don't wonder! They may be on us any time now. All's well at the gate, but Morris says he heard, or thought

"Bristol," I said, "now that the danger grows imminent, doesn't it seem to you foolhardy for us thus to expose

"Perhaps it is," he agreed; " but how otherwise are we likely to learn what happened to Marden and West?"

"I think not. Our dispositions are the same, and I credit them with cunning enough to know it. At the same

time I credit ourselves with having kept the existence of the steel traps completely secret. They will assume

(so I've reasoned) that we intend to rely entirely upon our superior vigilance, therefore they will try the same

The moon rays, creeping around from the right of the avenue, crossing the shrubbery and encroaching upon

the low wall of the loggia, now flooded its floor. Against the silvern light, Bristol appeared to me in black

silhouette. The breeze, too, seemed now to blow from a slightly different direction. It came through the

windows on my right, beyond which lay the unkempt bushes which extended on that side to the wall of the

So we sat, until the moonlight poured fully in upon Bristol's back. So we sat when the clock chimed the hour

Bristol arose and once more went out to the gate. He had arranged to visit Morris's post every halfhour.

Again I experienced the nervous dread that he would be attacked in the avenue; but again he returned

But from his tones I knew that he had not forgotten that it was at this hour Marden and West had suffered

Neither of us, I think, was disposed to talk. We both were unwilling to break the silence, wherein, with all our

And now my attention turned anew to the course of the slowly creeping moon rays. In my mind an idea was

struggling for definition. There was something significant in the lunar lighting of the room. Why, I asked

myself, had the attack been made at one o'clock? Did the time signify anything? If so, what? I looked toward

His figure, the chair upon which he sat, were sharply outlined by the cold light. The wall behind me, and to

The idea was taking shape. From the loggia and the avenue Bristol, I reasoned, must be clearly visible. From

the shrubbery on the south, through the other windows could I be seen? Yes, silhouetted against the

A faint sound, quite indescribable, came to my ears from somewhere outsidebeyond.

Bristol was half standing, one hand upon the arm of the chair, the other concealed, but grasping his revolver

as I well knew. I, too, had my revolver in my hand, and as I twisted in my seat, preparatory to rising, in sheer

As I did so something whistled past my ear, so closely as almost to touch itand struck with a dull thud upon

But as I raised my eyes to him he seemed to crumple up, and fell loosely forward into the patch of moonlight

In a cold sweat of fear I crouched there, for it had become evident to me that, as I bent, I was entirely in

There was a rustling in the bushes on the left; but before I could turn in that direction, my attention was

It was that of a small but strongly built man, who carried a short, exceedingly thick bamboo rod in his hand.

My fear was too great to admit of my accurately observing anything at that time, but I noticed that some kind

The panic fear of the supernatural was strongly upon me, and I was unable to realize that this Eastern

apparition was a creature of flesh and blood. With my nerves strung up to snapping point, I crouched

At that my overwrought nerves betrayed me. I uttered a stifled cry, looking upward . . . and into a pair of

A second brown man (who must have entered by one of the windows overlooking the shrubbery) was

Scarce knowing what I did, I raised my revolver and blazed straight into the dimlyseen face. Down upon me

silently dropped a naked body, and something warm came flowing over my hand. But, knowing my foes to

be of flesh and blood, feeling myself at handgrips now with a palpable enemy, I threw off the body, leapt up

and fired, though blindly, at the flying shape that flashed across the loggia and was lost in the shadow pools

Upon the din of my shooting fell silence like a cloak. A moment I listened, tense, still; then I turned to the

In its light I saw Bristol lying like a dead man. Close beside him was a big and heavy lump of clay. It had

been shaped as a ball, but now it was flattened out curiously. Bending over my unfortunate companion and

learning that, though unconscious, he lived, I learnt, too, how the Hashishin contrived to strike men

insensible without approaching them; I learnt that the one whom I had shot, who lay in his blood almost on

The contrivance which he carried, as did the other who had escaped, was a sling, of the ancient Persian type.

In place of stones, heavy lumps of clay were used, which operated much the same as a sandbag, whilst

Hidden, over by the ancient chapel it might be, one of this evil twain had struck down Morris, the constable;

from the shelter of the trees, from many yards away, they had shot their singular missiles through the open

windows at Bristol and myself. Bristol had succumbed, and now, with a redness showing through his

closecut hair immediately behind the right ear, lay wholly unconscious at my feet.

It had been a divine accident which had caused me to drop my revolver, and, stooping to recover it,

unknowingly to frustrate the design of the second slinger upon myself. The light of the lamp fell upon the

face of the dead Hashishin. He lay forward upon his hands, crouching almost, but with his face, his dreadful,

God knows he deserved his end; but that mutilated face is often grinning, bloodily, in my dreams.

And then as I stood, between that horrid exultation which is born of killing and the panic which threatened

me out of the darkness, I saw something advancing . . . slowly . . . slowly . . . from the elmen shades toward

It was a shapeit was a shadow. Silent it came on and on. Where the dusk lay deepest it paused,

undefined; for I could give it no name of man or spirit. But a horror seemed to proceed from it as light from a

I groped about the table near to me, never taking my eyes from that sinister form outside. As my fingers

closed upon the telephone, distant voices and the sound of running footsteps (of those who had heard the

The form stirred, seeming to raise phantom arms in execration, and a stray moonbeam pierced the darkness

The sounds grew nearer. I could tell that the newcomers had found Morris lying at the gate. Yet still I stood,

frozen with uncanny fear, and watching watching the spot to which that stray beam had pierced; the spot

A little group of interested spectators stood at the head of the square glass case in the centre of the lofty

apartment in the British Antiquarian Museum known as the Burton Room (by reason of the fact that a fine

painting of Sir Richard Burton faces you as you enter). A few other people looked on curiously from the

lower end of the case. It contained but one exhibit a dirty and dilapidated markoob or slipper of morocco

"Our latest acquisition, gentlemen," said Mr. Mostyn, the curator, speaking in a low tone to the distinguished

Oriental scholars around him. "It has been left to the Institution by the late Professor Deeping. He describes it

in a document furnished by his solicitor as one of the slippers worn by the Prophet Mohammed, but gives us

"Nor I," interrupted one of the group. "It is not mentioned by any of the Arabian historians to my knowledge

"I cannot possibly assert that it comes from Mecca, Dr. Nicholson," Mostyn replied. "The Professor may have

taken it from AlMadinah perhaps from the mysterious inner passage of the baldaquin where the treasures of

the place lie. But I can assure you that what little we do know of its history is sufficiently unsavoury."

I fancied that the curator's tired cultured voice faltered as he spoke; and now, without apparent reason, he

moved a step to the right and glanced oddly along the room. I followed the direction of his glance, and saw a

tall man in conventional morning dress, irreproachable in every detail, whose head was instantly bent upon

his catalogue. But before his eyes fell I knew that their long almond shape, as well as the peculiar burnt pallor

"There have been mysterious outrages committed, I believe, upon many of those who have come in contact

"Exactly. Professor Deeping was undoubtedly among the victims. His instructions were explicit that the relic

should be brought here by a Moslem, but for a long time we failed to discover any Moslem who would

undertake the task; and, as you are aware, while the slipper remained at the Professor's house attempts were

He ceased uneasily, and glanced at the tall Eastern figure. It had edged a little nearer; the head was still

bowed and the fine yellow waxen fingers of the hand from which he had removed his glove fumbled with the

catalogue's leaves. It may well have been that in those days I read menace in every eye, yet I felt assured that

the yellow visitor was eavesdropping was malignantly attentive to the conversation.

The curator spoke lower than ever now; no one beyond the circle could possibly hear him as he proceeded

"We discovered an Alexandrian Greek who, for personal reasons, not unconnected with matrimony, had

turned Moslem! He carried the slipper here, strongly escorted, and placed it where you now see it. No other

hand has touched it." (The speaker's voice was raised ever so slightly.) "You will note that there is a rail

"Ah," said Dr. Nicholson quizzically, "And has anything untoward happened to our GraecoMoslem friend?"

The straight, military figure of the wellknown Scotland Yard man was conspicuous among the group of

"Sorry, gentlemen," he said, smiling. "but Mr. Acepulos has vanished from his tobacco shop in Soho. I am

not apprehensive that he had been kidnapped or anything of that kind. I think rather that the date of his

disappearance tallies with that on which he cashed his cheque for service rendered! His present wife is getting

"Well," Mostyn answered, "though we have only the bare word of the late Professor Deeping that the slipper

was actually worn by Mohammed, it has certainly an enormous value according to Moslem ideas. There can

be no doubt that a group of fanatics known as Hashishin are in London engaged in an extraordinary

Mostyn's voice sank to an impressive whisper. My gaze sought again the tall Eastern visitor and was held

fascinated by the baffled straining in those velvet eyes. But the lids fell as I looked; and the effect was that of

a fire suddenly extinguished. I determined to draw Bristol's attention to the man.

"Accordingly," Mostyn continued, "we have placed it in this room, from which I fancy it would puzzle the

"We have four large windows here; as you see. The Burton Room occupies the end of a wing; there is only

one door; it communicates with the next room, which in turn opens into the main building by another door on

the landing. We are on the first floor; these two east windows afford a view of the lawn before the main

entrance; those two west ones face Orpington Square; all are heavily barred as you see. During the day there

is a man always on duty in these two rooms. At night that communicating door is locked. Short of erecting a

ladder in full view either of the Square or of Great Orchard Street, filing through four iron bars and breaking

the window and the case, I fail to see how anybody can get at the slipper here."

"If a duplicate key to the safe " another voice struck in; I knew it afterward for that of Professor

"Impossible to procure one, Professor," cried Mostyn, his eyes sparkling with an almost boyish interest. "Mr.

Cavanagh here holds the keys of the case, under the will of the late Professor Deeping. They are of foreign

"Then I venture to predict," said the celebrated Orientalist, "that the slipper of the Prophet will rest here

He linked his arm into that of a brother scholar and the little group straggled away, Mostyn accompanying

But I saw Inspector Bristol scratching his chin; he looked very much as if he doubted the accuracy of the

doctor's prediction. He had already had some experience of the implacable devotion of the Moslem group to

"The real danger begins," I suggested to him "when the general public is admitted after today, is it not?"

"Yes. All today's people are specially invited, or are using special invitation cards," he replied. "The people

who received them often give their tickets away to those who will be likely really to appreciate the

I looked around for the tall Oriental. He seemed to have vanished, and for some reason I hesitated to speak of

him to Bristol; for my gaze fell upon an excessively thin, keenfaced man whose curiously wideopen eyes

met mine smilingly, whose gray suit spoke SteinBloch, whose felt was a Boss rawedge unmistakably of a

kind that only Philadelphia can produce. At the height of the season such visitors are not rare, but this one

had an odd personality, and moreover his keen gaze was raking the place from ceiling to floor.

Where had I met him before? To the best of my recollection I had never set eyes upon the man prior to that

moment; and since he was so palpably an American I had no reason for assuming him to be associated with

the Hashishin. But I remembered indeed, I could never forget how, in the recent past, I had met with an

apparent associate of the Moslems as evidently European as this curiously alert visitor was American.

Moreover . . . there was something tauntingly familiar, yet elusive, about that gaunt face.

Was it not upon the eve of the death of Professor Deeping that the girl with the violet eyes had first intruded

her fascinating personality into my tangled affairs? Patently, she had then been seeking the holy slipper, and

by craft had endeavoured to bend me to her will. Then had I not encountered her again, meeting the glance of

her unforgettable violet eyes outside a Strand, hotel? The encounter had presaged a, further attempt upon the

slipper! Certainly she acted on behalf of someone interested in it; and since neither Bristol nor I could

conceive of any one seeking to possess the bloodstained thing except the mysterious leader of the Hashishin

Hassan of Aleppo as a creature of that awful fanatic being I had written her down.

Why, then, if the mysterious Eastern employed a European girl, should he not also employ an American

man? It might well be that the relic, in entering the doors of the impregnable Antiquarian Museum, had

passed where the diabolical arts of the Hashishin had no power to reach it where the beauty of Western

women and the craft of Eastern man were equally useless weapons. Perhaps Hassan's campaign was entering

Was it a shirking of plain duty on my part that wish that everpresent hope that the murderous company

of fanatics who had pursued the stolen slipper from its ancient restingplace to London, should succeed in

The crescent of Islam fades today and grows pale, but there are yet fierce Believers, alust for the blood of

the infidel. In such as these a faith dies the death of an adder, and is more venomous in its deaththroes than

in the full pulse of life. The ghastly indiscretion of Professor Deeping, in rifling a Moslem Sacristy, had led to

the mutilation of many who, unwittingly, had touched the looted relic, had brought about his own end, had

Only once had I seen the venerable Hassan of Aleppo a stately, gentle old man; but I knew that the velvet

eyes could blaze into a passionate fury that seemed to scorch whom it fell upon. I knew that the saintly

Hassan was Sheikh of the Hashishin. And familiarity with that dreadful organization had by no means bred

contempt. I was the holder of the key, and my fear of the fanatics grew like a magic mango, darkened the

You, who have not read poor Deeping's "Assyrian Mythology", cannot picture a creature with a huge,

distorted head, and a tiny, dwarfed body a thing inhuman, yet human a man stunted and malformed by

the cruel arts of brother men a thing obnoxious to life, with but one passion, the passion to kill. You cannot

conceive of the years of agony spent by that creature strapped to a wooden frame in order to prevent his

growth! You cannot conceive of his fierce hatred of all humanity, inflamed to madness by the Eastern drug,

hashish, and directed against the enemies of Islam the holders of the slipper by the wonderful power of

And he was but one of the many instruments of the Hashishin. Perhaps the girl with the violet eyes was

another. What else to be dreaded Hassan might hold in store for us I could not conjecture.

Do you wonder that I feared? Do you wonder that I hoped (I confess it), hoped that the slipper might be

"That's a funny thing, sir," he said. "I was keeping my eyes specially upon him. I noticed him hovering

around while Mr. Mostyn was speaking; but although I could have sworn he hadn't passed out, he's gone!"

The man clearly was perplexed, but I found small matter for wonder in the episode. I had more than

suspected the stranger to be a spy of Hassan's, and members of that strange company were elusive as

Bristol, at the far end of the room, was signalling to me. I walked back and joined him.

"Come over here," he said, in a low voice, "and pretend to examine these things."

He glanced significantly to his left. Following the glance, my eyes fell upon the lean American; he was

Bristol led me across the room, and we both faced the wall and bent over a glass case. Some yellow

newspaper cuttings describing its contents hung above it, and these we pretended to read.

"Well, that's Earl Dexter, the first crook in America! Ssh! Only goes in on very big things. We had word at

the Yard he was in town; but we can't touch him we can only keep our eyes on him. He usually travels

openly and in his own name, but this time he seems to have slipped over quietly. He always dresses the same

and has just given me 'good day!' They call him The Stetson Man. We heard this morning that he had booked

two firstclass sailings in the Oceanic, leaving for New York three weeks hence. Now, Mr. Cavanagh, what

"It has occurred to me before, Bristol," I replied, "and you may remember that I mentioned the idea to you,

that there might be a third party interested in the slipper. Why shouldn't Earl Dexter be that third party?"

"Because he isn't a fool," rapped Bristol shortly. "Earl Dexter isn't a man to gather up trouble for himself.

More likely if his visit has anything really to do with the slipper he's retained by Hassan and Company.

This latter suggestion dovetailed with my own ideas, and oddly enough there was something positively

wholesome in the notion of the straightforward crookedness of a mere swell cracksman.

Then happened a singular thing, and one that effectually concluded our whispered colloquy. From the top end

of the room, beyond the case containing the slipper, one of the yellow blinds came down with a run.

Bristol turned in a flash. It was not a remarkable accident, and might portend no more than a loose cord; but

when, having walked rapidly up the room, we stood before the lowered blind, it appeared that this was no

Some four feet from the bottom of the blind (or five feet from the floor) a piece of linen a foot square had

I glanced around the room. Several fashionably dressed visitors were looking idly in our direction, but I could

I nodded grimly and raced down the steps. Despite my halfformed desire that the slipper should be

recovered by those to whom properly it belonged, I experienced at times a curious interest in its welfare. I

cannot explain this. Across the hall in front of me I saw Earl Dexter passing out of the Museum. I followed

him through into Kingsway and thence to Fleet Street. He sauntered easily along, a nonchalant gray figure. I

had begun to think that he was bound for his hotel and that I was wasting my time when he turned sharply

My heart leapt into my mouth with a presentiment of what was coming as I saw an elegant and beautifully

Was it that I detected something familiar in her carriage, in the poise of her head something that reminded

me of former unforgettable encounters; encounters which without exception had presaged attempts upon the

slipper of the Prophet? Or was it that I recollected how Dexter had booked two passages to America? I cannot

say, but I felt my heart leap; I knew beyond any possibility of doubt that this meeting in Salisbury Square

Dexter slipped his arm within that of the girl in front of him and they paced slowly forward in earnest

conversation. I suppose my action was very amateurish and very poor detective work; but regardless of

I am certain that Dexter was speaking as I came up, but, well out of earshot, his voice was suddenly arrested.

I was prepared for it, yet was thrilled electrically by the flashing glance of the violet eyes for it was she

My brain was in a whirl; complication piled itself upon complication; yet in the heart of all this bewilderment

I thought I could detect the key of the labyrinth, but at the time my ideas were in disorder, for the violet eyes

I knew myself helpless, and bending my head with conscious embarrassment I passed on hurriedly.

I had work to do in plenty, but I could not apply my mind to it; and now, although the obvious and sensible

thing was to go about my business, I wandered on aimlessly, my brain employed with a hundred idle

conjectures and the query, "Where have I seen The Stetson Man?" seeming to beat, like a tattoo, in my brain.

There was something magnetic about the accursed slipper, for without knowing by what route I had arrived

there, I found myself in Great Orchard Street and close under the walls of the British Antiquarian Museum.

Two men, both tall, stood in the shadow of a doorway on the Opposite side of the street, staring intently up at

the Museum windows. It was a tropically hot afternoon and they stood in deepest shadow. No one else was in

Orchard Street that odd little backwater at the time, and they stood gazing upward intently and gave me

But I knew one for the Oriental visitor of the morning, and despite broad noonday and the hum of busy

London about me, my blood seemed to turn to water. I stood rooted to the spot, held there by a most

For the graybearded figure of the other watcher was one I could never forget; its benignity was associated

with the most horrible hours of my life, with deeds so dreadful that recollection to this day sometimes breaks

If he saw me, if either of them saw me, I cannot say. What I should have done, what I might have done it is

useless to speak of here for I did nothing. Inert, thralled by the presence of that eerie, dreadful being, I

watched them leave the shadow of the doorway and pace slowly on with their dignified Eastern gait.

Then, knowing how I had failed in my plain duty to my fellowmen how, finding a serpent in my path, I had

hesitated to crush it, had weakly succumbed to its uncanny fascination I made my way round to the door of

That night the deviltry began. Mr. Mostyn found himself wholly unable to sleep. Many relics have curious

histories, and the experienced archaeologist becomes callous to that uncanniness which seems to attach to

some gruesome curios. But the slipper of the Prophet was different. No mere ghostly menace threatened its

holders; an avenging scimitar followed those who came in contact with it; gruesome tragedies, mutilations,

The night was still as still as a London night can be; for there is always a vague murmuring in the

metropolis as though the sleeping city breathed gently and sometimes stirred in its sleep.

Then, distinct amid these usual nocturnal noises, rose another, unaccountable sound, a muffled crash

Mostyn sprang up in bed, drew on a dressinggown, and took from the small safe at his bedhead the

Museum keys and a loaded revolver. A somewhat dishevelled figure, pale and wildeyed, he made his way

through the private door and into the ghostly precincts of the Museum. He did not hesitate, but ascended the

Along its ghostly aisles he passed, and before the door which gave admittance to the Burton Room paused,

Mostyn was keenly alarmed; he knew that he must enter at once or never. He inserted the key in the lock,

swung open the heavy door, stepped through and closed it behind him. He was a man of tremendous moral

courage, for now, alone in the apartment which harboured the uncanny relic, alone in the discharge of his

duty, he stood with his back to the door trembling slightly, but with the idea of retreat finding no place in his

One side of the room lay in blackest darkness; through the furthermost window of the other a faint yellowed

luminance (the moonlight through the blind) spread upon the polished parquet flooring. But that which held

the curator spellbound that which momentarily quickened into life the latent superstition, common to all

mankind, was a beam of cold light which poured its effulgence fully upon the case containing the Prophet's

slipper! Where the other exhibits lay either in utter darkness or semidarkness this one it seemed was

It was ghostlyunnerving; but, the first dread of it passed, Mostyn recalled how during the day a hole

inexplicably had been cut in that blind; he recalled that it had not been mended, but that the damaged blind

And as a dawning perception of the truth came to him, as falteringly he advanced a step toward the mystic

beam, he saw that one side of the case had been shattered he saw the broken glass upon the floor; and in the

dense shadow behind and under the beam of light, vaguely he saw a dull red object.

It moved it seemed to live! It moved away from the case and in the direction of the eastern windows.

And wildly, blindly, he fired down the room. Later he knew that he had fired in panic, for nothing human was

or could be in the place; yet his shot was not without effect. In the instant of its flash, something struck

sharply against the dimly seen blind of one of the east windows; he heard the crash of broken glass.

He leapt to the switch and flooded the room with light. A fear of what it might hold possessed him, and he

Hard by the fragments of broken glass upon the floor and midway between the case and the first easterly

window lay the slipper. A bell was ringing somewhere. His shot probably had aroused the attention of the

policeman. Someone was clamouring upon the door of the Museum, too. Mostyn raced forward and raised

The lower pane of the window was smashed. Blood was trickling down upon the floor from the jagged edges

Bells were going all over the place now; sounds of running footsteps came from below; but Mostyn stood

staring at the broken window and at the solid iron bars which protected it without, which were intact,

Yet the case was shattered, the holy slipper lay close beside him upon the floor, and from the broken

That was the story as I heard it half an hour later. For Inspector Bristol, apprised of the happening, was

promptly on the scene; and knowing how keen was my interest in the matter, he rang me up immediately. I

arrived soon after Bristol and found a perplexed group surrounding the uncanny slipper of the Prophet. No

one had dared to touch it; the dread vengeance of Hassan of Aleppo would visit any unbeliever who ventured

to lay hand upon the holy, bloody thing. Well we knew it, and as though it had been a venomous scorpion we,

a company of uptodate, prosaic men of affairs, stood around that dilapidated markoob, and kept a

Mostyn, an odd figure in pyjamas and dressinggown, turned his pale, intellectual face to me as I entered.

His voice was very unsteady. Bristol nodded grimly and glanced at the two constables, who, with a

In the ensuing silence I could hear the heavy breathing of those around me. We were all looking at the

"The hands," resumed Mostyn slowly, "of those who hitherto have ventured to touch it have been" he

"Your career in the Force would be finished if it happened to you, my lad," said Bristol shortly.

"They would if you met with an accident, in the discharge of your duty," replied the inspector; "but I

"All right, sir," said the man, with a sort of studied truculence, "I'll take my chance."

I tried to stop him; Mostyn, too, stepped forward, and Bristol swore frankly. But it was all of no avail.

A sort of chill seemed to claim my very soul when I saw the constable stoop, unconcernedly pick up the

I anticipate in mentioning it here; but since Constable Hughes has no further place in these records I may

He was picked up outside the section house on the following evening with his right hand severed just above

The day that followed was one of the hottest which we experienced during the heat wave. It was a day

crowded with happenings. The Burton Room was closed to the public, whilst a glazier worked upon the

broken east window and a new blind was fitted to the west. Behind the workmen, guarded by a watchful

I wondered if the visitors to the other rooms of the Museum realized, as I realized, that despite the blazing

sunlight of tropical London, the shadow of Hassan of Aleppo lay starkly on that haunted building?

At about eleven o'clock, as I hurried along the Strand, I almost collided with the girl of the violet eyes! She

turned and ran like the wind down Arundel Street, whilst I stood at the corner staring after her in blank

amazement, as did other passersby; for a man cannot with dignity race headlong after a pretty woman down

"It's the most horrible and confusing case," he said to me when I joined him at the Museum, "that the Yard

has ever had to handle. It bristles with outrages and murders. God knows where it will all end. I've had

London scoured for a clue to the whereabouts of Hassan and Company and drawn absolutely blank! Then

there's Earl Dexter. Where does he come in? For once in a way he's living in hiding. I can't find his

He drew me aside into the small gallery which runs parallel with the Assyrian Room.

I wondered, I had wondered more than once, if his companion were my beautiful violeteyed acquaintance.

A scruple perhaps an absurd scruple hitherto had kept me silent respecting her, but now I determined to

take Bristol fully into my confidence. A conviction was growing upon me that she and Earl Dexter together

represented that third party whose existence we had long suspected. Whether they operated separately or on

behalf of the Moslems (of which arrangement I could not conceive) remained to be seen. I was about to voice

"I have thoroughly examined the Burton Room, and considering that the windows are thirty feet from the

ground, that there is no sign of a ladder having stood upon the lawn, and that the iron bars are quite intact, it

doesn't look humanly possible for any one to have been in the room last night prior to Mostyn's arrival!"

"Not even one of the dwarfs," said Bristol, could have passed between those iron bars!"

"Tonight," he went on, "I am remaining in here" nodding toward the Assyrian Room "and I have so

arranged it that no mortal being can possibly know I am here. Mostyn is staying, and you can stay, too, if you

care to. Owing to Professor Deeping's will you are badly involved in the beastly business, and I have no

"I am," I admitted, "and the end I look for and hope for is the recovery of the slipper by its murderous

"I am with you," said Bristol. "It's just a point of honour; but I should be glad to make them a present of it.

We're ostentatiously placing a constable on duty in the hallway tonight largely as a blind. It will appear

He hurried off to make arrangements for my joining him in his watch, and thus again I lost my opportunity of

I half anticipated, though I cannot imagine why, that Earl Dexter would put in an appearance, during the day.

He did not do so, however, for Bristol had put a constable on the door who was well acquainted with the

appearance of the Stetson Man. The inspector, in the course of his investigations, had come upon what might

have been a clue, but what was at best a confusing one. Close by the wall of the curator's house and lying on

the gravel path he had found a part of a gold cuff link. It was of American manufacture.

Upon such slender evidence we could not justly assume that it pointed to the presence of Dexter on the night

of the attempted robbery, but it served to complicate a matter already sufficiently involved.

In pursuance of Bristol's plan, I concealed myself that evening just before the closing of the Museum doors,

in a recess behind a heavy piece of Babylonian sculpture. Bristol was similarly concealed in another part of

The Museum was closed; and so far as evidence went the authorities had relied again upon the bolts and bars

hitherto considered impregnable, and upon the constable in the hall. The broken window was mended, the cut

blind replaced, and within, in its shattered case, reposed the slipper of the Prophet.

All the blinds being lowered, the Assyrian Room was a place of gloom, yellowed on the western side by the

moonlight through the blind. The door communicating with the Burton Room was closed but not fastened.

"They operated last night," Bristol whispered to me, "at the exact time when the moonlight shone through the

hole in the westerly blind on to the case. If they come tonight, and I am quite expecting them, they will have

to dispense with that assistance; but they know by experience where to reach the case."

"Despite our precautions," I said, "they will almost certainly know that a watch is being kept."

"They may or they may not," replied Bristol. "Either way I'm disposed to think there will be another attempt.

This was not my first night vigil since I had become in a sense the custodian of the relic, but it was quite the

most dreary. Amid the tomblike objects about us we seemed two puny mortals toying with stupendous

things. We could not smoke and must converse only in whispers; and so the night wore on until I began to

"Our big chance," whispered Mostyn, "is in the fact that any day may change the conditions. They can't

He ceased abruptly, grasping my arm. From somewhere, somewhere outside the building, we all three had

"If only we could have had the place surrounded," whispered Bristol" but it was impossible, of course."

A faint grating noise echoed through the lofty Burton Room. Bristol slipped past me in the semigloom, and

Atiptoe, I joined him, and craning across his shoulder saw a strange and wonderful thing.

The newly glazed east window again was shattered with a booming crash! The yellow blind was thrust aside.

A long something reached out toward the broken case. There was a sort of fumbling sound, and paralyzed

with the wonder of it for the window, remember, was thirty feet from the ground I stood frozen to my

Not so Bristol. As the weird tentacle (or more exactly it reminded me of a gigantic crab's claw) touched the

case, the Inspector leapt forward. A white beam from his electric torch cut through to the broken cabinet.

"Raise the blinds!" cried Bristol. "Mr. Cavanagh! Mr. Mostyn! We must not let them give us the slip!"

I got up the blind of the nearer window as Bristol raised the other. Not a living thing was in sight from either!

Mostyn was beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder. I noted how he trembled. Bristol turned and looked

back at us. The light from his pocket torch flashed upon the curator's face; and I have never seen such an

expression of horrified amazement as that which it wore. Faintly, I could hear the constable racing up the

Ideas of the supernatural came to us all, I know; when, with a scuffling sound not unlike that of a rat in a

"Damn my thick head!" roared Bristol, furiously. "He's on the roof! It's flat as a floor and there's enough ivy

alongside the waterspout on your house adjoining, Mr. Mostyn, to afford foothold to an invading army!"

He plunged off toward the open door, and I heard him racing down the Assyrian Room.

"He had a short rope ladder fixed from the gutter!" he cried back at us. "Graham! Graham!" (the constable on

duty in the hall) "Get the front door open! Get . . . His voice died away as he leapt down the stairs.

>From the direction of Orpington Square came a horrid, choking scream. It rose hideously; it fell, rose again

The thief escaped. We saw the traces upon the ivy where he had hastened down. Bristol ascended by the same

route, and found where the ladderhooks had twice been attached to the gutterway. Constable Graham, who

was first actually to leave the building, declared that he heard the whirr of a restarted motor lower down

Bristol's theory, later to be dreadfully substantiated, was that the thief had broken the glass and reached into

the case with an arrangement similar to that employed for pruning trees, having a clutch at the end, worked

"Hassan has been too clever for us!" said the inspector. "But what in God's name did that awful screaming

It was not until nearly dawn that my theory, and Bristol's, regarding the clutch arrangement, both were

confirmed. For close under the railings which abut on Orpington Square, in a pool of blood we found just

And still clutching it was a pallid and ghastly shrunken hand that had been severed from above the wrist!

"Merciful God!" whispered the inspector "look at the opal ring on the finger! Look at the bandage where he

cut himself on the broken windowglass that first night, when Mr. Mostyn disturbed him. It wasn't the

"The slipper of the Prophet?" interrupted Bristol. "I wonder if we shall ever know?"

Around a large square table in a room at New Scotland Yard stood a group of men, all of whom looked more

or less continuously at something that lay upon the polished deal. One of the party, none other than the

Commissioner himself, had just finished speaking, and in silence now we stood about the gruesome object

I knew myself privileged in being admitted to such a conference at the C.I.D. headquarters and owed my

admission partly to Inspector Bristol, and partly to the fact that under the will of the late Professor Deeping I

Novelty has a charm for every one; and to find oneself immersed in a maelstrom of Eastern devilry, with a

group of scientific murderers in pursuit of a holy Moslem relic, and unexpectedly to be made a trustee of that

dangerous curiosity, makes a certain appeal to the adventurous. But to read of such things and to participate

in them are widely different matters. The slipper of the Prophet and the dreadful crimes connected with it, the

mutilations, murders, the uncanny mysteries which made up its history, were filling my world with horror.

Now, in silence we stood around that table at New Scotland Yard and watched, as though we expected it to

move, the ghastly "clue" which lay there. It was a shrivelled human hand, and about the thumb and forefinger

there still dryly hung a fragment of lint which had bandaged a jagged wound. On one of the shrunken fingers

"You see, sir," he said, addressing the Commissioner, "this marks a new complication in the case. Up to this

week although, unfortunately, we had made next to no progress, the thing was straightforward enough. A

band of Eastern murderers, working along lines quite novel to Europe, were concea1ed somewhere in

London. We knew that much. They murdered Professor Deeping, but failed to recover the slipper. They

mutilated everyone who touched it mysteriously. The best men in the department, working night and day,

failed to effect a single arrest. In spite of the mysterious activity of Hassan of Aleppo the slipper was safely

"There is no doubt," continued Bristol, "that the Hashishin were watching the Museum. Mr. Cavanagh, here"

he nodded in my direction " saw Hassan himself lurking in the neighbourhood. We took every

precaution, observed the greatest secrecy; but in spite of it all a constable who touched the accursed thing lost

"The Yard," resumed Bristol slowly, "had information that Earl Dexter, the cleverest crook in America, was

in England. He was seen in the Museum, and the night following the slipper was stolen. Then outside the

"The new problem," said the Commissioner, "is this: who took the slipper, Dexter or Hassan of Aleppo?"

"That's it, sir," agreed Bristol. "Dexter had two passages booked in the Oceanic: but he didn't sail with her,

"No doctor known to the Medical Association," replied Bristol, "is attending him! He's not in any of the

"The evident deduction," I said, "is that Dexter stole the slipper from the Museum God knows with what

"You think we shall next hear of Earl Dexter from the river police?" suggested Bristol.

"Personally," replied the Commissioner, "I agree with Mr. Cavanagh. I think Dexter is dead, and it is very

probable that Hassan and Company are already homeward bound with the slipper of the Prophet."

With all my heart I hoped that he might be right, but an intuition was with me crying that he was wrong, that

The manner in which we next heard of the whereabouts of the Prophet's slipper was utterly unforeseen,

wildly dramatic. That the Hashishin were aware that I, though its legal trustee, no longer had charge of the

relic nor knowledge of its restingplace, was sufficiently evident from the immunity which I enjoyed at this

time from that ceaseless haunting by members of the uncanny organization ruled by Hassan. I had begun to

feel more secure in my chambers, and no longer worked with a loaded revolver upon the table beside me. But

the slightest unusual noise in the night still sufficed to arouse me and set me listening intently, to chill me

with dread of what it might portend. In short, my nerves were by no means recovered from the ceaseless

strain of the events connected with and arising out of the death of my poor friend, Professor Deeping.

One evening as I sat at work in my chambers, with the throb of busy Fleet Street and its thousand familiar

Even as I turned to take up the receiver a foreboding possessed me that my trusteeship was no longer to be a

"A development at last!" he said; "but at present I don't know what to make of it. Can you come down now?"

"From the Waterloo Road a delightful neighbourhood. I shall be glad if you can meet me at the entrance to

I knew as I hung up the receiver that my brief period of peace was ended; that the lists of assassination were

reopened. I hurried out through the court into Fleet Street, thinking of the key of the now empty case at the

Museum which reposed at my bankers, thinking of the devils who pursued the slipper, thinking of the

hundred and one things, strange and terrible, which went to make up the history of that gruesome relic.

Wyatt's Buildings, Waterloo Road, are a gloomy and forbidding block of dwellings which seem to frown

sullenly upon the high road, from which they are divided by a dark and dirty courtyard. Passing an iron

gateway, you enter, by way of an arch, into this sinister place of uncleanness. Male residents in their shirt

sleeves lounge against the several entrances. Bedraggled women nurse dirty infants and sit in groups upon the

stone steps, rendering them almost impassable. But tonight a thing had happened in Wyatt's Buildings

which had awakened in the inhabitants, hardened to sordid crime, a sort of torpid interest.

Faces peered from most of the windows which commanded a view of the courtyard, looking like pallid

blotches against the darkness; but a number of police confined the loungers within their several doorways, so

I had had some difficulty in forcing a way through the crowd which thronged the entrance, but finally I found

myself standing beside Inspector Bristol and looking down upon that which had brought us both to Wyatt's

There was no moon that night, and only the light of the lamp in the archway, with some faint glimmers from

the stairways surrounding the court, reached the dirty paving. Bristol directed the light of a pocketlamp

upon the hunchedup figure which lay in the dust, and I saw it to be that of a dwarfish creature, yellow

skinned and wearing only a dark loin cloth. He had a malformed and disproportionate head, a head that had

been too large even for a big man. I knew after first glance that this was one of the horrible dwarfs employed

by the Hashishin in their murderous business. It might even be the one who had killed Deeping; but this was

impossible to determine by reason of the fact that the hideous, swollen head, together with the features, was

completely crushed. I shall not describe the creature's appearance in further detail.

Having given me an opportunity of examine the dead dwarf, Bristol returned the electric lamp to his pocket

and stood looking at me in the semigloom. A constable stood on duty quite near to us, and others guarded

the archway and the doors to the dwellings. The murmur of subdued voices echoed hollowly in the wells of

the staircases, and a constant excited murmur proceeded from the crowd at the entrance. No pressmen had yet

"It happened less than an hour ago," said Bristol. "The place was much as you see it now, and from what I

can gather there came the sound of a shot and several people saw the dwarf fall through the air and drop

The light was insufficient to show the expression upon the speaker's face, but his voice told of a great

"It is a bit like an Indian conjuring trick," I said, looking up to the sky above us; "who fired the shot?"

"So far," replied Bristol, "I have failed to find out; but there's a bullet in the thing's head. He was dead before

"No one that I have got hold of yet. Of course this kind of evidence is very unreliable; these people regularly

"Oh, no; this is where it fell, right enough. You can see where his head struck the stones."

"No; I shall not move him until I've worked out where in heaven's name he can have fallen from! You and I

have seen some mysterious things happen, Mr. Cavanagh, since the slipper of the Prophet came to England

and brought these people" he nodded toward the thing at our feet "in its train; but this is the most

inexplicable incident to date. I don't know what to make of it at all. Quite apart from the question of where

"Have you no theory?" I asked. "The incident to my mind points directly to one thing. We know that this

uncanny creature belonged to the organization of Hassan of Aleppo. We know that Hassan implacably

pursues one object the slipper. In pursuit of the slipper, then, the dwarf came here. Bristol!" I laid my

hand upon his arm, glancing about me with a very real apprehension "the slipper must be somewhere near!"

"Remain here," he ordered. Then to me: "I should like you to come up on to the roof. From there we can

survey the ground and perhaps arrive at some explanation of how the dwarf came to fall upon that spot."

Passing the constable on duty at one of the doorways and making our way through the group of loiterers

there, we ascended amid conflicting odours to the topmost floor. A ladder was fixed against the wall

communicating with a trap in the ceiling. Several individuals in their shirt sleeves and all smoking clay pipes

With muttered imprecations our audience dispersed, slowly returning by the way they had come. Bristol

mounted the ladder and opened the trap. Through the square opening showed a velvet patch spangled with

starry points. As he passed up on to the roof and I followed him, the comparative cleanness of the air was

Side by side we leaned upon the parapet looking down into the dirty courtyard which was the theatre of this

weird mystery; looking down upon the stage, sordidly Western, where a mystic Eastern tragedy had been

And at his words, looking down at the spot where the dwarf lay, and noting that he could not possibly have

fallen there from any of the buildings surrounding the courtyard, an eerie sensation crept over me; for I was

I had heard who has not heard? of the Indian rope trick, where a fakir throws a rope into the air which

remains magically suspended whilst a boy climbs upward and upward until he disappears into space. I had

never credited accounts of the performance; but now I began seriously to wonder if the arts of Hassan of

Aleppo were not as great or greater than the arts of fakir. But the crowning mystery to my mind was that of

the Hashishin's death. It would seem that as he had hung suspended in space he had been shot!

"Several people," replied Bristol; "but no one knows, or no one will say, from what direction it came. I shall

go on with the inquiry, of course, and crossexamine every soul in Wyatt's Buildings. Meanwhile, I'm open

In the velvet sky countless points blazed tropically. The hum of the traffic in Waterloo Road reached us only

in a muffled way. Sordidness lay beneath us, but up there under the heavens we seemed removed from it as

When, some ten minutes later, I passed out into the noise of Waterloo Road, I left behind me an unsolved

mystery and took with me a great dread; for I knew that the quest of the sacred slipper was not ended, I knew

that another tragedy was added to its history and I feared to surmise what the future might hold for all of us.

Deep in thought respecting the inexplicable nature of this latest mystery, I turned in the direction of the

bridge, and leaving behind me an everswelling throng at the gate of Wyatt's Buildings, proceeded westward.

The death of the dwarf had lifted the case into the realms of the marvellous, and I noted nothing of the bustle

about me, for mentally I was still surveying that hunchedup body which had fallen out of empty space.

I aroused myself from reverie, looking about to right and left. Evidently I had been walking slowly, for I was

less than a hundred yards from Wyatt's Buildings, and hard by the entrance to an uninviting alley from which

And as I hesitated, for I had no desire to become involved in a drunken brawl, again came the shrill scream:

I cannot say if I was the only passerby who heard the cry; certainly I was the only one who responded to it. I

ran down the narrow street, which was practically deserted, and heard windows thrown up as I passed for the

Just beyond a patch of light cast by a street lamp a scene was being enacted strange enough at any time and in

any place, but doubly singular at that hour of the night, or early morning, in a lane off the Waterloo Road.

An old woman, from whose hand a basket of provisions had fallen, was struggling in the grasp of a tall

Oriental! He was evidently trying to stifle her screams and at the same time to pinion her arms behind her!

I perceived that there was more in this scene than met the eye. Oriental footpads are rarities in the purlieus of

Waterloo Road. So much was evident; and since I carried a short, sharp argument in my pocket, I hastened to

At the sight of the gleaming revolver barrel the man, who was dressed in dark clothes and wore a turban,

turned and ran swiftly off. I had scarce a glimpse of his pallid brown face ere he was gone, nor did the

thought of pursuit enter my mind. I turned to the old woman, who was dressed in shabby black and who was

rearranging her thick veil in an oddly composed manner, considering the nature of the adventure that had

She picked up her basket, and turned away. Needless to say I was rather shocked at her callous ingratitude,

for she offered no word of thanks, did not even glance in my direction, but made off hurriedly toward

I had been on the point of inquiring if she had sustained any injury, but I checked the words and stood

looking after her in blank wonderment. Then my ideas were diverted into a new channel. I perceived, as she

passed under an adjacent lamp, that her basket contained provisions such as a woman of her appearance

would scarcely be expected to purchase. I noted a bottle of wine, a chicken, and a large melon.

The nationality of the assailant from the first had marked the affair for no ordinary one, and now a hazy

Keeping well in the shadows on the opposite side of the way, I followed the woman with the basket. The lane

was quite deserted; for, the disturbance over, those few residents who had raised their windows had promptly

lowered them again. She came out into Waterloo Road, crossed over, and stood waiting by a stoppingplace

for electric cars. I saw her arranging a cloth over her basket in such a way as effectually to conceal the

contents. A strong mental excitement possessed me. The detective fever claims us all at one time or another, I

think, and I had good reason for pursuing any inquiry that promised to lead to the elucidation of the slipper

mystery. A theory, covering all the facts of the assault incident, now presented itself, and I stood back in the

A Greenwichbound car was hailed by the woman with the basket. I could not be mistaken, I felt sure, in my

belief that she cast furtive glances about her as she mounted the steps. But, having seen her actually aboard,

I counted it an act of Providence that a disengaged taxi appeared at that moment, evidently bound for

"Quick!" I cried. "You see that Greenwich carnearly at the Ophthalmic Hospital? Follow it. Don't get too

near. I will give you further instructions through the tube." I leapt in. We were off!

The rocking car ahead was rounding the bend now toward St. George's Circus. As it passed the clock and

We skirted the clock tower, and bore around to the right. Then I drew well back in the corner of the cab.

The woman with the basket was descending! "Pull up a few yards beyond!" I directed. As the car restarted,

and passed us, the taxi became stationary. I peered out of the little window at the back.

"Drive slowly back along Waterloo Road," was my next order. "Pretend you are looking for a fare; I will

The man nodded. It was unlikely that any one would notice the fact that the cab was engaged.

I was borne back again upon my course. The woman kept to the right, and, once we were entered into the

"Pull up," I said. "On the righthand side is an old woman carrying a basket, fifty yards ahead. Do you see

The man drew up again and sat watching the figure with the basket until it was almost lost from sight. Then

slowly we resumed our way. I would have continued the pursuit afoot now, but I feared that my quarry might

again enter a vehicle. She did not do so, however, but coming abreast of the turning in which the mysterious

I leapt out of the cab, thrust half a crown into the man's hand, and ran on to the corner. The night was now far

advanced, and I knew that the chances of detection were thereby increased. But the woman seemed to have

abandoned her fears, and I saw her just ahead of me walking resolutely past the lamp beyond which a short

Since the opposite side of the street was comparatively in darkness, I slipped across, and in a state of high

nervous tension pursued this strange work of espionage. I was convinced that I had forestalled Bristol and

that I was hot upon the track of those who could explain the mystery of the dead dwarf.

The woman entered the gate of the block of dwellings even more forbidding in appearance than those which

As the figure with the basket was lost from view I crept on, and in turn entered the evilsmelling hallway. I

stepped cautiously, and standing beneath a gaslight protected by a wire frame, I congratulated myself upon

Footsteps were receding up the stone stairs. Craning my neck, I peered up the well of the staircase. I could

not see the woman, but from the sound of her tread it was possible to count the landings which she passed.

When she had reached the fourth, and I heard her step upon yet another flight, I knew that she must be bound

for the topmost floor; and observing every precaution, almost holding my breath in a nervous endeavour to

I was come to the third landing in this secret fashion when quite distinctly I heard the grating of a key in a

Since four doors opened upon each of the landings, at all costs, I thought, I must learn by which door she

Throwing caution to the winds I raced up the remaining flights . . . and there at the top the woman confronted

me, with blazing eyes! with eyes that thrilled every nerve; for they were violet eyes, the only truly violet

eyes I have ever seen! They were the eyes of the woman who like a charming, mocking willo'thewisp had

danced through this tragic scene from the time that poor Professor Deeping had brought the Prophet's slipper

There at the head of those stone steps in that common dwellinghouse I knew her and in the violet eyes it

She made no endeavour to disguise her voice. Almost, I think, she spoke the words involuntarily.

I stood beside her. Quickly as she had turned from the door at my ascent, I had noted that it was that

I nodded in the direction of the doorway. The violet eyes watched me with an expression in their depths

which I find myself wholly unable to describe. Fear predominated, but there was anger, too, and with it a sort

of entreaty which almost made me regret that I had taken this task upon myself. From beneath the shabby

black hat escaped an errant lock of wavy hair wholly inconsistent with the assumed appearance of the

woman. The flickering gaslight on the landing sought out in that wonderful hair shades which seemed to

glow with the soft light seen in the heart of a rose. The thick veil was raised now and all attempts at deception

abandoned. At bay she faced me, this secret woman whom I knew to hold the key to some of the darkest

"And I want to know," I continued, "something that only you can tell me. We have met before, madam, but

you have always eluded me. This time you shall not do so. There's much I have to ask of you, but particularly

I want to know who killed the Hashishin who lies dead at no great distance from here!"

Her voice was low and musical; that of a cultured woman. She evidently recognized the futility of further

"You know quite well of what I am speaking! You know that you can tell me if any one can! The fact that

you go disguised alone condemns you! Why should I remind you of our previous meetings of the links

which bind you to the history of the Prophet's slipper?" She shuddered and closed her eyes. "Your present

She stood silent before me, with something pitiful in her pose a wonderfully pretty woman, whose

disarranged hair and dilapidated hat could not mar her beauty; whose clumsy, illfitting garments could not

Our altercation had not thus far served to arouse any of the inhabitants and on that stuffy landing, beneath the

flickering gaslight, we stood alone, a group of two which epitomized strange things.

Then, with that quietly dramatic note which marks real life entrances and differentiates them from the loudly

>From behind the slightly opened door of No. 48 protruded a steel barrel, pointed accurately at my head!

"Do it quick!" continued the voice incisively. "You are up against a desperate man, Mr. Cavanagh. Raise your

"Step inside," said the crisp, strident voice. Knowing myself helpless and quite convinced that I was indeed in

the clutches of desperate people, I entered the doorway, the door being held open from within. She whom I

had heard called Carneta followed. The door was reclosed; and I found myself in a perfectly bare and dim

Into a practically unfurnished room, lighted by one gas jet, I walked. Some coarse matting hung before the

two windows and a fairly large grip stood on the floor against one wall. A gasring was in the hearth,

I turned and faced the door. First entered Carneta, carrying the basket; then came a man with a revolver in his

left hand and his right arm strapped across his chest and swathed in bandages. One glance revealed the fact

that his right hand had been severed revealed the fact, though I knew it already, that my captor was Earl

He looked even leaner than when I had last seen him. I had no doubt that his ghastly wound had occasioned a

tremendous loss of blood. His gaunt face was positively emaciated, but the steely gray eyes had lost nothing

of their brightness. There was a good deal about Mr. Earl Dexter, the cracksman, that any man must have

"Shut the door, Carneta," he said quietly. His companion closed the door and Dexter sat down on the grip,

"You're a visitor I did not expect, Mr. Cavanagh," he said. "I expected someone worse. You've interfered a bit

with my plans but I don't know that I can't rearrange things satisfactorily. I don't think I'll stop for supper,

"Just pack up the provisions," he directed, nodding toward the basket "in the next room."

"That's a noticeable dust coat you're wearing, Mr. Cavanagh," said the American; "it gives me a great notion.

He glanced, smiling, at the revolver in his left hand and back again to me. There was nothing of the bully

about him, nothing melodramatic; but I took off the coat without demur and threw it across to him.

"It will hide this stump," he said grimly; "and any of the Hashishin gentlemen who may be on the lookout

though I rather fancy the road is clear at the moment will mistake me for you. See the idea? Carneta will be

in a cab and I'll be in after her and away before they've got time to so much as whistle."

"She's a clever girl, Carneta," he said. "She's doctored me all along since those devils cut my hand off."

She had discarded her rags and wore a large travelling coat and a fashionable hat.

"Ready?" asked Dexter. "We'll make a rush for it. We meant to go tonight anyway. It's getting too hot here!"

"Sorry to say," he drawled, "I'll have to tie you up and gag you. Apologize; but it can't be helped."

Carneta nodded and went out of the room again, to return almost immediately with a line that looked as

"Hands behind you," rapped Dexter, toying with the revolver "and think yourself lucky you've got two!"

There was no mistaking the manner of man with whom I had to deal, and I obeyed; but my mind was busy

with a hundred projects. Very neatly the girl bound my wrists, and in respose to a slight nod from Dexter

threw the end of the line up over a beam in the sloping ceiling, for the room was right under the roof, and

drew it up in such a way that, my wrists being raised behind me, I became utterly helpless. It was an

"Just tie his handkerchief around his mouth," directed Dexter: "that will keep him quiet long enough for our

purpose. I hope you will be released soon, Mr. Cavanagh," he added. "Greatly regret the necessity."

"Mr. Cavanagh," he said, "I've gone through hell and I've lost the most useful four fingers and a thumb in the

United States to get hold of the Prophet's slipper. Any one can have it that's open to pay for it but I've got to

There was a sound of retreating footsteps, and I heard the entrance door close quietly.

I HAD not been in my unnatural position for many minutes before I began to suffer agonies, agonies not only

physical but mental; for standing there like some prisoner of the Inquisition, it came to me how this

dismantled apartment must be the focus of the dreadful forces of Hassan of Aleppo!

That Earl Dexter had the slipper of the Prophet I no longer doubted, and that he had sustained, in this

dwelling beneath the roof, an uncanny siege during the days which had passed since the theft from the

Antiquarian Museum, was equally certain. Helpless, gagged, I pictured those hideous creatures, evil products

of the secret East, who might, nay, who must surround that place! I thought of the horrible little yellow man

who lay dead in Wyatt's Buildings; and it became evident to me that the house in which I was now

imprisoned must overlook the back of those unsavoury tenements. The windows, sackcovered now, no

doubt commanded a view of the roofs of the buildings. One of the mysteries that had puzzled us was solved.

It was Earl Dexter who had shot the yellow dwarf as he was bound for this very room! But how humanly the

Hashishin had proposed to gain his goal, how he had travelled through empty space for from empty space

I knew something of the almost supernatural attributes of these people. From Professor Deeping's book I

knew of the incredible feats which they could perform when under the influence of the drug hashish. From

The pain in my arms and back momentarily increased. An awesome silence ruled. I tortured myself with

pictures of murderous yellow men possessed of the power claimed by the Mahatmas, of levitation. Mentally I

could see a distorted halfanimal creature carrying a great gleaming knife and floating supernaturally toward

I think I have never known such intense and numbing fear as that which now descended upon me. Perhaps I

may be forgiven it. A more dreadful situation it would be hard to devise. Knowing that I was on the fifth

story of a house, bound, helpless, I knew, too, that a second mystic guardian of the slipper was come to

Neither of the windows were closed; and now through the intense darkness I heard one of them being raised

Silhouetted against the faintly luminous background I saw a hunched, unnatural figure. The real was more

dreadful even than the imaginary for some stray beam of light touched into cold radiance a huge curved

My fear became a madness, and I twisted my body violently in a wild endeavour to free myself. A dreadful

pain shot through my left shoulder, and the whole nightmare scene the thing with the knife at the window

the lowceiled roombegan to fade away from me. I seemed to be falling into deep water.

A splintering crash and the sound of shouting formed my last recollections ere unconsciousness came.

I found myself lying in an armchair with Bristol forcing brandy between my lips. My left arm hung limply at

"Thank God you are all right, Mr. Cavanagh!" said the inspector. "I got the surprise of my life when we

"You came none too soon," I said feebly. "God knows how Providence directed you here."

"Providence it was," replied Bristol. "From the roof of Wyatt's Buildings you know the spot? I saw the

second yellow devil coming. By God! They meant to have it tonight! They don't value their lives a brass

"Along the telegraphwires, Mr. Cavanagh! They cross Wyatt's Buildings and cross this house. It was a

moonless night or we should have seen it at once! I watched him, saw him drop to this roof and brought the

"He dropped full forty feet into a tree from the tree to the ground, and went off like a cat!"

"God help him!" replied Bristol. "For by now he has that hellpack at his heels! What a case! Heavens above,

Inspector Bristol finished his whisky at a gulp and stood up, a tall, massive figure, stretching himself and

"The detective of fiction would be hard at work on this case, now," he said, smiling, "but I don't even pretend

"Not the slightest, Mr. Cavanagh. You hear a lot about the machinery of the law, but as a matter of fact,

looking for a clever man hidden in London is a good deal like looking for a needle in a haystack. Then, he

may have been bluffing when he told you he had the Prophet's slipper. He's already had his hand cut off

through interfering with the beastly thing, and I really can't believe he would take further chances by keeping

He leaned back against the mantelpiece, scratching his head perplexedly. In this perplexity he had my

sympathy. No such pursuit, I venture to say, had ever before been required of Scotland Yard as this of the

slipper of the Prophet. An organization founded in 1090, which has made a science of assassination, which

through the centuries has perfected the malign arts, which, lingering on in a dark spot in Syria, has suddenly

It was hard to believe that even the daring American cracksman should have ventured to touch that

bloodstained relic of the Prophet, that he should have snatched it away from beneath the very eyes of the

fanatics who fiercely guarded it. What he hoped to gain by his possession of the slipper was not evident, but

the fact remained that if he could be believed, he had it, and provided Scotland Yard's information was

Meanwhile, no clue offered to his hidingplace, and despite the ceaseless vigilance of the men acting under

Bristol's orders, no trace could be found of Hassan of Aleppo nor of his fiendish associates.

"My theory is," said Bristol, lighting a cigarette, "that even Dexter's cleverness has failed to save him. He's

probably a dead man by now, which accounts for our failing to find him; and Hassan of Aleppo has recovered

the slipper and returned to the East, taking his gruesome company with him God knows how! But that

I stood up rather wearily. Although poor Deeping had appointed me legal guardian of the relic, and although I

could render but a poor account of my stewardship, let me confess that I was anxious to take that comforting

theory to my bosom. I would have given much to have known beyond any possibility of doubt that the

accursed slipper and its bloodlustful guardian were far away from England. Had I known so much, life

would again have had something to offer me besides ceaseless fear, endless watchings. I could have slept

again, perhaps; without awaking, clammy, peering into every shadow, listening, nerves atwitch to each

slightest sound disturbing the night; without groping beneath the pillow for my revolver.

"Then you think," I said, "that the English phase of the slipper's history is closed? You think that Dexter,

minus his right hand, has eluded British law that Hassan and Company have evaded retribution?"

"I do!" said Bristol grimly, "and although that means the biggest failure in my professional career, I am glad

Shortly afterward he took his departure; and I leaned from the window, watching him pass along the court

below and out under the arch into Fleet Street. He was a man whose opinions I valued, and in all sincerity I

prayed now that he might be right; that the surcease of horror which we had recently experienced after the

ghastly tragedies which had clustered thick about the haunted slipper, might mean what he surmised it to

The heat tonight was very oppressive. A sort of steaming mist seemed to rise from the court, and no cooling

breeze entered my opened windows. The clamour of the traffic in Fleet Street came to me but remotely. Big

Ben began to strike midnight. So far as I could see, residents on the other stairs were all abed and a velvet

shadow carpet lay unbroken across three parts of the court. The sky was tropically perfect, cloudless, and

jewelled lavishly. Indeed, we were in the midst of an Indian summer; it seemed that the uncanny visitants had

brought, together with an atmosphere of black Eastern deviltry, something, too, of the Eastern climate.

The last stroke of the Cathedral bell died away. Other more distant bells still were sounding dimly, but save

for the ceaseless hum of the traffic, no unusual sound now disturbed the archaic peace of the court.

I returned to my table, for during the time that had passed I had badly neglected my work and now must often

labour far into the night. I was just reseated when there came a very soft rapping at the outer door!

No doubt my mood was in part responsible, but I found myself thinking of Poe's weird poem, "The Raven";

I stole quietly into the passage. It was in darkness. How odd it is that in moments of doubt instinctively one

shuns the dark and seeks the light. I pressed the switch lighting the hall lamp, and stood looking at the closed

Why should this late visitor have rapped in so uncanny a fashion in preference to ringing the bell?

The muffled rapping was repeated. As I stood in the study doorway I saw the flap of the letterbox slowly

Instantly I extinguished both lights. You may brand me as childishly timid, but incidents were fresh in my

A faintly luminous slit in the door showed me that the flap was now fully raised. It was the dim light on the

stairway shining through. Then quite silently the flap was lowered. Came the soft rapping again.

Wondering if I were unduly alarming myself, yet, I confess, strung up tensely in anticipation that this was

The silence remained unbroken for thirty seconds or more. Then yet again it was disturbed by that ghostly,

The flap of the letter box began to move, and I formed a sudden determination. Making no sound in my

heelless Turkish slippers I crept close up to the door and dropped upon my knees.

Thereupon the flap became fully lifted, but from where I crouched beneath it I was unable to see who or what

was looking in; yet I hesitated no longer. I suddenly raised myself and thrust the revolver barrel through the

"Who are you?" I cried. "Answer or I fire!" and along the barrel I peered out on to the landing.

Still no one answered. But something impalpable a powder a vapour to this hour I do not know what

enveloped me with its nauseating fumes; was puffed fully into my face! My eyes, my mouth, my nostrils

Wildly, feeling that everything about me was slipping away, that I was sinking into a void, for ought I knew

"My God!" the words choked in my throat and I reeled back into the passage "it's not loaded!"

I threw up my arms to save myself, lurched, and fell forward into what seemed a bottomless pit.

When I opened my eyes it was to a conviction that I dreamed. I lay upon a cushioned divan in a small

It was a yellow room, then, its four walls being hung with yellow silk, its floor being entirely covered by a

yellow Persian carpet. One lamp, burning in a frame of some lemon coloured wood and having its openings

filled with green glass, flooded the place with a ghastly illumination. The lamp hung by gold chains from the

ceiling, which was yellow. Several low tables of the same lemonhued wood as the lampframe stood

around; they were inlaid in fanciful designs with gleaming green stones. Turn my eyes where I would, clutch

my aching head as I might, this dream chamber would not disperse, but remained palpable before me

There was a niche behind the divan upon which I lay framed about with yellow wood. In it stood a golden

bowl and a tall pot of yellow porcelain; I lay amid yellow cushions having golden tassels. Some of them were

To contemplate my surroundings assuredly must be to court madness. No door was visible, no window;

To crown all, the air was heavy with a perfume wholly unmistakable by one acquainted with Egypt's ruling

vice. It was the reek of smouldering hashish a stench that seemed to take me by the throat, a vapour

damnable and unclean. I saw that a little censer, golden in colour and inset with emeralds, stood upon the

furthermost corner of the yellow carpet. From it rose a faint streak of vapour; and I followed the course of the

sickly scented smoke upward through the still air until in oily spirals it lost itself near to the yellow ceiling.

As a sick man will study the veriest trifle I studied that wisp of smoke, pencilled grayly against the silken

draperies, the carven tables, against the almost terrifying persistency of the yellow and green and gold.

I strove to rise, but was overcome by vertigo and sank back again upon the yellow cushions. I closed my

eyes, which throbbed and burned, and rested my head upon my hands. I ceased to conjecture if I dreamed or

was awake. I knew that I felt weak and ill, that my head throbbed agonizingly, that my eyes smarted so as to

render it almost impossible to keep them open, that a ceaseless humming was in my ears.

For some time I lay endeavouring to regain command of myself, to prepare to face again that scene which

And when finally I reopened my eyes, I sat up with a suppressed cry. For a tall figure in a yellow robe from

beneath which peeped yellow slippers, a figure crowned with a green turban, stood in the centre of the

It was that of a majestic old man, white bearded, with aquiline nose, and the fierce eagle eyes of a fanatic set

With folded arms he stood watching me, and I drew a sharp breath and rose slowly to my feet.

There amid the yellow and green and gold, amid the abominable reek of burning hashish I stood and faced

"Mr. Cavanagh," he said, "I have brought you here that I might warn you. Your police are seeking me night

and day, and I am fully alive to my danger whilst I stay in your midst. But for close upon a thousand years

the Sheikhaljebal, Lord of the Hashishin, has guarded the traditions and the relics of the Prophet,

Salla'llahu 'ale yhi wasdlem! I, Hassan of Aleppo, am Sheikh of the Order today, and my sacred duty has

The piercing gaze never left my face. I was not yet by any means my own man and still I made no reply.

"You have been wise," continued Hassan, "in that you have never touched the sacred slipper. Had you lain

hands upon it, no secrecy could have availed you. The eye of the Hashishin sees all. There is a shaft of light

which the true Believer perceives at night as he travels toward ElMedineh. It is the light which uprises, a

spiritual fire, from the tomb of the Prophet (Salla'llahu 'aleyhi wasellem!). The relics also are radiant,

"A shaft of light," he said impressively, "shines upward now from London. It is the light of the holy slipper."

He gazed intently at the yellow drapery at the left of the divan, but as though he were looking not at the wall

but through it. His features worked convulsively; he was a man inspired. "I see it now!" he almost whispered

"that white light by which the guardians of the relic may always know its resting place!"

"If you know where the slipper is," I said, more for the sake of talking than for anything else, "why do you

"Because the infidel dog," he cried loudly, "who has soiled it with his unclean touch, defies us mocks us!

He has suffered the loss of the offending hand, but the evil ginn protect him; he is inspired by efreets! But

God is great and Mohammed is His only Prophet! We shall triumph; but it is written, oh, daring infidel, that

He spoke like some prophet of old and I stared at him fascinated. I was loth to believe his words.

"When again," he continued, "the slipper shall be in the receptacle of which you hold the key, that key must

I thought I saw the drift of his words now; I thought I perceived with what object I had been trapped and

borne to this mysterious abode for whose whereabouts the police vainly were seeking. By the exercise of the

gift of divination it would seem that Hassan of Aleppo had forecast the future history of the accursed slipper

or believed that he had done so. According to his own words I was doomed once more to become trustee of

the relic. The key of the case at the Antiquarian Museum, to which he had prophesied the slipper's return,

"In order that these things may be fulfilled," he continued, "I must permit you to return to your house. So it is

written, so it shall be. Your life is in my hands; beware when it is demanded of you that you hesitate not in

He raised his hands before him, making a sort of obeisance, I doubt not in the direction of Mecca, drew aside

one of the yellow hangings behind him and disappeared, leaving me alone again in that nightmare apartment

of yellow and green and gold. A moment I stood watching the swaying curtain. Utter silence reigned, and a

sort of panic seized me infinitely greater than that occasioned by the presence of the weird Sheikh. I felt that I

I leapt forward to the curtain which Hassan had raised and jerked it aside; it had concealed a door. In this

door and about level with my eyes was a kind of little barred window through which shone a dim green light.

I bent forward, peering into the place beyond, but was unable to perceive anything save a vague greenness.

And as I peered, half believing that the whole episode was a dreadful, fevered dream, the abominable fumes

of hashish grew, or seemed to grow, quite suddenly insupportable. Through the square opening, from the

green void beyond, a cloud of oily vapour, pungent, stifling, resembling that of burning Indian hemp, poured

With a gasping cry I fell back, fighting for breath, for a breath of clean air unpolluted with hashish. But every

inhalation drew down into my lungs the fumes that I sought to escape from. I experienced a deathly sickness;

I seemed to be sinking into a sea of hashish, amid bubbles of yellow and green and gold, and I knew no more

until, struggling again to my feet, surrounded by utter darkness I struck my head on the corner of my

My revolver, unloaded, was upon the table beside me. The night was very still. I think it must have been near

There's no doubt in my mind," said Inspector Bristol, "that your experience was real enough."

The sun was shining into my room now, but could not wholly disperse the cloud of horror which lay upon it.

That I had been drugged was sufficiently evident from my present condition, and that I had been taken away

from my chambers Inspector Bristol had satisfactorily proved by an examination of the soles of my slippers.

"It was a clever trick," he said. "God knows what it was they puffed into your face through the letter box, but

the devilish arts of ten centuries, we must remember, are at the command of Hassan of Aleppo! The repetition

of the trick at the mysterious place you were taken to is particularly interesting. I should say you won't be in a

"That accursed yellow room," I replied, "stank with the fumes of hashish. It may have been some preparation

"It was a nightmare business, Mr. Cavanagh," he said; "but it doesn't advance our inquiry a little bit. The

prophecy of the old man with the white beard whom you assure me to be none other than Hassan of Aleppo

is something we cannot very well act upon. He clearly believes it himself; for he has released you after

having captured you, evidently in order that you may be at liberty to take up your duty as trustee of the

slipper again. If the slipper really comes back to the Museum the fact will show Hassan to be something little

short of a magician. I shan't envy you then, Mr. Cavanagh, considering that you hold the keys of the case!"

"No," I replied wearily. "Poor Professor Deeping thought that he acted in my interests and that my possession

of the keys would constitute a safeguard. He was wrong. It has plunged me into the very vortex of this

"It is maddening," said Bristol, "to know that Hassan and Company are snugly located somewhere under our

very noses, and that all Scotland Yard can find no trace of them. Then to think that Hassan of Aleppo,

apparently by means of some mystical light, has knowledge of the whereabouts of the slipper and

consequently of the whereabouts of Earl Dexter (another badly wanted man) is extremely discouraging! I feel

My head in my hands, I sat for long after his departure, with the phantom characters of the ghoulish drama

dancing through my brain. The distorted yellow dwarfs seemed to gibe apish before me. Severed hands

clenched and unclenched themselves in my face, and gleaming knives flashed across the mental picture.

Predominant over all was the stately figure of Hassan of Aleppo, that benignant, remorseless being, that

terrible guardian of the holy relic who directed the murderous operations. Earl Dexter, The Stetson Man, with

his tightly bandaged arm, his gaunt, cleanshaven face and daredevil smile, figured, too, in my feverish

daydream; nor was that other character missing, the girl with the violet eyes whose beautiful presence I had

come to dread; for like a sybil announcing destruction her appearances in the drama had almost invariably

presaged fresh tragedies. I recalled my previous meetings with this woman of mystery. I recalled my many

surmises regarding her real identity and association with the case. I wondered why in the not very distant past

I had promised to keep silent respecting her; I wondered why up to that present moment, knowing beyond

doubt that her activities were inimical to my interests, were criminal, I had observed that foolish pledge.

And now my doorbell was ringing as intuitively I had anticipated. So certain was I of the identity of my

visitor that as I walked along the passage I was endeavouring to make up my mind how I should act, how I

I opened the door; and there, wearing European garments but a green turban . . . stood Hassan of Aleppo!

When I say that amazement robbed me of the power to speak, to move, almost to think, I doubt not you will

credit me. Indeed, I felt that modern London was crumbling about me and that I was become involved in the

fantastic mazes of one of those Oriental intrigues such as figure in the Romance of Abu Zeyd, or with which

most European readers have been rendered familiar by the glowing pages of "The Thousand and One

In his gloved hand he carried what appeared to be an ebony cane. He raised and pointed it directly at me. I

Still the sense of unreality held me thralled and my brain refused me service. Like an hypnotic subject I

walked back to my study, followed by my terrible visitor, who reclosed the door behind him.

He sat facing me across my littered table with the mysterious tube held loosely in his grasp.

How infinitely more terrifying are perils unknown than those known and appreciated! Had a European armed

with a pistol attempted a similar act of coercion, I cannot doubt that I should have put up some sort of fight;

had he sat before me now as Hassan of Aleppo sat, with a comprehensible weapon thus laid upon his knees, I

should have taken my chance, should have attacked him with the lamp, with a chair, with anything that came

But before this awful, mysterious being who was turning my life into channels unsuspected, before that black

tube with its unknown potentialities, I sat in a kind of passive panic which I cannot attempt to describe, which

"There is one about to visit you," he said, whom you know, whom I think you expect. For it is written that

she shall come and such events cast a shadow before them. I, too, shall be present at your meeting!"

"Already she is here!" he resumed suddenly, and bent as one listening. "She comes under the archway; she

crossed the courtyard and is upon the stair! Admit her, effendim; I shall be close behind you!"

With the consciousness that the black tube was directed toward the back of my head, I went and opened the

door. My mind was at work again, and busy with plans to terminate this impossible situation.

On the landing stood a girl wearing a simple white frock which fitted her graceful figure perfectly. A white

straw hat, of the New York tourist type, with a long veil draped from the back suited her delicate beauty very

well. The red mouth drooped a little at the corners, but the big violet eyes, like lamps of the soul, seemed

"Mr. Cavanagh," she said, very calmly and deliberately, "there is only one way now to end all this trouble. I

come from the man who can return the slipper to where it belongs; but he wants his price!"

Her quiet speech served completely to restore my mental balance, and I noted with admiration that her words

were so chosen as to commit her in no way. She knew quite well that thus far she might appear in the matter

with impunity, and she clearly was determined to say nothing that could imperil her.

Exhibiting wonderful composure, she entered and there, in the badly lighted hallway came face to face with

Away from that tall figure retreated the girl with the violet eyes and away until she stood with her back to

the wall. Even in the gloom I could see that her composure was deserting her; her beautiful face was pallid.

Hassan, grasping the black rod in his hand, signed to her to enter the study. She stood quite near to me, with

"My revolver in lefthand table drawer," I breathed in her ear. "Get it. He is watching me!"

I could not tell if my words had been understood, for, never taking her gaze from the Sheikh of the Assassins,

she sidled into the study. I followed her; and Hassan came last of all. Just within the doorway he stood,

"You have come," he said, addressing the girl and speaking in perfect English but with a marked accent, "to

open your impudent negotiations through Mr. Cavanagh for the return of the thrice holy relic to the Museum!

Your companion, the man, who is inspired by the Evil One, has even dared to demand ransom for the slipper

"He has suffered the penalty which the Koran lays down; he has lost his right hand. But the lord of all evil

protects him, else ere this he had lost his life! Move no closer to that table!"

I started. Either Hassan of Aleppo was omniscient or he had overheard my whispered words!

"Easily I could slay you where you stand!" he continued. "But to do so would profit me nothing. This

meeting has been revealed to me. Last night I witnessed it as I slept. Also it has been revealed to me by

Erroohanee, in the mirror of ink, that the slipper of the Prophet, Salla'llahu 'ale yhi wasellem! Shall indeed

return to that place accursed, that infidel eyes may look upon it! It is the will of Allah, whose name be

exalted, that I hold my hand, but it is also His will that I be here, at whatever danger to my worthless body."

"Tomorrow, ere noon," he said, "the slipper will again be in the Museum from which the man of evil stole

it. So it is written; obscure are the ways. We met last night, you and I, but at that time much was dark to me

that now is light. The holy 'Alee spoke to me in a vision, saying: 'There are two keys to the case in which it

will be locked. Secure one, leaving the other with him who holds it! Let him swear to be secret. This shall be

"Effendim," concluded the speaker, "place in my hand the key of the case in the Antiquarian Museum!"

Hands convulsively clenched, the girl was looking from me to Hassan. My throat felt parched. but I forced

Blacker grew the fierce eyes and blacker. I gave myself up for lost; I awaited death death by some awful,

>From the court below came the sound of voices, the voices of passersby who so little suspected what was

happening near to them that had someone told them they certainly had refused to credit it. The noise of busy

Then, above all, another sound became audible. To this day I find myself unable to define it; but it resembled

Clearly it was a signal; for, hearing it, Hassan dropped the tube and glanced toward the open window.

That I had to deal with a fanatic, a dangerous madman, I knew; that it was his life or mine, I was fully

convinced. I struck out then and caught him fairly over the heart. He reeled back, and I made a wild clutch for

the damnable tube, horrid, unreasoning fear of which thus far had held me inert.

I heard the girl scream affrightedly, and I knew, and felt my heart chill to know, that the tube had been

wrenched from my hand! Hassan of Aleppo, old man that he appeared, had the strength of a tiger. He

recovered himself and hurled me from him so that I came to the floor crashingly half under my writingtable!

Something he cried back at me, furiously and like an enraged animal, his teeth gleaming out from his beard,

Shaken and quivering, I got upon my feet. On the threshold, in a state of pitiable hesitancy, stood the pale,

beautiful accomplice of Earl Dexter. One quick glance she flashed at me, then turned and ran!

Again the door slammed. I ran to the window, looking out into the court. The girl came hurrying down the

steps, and with never a backward glance ran on and was lost to view in one of the passages opening

Out under the arch, statelily passed a tall figure and Inspector Bristol was entering! I saw the detective

Bristol was not the only one to hear my wild cry not the only one to dash back under the arch and out into

Bristol and I walked slowly in the direction of the entrance of the British Antiquarian Museum. It was the day

"There's very little doubt," said Bristol, "that Earl Dexter has the slipper and that Hassan of Aleppo knows

where Dexter is in hiding. I don't know which of the two is more elusive. Hassan apparently melted into thin

air yesterday; and a1though The Stetson Man has never within my experience employed disguises, no one has

set eyes upon him since the night that he vanished from his lodgings off the Waterloo Road. It's always

possible for a man to baffle the police by remaining closely within doors, but during all the time that has

elapsed Dexter must have taken a little exercise occasionally, and the missing hand should have betrayed

"The wonder to me is," I replied, "that he has escaped death at the hands of the Hashishin. He is a supremely

daring man, for I should think that he must be carrying the slipper of the Prophet about with him!"

"I would rather he did it than I!" commented Bristol. "For sheer audacity commend me to The Stetson Man!

His idea no doubt was to use you as intermediary in his negotiations with the Museum authorities, but that

plan failing, he has written them direct, thoughtfully omitting his address, of course!"

We were, in fact, at that moment bound for the Museum to inspect this latest piece of evidence.

"The crowning example of the man's audacity and cleverness," added my companion, "is his having actually

approached Hassan of Aleppo with a similar proposition! How did he get in touch with him? All Scotland

"But they are not birds of a feather!" cried Bristol. "On your own showing, Hassan of Aleppo is simply

waiting his opportunity to balance Dexter's account forever! I always knew Dexter was a clever man; I begin

We mounted the steps of the Museum. In the hallway Mostyn, the curator, awaited us. Having greeted Bristol

and myself he led the way to his private office, and from a pigeonhole in his desk took out a letter

I believe I can supply information concerning the whereabouts of the missing slipper of Mohammed. As any

inquiry of this nature must be extremely perilous to the inquirer and as the relic is a priceless one, my fee

would be I0,000 pounds. The fanatics who seek to restore the slipper to the East must not know of any

negotiations, therefore I omit my address, but will communicate further if you care to insert instructions in

"It's a daring game," he said; "a piece of barefaced impudence quite characteristic.

He's posing as a sort of private detective now, and is prepared for a trifling consideration to return the slipper

which he stole himself! He must know, though, that we have his severed hand at the Yard to be used in

"It is open, yes," he replied, "and a quite unusual number of visitors come daily to gaze at the empty case

We ascended the stairs, passed along the Assyrian Room, which seemed to be unusually crowded, and

entered the lofty apartment known as the Burton Room. The sunblinds were drawn, and a sort of dim,

religious light prevailed therein. A group of visitors stood around an empty case at the farther end of the

"You see," said Mostyn, pointing, "that empty case has a greater attraction than all the other full ones!"

But I scarcely heeded his words, for I was intently watching the movements of one of the group about the

empty case. I have said that the room was but dimly illuminated, and this fact, together no doubt with some

effect of reflected light, enhanced by my imagination, perhaps produced the phenomenon which was

Remember that my mind was filled with memories of weird things, that I often found myself thinking of that

mystic light which Hassan of Aleppo had called the light of ElMedineh that light whereby, undeterred by

distance, he claimed to be able to trace the whereabouts of any of the relics of the Prophet.

Bristol and Mostyn walked on then; but I stood just within the doorway, intently, breathlessly watching an

old man wearing an outofdate Inverness coat and a soft felt hat. He had a gray beard and moustache, and

long, untidy hair, walked with a stoop, and in short was no unusual type of Visitor to that institution.

But it seemed to me, and the closer I watched him the more convinced I became, that this was no optical

illusion, that a faint luminosity, a sort of elfin light, played eerily about his head!

As Bristol and Mostyn approached the case the old man began to walk toward me and in the direction of the

door. The idea flashed through my mind that it might be Hassan of Aleppo himself, Hassan who had

Then he came abreast of me, passed me, and I felt that my surmise had been wrong. I saw Bristol, from

farther up the room, turn and look back. Something attracted his trained eye, I suppose, which was not

perceptible to me. But he suddenly came striding along. Obviously he was pursuing the old man, who was

just about to leave the apartment. Seeing that the latter had reached the doorway, Bristol began to run.

The old man turned; and amid a chorus of exclamations from the astonished spectators, Bristol sprang upon

How it all came about T cannot say, cannot hope to describe; but there was a short, sharp scuffle, the crack of

a welldirected blow . . . and Bristol was rolling on his back, the old man, hatless, was racing up the Assyrian

Bristol, with blood streaming from his face, staggered to his feet, clutching at me for support.

"After him, Mr. Cavanagh!" be cried hoarsely. "It's your turn today! After him! That's Earl Dexter!"

Mostyn waited for no more, but went running quickly through the Assyrian Room. I may mention here that at

the head of the stairs he found the caped Inverness which had served to conceal Dexter's mutilated arm, and

later, behind a piece of statuary, a wig and a very ingenious false beard and moustache were discovered. But

of The Stetson Man there was no trace. His brief start had enabled him to make good his escape.

As Mostyn went off, and a group of visitors flocked in our direction, Bristol, who had been badly shaken by

Looks of surprise greeted his words; but with his handkerchief raised to his face, he peremptorily repeated

them. The official note in his voice was readily to be detected; and the wonderstricken group departed with

As the last left the Burton Room, Bristol pointed, with a rather shaky finger, at the soft felt hat which lay at

his feet. It had formed part of Dexter's disguise. Close beside it lay another object which had evidently fallen

"For God's sake don't go near it!" whispered Bristol. "The room must be closed for the present. And now I'm

I stood in the foyer of the Astoria Hotel. About me was the pulsing stir of transatlantic life, for the tourist

season was now at its height, and I counted myself fortunate in that I had been able to secure a room at this

establishment, always so popular with American visitors. Chatting groups surrounded me and I became

acquainted with numberless projects for visiting the Tower of London, the National Gallery, the British

Museum, Windsor Castle, Kew Gardens, and the other sights dear to the heart of our visiting cousins. Loaded

lifts ascended and descended. Bradshaws were in great evidence everywhere; all was hustle and glad

The tall militarylooking man who stood beside me glanced about him with a rather grim smile.

"I ought to be safe enough in my own chambers," I replied wearily. "How many of these pleasureseeking

folk would believe that a man can be as greatly in peril of his life in Fleet Street as in the most uncivilized

spot upon the world map? Do you think if I told that prosperous New Yorker who is buying a cigar yonder,

for instance, that I had been driven from my chambers by a band of Eastern assassins founded some time in

"I am certain he wouldn't!" replied Bristol. "I should not have credited it myself before I was put in charge of

My position at that hour was in truth an incredible one. The sacred slipper of Mohammed lay once more in

the glass case at the Antiquarian Museum from which Earl Dexter had stolen it. Now, with apish yellow faces

haunting my dreams, with ghostly menaces dogging me day and night, I was outcast from my own rooms and

compelled, in selfdefence, to live amid the bustle of the Astoria. So wholly nonplussed were the police

authorities that they could afford me no protection. They knew that a group of scientific murderers lay hidden

in or near to London; they knew that Earl Dexter, the foremost crook of his day, was also in the

metropolisand they could make no move, were helpless; indeed, as Bristol had confessed, were hopeless!

Bristol, on the previous day, had unearthed the Greek cigar merchant, Acepulos, who had replaced the slipper

in its case (for a monetary consideration). He had performed a similar service when the bloodstained thing

had first been put upon exhibition at the Museum, and for a considerable period had disappeared. We had

feared that his religious pretensions had not saved him from the avenging scimitar of Hassan; but quite

recently he had returned again to his Soho shop, and in time thus to earn a second cheque.

As Bristol and I stood glancing about the foyer of the hotel, a plainclothes officer whom I knew by sight

came in and approached my companion. I could not divine the fact, of course, but I was about to hear news of

The detective whispered something to Bristol, and the latter started, and paled. He turned to me.

"They haven't overlooked him this time, Mr. Cavanagh," he said. "Acepulos has been found dead in his room,

I shuddered involuntarily. Even there, amid the chatter and laughter of those lighthearted tourists, the

Bristol started immediately for Soho and I parted from him in the Strand, he proceeding west and I eastward,

for I had occasion that morning to call at my bank. It was the time of the year when London is full of'

foreigners, and as I proceeded in the direction of Fleet Street I encountered more than one Oriental. To my

excited imagination they all seemed to glance at me furtively, with menacing eyes, but in any event I knew

that I had little to fear whilst I contrived to keep to the crowded thoroughfares. Solitude I dreaded and with

Then at the door of the bank I found fresh mater for reflection. The assistant manager, Mr. Colby, was

escorting a lady to the door. As I stood aside, he walked with her to a handsome car which waited, and

handed her in with marks of great deference. She was heavily veiled and I had no more than a glimpse of her,

but she appeared to be of middle age and had gray hair and a very stately manner.

I told myself that I was unduly suspicious, suspicious of everyone and of everything; yet as I entered the bank

I found myself wondering where I had seen that dignified, grayhaired figure before. I even thought of asking

the manager the name of his distinguished customer, but did not do so, for in the circumstances such an

My business transacted, I came out again by the side entrance which opens on the little courtyard, for this

A ragged urchin who was apparently waiting for me handed me a note. I looked at him inquiringly.

The note was written upon a half sheet of paper and, doubting if it was really intended for me, I unfolded it

and read the following Mr. Cavanagh, take the keys of the case containing the holy slipper to your hotel

I handed the boy sixpence and slowly pursued my way. An idea was forming in my mind to trap the enemy

by seeming acquiescent. I wondered if my movements were being watched at that moment. Since it was more

than probable, I returned to the bank, entered, and made some trivial inquiry of a cashier, and then came out

I had not been in the office more than five minutes before I received a telegram from Inspector Bristol. It had

Plot afoot to steal keys. Get them from bank and join me 11 o'clock at Astoria. Have planned trap.

This was very mysterious in view of the note so recently received by me, but I concluded that Bristol had hit

upon a similar plan to that which was forming in my own mind. It seemed unnecessarily hazardous, though,

Pondering deeply upon the perplexities of this maddening case, I shortly afterward found myself again at the

bank. With the manager I descended to the strongroom, and the safe was unlocked which contained the

"There are the keys, quite safe! and by the way, this is my second visit here this morning, Mr. Cavanagh,"

said the manager, with whom I was upon rather intimate terms. "A foreign lady who has recently become a

customer of the bank deposited some valuable jewels here this morning less than an hour ago, in fact."

"Indeed," I said, and my mind was working rapidly. "The lady who came in the large blue car, a grayhaired

I nodded and said no more, for in truth I had no more to say. I had good reason to respect the uncanny powers

of Hassan of Aleppo, but I doubted if even his omniscience could tell him (since I had actually gone down

into the strongroom) whether when I emerged I had the keys, or whether my visit and seeming acceptance

That the Hashishin had some means of communicating with me at the Astoria was evident from the contents

of the note which I had received, and as I walked in the direction of the hotel my mind was filled with all

sorts of misgivings. I was playing with fire! Had I done rightly or should I have acted otherwise? I sighed

When I reached the Astoria, Bristol had not arrived. I lighted a cigarette and sat down in the lounge to await

his coming. Presently a boy approached, handing me a message which had been taken down from the

Tell Mr. Cavanagh, who is waiting in the hotel, to take what I am expecting to his chambers, and say that I

Again I doubted the wisdom of Bristol's plan. Had I not fled to the Astoria to escape from the dangerous

solitude of my rooms? That he was laying some trap for the Hashishin was sufficiently evident, and whilst I

could not justly suspect him of making a pawn of me I was quite unable to find any other explanation of this

I was torn between conflicting doubts. I glanced at my watch. Yes! There was just time for me to revisit the

bank ere joining Bristol at my chambers! I hesitated. After all, in what possible way could it jeopardize his

"Hang it all!" I said, and jumped to my feet. "These maddening conjectures will turn my brain! I'll let matters

I hesitated no longer, but passed out from the hotel and once more directed my steps in the direction of Fleet

As I passed in under the arch through which streamed many busy workers, I told myself that to dread entering

my own chambers at high noon was utterly childish. Yet I did dread doing so! And as I mounted the stair and

came to the landing, which was always more or less dark, I paused for quite a long time before putting the

The affair of the accursed slipper was playing havoc with my nerves, and I laughed dryly to note that my

hand was not quite steady as I turned the key, opened my door, and slipped into the dim hallway.

As I closed it behind me, something, probably a slight noise, but possibly something more subtle an instinct

That moment was pungent with drama. In the intense hush of the next five seconds I could fancy that the

world had slipped away from me and that I was become an unsubstantial thing of dreams. I was in no sense

master of myself; the effect of the presence of this whitebearded fanatic was of a kind which I am entirely

unable to describe. About Hassan of Aleppo was an aroma of evil, yet of majesty, which marked him

strangely different from other men from any other that I have ever known. In his venerable presence,

remembering how he was Sheikh of the Assassins, and recalling his bloody history, I was always conscious

of a weakness, physical and mental. He appalled me; and now, with my back to the door, I stood watching

him and watching the ominous black tube which he held in his hand. It was a weapon unknown to Europe and

He advanced a step; his manner was imperious. The black tube was less than a foot removed from my face.

That I had my revolver in my pocket could avail me nothing, for in my pocket it must remain, since I dared to

"You will have placed them in your pocketcase," he said. "Take it out; hand it to me!"

I obeyed, for what else could I do? Taking the case from my pocket, I placed it in his lean brown hand.

An expression of wild exultation crossed his features; the eagle eyes seemed to be burning into my brain. A

puff of hot vapour struck me in the face something which was expelled from the mysterious black tube.

And with memories crowding to my mind of similar experiences at the hands of the Hashishin, I fell back,

clutching at my throat, fighting for my life against the deadly, vaporous thing that like a palpable cloud

surrounded me. I tried to cry out, but the words died upon my tongue. Hassan of Aleppo seemed to grow

huge before my eyes like some ginn of Eastern lore. Then a curtain of darkness descended. I experienced a

violent blow upon the forehead (I suppose I had pitched forward), and for the time resigned my part in the

At about five o'clock that afternoon Inspector Bristol, who had spent several hours in Soho upon the scene of

the murder of the Greek, was walking along Fleet Street, bound for the offices of the Report. As he passed the

court, on the corner of which stands a branch of the London County and Provincial Bank, his eye was

There are reflectors above the bank windows which face the court, and it appeared to Bristol that there was a

hole in one of these, the furthermost from the corner. A tiny beam of light shone from the bank window on to

the reflector, or from the reflector on to the window, which circumstance in itself was not curious. But above

the reflector, at an acute angle, this mysterious beam was seemingly projected upward. Walking a little way

up the court he saw that it shone through, and cast a disc of light upon the ceiling of an office on the first

It is every detective's business to be observant, and although many thousands of passersby must have cast

their eyes in the same direction that day, there is small matter for wonder in the fact that Bristol alone took

the trouble to inquire into the mystery for his trained eye told him that there was a mystery here.

Possibly he was in that passive frame of mind when the brain is particularly receptive of trivial impressions;

for after a futile search of the Soho cigar store for anything resembling a clue, he was quite resigned to the

idea of failure in the case of Hassan and Company. He walked down the court and into the entrance of Bank

Chambers. An Inspection of the board upon the wall showed him that the first floor apparently was occupied

by three firms, two of them legal, for this is the neighbourhood of the law courts, and the third a press agency.

He stepped up to the first floor. Past the doors bearing the names of the solicitors and past that belonging to

the press agent he proceeded to a fourth suite of offices. Here, pinned upon the door frame, appeared a card

Evidently the Congo Fibre Company had so recently taken possession of the offices that there had been no

time to inscribe their title either upon the doors or upon the board in the hall.

Inspector Bristol was much impressed, for into one of the rooms occupied by the Fibre Company shone that

curious disc of light which first had drawn his attention to Bank Chambers. He rapped on the door, turned the

handle, and entered. The sole furniture of the office in which he found himself apparently consisted of one

desk and an office stool, which stool was occupied by an office boy. The windows opened on the court, and a

door marked "Private" evidently communicated with an inner office whose windows likewise must open on

the court. It was the ceiling of this inner office, unless the detective's calculation erred, which he was anxious

"Oh!" said Bristol, looking around him in apparent surprise: "how long is he gone?"

"I don't know, sir. I've only been here three weeks, and Mr. Knowlson only took the offices a month ago."

The boy hesitated. The detective had that authoritative manner which awes the youthful mind.

He turned and quitted the office, carefully closing the door behind him. Three seconds later he reopened it,

and peering in, was in time to see the boy knock upon the private door. A little wicket, or movable panel, was

let down, the card of John Henry Smith was passed through to someone unseen, and the wicket was reclosed!

The boy turned and met the wrathful eye of the detective. Bristol reentered, closing the door behind him.

"See here, young fellow," said he, "I don't stand for those tricks! Why didn't you tell me Mr. Knowlson was

"I'm very sorry, sir!" the boy quailed beneath his glance "but he won't see any one who hasn't an

"Never!" declared the boy solemnly. "And I don't mind telling you," he added, recovering something of his

natural confidence, "that I am leaving on the 31st. This job ain't any use to me!"

"No work at all !" returned the boy indignantly. "I'm just here for a blessed buffer, that's what I'm here for, a

"I just have to sit here and see that nobody gets into that office. Lively, ain't it? Where's the prospects?"

The boy obeyed with alacrity. He rapped loudly on the door, not noticing or not caring that the visitor was

standing directly behind him. The shutter was lowered and a grizzled, bearded face showed for a moment

Bristol leant over the boy and pushed a card through into the hand of the man beyond. On this occasion it did

There followed a moment of silence, from which Bristol divined that he had blundered upon some mystery,

possibly upon a big case; then a key was turned in the lock and the door thrown open.

Bristol entered warily, but not warily enough. For as the door was banged upon his entrance he faced around

With his back to the door which contained the wicket, now reclosed, stood the man with the bearded face.

The revolver was held in his left hand; his right arm terminated in a bandaged stump. But without that his

"It is!" replied the cracksman, "and you've looked in at a real inconvenient time! My visitors mostly seem to

have that knack. I'll have to ask you to stay, Inspector. Sit down in that chair yonder."

Bristol knew his man too well to think of opening any argument at that time. He sat down as directed, and

ignoring the revolver which covered him all the time, began coolly to survey the room in which he found

The only bright patch in the room was the shining disc upon the ceiling; and the detective noted with interest

that this marked the position of an arrangement of mirrors. A whitecovered table, entirely bare, stood upon

the floor immediately beneath this mysterious apparatus. With the exception of one or two ordinary items of

furniture and a small hand lathe, the office otherwise was unfurnished. Bristol turned his eyes again upon the

daring man who so audaciously had trapped him the man who had stolen the slipper of the Prophet and

suffered the loss of his hand by the scimitar of an Hashishin as a result. When he had least expected to find

one, Fate had thrown a clue in Bristol's way. He reflected grimly that it was like to prove of little use to him.

"Now," said Dexter, "you can do as you please, of course, but you know me pretty well and I advise you to sit

"I am sorry," continued Dexter, with a quick glance at his maimed arm, "that I can't tie you up, but I am

He suddenly raised the wicket with a twitch of his elbow and, without removing his gaze from the watchful

"I have lost my hand in this game, Mr. Bristol," he said genially, "and had some narrow squeaks of losing my

head; but having gone so far and lost so much I'm going through, if I don't meet a funeral! You see I'm up

"The first," continued Dexter, "is you and Cavanagh, and English law generally. My idea if I can get hold

of the slipper again oh! you needn't stare; I'm out for it! is to get the Antiquarian Institution to ransom it.

It's a line of commercial speculation I have worked successfully before. There's a dozen rich highbrows,

cranks to a man, connected with it, and they are my likeliest buyerssure. But to keep the tone of the market

healthy there's Hassan of Aleppo, rot him! He's a dangerous customer to approach, but you'll note I've been in

"Quite so," said Bristol. "But you've cut off a pretty hefty chew nevertheless. They used to call you The

Stetson Man, you used to dress like a fashion plate and stop at the big hotels. Those days are past, Dexter, I'm

sorry to note. You're down to the skulking game now and you're nearer an advert for Clarkson than

Bristol heard the door of the outer office open, and a moment later that upon which his gaze was set opened

in turn, to admit a girl who was heavily veiled, and who started and stood still in the doorway, on perceiving

the situation. Never for one unguarded moment did the American glance aside from his prisoner.

"The Inspector's dropped in, Carneta!" he drawled in his strident way. "You're handy with a ball of twine; see

The girl, immediately recovering her composure, took off her hat in a businesslike way and began to look

around her, evidently in search of a suitable length of rope with which to fasten up Bristol.

"Might I suggest," said the detective, "that if you are shortly quitting these offices a couple of the

"Thanks," drawled Dexter, nodding to his companion, who went into the outer office, where she might be

heard lowering the windows. She was gone but a few moments ere she returned again, carrying a length of

knotted rope. Under cover of Dexter's revolver, Bristol stoically submitted to having his wrists tied behind

him. The end of the line was then thrown through the ventilator above the door which communicated with the

outer office and Bristol was triced up in such a way that, his wrists being raised behind him to an

uncomfortable degree, he was almost forced to stand upon tiptoe. The line was then secured.

"Very workmanlike!" commented the victim. "You'll find a large handkerchief in my inside breast pocket. It's

Very promptly it was employed for the purpose, and Inspector Bristol found himself helpless and constrained

"We will now give you a free show, Inspector," he said, genially, "of our camera obscura!"

He pulled down the blinds, which Bristol noted with interest to be black, but through an opening in one of

them a mysterious ray of light the same that he had noticed from Fleet Street shone upon that point in the

ceiling where the arrangement of mirrors was attached. Dexter made some alteration, apparently in the focus

of the lens (for Bristol had divined that in some way a lens had been fixed in the reflector above the bank

window below) and the disc of light became concentrated. The whitecovered table was moved slightly, and

"Observe," came the strident voice "we now have upon the screen here a minute moving picture. This little

device, which is not protected in any way, is of my own invention, and proved extremely useful in the

Arkwright jewel case, which startled Chicago. It has proved useful now. I know almost as much concerning

the arrangements below as the manager himself. In confidence, Inspector, this is my last bid for the slipper! I

have plunged on it. Madame Sforza, the distinguished Italian lady who recently opened an account below,

opened it for 500 pounds cash. She has drawn a portion, but a balance remains which I am resigned to lose.

Her motorcar (hired), her references (forged), the case of jewels which she deposited this morning (duds!)

all represent a considerable outlay. It's a nerveracking line of operation, too. Any hour of the day may bring

such a visitor as yourself, for example. In short, I am at the end of my tether."

Bristol, ignoring the increasing pain in his arms and wrists, turned his eyes upon the whitecovered table and

there saw a minute and clearcut picture, such as one sees in a focussing screen, of the interior of the

I wonder how often a sense of humour has saved a man from desperation? Perhaps only the Easterns have

thoroughly appreciated that divine gift. I have interpolated the adventure of Inspector Bristol in order that the

sequence of my story be not broken; actually I did not learn it until later, but when, on the following day, the

whole of the facts came into my possession, I laughed and was glad that I could laugh, for laughter has saved

Certainly the Fates were playing with us, for at a time very nearly corresponding with that when Bristol found

himself bound and helpless in Bank Chambers I awoke to find myself tied hand and foot to my own bed!

Nothing but the haziest recollections came to me at first, nothing but dim memories of the awful being who

had lured me there; for I perceived now that all the messages proceeded, not from Bristol, but from Hassan of

Aleppo! I had been a fool, and I was reaping the fruits of my folly. Could I have known that almost within

pistol shot of me the Inspector was trussed up as helpless as I, then indeed my situation must have become

My ankles were firmly lashed to the rails at the foot of my bed; each of my wrists was tied back to a bedpost.

I ached in every limb and my head burned feverishly, which latter symptom I ascribed to the powerful drug

which had been expelled into my face by the uncanny weapon carried by Hassan of Aleppo. I reflected

bitterly how, having transferred my quarters to the Astoria, I could not well hope for any visitor to my

chambers; and even the event of such a visitor had been foreseen and provided against by the cunning lord of

the Hashishin. A gag, of the type which Dumas has described in "Twenty Years After," the poire d'angoisse,

was wedged firmly into my mouth. so that only by preserving the utmost composure could I breathe. I was

bathed in cold perspiration. So I lay listening to the familiar sounds without and reflecting that it was quite

possible so to lie, undisturbed, and to die alone, my presence there wholly unsuspected!

Once, toward dusk, my phone bell rang, and my state of mind became agonizing. It was maddening to think

that someone, a friend, was virtually within reach of me, yet actually as far removed as if an ocean divided

us! I tasted the hellish torments of Tantalus. I cursed fate, heaven, everything; I prayed; I sank into bottomless

depths of despair and rose to dizzy pinnacles of hope, when a footstep sounded on the landing and a thousand

The visitor hesitated, apparently outside my door; and a change, as sudden as lightning out of a cloud,

transformed my errant fancies. A gruesome conviction seized me, as irrational as the hope which it displayed,

that this was one of the Hashishin an apish yellow dwarf, a strangler, the awful Hassan himself!

The footsteps receded down the stairs. And my thoughts reverted into the old channels of dull despair.

I weighed the chances of Bristol's seeking me there; and, eager as I was to give them substance, found them

So I lay, whilst only a few hundred yards from me a singular scene was being enacted. Bristol, a prisoner as

helpless as myself, watched the concluding business of the day being conducted in the bank beneath him; he

watched the lift descend to the strongroom the spying apparatus being slightly adjusted in some way; he saw

the clerks hastening to finish their work in the outer office, and as he watched, absorbed by the novelty of the

"This little peepshow of ours has been real useful," Dexter confided out of the darkness. "I got an

impression of the key of the strongroom door a week ago, and Carneta got one of the keys of the safe only

this morning, when she lodged her box of jewellery with the bank! I was at work on that key when you

interrupted me, and as by means of this useful apparatus I have learnt the combination, you ought to see some

Bristol repressed a groan, for the prospect of remaining in that position was thus brought keenly home to him.

The bank staff left the premises one by one until only a solitary clerk worked on at a back desk. His task

completed, he, too, took his departure and the bank messenger commenced his nightly duty of sweeping up

the offices. It was then that excitement like an anaesthetic dulled the detective's pain indeed, he forgot his

So intent had he become upon the picture before him that he had not noticed the fact that he was alone in the

office of the Congo Fibre Company. Now he realized it from the absolute silence about him, and from

The spying apparatus had been left focussed, and on to the screen beneath his eyes, bending low behind the

desks and creeping, Indianlike, around, toward the head of the stair which communicated with the

strongroom and the apartment used by the messenger, came the alert figure of Earl Dexter!

It may be a surprise to some people to learn that at any time in the day the door of a bank, unguarded, should

be left open, when only a solitary messenger is within the premises; yet for a few minutes at least each

evening this happens at more than one City bank, where one of the duties of the resident messenger is to

clean the outer steps. Dexter had taken advantage of the man's absence below in quest of scrubbing material

Watching, breathless, and utterly forgetful of his own position, Bristol saw the messenger, all unconscious of

danger, come up the stairs carrying a pail and broom. As his head reached the level of the railings The

Stetson Man neatly sandbagged him, rushed across to the outer door, and closed it!

Given duplicate keys and the private information which Dexter so ingeniously had obtained, there are many

London banks vulnerable to similar attack. Certainly, bullion is rarely kept in a branch storeroom, but the

detective was well aware that the keys of the case containing the slipper were kept in this particular safe!

He was convinced, and could entertain no shadowy doubt, that at last Dexter had triumphed. He wondered if

it had ever hitherto fallen to the lot of a representative of the law thus to be made an accessory to a daring

But human endurance has welldefined limits. The fading light rendered the ingenious picture dim and more

dim. The pain occasioned by his position became agonizing, and uttering a stifled groan he ceased to take an

Fate is a comedian; and when later I learned how I had lain strapped to my bed, and, so near to me, Bristol

had hung helpless as a butchered carcass in the office of the Congo Fibre Company, whilst, in our absence

from the stage, the drama of the slipper marched feverish to its final curtain, I accorded Fate her wellearned

I aroused myself from a state of coma almost deathlike and listened to the blows. The sun was streaming in

A splintering crash told of a panel broken. Then a moment later I heard the grating of the lock, and a rush of

"Try the study!" came a voice that sounded like Bristol's, save that it was strangely weak and shaky.

Almost simultaneously the Inspector himself threw open the bedroom door and, very pale and

"Mr. Cavanagh!" he said huskily "Mr. Cavanagh! Thank God you're alive! But" he turned "this way,

Marden, a C.I.D. man, came running, and in a minute, or less, I was sitting up gulping brandy.

"I've had the most awful experience of my life," said Bristol. "You've fared badly enough, but I've been

hanging by my wrists you know Dexter's trick! for close upon sixteen hours! I wasn't released until

"The strongroom of your bank was rifled under my very eyes last evening!" he continued, with something

of his old vigour; "and five minutes after the Antiquarian Museum was opened to the public this morning

"I saw the bank manager the moment he arrived, and learned a piece of news that positively took my breath

away! I was at the Museum seven minutes later and got another shock! There in the case was the red slipper!"

"Wrong! It had! This was a duplicate, as Mostyn, the curator, saw at a glance! Some of the early visitors

they were Easterns had quite surrounded the case. They were watched, of course, but any number of

Orientals come to see the thing; and, short of smashing the glass, which would immediately attract attention,

the authorities were unprepared, of course, for any attempt. Anyway, they were tricked. Somebody opened

"Hassan of Aleppo took them from me last night! At last the Hashishin have triumphed.

I am entirely at your mercy; you can do as you please with me. But before you do anything I should like you

"For nearly an hour I have been waiting for this chance until I knew you were alone," she continued. "If

you are thinking of giving me up to the police, at least remember that I came here of my own free will. Of

course, I know you are quite entitled to take advantage of that; but please let me say what I came to say!"

She pleaded so hard, with that musical voice, with her evident helplessness, most of all with her wonderful

eyes, that I quite abandoned any project I might have entertained to secure her arrest. I think she divined this

"Your friend, Professor Deeping, was murdered by the man called Hassan of Aleppo. Are you content to

God knows I was not. My idleness in the matter was none of my choosing. Since poor Deeping's murder I

had come to handgrips with the assassins more than once, but Hassan had proved too clever for me, too

clever for Scotland Yard. The sacred slipper was once more in the hands of its fanatic guardian.

One man there was who might have helped the search, Earl Dexter. But Earl Dexter was himself wanted by

>From the time of the bank affair up to the moment when this beautiful visitor had come to my chambers I

had thought Dexter, as well as Hassan, to have fled secretly from England. But the moment that I saw

"Say what you name to say," I replied slowly. "You must know that I distrust you. Indeed, my plain duty is to

detain you. But I will listen to anything you may care to tell me, particularly if it enables me to trap Hassan of

"Very well," she said, and rested her elbows upon the table before her. "I have come to you in desperation. I

can help you to find the man who murdered Professor Deeping, but in return I want you to help me!"

I watched her closely. She was very plainly, almost poorly, dressed. Her face was pale and there were dark

marks around her eyes. This but served to render their strange beauty more startling; yet I could see that my

"You are possibly about to ask me," I suggested, "to assist Earl Dexter to escape the police?"

"That would not have induced me to run the risk of coming here. I came because I wanted to find a man who

was brave enough to help me. We have no friends in London, and so it became a question of terms. I can

At my question, all her selfpossession left her. She abruptly dropped her face into her hands and was shaken

with sobs! It was more than I could bear, unmoved. I forgot the shady past, forgot that she was the associate

of a daring felon, and could only realize that she was a weeping woman, who had appealed to my pity and

I stood up and stared out of the window, for I experienced a not unnatural embarrassment. Without looking at

"Don't be afraid to tell me your troubles. I don't say I should go out of my way to be kind to Mr. Dexter, but I

have no wish whatever to be instrumental in" I hesitated "in making you responsible for his misdeeds. If

you can tell me where to find Hassan of Aleppo, I won't even ask you where Dexter is "

There was real, poignant anguish in her cry. I turned and confronted her. Her lashes were all wet with tears.

"Mr. Cavanagh, he has staked everything upon securing the slipper and the Hashishin were too clever for

him. His hand those Eastern fiends cut off his hand! But he would not give in. He made another bid and

She spoke of Earl Dexter's felonious plans as another woman might have spoken of her husband's unwise

investments! It was fantastic hearing that confession of The Stetson Man's beautiful partner, and I counted the

A sudden idea came to me. "When did Dexter first conceive the plan to steal the slipper?" I asked.

"In Egypt!" answered Carneta. "Yes! You may as well know! He is thoroughly familiar with the East, and he

learned of the robbery of Professor Deeping almost as soon as it became known to Hassan. I know what you

"Yes! He travelled home as Ahmadeen the only time he ever used a disguise. Oh! the thing is accursed!"

she cried. "I begged him, implored him, to abandon his attempts upon it. Day and night we were watched by

those ghastly yellow men! But it was all in vain. He knew, had known for a long time, where Hassan of

And I reflected that the best men at New Scotland Yard had failed to pick up the slightest clue!

"The Hashishin, of whom that dreadful man is leader, are rich, or have supporters who are rich. The plan was

I could scarcely believe that any man, singlehanded, could have had the hardihood to attempt such a thing.

"Dexter had suffered mutilation, he knew that the Hashishin sought his life for his previous attempts upon the

relic of the Prophet, and yet he dared to venture again into the very lions' den?"

The words were spoken almost in a whisper. She clenched her hands and leapt from the chair, fighting down

her grief and with such a stark horror in her beautiful eyes that from my very soul I longed to be able to help

"Mr. Cavanagh" (she had courage, this bewildering accomplice of a cracksman), "I know the house he went

to! I cannot hope to make you understand what I have suffered since then. A thousand times I have been on

the point of going to the police, confessing all I knew, and leading them to that house! O God! if only he is

alive, this shall be his last crooked deal and mine! I dared not go to the police, for his sake! I waited, and

watched, and hoped, through two such nights and days . . . then I ventured. I should have gone mad if I had

not come here. I knew you had good cause to hate, to detest me, but I remembered that you had a great

grievance against Hassan. Not as great, 0 heaven! not as great as mine, but yet a great one. I remembered,

She sank back into the chair, and with her fingers twining and untwining, sat looking dully before her.

"I propose that we endeavour to obtain admittance to the house of Hassan of Aleppo secretly, of course,

Surely no stranger proposition ever had been submitted to a lawabiding citizen. I was asked to connive in

the escape of a notorious criminal, and at one and the same time to embark upon an expedition patently

burglarious! As though this were not enough, I was invited to beard Hassan of Aleppo, the most dreadful

I wondered what my friend, Inspector Bristol, would have thought of the project; I wondered if I should ever

live to see Hassan meet his just deserts as a result of this enterprise, which I was forced to admit a foolhardy

one. But a man who has selected the career of a war correspondent from amongst those which Fleet Street

offers, is the victim of a certain craving for fresh experiences; I suppose, has in his character something of an

For a while I stood staring from the window, then faced about and looked into the violet eyes of my visitor.

Quitting the wayside station, and walking down a short lane, we came out upon Watling Street, white and

dusty beneath the afternoon sun. We were less than an hour's train journey from London but found ourselves

amid the Kentish hop gardens, amid a rural peace unbroken. My companion carried a camera case slung

across her shoulder, but its contents were less innocent than one might have supposed. In fact, it contained a

neat set of those instruments of the burglar's art with whose use she appeared to be quite familiar.

"There is an inn," she said, "about a mile ahead, where we can obtain some vital information. He last wrote to

Side by side we tramped along the dusty road. We both were silent, occupied with our own thoughts.

Respecting the nature of my companion's I could entertain little doubt, and my own turned upon the

foolhardy nature of the undertaking upon which I was embarked. No other word passed between us then, until

upon rounding a bend and passing a cluster of picturesque cottages, the yard of the Vinepole came into view.

"No, of course not; we never made strategic mistakes of that kind. If we have tea here, no doubt we can learn

1 entered the little parlour of the inn, and suggested that tea should be served in the pretty garden which

"No doubt," said my companion. "There is some very pretty scenery in the neighbourhood."

"There was a gentleman here on Wednesday last," he said; "an old gentleman who had met with an accident,

and was staying somewhere hereabouts for his health. But he'd got his camera with him, and it was wonderful

"He must have been a very keen photographer," I said, glancing at the girl beside me.

"He took three or four pictures of the Vinepole," replied the landlord (which I doubted, since probably his

camera was a dummy); "and he wanted to know if there were any other old houses in the neighbourhood. I

told him he ought to take Cadham Hall, and he said he had heard that the Gate House, which is about a mile

A girl appeared with a tea tray, and for a moment I almost feared that the landlord was about to retire; but he

lingered, whilst the girl distributed the things about the table, and Carneta asked casually, "Would there be

"There might be time," was the reply, "but that's not the difficulty. Mr. Isaacs is the difficulty."

"He's the Jewish gentleman who bought the Gate House recently. Lots of money he's got and a big motor car.

He's up and down to London almost every day in the week, but he won't let anybody take photographs of the

"But I thought," said Carneta, innocently, "you said the old gentleman who was here on Wednesday went to

"Now that you speak of it," she said, "I too have heard that the Gate House is very picturesque. What

"Well, you see, miss, to get a picture of the house, you have to pass right through the grounds."

"I should walk right up to the house and ask permission. Is Mr. Isaacs at home, I wonder?"

"A Jewish gentleman sir, very dark, with a white beard. Wears gold glasses. Keeps himself very much to

himself. I don't know anything about his household; none of them ever come here."

Carneta inquired the direction of Cadham Hall and of the Gate House, and the landlord left us to ourselves.

My companion exhibited signs of growing agitation, and it seemed to me that she had much ado to restrain

herself from setting out without a moment's delay for the Gate House, which, I readily perceived, was the

I found something very stimulating in the reflection that, rash though the expedition might be, and, viewed

from whatever standpoint, undeniably perilous, it promised to bring me to that secret stronghold of deviltry

The work of the modern journalist had many points of contact with that of the detective; and since the murder

of Professor Deeping I had succumbed to the manhunting fever more than once. I knew that Scotland Yard

had failed to locate the hidingplace of the remarkable and evil man who, like an efreet of Oriental lore,

obeyed the talisman of the stolen slipper, striking down whomsoever laid hand upon its sacredness. It was a

novel sensation to know that, aided by this beautiful accomplice of a rogue, I had succeeded where the

Misgivings I had and shall not deny. If our scheme succeeded it would mean that Deeping's murderer should

be brought to justice. If it failedwell, frankly, upon that possibility I did not dare to reflect!

It must be needless for me to say that we two strangely met allies were ill at ease, sometimes to the point of

embarrassment. We proceeded on our way in almost unbroken silence, and, save for a couple of farm hands,

without meeting any wayfarer, up to the time that we reached the brow of the hill and had our first sight of

the Gate House lying in a little valley beneath. It was a small Tudor mansion, very compact in plan and its

>From the directions given by the host of the Vine pole it was impossible to mistake the way or to mistake

the house. Amid wellwooded grounds it stood, a place quite isolated, but so typically English that, as I stood

looking down upon it, I found myself unable to believe that any other than a substantial country gentleman

I glanced at Carneta. Her violet eyes were burning feverishly, but her lips twitched in a bravely pitiful way.

Clearly now my adventure lay before me; that redroofed homestead seemed to have rendered it all

substantial which hitherto had been shadowy; and I stood there studying the Gate House gravely, for it might

There, amid that peaceful Kentish landscape, fantasy danced and horrors unknown lurked in waiting. . .

The eminence upon which we were commanded an extensive prospect, and eastward showed a tower and

flagstaff which marked the site of Cadham Hall. There were homewardbound labourers to be seen in the

lanes now, and where like a white ribbon the Watling Street lay across the verdant carpet moved an insect

It was a car, and I watched it with vague interest. At a point where a dense coppice spread down to the

roadway and a lane crossed west to east, the car became invisible. Then I saw it again, nearer to us and nearer

"Mr. Isaacs!" she said; and her voice was less musical than usual. "His chauffeur, who learned his business in

Where the road upon which we stood wound down into the valley and lost itself amid the trees surrounding

the Gate House, the car suddenly appeared again, and began to mount the slope toward us!

"Heavens!" whispered Carneta. "He may have seen us with glasses! Quick! Let us walk back until the

I shared her excitement. Without a moment's hesitation we both turned and retraced our steps. Twenty paces

We ran around into the field, and crouched where we could peer out on the road without ourselves being

Topping the slope came a lightweight electric, driven by a man who, in his spruce uniform, might have

passed at a glance for a very dusky European. The car had a limousine back, and as the chauffeur slowed

He had the cast of countenance which is associated with the best type of Jew, with clearcut aquiline features

wholly destitute of grossness. His white beard was patriarchal and he wore goldrimmed pincenez and a

glossy silk hat. Such figures may often be met with in the great moneymarkets of the world, and Mr. Isaacs

would have passed for a successful financier in even more discerning communities than that of Cadham.

But I scarcely breathed until the car was past; and, beside me, my companion, crouching to the ground, was

trembling wildly. Fifty yards toward the village Mr. Isaacs evidently directed the man to return.

The car was put about, and flashed past us at high speed down into the valley. When the sound of the

humming motor had died to something no louder than the buzz of a sleepy wasp, I held out my hand to

Carneta and she rose, pale, but with blazing eyes, and picked up her camera case.

"Not everything!" I replied grimly and showed her the revolver which I had held in my hand whilst those

eagle eyes had been seeking us. "If he had made a sign to show that he had seen us, in fact, if he had once

offered a safe mark by leaning from the car, I should have shot him dead without hesitation!"

"We must not show ourselves again, but wait" for dusk. He must have seen us, then, on the hilltop, but I hope

I nodded, slipping the revolver into my pocket, but I wondered if I should not have been better advised to

have risked a shot at the moment that I had recognized "Mr. Isaacs" for Hassan of Aleppo.

>From sunset to dusk I lurked about the neighbourhood of the Gate House with my beautiful accomplice

watching and waiting: a man bound upon stranger business, I dare swear, than any other in the county of Kent

Our endeavour now was to avoid observation by any one, and in this, I think, we succeeded. At the same

time, Carneta, upon whose experience I relied implicitly, regarded it as most important that we should

But none entered, and none came out. When, finally, we made along the narrow footpath skirting the west of

The trees met overhead, but no rustle disturbed their leaves and of animal life no indication showed itself.

A full appreciation of my mad folly came to me, and with it a sense of heavy depression. This stillness that

ruled all about the house which sheltered the awful Sheikh of the Assassins was ominous, I thought. In short,

"We have little to fear," said my companion, speaking in a hushed and quivering voice. "The whole of the

"Certain! We learned that before Earl made his attempt. Hassan remains, for some reason; Hassan and one

"If Hassan remains, so does the slipper!" From the knapsack, which, as you will have divined, did not contain

a camera, she took out an electric pocket lamp, and directed its beam upon the hedge above us.

"There is a gap somewhere here!" she said. "See if you can find it. I dare not show the light too long."

Darkness followed. I clambered up the bank and sought for the opening of which Carneta had spoken.

Out shone the white beam, and momentarily fell upon a black hole in the thickset hedge. The light

disappeared, and as I extended my hand to Carneta she grasped it and climbed up beside me.

There in the darkness I did as she directed, for I was provided with a pair of tennis shoes. Carneta already was

Upon hands and knees I crawled through, saw dimly that there was a short descent, corresponding with the

ascent from the lane, and turned, whispering to my fellow conspirator to follow.

The grounds proved even more extensive than I had anticipated. We pressed on, dodging lowsweeping

branches and keeping our arms up to guard our faces from outshoots of thorn bushes. Our progress

necessarily was slow, but even so quite a long time seemed to have elapsed ere we came in sight of the house.

This was my first expedition of the kind; and now that my goal was actually in sight I became conscious of a

sort of exultation hard to describe. My companion, on the contrary, seemed to have become icily cool. When

next she spoke, her voice had a businesslike ring, which revealed the fact that she was no amateur at this class

"Wait here," she directed. "I am going to pass all around the house, and I will rejoin you."

I could see her but dimly, and she moved off as silent as an Indian deerstalker, leaving me alone there

crouching at the extreme edge of the thicket. I looked out over a small wilderness of unkempt flowerbeds;

so much it was just possible to perceive. The plants in many instances had spread on to the pathways and

A sense of dampness assailed me, and I raised my eyes to the lowlying building wherein no light showed,

no sign of life was evident. The nearer wing presented a verandah apparently overgrown by some climbing

The zest for the nocturnal operation which temporarily had thrilled me succumbed now to loneliness. With

keen anxiety I awaited the return of my more experienced accomplice. The situation was grotesque, utterly

bizarre; but even my sense of humour could not save me from the growing dread which this seemingly

When upon the right I heard a faint rustling I started, and grasped the revolver in my pocket.

"Not a sound!" came in Carneta's voice. "Keep just inside the bushes and come this way. There is something I

The various profuse growths rendered concealment simple enough if indeed any other concealment were

necessary than that which the strangely black night afforded. Just within the evilsmelling thicket we made a

The word was unnecessary, for I was staring fixedly in the direction of that which evidently had occasioned

It was a small square window, so lowset that I assumed it to be that of a cellar, and heavily crossbarred.

"There's no other light in the place," my companion whispered. "For God's sake, what can it be?"

My mind supplied no explanation. The idea that it might be a dark room no doubt was suggested by the

assumed role of Carneta; but I knew that idea to be absurd. The red light meant something else.

Evidently the commencing of operations before all lights were out was irregular, for Carneta said slowly

"We must wait and watch the light. There was formerly a moat around the Gate House; that must be the

I little relished the prospect of waiting in that swamplike spot, but since no alternative presented itself I

accepted the inevitable. For close upon an hour we stood watching the red window. No sound of bird, beast,

or man disturbed our vigil; in fact, it would appear that the very insects shunned the neighbourhood of Hassan

"We must risk it!" said Carneta steadily. "There are French windows opening on to that verandah. Ten yards

farther around the bushes come right up to the wall of the house. We'll go that way and around by the other

Any action was preferable to this nervesapping delay, and with a determination to shoot, and shoot to kill,

any one who opposed our entrance, I passed through the bushes and, with Carneta, rounded the southern

Kneeling, Carneta opened the knapsack. My eyes were growing accustomed to the darkness, and I was just

able to see her deft hands at work upon the fastenings. She made no noise, and I watched her with an

evergrowing wonder. A female burglar is a personage difficult to imagine. Certainly, no one ever could

have suspected this girl with the violet eyes of being an expert crackswoman; but of her efficiency there

could be no question. I think I had never witnessed a more amazing spectacle than that of this cultured girl

A strange courage came to me perhaps that of desperation. For, ignoring the ominous circumstance, I

pushed open the nearest window and stepped into the room beyond! A hissing breath from Carneta

acknowledged my performance, and she entered close behind me, silent in her rubbersoled shoes.

For one thrilling moment we stood listening. Then came the white beam from the electric lamp to cut through

Not a sound broke the stillness of the Gate House. It was the most eerily silent place in which I had ever

found myself. Out into the corridor we went, noiselessly. It was stripped, uncarpeted.

Three doors we passed, two upon the left and one upon the right. We tried them all. All were unfastened, and

the rooms into which they opened bare and deserted. Then we came upon a short, descending stair, at its foot

Carneta glided down, noiseless as a ghost, and to one of the blackened panels applied an ingenious little

instrument which she carried in her knapsack. It was not unlike a stethoscope; and as I watched her listening,

by means of this arrangement, for any sound beyond the oaken door, I reflected how almost every advance

No word had been spoken since we had discovered this door; none had been necessary. For we both knew

I directed the ray of the electric torch upon Carneta, as she stood there listening, and against that sombre

oaken background her face and profile stood out with startling beauty. She seemed half perplexed and half

fearful. Then she abruptly removed the apparatus, and, stooping to the knapsack, replaced it and took out a

As I crept down the steps I saw her pause, glancing back over her shoulder toward the door. The expression

Why neither of us had observed the fact before I cannot conjecture; but a key was in the lock!

Perhaps the traffic of the night afforded no more dramatic moment than this. The house which we were come

prepared burglariously to enter was thrown open, it would seem, to us, inviting our inspection!

Looking back upon that moment, it seems almost incredible that the sight of a key in a lock should have so

thrilled me. But at the time I perceived something sinister in this failure of the Lord of the Hashishin to close

his doors to intruders. That Carneta shared my doubts and fears was to be read in her face; but her training

had been peculiar, I learned, and such as establishes a surprising resoluteness of character.

Quite noiselessly she turned the key, and holding a dainty pocket revolver in her hand, pushed the door open

An odour, sickly sweet and vaguely familiar, was borne to my nostrils. Carneta became outlined in dim,

reddish light. Bending forward slightly, she entered the room, and I, with muscles tensed nervously, advanced

I perceived that this was a cellar; indeed, I doubt not that in some past age it had served as a dungeon. From

the stone roof hung the first evidence of Eastern occupation which the Gate House had yielded; in the form of

an Oriental lantern, or fanoos, of rosecoloured waxed paper upon a copper frame. Its vague light revealed

Straight before us, deep set in the stone wall, was the tiny square window, ironbarred without, and glazed

with red glass, the light from which had so deeply mystified us. Within a niche in the wall, a little to the left

of the window, rested an object which, at that moment, claimed our undivided attention the sight of which so

A few inches from our feet the floor became depressed, how deeply I could not determine, for it was filled

with water, water filthy and slimy! The strange, nauseating odour had grown all but unsupportable; it

seemingly proceeded from this fetid pool which, occupying the floor of the dungeon, offered a barrier, since

its depth was unknown, of fully twelve feet between ourselves and the farther wall.

There was a faint, dripping sound: a whispering, echoing dripdrip of falling water. I could not tell from

Almost supporting my companion, whose courage seemed suddenly to have failed her, I stared fascinatedly at

that bloodstained relic. Something then induced me to look behind; I suppose a warning instinct of that sort

which is unexplainable. I only know that upholding Carneta with my left arm, and nervously grasping my

I snatched away my arm; in my left hand I held the electric torch, and springing sharply about I directed the

searching ray into the black gap of the stairway. A yellow face, a malignant Oriental face, came suddenly,

fully, into view! Instantly I recognized it for that of the man who had driven Hassan's car!

Acting upon the determination with which I had entered the Gate House, I raised my revolver and fired

straight between the evil eyes! To the fact that I dropped my left hand in the act of pulling the trigger with my

right, and thus lost my mark, the servant of Hassan of Aleppo owed his escape. I missed him. He uttered a

shrill cry of fear and went racing up the wooden stair. I followed him with the light and fired twice at the

retreating figure. I heard him stumble and a second time cry out. But, though I doubt not he was hit, he

Propping wide the door with my foot, I turned to Carneta. Her face was drawn and haggard; but her mouth set

"Earl is dead!" she said, in a queer, toneless voice. "He died trying to get that thing! I will get it, and

Before I could detain her, even had I sought to do so, she stepped into the filthy water, struggled to recover

her foothold, and sank above her waist into its sliminess. Without hesitation she began to advance toward the

What memory it was which supplied the clue to the identity of that nauseating smell, heaven alone knows;

but as the girl stopped and drew herself up rigidly then turned and leapt wildly back toward the doorI

She screamed once, dreadfully shrilly a scream of agonizing fear that I can never forget. Then, roughly I

grasped her, for the need was urgent and dragged her out on to the floor beside me. With her wet garments

A yard from the brink the slimy water parted, and the yellow snout of a huge crocodile was raised above the

The extremity of our danger found me suddenly cool. As the thing drew its slimy body up out of the poor I

waited. The jaws were extended toward the prostrate body, were but inches removed from it, dripped their

saliva upon the soddened skirt when I bent forward, and at a range of some ten inches emptied the

Upchurned in bloody foam became the water of that dreadful place . . . . As one recalls the incidents of a

fevered dream, I recall dragging Carneta away from the contorted body of the deathstricken reptile. A

nightmare chaos of horrid, revolting sights and sounds forms my only recollection of quitting the dungeon of

I succeeded in carrying her up the stairs and out through the empty rooms on to the verandah; but there, from

sheer exhaustion, I laid her down. I had no means of reviving her and I lacked the strength to carry her

farther. Having recharged my revolver, I stood watching her where she lay, wanly beautiful in the dim light.

There was no doubt in my mind respecting the fate of Earl Dexter, nor could I doubt that the slipper in the

dungeon below was a duplicate of the real one. It was a deathtrap into which he had lured Dexter and which

he had left baited for whomsoever might trace the cracksman to the Gate House. Why Hassan should have

When at last the fresher night air had its effect, and Carneta opened her eyes, I led her to the gates, nor did

she offer the slightest resistance, but looked dully before her, muttering over and over again, "Earl, Earl!"

The gates were open; we passed out on to the open road. No man pursued us, and the night was gravely still.

When the invitation came from my old friend Hilton to spend a week "roughing it" with him in Warwickshire

I accepted with alacrity. If ever a man needed a holiday I was that man. Nervous breakdown threatened me at

any moment; the ghastly experience at the Gate House together with Carneta's griefstricken face when I had

A brief wire had contained the welcome invitation, and up to the time when I had received it I had been

unaware that Hilton was back in England. Moreover, beyond the fact that his house, "Uplands," was near

H, for which I was instructed to change at New Street Station, Birmingham, I had little idea of its location.

But he added "Wire train and will meet at H"; so that I had no uneasiness on that score.

I had contemplated catching the 2:45 from Euston, but by the time I had got my work into something like

order, I decided that the 6:55 would be more suitable and decided to dine on the train.

Altogether, there was something of a rush and hustle attendant upon getting away, and when at last I found

myself in the cab, bound for Euston, I sat back with a longdrawn sigh. The quest of the Prophet's slipper

was ended; in all probability that bloodstained relic was already Eastward bound. Hassan of Aleppo, its

awful guardian, had triumphed and had escaped retribution. Earl Dexter was dead. I could not doubt that; for

the memory of his beautiful accomplice, Carneta, as I last had seen her, brokenhearted, with her great violet

Even as the picture of her lovely, pale face presented itself to my mind, the cab was held up by a temporary

Another taxi ran close alongside, almost at the moment that the press of vehicles moved on again. Certainly, I

had no more than a passing glimpse of the occupants; but I could have sworn that violet eyes looked suddenly

into mine, and with equal conviction I could have sworn to the gaunt face of the man who sat beside the

The travellers, however, were immediately lost to sight in the rear, and I was left to conjecture whether this

At any rate, as I passed in between the big pillars, "The gateway of the North," I scrutinized, and closely, the

numerous hurrying figures about me. None of them, by any stretch of the imagination, could have been set

down for that of Dexter, The Stetson Man. No doubt, I concluded, I had been tricked by a chance

Having dispatched my telegram, I boarded the 6:55. I thought I should have the compartment to myself, and

so deep in reverie was I that the train was actually clear of the platforms ere I learned that I had a companion.

He must have joined me at the moment that the train started. Certainly, I had not seen him enter. But,

suddenly looking up, I met the eyes of this man who occupied the corner seat facing me.

This person was oliveskinned, cleanshaven, fine featured, and perfectly groomed. His age might have been

anything from twentyfive to fortyfive, but his hair and brows were jet black. His eyes, too, were nearer to

real black than any human eyes I had ever seen before excepting the awful eyes of Hassan of Aleppo.

Hassan of Aleppo! It was, to that hour, a mystery how his group of trained assassins the Hashishin had

quitted England. Since none of them were known to the police, it was no insoluble mystery, I admit; but

nevertheless it was singular that the careful watching of the ports had yielded no result. Could it be that some

I looked intently into the black eyes. They were caressing, smiling eyes, and looked boldly into mine. I

picked up a magazine, pretending to read. But I supported it with my left hand; my right was in my coat

So much had the slipper of Mohammed done for me: I went in hourly dread of murderous attack!

My travelling companion watched me; of that I was certain. I could feel his gaze. But he made no move and

no word passed between us. This was the situation when the train slowed into Northampton. At Northampton,

to my indescribable relief (frankly, I was as nervous in those days as a woman), the Oriental traveller stepped

"Evidently you are not concerned, Mr. Cavanagh," he said. "Be warned. Do not interfere with those that are!"

My fears had been justified; the man was one of the Hashishin a spy of Hassan of Aleppo! What did it

I craned from the window, searching the platform right and left. But there was no sign of him.

When the train left Northampton I found myself alone, and I should only weary you were I to attempt to

The train reached New Street at nine, with the result that having gulped a badly needed brandy and soda in

the buffet, I grabbed my bag, raced across and just missed the connection! More than an hour later I found

myself standing at ten minutes to eleven upon the H platform, watching the red taillight of the "local"

disappear into the night. Then I realized to the full that with four miles of lonely England before me there

hung above my head a mysterious threat a vague menace. The solitary official, who but waited my

departure to lock up the station, was the last representative of civilization I could hope to encounter until the

What was the matter with which I was warned not to interfere? Might I not, by my mere presence in that

With the stationmaster's directions humming like a refrain in my ears, I passed through the sleeping village

and out on to the road. The moon was exceptionally bright and unobscured, although a dense bank of cloud

crept slowly from the west, and before me the path stretched as an unbroken thread of silvery white twining a

sinuous way up the brackencovered slope, to where, sharply defined against the moonlight sky, a coppice in

The month had been dry and tropically hot, and my footsteps rang crisply upon the hard ground. There is

nothing more deceptive than a straight road up a hill; and half an hour's steady tramping but saw me

I had so far resolutely endeavoured to keep my mind away from the idea of surveillance. Now, as I paused to

light my pipe a neverfailing friend in loneliness I perceived something move in the shadows of a

This object was not unlike a bladder, and the very incongruity of its appearance served to revive all my

apprehensions. Taking up my grip, as though I had noticed nothing of an alarming nature, I pursued my way

up the slope, leaving a trail of tobacco smoke in my wake; and having my revolver secreted up my right

Successfully resisting a temptation to glance behind, I entered the cover of the coppice, and, now invisible to

any one who might be dogging me, stood and looked back upon the moonbright road.

There was no living thing in sight, the road was empty as far as the eye could see. The coppice now remained

to be negotiated, and then, if the stationmaster's directions were not at fault, "Uplands" should be visible

beyond. Taking, therefore, what I had designed to be a final glance back down the hillside, I was preparing to

It was a long way behind so far that, had the moon been less bright, I could never have discerned it. What it

was I could not even conjecture; but it had the appearance of a vague gray patch, moving not along the

The sight was unnerving. What were these things that approached, silently, stealthily like snakes in the

A fear, unlike anything I had known before the quest of the Prophet's slipper had brought fantastic horror into

my life, came upon me. Revolver in hand I ran ran for my life toward the gap in the trees that marked the

coppice end. And as I went something hummed through the darkness beside my headsome projectile, some

Painfully conversant with the uncanny weapons employed by the Hashishin, I knew now, beyond any

A pattering like naked feet sounded on the road, and, without pausing in my headlong career, I sent a random

The crack of the Smith and Wesson reassured me. I pulled up short, turned, and looked back toward the trees.

Breathing heavily, I crammed my extinguished briar into my pocket recharged the empty chamber of the

revolver and started to run again toward a light that showed over the treetops to my left.

That, if the man's directions were right, was "Uplands" if his directions were wrong then . . .

A shrill whistle minor, eerie, in rising cadence sounded on the dead silence with piercing clearness! Six

On and on I ran flying from an unknown, but, as a warning instinct told me, deadly peril ran as a man

The road bent sharply to the left then forked. Overhanging trees concealed the house, and the light, though

high up under the eaves, was no longer visible. Trusting to Providence to guide me, I plunged down the lane

that turned to the left, and, almost exhausted, saw the gates before me saw the sweep of the drive, and the

Without a moment's hesitation I hurled my grip over the top and clambered up the bars! As I got astride, from

the blackness of the lane came the ominous hum, and my hat went spinning away across the lawn ! the

Then I dropped and ran for the house shouting, though all but winded "Hilton! Hilton! Open the door!"

Sinking exhausted on the steps, I looked toward the gates but they showed only dimly in the dense shadows

I dropped flat in the portico as something struck the metal knob of the door and rebounded over me. A

Crack! Crack! Crack! The revolver spoke its short reply into the mysterious darkness; but the night gave up

"Hilton! Hilton!" I cried, banging on the panels with the butt of the weapon. "Open the door! Open the door!"

were withdrawn the door swung open and Hilton, palefaced, appeared. His hand shot out, grabbed my

coat collar; and weak, exhausted, I found myself snatched into safety, and the door rebolted.

"Thank God!" I whispered. "Thank God! Hilton, look to all your bolts and fastenings. Hell is outside!"

Hilton, I learned, was living the simple life at "Uplands." The place was not yet decorated and was only

partly furnished. But with his man, Soar, he had been in solitary occupation for a week.

I reached for my tumbler and blew a cloud of smoke into the air. I could hear Soar's footsteps as he made the

"Thanks, Hilton," I said. "I'm quite all right. You are naturally wondering what the devil it all means? Well,

"Surrounding this house at the present moment," I continued, "are members of an Eastern organization the

"I do! One Hassan of Aleppo is the present Sheikh of the order, and he has come to England, bringing a

fiendish company in his train, in pursuit of the sacred slipper of Mohammed, which was stolen by the late

"Probably. Deeping was murdered by Hassan! The slipper was placed in the Antiquarian Museum "

"Correct by Earl Dexter, America's foremost crook! But the real facts have never got into print. I am the

only pressman who knows them, and I have good reason for keeping my knowledge to myself! Dexter is dead

(I believe I saw his ghost today). But although, to the best of my knowledge, the accursed slipper is in the

hands of Hassan and Company, I have been watched since I left Euston, and on my way to "Uplands" my life

"I cannot surmise, Hilton. Deeping, for certain reasons that are irrelevant at the moment, left the keys of the

case at the Museum in my perpetual keeping but the case was rifled a second time "

"And the keys were stolen from me. I am utterly at a loss to understand why the Hashishin for it is

members of that awful organization who, without a doubt, surround this house at the present moment

"It's almost incredible!" said Hilton, staring at me. "Why do these people pursue you?"

Ere I had time to reply Soar entered, arrayed, as was Hilton, in his night attire. Soar was an exdragoon and a

"Everything fast, sir," he reported; "but from the window of the bedroom over here the room I got ready for

Well within the shadow, I crept up to the window and looked out. The night was hot and still. No breeze

stirred the leaves, but the edge of the frowning thunder cloud which I had noted before spread a heavy carpet

of ebony black upon the ground. Beyond, I could dimly discern the hills. The others stood behind me,

constrained by the fear of this mysterious danger which I had brought to "Uplands."

Closer came the figure, and closer, until suddenly a shaft of moonlight found passage and spilled a

momentary pool of light amid the shadows, I could see the watcher very clearly. A moment he stood there,

motionless, and looking up at the window; then as he glided again into the shade of the trees the darkness

became complete. But I watched, crouching there nervously, for long after he was gone.

Virtually, the house, with the capital of the Midlands so near upon the one hand, the feverish activity of the

Black Country reddening the night upon the other, was invested by fanatic Easterns!

We descended again to the extemporized study. Soar entered with us and Hilton invited him to sit down.

"We must stick together tonight!" he said. "Now, Cavanagh, let us see if we can find any explanation of this

amazing business. I can understand that at one period of the slipper's history you were an object of interest to

those who sought to recover it; but if, as you say, the Hashishin have the slipper now, what do they want with

you? If you have never touched it, they cannot be prompted by desire for vengeance."

"I have never touched it," I replied grimly; "nor even any receptacle containing it."

He poured out three glasses of whisky, and was about to speak when Soar held up a warning finger.

Indeed, the rain was descending in a perfect deluge, its continuous roar drowning all other sounds; but as we

three listened tensely we detected a noise which hitherto had seemed like the overflowing of some spout.

"It certainly isn't a taxicab," declared Hilton. "None of the men will come beyond the village."

"That's the gate!" said Soar, in an awed voice, and stood up, looking at Hilton.

Soar unbolted the front door, threw it open, and looked out. In the darkness of the storm it was almost

impossible to see anything in the lane outside. But at that moment a great sheet of lightning split the gloom,

Out into the rain we ran and down the gravel path. Soar had the gate open in a twinkling, and a woman

carrying a brown leather grip, but who was so closely veiled that I had no glimpse of her features, leapt

Hilton and Soar stepped out into the road. The driver of the cab was lying forward across the wheel,

"For God's sake be quick, sir!" he said. "They're after us! They're on the other side of the lane, there!"

He was dragged in on to the drive and something whizzed over our heads and went sputtering into the

gravel away up toward the house. The last to enter was the man who had come in the cab. As he barred the

gate behind him he suddenly reached out through the bars and I saw a pistol in his hand.

As quickly as we could, bearing the insensible man, we hurried back to the door. On the step the woman was

waiting for us, with her veil raised. A blinding flash of lightning came as we mounted the step and I looked

Three of the mysterious missiles fell amongst us, but miraculously no one was struck. Amid the mighty

booming of the thunder we reentered the houses and got the door barred. In the hall we laid down the

unconscious man and stood, a strangely met company, peering at one another in the dim lamplight.

"We've got to bury the hatchet, Mr. Cavanagh!" said Dexter. "It's a case of the common enemy I've brought

"Wrong, sir!" snapped The Stetson Man. "They are like as two peas in a pod, I'll grant you, but the bag you

snatched off the platform at New Street was mine! That's what I'm after; I ought to be on the way to

I felt dazed, as a man must feel who has just heard the death sentence pronounced upon him. Hilton seemed

to have become incapable of speech or action; and in silence we stood watching Carneta tending the

unconscious man. She forced brandy from a flask between his teeth, kneeling there beside him with her face

Soar departed without a word, and no one spoke until he returned, bringing the sponge and the water, when

the girl set to work in a businesslike way to cleanse a wound which showed upon the man's head.

"She's a good nurse is Carneta," said Dexter coolly. "She was the only doctor I had through this" indicating

"You needn't worry," said Dexter; "as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. You've handled the bag, and I'm

I went up to my room and lifted the grip from the chair upon which I had put it. Even now I found it difficult

to perceive any difference between this and mine. Both were of identical appearance and both new. In fact, I

had bought mine only that morning, my old one being past use, and being in a hurry, I had not left it to be

As I picked up the bag the lightning flashed again, and from the window I could see the orchard as clearly as

by sunlight. At the farther end near the wall someone was standing watching the house.

"He will have to be got to bed," said Carneta, referring to the wounded man; "he will probably remain

Accordingly, we took the patient into one of the few furnished bedrooms, and having put him to bed left him

in care of the beautiful nurse. When we four men met again downstairs, amazement had rendered the whole

scene unreal to me. Soar stood just within the open door, not knowing whether to go or to remain; but Hilton

motioned to him to stay. Earl Dexter bit off the end of a cigar and stood with his left elbow resting on the

His gaunt face looked gaunter than ever, but the daredevil gray eyes still nursed that humorous light in their

"Mr. Cavanagh," he said, "we're brothers! And if you'll consider a minute, you'll see that I'm not lying when I

"I'm a crook," he resumed, "or I was up to a while ago. There's a warrant out for me the first that ever bore

my name. I've sailed near the wind often enough, but it was desperation that got me into hot water about

He jerked his cigar in the direction of his grip, which lay now on the rug at his feet.

"I lost a useful right hand," he went on "and I lost every cent I had. It was a dead rotten speculation for I

lost my good name! I mean it! Believe me, I've handled some shady propositions in the past, but I did it right

in the sunlight! Up to the time I went out for that damned slipper I could have had lunch with any detective

from Broadway to the Strand! I didn't need any false whiskers and the Ritz was good enough for The Stetson

"I'm an Aunt Sally for any man to shy at," he resumed bitterly. "My place henceforth is in the dark. Right!

I've finished; the book's closed. From the time I quit England if I can quit I'm on the straight! I've

"You'll want to know how I escaped from the cursed deathtrap at Hassan's house in Kent? I'll tell you. I was

never in it! I was hiding and waiting my chance. You know what was left to guard the slipper while the

Sheikh rot him was away looking after arrangements for getting his mob out of the country?"

"You fell into the trap you and Carneta. By God! I didn't know till it was all over! But two minutes later I

was inside that place and three minutes later I was away with the slipper! Oh, it wasn't a duplicate; it was

the goods! What then? Carneta had had a sickening of the business and she just invited me to say Yes or No. I

"I was going to Liverpool, sir!" snapped The Stetson Man, turning on him. "I was going to try to get aboard

the Mauretania and then make terms for my life! What happened? I slipped out at Birmingham for a drink

grip in hand! I put it down beside me, and Mr. Cavanagh here, all in a hustle, must have rushed in behind me,

A vivid flash of lightning flickered about the, room. Then came the deafening boom of the thunder, right over

"I knew from the weight of the grip it wasn't mine," said Dexter, "and I was the most surprised guy in Great

Britain and Ireland when I found whose it was! I opened it, of course! And right on top was a waistcoat and

He passed it to me. It was that which I had received from Hilton. I had packed the suit which I had been

wearing that morning and must previously have thrust the telegram into the waistcoat pocket.

"Providence!" Dexter assured me. "Because I got on the station in time to see Hassan of Aleppo join the train

for H! I was too late, though. But I chartered a taxi out on Corporation Street and invited the man to race the

local! He couldn't do it, but we got here in time for the fireworks! Mr. Cavanagh, there are anything from six

"They're bareheaded; and in the dark their shaven skulls look like nothing human. They're armed with those

damned tubes, too. I'd give a thousand dollars if I had it! to know their mechanism. Well, gentlemen,

deeds speak. What am I here for, when I might be on the way to Liverpool, and safety?"

"You're here to try to make up for the past a bit!" said a soft, musical voice. "Mr. Cavanagh's life is in

The light played in that wonderful hair of hers; and pale though she was, I thought I had never seen a more

Soar glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes and shifted uneasily. Hilton stared as if fascinated.

"Now," rapped Dexter, in his strident voice, "putting aside all questions of justice and right (we're not

"Very well. Inspector Bristol, C.I.D., would want me and Hassan arrested. I don't want that! What I want is

peace; I want to be able to sleep in comfort; I want to know I'm not likely to be murdered on the next corner!

"How can we manage it? One way would be to kill Hassan of Aleppo; but he wants a lot of killing I've

tried! Moreover, directly we'd done it, another Sheikhaljebal would be nominated and he'd carry on the

bloody work. We'd be worse off than ever. Right! we've got to connive at letting the bloodstained fanatic

"Sure! But you and I have both got little scores up against Hassan, which it's not in human nature to forget.

But I've got it worked out that there's only one way. It may nearly choke us to have to do it, I'll allow. I'm

"Do as he asks," I said. "Personally, I am resigned to mutilation, since I have touched the bag containing the

"Excuse me, sir," Soar interrupted. "I believe there's some coal in the coalbox, but I shall have to break up a

Accordingly a fire was kindled, whilst we all stood about the room in a sort of fearful uncertainty; and before

"Mr. Cavanagh," said he, "I want you to go right upstairs, open a firstfloor window I would suggest that of

"Because," replied Dexter, "I happen to know that Hassan has some queer kind of respect for you I don't

"That's beside the question, Mr. Cavanagh. He will believe you which is the important point."

"Very well. I have no idea what you have in mind but I am prepared to adopt any plan since I have none of

"He must come right in here and discuss them! Guarantee him safe conduct and I don't think he'll hesitate.

Anyway, if he does, just tell him that the slipper will be destroyed immediately!"

I entered my room, crossed to the window, and threw it widely open. Hovering over the distant hills I could

see the ominous thunder cloud, but the storm seemed to have passed from "Uplands," and only a distant

muttering with the faint dripping of water from the pipes broke the silence of the night. A great darkness

reigned, however, and I was entirely unable to see if any one was in the orchard.

The name rang out strangely upon the stillness the name which for me had a dreadful significance; but the

Out from the trees strode a tall figure, a figure I could not mistake. It was that of Hassan of Aleppo!

"We are prepared to discuss terms. You may come and go safely" still my voice sounded unfamiliar in my

"Mind it isn't a trap!" cried Hilton, who, with the others, had overheard every word of this strange interview.

"I'll stand the chest behind it," said Soar; "between the door and the wall, so that only one can enter at a time.

He was dressed in European clothes but wore the green turban of a Sherif. With his snowy beard and

coalblack eyes he seemed like a vision of the Prophet, of the Prophet in whose name he had committed such

Deigning no glance to Soar nor to Hilton, he paced into the room, passing me and ignoring Carneta, where

Earl Dexter awaited him. I shall never forget the scene as Hassan entered, to stand looking with blazing eyes

at The Stetson Man, who sat beside the fire with the slipper of Mohammed in his hand!

"Hassan," said Dexter quietly, "Mr. Cavanagh has had to promise you safe conduct, or as sure as God made

"Companion of the evil one," he said, "it is not written that I shall die by your hand or by the hand of any

here. But it has been revealed to me that tonight the gates of Paradise may be closed in my face."

"I shouldn't be at all surprised," drawled Dexter. "But it's up to you. You've got to swear by Mohammed "

"That you won't lay a hand upon any living soul, or allow any of your followers to do so, who has touched

"Right!" said Dexter and prepared to toss the slipper into the heart of the fire?

There was real agony in Hassan's voice. To my inexpressible surprise he dropped upon his knee, extending

Dimly the booming of the thunder came echoing back to us from the hills. Above its roll sounded a barbaric

Faint and more faint grew the chanting, until it merged into the remote muttering of the stormand was lost.