Page:Weird Tales v01n04 (1923-06).djvu/12

Rh ahead. Notch by notch, the Chinese chauffeur was adding to his speed. The lighter car behind bounced and swayed, and Mike spat through his teeth.

"Say, that bird must be clear nuts!" he growled. "If we get took in, they'll sentence us to about five life-times! What say, gents? Want to let him go?"

"You keep going!" snarled Monte, staring hardeyed into the fog. "If we get pinched, I pay for it, see? But don't you let that bird get away, if you want to sleep in your little bed tonight!"

Mike glanced sideways at the man whose elbow touched his. Something he saw in the stony face of Monte Jerome caused him to turn all his attention to the task in hand.

The tail lights had been growing dim, but now, slowly, the cab began to gain. Other cars, headed for the ferry, shot out of the fog and into it, honking warning horns at the crazily lurching machine that burned the road in pursuit of the blue limousine. The stony faces of the three men in the cab never deviated from their straight glare into the gloom ahead.

The speed of the big car was slackening. The driver of the cab grinned wryly.

"He knows the ropes. Speed cop in this burg ahead lies awake nights thinking up new ways of raising hell for speedy drivers," he explained. "Now we'll creep up on 'em a little more!"

They passed through the little town and again were in the open country. The limousine continued its more leisurely progress, however, and presently turned to the right into a dirt road. The cab dropped farther behind, at Monte's command.

"They can't get away from us on this road. Probably aren't going far, and we don't want them to spot us. Take it easy!"

The road seemed to be leading gently down, and presently they caught the gleam of water on each side. Rushes grew up close to the track; and from somewhere in the dusk the cry of a gull sounded like the wailing of a lost soul.

Involuntarily, the "Kid" shivered.

"Hell of a country!" he mumbled. "Where you reckon he's headed for?"

"Wait and see!" snapped Monte. "Hello!—he's turning in! That must be a private road! Stop here!"

He slid from the seat and stood swinging his feet alternately, to restore the circulation in them. Then he jerked his head into the darkness.

"Come on, Kid! We got to see what he's up to!"

The "Kid" clambered out, and the two crooks struck silently up the road. They reached the turn and found, as they had guessed, that they were at the entrance to a private road.

Instinctively, the two men paused and stared in through the trees. Night pressed thick and damp about them. A wind from the southeast brought to them the smell of the marshes, and once the booming whistle of a steamer sounded. In a lull of the wind, the gulls were screaming.

"This ain't in my line, Chief!" snarled the "Kid," glaring into the darkness. "I can bump a guy off under the city lights as nifty as the next one, but this nature stuff never did set right on my stomach. Let's go back!"

"You go back if you want to!" Monte said menacingly. "But if you do, don't come sniveling around me later on. I'm going in there!"

He struck off along the winding road, and in a moment the "Kid" fell into step at his side.

Without a word, the two advanced till suddenly the lights of a building shone upon them. They paused for a moment, then began to creep nearer, keeping in the shelter of clumps of bushes. In this way they came close enough to discern the outlines of a large and well-built house, with a broad frontage and two wings extending from the rear.

"For the love of cripe!" whispered the "Kid," "would you look at them windows! Barred, every damn one of them!"

Monte nodded.

"Looks like a private foolish house to me," he replied in the same cautious tone. "Come on—we'll get around behind and see what we can make out!"

The musty darkness of the night, which had settled down around them, was now an advantage, as it made it easieereasier [sic] for the two Wolves to get close to the house without being seen. They crept past the massive front, with its broad steps and wide porch, and continued till they came opposite the west wing. Most of the windows in this wing were dark, but toward the back they saw several lighted panels.

"Come on!" commanded Monte. "I hope that Chink doesn't keep a dog, but plug him if one comes at you!"

On they crept till they were close to the windows. Massive and sinister against the light, stood the iron bars which had first caught their attention. They crept closer, and finally Monte hauled himself up into a gnarly pepper tree whose lacy branches almost touched the nearest of the lighted windows.

Next moment he reached down and grasped his companion's shoulder.

"Come up here!" he grated, speaking half aloud in his excitement. "Don't slip—catch that limb! There you are!"

He assisted the "Kid" to a foothold beside himself, and together they stared through the foliage and into the lighted room beyond.

The curtains were drawn aside and the shade rolled up. Seated in full view of the two crooks was the man they had been following for five years. He wore a dressing-gown, and beside his easy chair was a low table on which rested a leather covered box.

Suddenly he turned, raised the cover of the box—and Monte and the "Kid" held their breath and stared hungrily. The light was caught and split up into a cascade of vivid colors. The man in the dressing-gown seemed to have in his clutching hands a fountain of fire.

"The Resurrection Pendant!" snarled the "Kid," reaching for his pistol. "Damn him!"

Monte gripped his companion by the wrist.

"None of that, you fool!" he hissed. "We've got to play safe—but the Count is caught in a trap! That Chink must have kidnapped him!"

OLONEL KNIGHT awoke and lay staring at the ceiling. It seemed a surprisingly long distance from him—and then his glance narrowed.

He turned his head, and suddenly sat up in bed. He had just remembered the events preceding his loss of consciousness.

Ponderingly, he examined his surroundings. He was in a big room, with a high ceiling. There were two windows at his right and one straight ahead, the latter partly open. Several easy chairs, a handsome mahogany house desk, and a row of bookcases flanking a fireplace came to him as successive details of his environment. A bar of yellow sunlight streamed through the end window.

A door behind him opened, and he turned to see a grinning, brown-faced Chinese boy approaching his bedside, bearing a breakfast tray.

"Ah Wing say he coming to see you by-m-by," the newcomer commented placidly. "You hab breakfast now."

He drew up a table and placed the tray in position, then skillfully arranged napkin and silverware—which were of the best quality—convenient to Colonel Knight's hand. Afterward he withdrew.

Knight's head felt clear enough, but, mentally and physically, he was relaxed