The Mystery of the Ravenspurs Page 4

  CHAPTER IV

  101 BRANT STREET

  There was nothing about the house to distinguish it from its stolid andrespectable neighbors. It had a dingy face, woodwork painted a dark redwith the traditional brass knocker and bell-pull. The windows were hungwith curtains of the ordinary type, the Venetian blinds were half down,which in itself is a sign of middle-class respectability. In the centerof the red door was a small brass plate bearing the name of Dr. SergiusTchigorsky.

  Not that Dr. Tchigorsky was a medical practitioner in the ordinary senseof the word. No neatly appointed "pillbox" ever stood before 101; nopatient ever passed the threshold.

  Tchigorsky was a savant and a traveler to boot; a man who dealt instrange out-of-the-way things, and the interior of his house would havebeen a revelation to the top-hatted, frock-coated doctors and lawyersand City men who elected to make their home in Brant Street, W.

  The house was crammed with curiosities and souvenirs of travel frombasement to garret. A large sky-lighted billiard-room at the back of thehouse had been turned into a library and laboratory combined.

  And here, when not traveling, Tchigorsky spent all his time, seeingstrange visitors from time to time, Mongolians, Hindoos, natives ofTibet--for Tchigorsky was one of the three men who had penetrated to theholy city of Lassa, and returned to tell the tale.

  The doctor came into his study from his breakfast, and stood ruminating,rubbing his hands before the fire. In ordinary circumstances he wouldhave been a fine man of over six feet in height.

  But a cruel misfortune had curved his spine, while his left leg draggedalmost helplessly behind him, his hands were drawn up as if the muscleshad been cut and then knotted up again.

  Tchigorsky had entered Lassa five years ago as a god who walks upright.When he reached the frontier six months later he was the wreck he stillremained. And of those privations and sufferings Tchigorsky saidnothing. But there were times when his eyes gleamed and his breath cameshort and he pined for the vengeance yet to be his.

  As to his face, it was singularly strong and intellectual. Yet it wasdisfigured with deep seams checkered like a chessboard. We have seensomething like it before, for the marks were identical with those thatdisfigured Ralph Ravenspur and made his face a horror to look upon.

  A young man rose from the table where he was making some kind of anexperiment. He was a fresh-colored Englishman, George Abell by name, andhe esteemed it a privilege to call himself Tchigorsky's secretary.

  "Always early and always busy," Tchigorsky said. "Is there anything inthe morning papers that is likely to interest me, Abell?"

  "I fancy so," Abell replied thoughtfully. "You are interested in theRavenspur case?"

  A lurid light leapt into the Russian's eyes. He seemed to be strangelymoved. He paced up and down the room, dragging his maimed limb afterhim.

  "Never more interested in anything in my life," he said. "You know asmuch of my past as any man, but there are matters, experiencesunspeakable. My face, my ruined frame! Whence come these cruelmisfortunes? That secret will go down with me to the grave. Of that Icould speak to one man alone, and I know not whether that man is aliveor dead."

  Tchigorsky's words trailed off into a rambling incoherent murmur. Hewas far away with his own gloomy and painful thoughts. Then he came backto earth with a start. He stood with his back to the fireplace,contemplating Abell.

  "I am deeply interested in the Ravenspur case, as you know," he said. "Amalignant fiend is at work yonder--a fiend with knowledge absolutelysupernatural. You smile! I myself have seen the powers of darkness doingthe bidding of mortal man. All the detectives in Europe will never layhands upon the destroyer of the Ravenspurs. And yet, in certaincircumstances, I could."

  "Then, in that case, sir, why don't you?"

  "Do it? I said in certain circumstances. I have part of a devilishpuzzle; the other part is in the hands of a man who may be dead. I holdhalf of the bank-note; somebody else has the other moiety. Until we cancome together, we are both paupers. If I can find that other man, and hehas the nerve and the pluck he used to possess, the curse of theRavenspurs will cease. But, then, I shall never see my friend again."

  "But you might solve the problem alone."

  "Impossible. That man and myself made a most hazardous expedition insearch of dreadful knowledge. That formula we found. For the purposes ofsafety, we divided it. And then we were discovered. Of what followed Idare not speak. I dare not even think.

  "I escaped from my dire peril, but I cannot hope that my comrade was sofortunate. He must be dead. And, without him, I am as powerless as if Iknew nothing. I have no proof. Yet I know quite well who is responsiblefor those murders at Ravenspur."

  Abell stared at his chief in astonishment. He knew Tchigorsky too wellto doubt the evidence of his simple word. The Russian was too strong aman to boast.

  "You cannot understand," he said. "It is impossible to understandwithout the inner knowledge that I possess, and even my knowledge is notperfect. Were I to tell the part I know I should be hailed from one endof England to the other as a madman. I should be imprisoned formalignant slander. But if the other man turned up--if only the other manshould turn up!"

  Tchigorsky broke into a rambling reverie again. When he emerged tomundane matters once more he ordered Abell to read the paragraphrelating to the latest phase of the tragedy of the lost Ravenspur.

  "It runs," said Abell, "'Another Strange Affair at Ravenspur Castle. Themystery of this remarkable case still thickens. Late on Wednesday nightMr. Rupert Ravenspur, the head of the family, was awakened by a chokingsensation and a total loss of breath. On attempting to leave his bed,the unfortunate gentleman found himself unable to move.

  "'He states that the room appeared to be filled with a fine spray ofsome sickly, sweet drug or liquid that seemed to act upon him aschloroform does on a subject with a weak heart. Mr. Ravenspur managed tocry out, but the vapor held him down, and was slowly stifling him----'"

  "Ah," Tchigorsky cried. "Ah, I thought so. Go on!"

  His eyes were gleaming; his whole face glistened with excitement.

  "'Providentially the cry reached the ears of another of the Ravenspurs.This gentleman burst open his father's door, and noticing the peculiar,pungent odor, had the good sense to break a window and admit air intothe room.

  "'This prompt action was the means of saving the life of the victim, andit is all the more remarkable because it was carried out by a Mr. RalphRavenspur, a blind gentleman, who had just returned from foreignparts.'"

  A cry--a scream broke from Tchigorsky's lips. He danced about the roomlike a madman. For the time being it was impossible for the astonishedsecretary to determine whether this was joy or anguish.

  "You are upset about something, sir," he said.

  Tchigorsky recovered himself by a violent effort that left himtrembling like a reed swept in the wind. He gasped for breath.

  "It was the madness of an overwhelming joy!" he cried. "I wouldcheerfully have given ten years of my life for this information. Abell,you will have to go to Ravenspur for me to-day."

  Abell said nothing. He was used to these swift surprises.

  "You are to see this Ralph Ravenspur, Abell," continued Tchigorsky. "Youare not to call at the castle; you are to hang about till you get achance of delivering my message unseen. The mere fact that RalphRavenspur is blind will suffice for a clue to his identity. Look up thetime-table!"

  Abell did so. He found a train to land him at Biston Junction, some tenmiles from his destination. Half an hour later he was ready to start.From an iron safe Tchigorsky took a small object and laid it in Abell'shand.

  "Give him that," he said. "You are simply to say: 'Tchigorsky--Danger,'and come away, unless Ralph Ravenspur desires speech with you. Now, go.And as you value your life, do not lose that casket."

  It was a small brass box no larger than a cigarette case, rusty andtarnished, and covered with strange characters, evidently culled fromsome long-forgotten tongue.