Part 29 (1/2)

”What is the information?” the man inquired suspiciously. ”The Home Secretary sees no one except on the most urgent business now.”

”My business is the most urgent possible,” I returned. ”If you will take my name to him, I feel sure he will see me.”

”I shall do nothing of the kind,” replied the sergeant, ”so you had better take yourself off. We don't want any of your kind about here just now. There's enough trouble without having you to look after.”

”But I must see him!” I cried in despair. ”You don't know what you are doing when you try to stop me. I have a confession to make to him, and make it I will at any hazard. Take me to him at once, or I shall find him myself.”

The man was moving toward me with the evident intention of putting me into the street, when a door opened and the Home Secretary, Sir Edward Grangerfield, stood before me. When last I had seen him at the d.u.c.h.ess of Amersham's ball--I remembered that he congratulated me on my engagement on that occasion--he had looked in the prime of life. Now he was an old man, borne down by the weight of sorrow and responsibility which the plague had placed upon his shoulders. From the way he looked at me it was plain he did not recognise me.

”Sir Edward,” I said, ”is it possible I am so much changed that you do not know me? I am Cyril Forrester.”

”Cyril Forrester!” he cried in amazement, coming a step closer to me as he spoke. ”Surely not? But it is, I see. Why, man, how changed you are!

What brings you here, and what is it you want with me? I have not much time to spare. I have an appointment with the Public Health Commission in a quarter of an hour.”

”So much the better,” I answered, ”for you will then be able to acquaint them with the circ.u.mstances I am about to reveal to you. Sir Edward, I must have a few moments' conversation with you alone. I have a confession to make to you--the most hideous tale to pour into your ears that ever man confided to another.” Then, recollecting myself, I continued, ”But it must not be here. It must be in the open air, or I shall infect you.”

He looked at me in a curious fas.h.i.+on.

”You need have no fear on that score,” he said. ”I have had the plague, and have recovered from it. So far it has not been known to attack anyone twice. But since you wish to speak to me alone, come with me.”

With this he led me down the long pa.s.sage to an office at the further end. Like the others this one was also deserted. Once inside he closed the door.

”Be as brief as you can,” he said, ”for during this terribly trying period my time is not my own. What is it you wish to say to me?”

”I wish to confess to you,” I said, and my voice rang in my ears like a death knell, ”that I am the cause of the misery under the weight of which England and Europe is groaning at the present time.”

Once more Sir Edward looked at me as he had done in the pa.s.sage outside.

”I am afraid I do not quite understand,” he said, but this time in a somewhat different tone. ”Do you mean that you wish me to believe that you, Cyril Forrester, are the cause of the plague which is decimating England in this terrible manner?”

”I do,” I answered, and then waited to hear what he would say.

In reply he inquired whether I had suffered from the disease myself.

”I was the first to have it,” I answered. ”My story is an extraordinary one, but I a.s.sure you every particular of it is true. I was inoculated with the virus while I was in Egypt--that is to say, in the Queen's Hall of the Great Pyramid of Gizeh. I afterward nearly died of it in an Arab tent out in the desert beyond Luxor. Later I was taken by a man, of whom I will tell you more presently, to Constantinople, thence through Austria and Germany, and finally was smuggled across the Channel into England.”

”And who was the man who inoculated you?” inquired the Home Secretary, still with the same peculiar intonation. ”Can you remember his name?”

”He is known in England as Pharos the Egyptian,” I replied--”the foulest fiend this world has ever seen. In reality he is Ptahmes the Magician, and he has sworn vengeance on the human race. Among other things he was the real murderer of Clausand, the curiosity dealer, in Bonwell Street last June, and not the inoffensive German who shot himself after confessing to the crime at Bow Street. He smuggled me into England from Hamburg, and the night before last he took me all through London--to the Antiquarian Club, to the d.u.c.h.ess of Amersham's ball, to the Fancy Dress ball that was held at Covent Garden the same night, and to many other places. Everyone I spoke to became infected, and that, I a.s.sure you, on my word of honour, was how the plague originated here. Oh, Sir Edward, you cannot realise what agonies I have suffered since I became possessed of this terrible knowledge!”

A short silence followed, during which I am convinced I heard my companion say very softly to himself, ”That settles it.”

Then, turning to me, he continued, ”You say you were at the d.u.c.h.ess of Amersham's ball the night before last? Do you mean this?”

”Of course I do,” I replied. ”Why, you spoke to me there yourself, and congratulated me upon my engagement. And, now I come to think of it, I saw you talking with Pharos there.”

”Quite right,” he said. ”I did speak to Monsieur Pharos there. But are you sure it was the night before last? That is what I want to get at.”

”I am as sure of that as I am of anything in this world,” I replied.

”What you tell me is very interesting,” he said, rising from his chair--”very interesting indeed, and I am sincerely obliged to you for coming to me. Now, if you will excuse me, I must be going, for, as I told you, I have a meeting of the Health Commission to attend in a few minutes. If I were you I should go back to my house and keep quiet.