Part 62 (1/2)
The Gray Dragon sank back with a sigh. ”Ah! Would you like to gaze upon that which can never be yours?”
”May I see her--once--before I die?”
”That is a wise statement. You are altogether wise--astonis.h.i.+ngly so!
Wisdom is a rare gem in one so young.” He chuckled in an irritating treble. ”Look about you again, youth. This is known as the room of the green death. Few men leave the room of the green death alive. My hounds bay when they enter.
”The young woman is here--safe. If you will answer my questions, I may permit you to gaze upon her just once before you die! Perhaps I may be so lenient as to allow you to die together. Does not that appeal to you?” he demanded, as if anxious. ”You--who are so thirsty for the gold of romance?”
Peter glared at him silently, and his fingers were twitching.
His host tapped the resonant gong. Some one stepped behind Peter, for he distinctly heard the seep of silken garments.
The man on the green throne muttered, adding to Peter: ”I am granting your wish. You may gaze upon her before you die. I, too, will gaze, for I prize her highly, as you know.”
He sank back meditatively, and in that moment the gray face became oddly sane.
”Peter Moore, seldom do I permit men who have troubled me so sorely to escape alive. Perhaps, in face of what has happened, you are foolishly taking unto yourself credit. And still, for a reason unknown to me, I hesitate.
”Listen to me closely, youth! For these two years I have watched you with my thousands of hired eyes--you cannot realize how closely!
Because I was deeply interested. You are a riddle to me. You have the emotions of a woman, and the cunning of a _hu-li_.
”Times without count word has gone forth from this green room that your death must take place. Childish curiosity to stare just once upon the foolish adventurer has caused that word to be revoked! Do not a.s.sume credit for bravery that was not yours, Peter Moore! You are not heroic; you have been a plaything. The G.o.ds are through with you.
”Harken to me, Peter the foolish. Within these green walls daily are inscribed the names of men and women who must die. Your name has been spoken, yet never once has it been written. When it is written----”
He paused with a portentous hush.
”To-day, when I realized you were at last coming to me, when spy after spy ran to my feet to say that at last--at last--Peter Moore, the unconquerable, was coming to pay his long-overdue call--I hastened with that daily quota of names of those who are doomed, so that I could attend you with undivided attention.
”Can it interest you? Nine men are doomed. Within two weeks from this hour a mandarin will die by the knife, an amba.s.sador at the court of Peking will expire by poison, an indiscreet Javanese merchant----” He waved his skinny arms impatiently.
”Those whose names are written must inevitably die. If the name of Peter Moore had but once appeared on the green silk--I could have forgotten you--and rested. But I was restrained by a most curious impulse.” He looked at Peter eagerly.
”You have perplexed, almost fascinated me. Tell me first, what was your power over Romola Borria?”
Peter only grunted, angrily astonished.
”Wait!” cautioned the curling lips. ”I am not ridiculing you. I am keenly desirous of knowing.” He frowned, pondering. ”I will tell you about that woman. Romola Borria was sent to me, and I employed her.
For certain difficult tasks she was all that I desired--more beautiful than sunset on the Tibetan snow--a glorious woman, yet as cold, as unfriendly as that same snow. Her spirit was one of ice, yet fire.
”And her heart was stone--or snow also. I sent her directly to communicate a certain thing to you--to kill you in the event that you declined. Shall I tell you how many men she has put out of the way at my bidding before and after she met you? No matter.
”Romola Borria was proof against love. No man was created for her to love. Yet that snowy heart melted, that precious coldness vanished, when she met--Peter Moore!”
The Gray Dragon paused, and the cessation of his metallic voice, the quick relinquis.h.i.+ng of the evil glint in his small, green eyes, left Peter with a deeper feeling of revulsion than previously. It had been his imaginative belief that the Gray Dragon was utterly without human traits; yet he possessed that lowest of them all, a b.e.s.t.i.a.l curiosity.
”I can all but read your thoughts,” he went on, lidding his green eyes a number of times. ”You are saying what my victims invariably say when I grant them these rare audiences before they die. Over and over you are repeating--'Beast! Beast! Beast!' Is that not true?”
”That is absolutely true!”
Malice seemed to hover about the glittering green eyes, and was gone at once. ”Peter Moore, to gaze at you is like gazing into a crystal. In you I witness that supreme quality which was denied me in my youth. I can have anything in the world but that supreme, that sublime quality.
I can buy anything in the world but that.” The voice stopped.