Part 29 (2/2)
Recollect that pa.s.sive obedience is absolutely essential. If I command you will obey pa.s.sively, without seeking to inquire the reason, without heed of the difference between good and evil. Do you agree to such conditions?” she inquired in deep earnestness.
”Yes,” I responded, my mouth dry and parched. This speech of hers convinced me that she was possessed of some superhuman power which was as subtle as it was mysterious.
”Then having entered into the compact with me, first seek not to discover who or what I am. Secondly, say no word to my lover of the things you have seen or of your suspicions regarding me; and thirdly, rest confident that what I have told you regarding your friend Morgan's suicide is the absolute truth. Seek not to argue,” she went on, noticing my intention to interrupt; ”remain in patience.”
”But where shall I discover Muriel?”
She hesitated in thought.
”You wish to see her to-night--eh?” she inquired. Then, after a pause, she added: ”Well, to-night if you go to Aldersgate Street Station, and remain in the booking-office, you will meet her there at nine o'clock.”
”How do you know her movements so intimately?”
I asked in wonderment.
But she only smiled mysteriously. If it were the truth, as I now felt convinced, that she was possessor of a power supernatural, there was surely nothing strange in her knowledge of the actions of those beyond her range of vision. Had she not already told me that she was ”a reader of hearts?”
Suddenly she glanced at the clock, declaring that it was time she went, drew on her gloves and re-arranged her veil.
As she stood ready to go I asked her for her address. But she only said that such knowledge was unnecessary, and if she wished to see me she would call.
Thus she left, and I stood again unmanned and undecided, just as I had been when she had left me on the last occasion, only I had now rendered myself helpless and pa.s.sive in her hands.
I tried to shake off the gruesome thoughts which crept over me, but found myself unable. Already I seemed pervaded by a spirit of evil.
The miasma of h.e.l.l was upon me.
That night I went eagerly forth to the Aldersgate Street Station of the Underground Railway. Time after time I pa.s.sed through the booking-office, and out upon the long balcony whence the stairs lead down to the platform, until, almost on the stroke of nine, I caught sight of the woman I loved, neatly dressed, but a trifle worn and pale.
I dashed up to greet her, but next second drew back.
She was not alone. A man was with her, and in an instant I recognised him.
It was the thin, shabby-genteel man whom I had seen with Aline in the Park--the man who had urged her to commit some crime the reason of which was a mystery.
She was laughing at some words her companion had uttered, and brus.h.i.+ng past me unnoticed took his arm as she descended the stairs, worn slippery by the tramp of the million wearied feet.
I hesitated in amazement. This shabby scoundrel was her lover. She had preferred him to me. A great jealousy arose within me, and next moment I rushed after them down the stairs.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
AFTER BUSINESS HOURS.
Almost at the same instant a train emerged from the tunnel and stopped at the platform. Following close behind Muriel and her companion, unnoticed among the crowd of foot-pa.s.sengers, I saw them enter a third-cla.s.s compartment; therefore in order to discover my love's hiding-place, I sprang into another compartment a little farther off.
At King's Cross they alighted, and it suddenly occurred me that the woman whom Ash had been sent by his master to meet at the Great Northern terminus might have been Muriel herself.
The pair ascended to the street, and after standing on the kerb for a few moments entered a tram car, while I climbed on top. I had been careful that Muriel should not detect me, and now felt a certain amount of satisfaction in tracking her to her abode, although I confess to a fierce jealousy of this shabby, miserable specimen of manhood who accompanied her. Up the Caledonian Road to the junction of Camden Road with Holloway Road they travelled, alighting in the latter road, and walking slowly along, still deep in earnest conversation, until they came to the row of shops owned by Spicer Brothers, a firm of drapers of that character known in the trade as a ”cutting” house, or one who sold goods at the lowest possible price. It was, of course, closed at that hour, but its exterior was imposing, one of those huge establishments which of late years have sprung up in the various residential centres of London.
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