The Sea Peoples(81)

Then he unfolded a scroll marked with the Yellow Sign, but Louis simply looked at it with a show of interest.

“Well,” he said, “I see it. What is it?”

“It is the Yellow Sign,” Hildred hissed.

“Oh, that’s it, is it?” said Louis.

“Dr. Archer used to employ that tone,” Hildred said. “But not since I showed him the Yellow Sign . . . and the book.”

“You let him know that you own a copy of The King in Yellow?” Louis said in alarm.

“Not only that, Louis, I showed him several interesting points,” Hildred said with a chuckle that made John swallow convulsively—or at least think of doing so. “He had a very different tone after that, I assure you.”

Hildred’s voice trembled with triumphant hate for an instant, and then took on a forced calm just as frightening.

“Listen, you have engaged your word?”

“I am listening, old chap,” Louis replied in what he probably thought was a soothing voice.

“Dr. Archer, having by some means become possessed of the secret of the Imperial Succession, attempted to deprive me of my right, alleging that because of a fall from my horse four years ago, I had become mentally deficient. He presumed to place me under restraint in his own house in hopes of either driving me insane or poisoning me. I have not forgotten it. I visited him last night and the interview was final. At least from his point of view.”

Louis went pale, something visible even in the darkness and under the electric light. He stayed very still, but John and the other man recognized the stillness that preceded action.

“Did . . . you harm Dr. Archer, Hildred?”

“I told you,” the other man said impatiently. “I showed him a certain book. He may well harm himself, now.”

Hildred made a dismissive gesture. “There are yet three people to be interviewed in the interests of Mr. Wilde and myself. They are my cousin Louis, Mr. Hawberk, and his daughter Constance.”

Louis sprang to his feet, lethal menace in his stance. Hildred rose too, and flung the paper marked with the Yellow Sign to the ground.

“Oh, I don’t need that to tell you what I have to say,” he cried, with a laugh of triumph. “You must renounce the crown to me, do you hear, to me!”

Louis looked at his cousin with a startled air, then sighed in relief. “Of course I renounce the—what is it I must renounce?”

“The crown,” Hildred said angrily.

“Of course,” he answered. “I renounce it. Come, old chap, I’ll walk back to your rooms with you.”

“Don’t try any of your doctor’s tricks on me,” Hildred cried, trembling with fury. “Don’t act as if you think I am insane.”

“What nonsense,” Louis replied. “Come, it’s getting late, Hildred.”

“No,” the other shouted, “you must listen. You cannot marry, I forbid it. Do you hear? I forbid it. You shall renounce the crown, and in reward I grant you exile, but if you refuse you shall die.”

Louis made a forced smile, but Hildred drew a long knife from his sleeve and barred his way.

“Archer has opened his own throat, but there are more knives about this night than that, or this! Ah, you are the King, but I shall be King. Who are you to keep me from Empire over all the habitable earth! I was born the cousin of a king, but I shall be King!”

Louis stood white and rigid, his eyes full of a terrible surmise. Suddenly a man came running up Fourth Street, entered the gate of the Lethal Chamber, traversed the path to the bronze doors at full speed, and plunged into the death chamber with the cry of one demented.

Hildred laughed until the tears ran down his face; he and John both recognized the man at once.

Vance, John thought. God pity that poor exiled armorer and his daughter! Mary ever-Virgin, intercede for them!

“Go,” Hildred cried and wept. “You have ceased to be a menace. You will never marry Constance now, and if you marry anyone else in your exile, I will visit you as I did my doctor last night. Mr. Wilde takes charge of you tomorrow.”

Then Hildred turned and darted into South Fifth Avenue, and with a cry of terror Louis dropped his belt and sabre and followed, boots pounding on the pavement. John heard him close behind at the corner of Bleecker Street, and Hildred dashed into the doorway under Hawberk’s sign and into the corridor that gave on their rooms.

The door was closed, but bore the scars of forced entry. Hildred tittered at the sight.

“Halt, or I fire!” Louis cried, but when he saw Hildred dash up the stairs, leaving Hawberk’s shop below, he stopped. Hildred heard him hammering and shouting at their door as though it were possible to arouse the dead.

? ? ?

Now I’ve seen everything, Pip thought, as the cat flew towards Deor’s face.

She’d seen cats thrown, of course. Usually they complained, wriggled, righted themselves in midair, landed and streaked off with an air of affronted dignity. This one . . .

“Watch out!” she called, and tried to hit it with a slingshot ball.

She missed; she’d been expecting to miss; and the thought that she was probably going to miss made her more likely to miss.

“Sod this for a game of soldiers!” she screamed, and pulled out her mother’s kukris, the larger in her right hand. “Chop-chop!”