The Golden Scorpion Read online

  I. THE DANCER OF MONTMARTRE

  CHAPTER I

  ZARA EL-KHALA

  The following statement which I, Gaston Max, am drawing up induplicate for the guidance of whoever may inherit the task of tracing"The Scorpion"--a task which I have begun--will be lodged--one copy atthe Service de Surete in Paris, and the other copy with theCommissioner of Police, New Scotland Yard. As I apprehend that I may beassassinated at any time, I propose to put upon record all that I havelearned concerning the series of murders which I believe to betraceable to a certain person. In the event of my death, my Frenchcolleagues will open the sealed packet containing this statement andthe English Assistant Commissioner of the Special Branch responsiblefor international affairs will receive instructions to open that whichI shall have lodged at Scotland Yard.

  This matter properly commenced, then, with the visit to Paris,incognito, of the Grand Duke Ivan, that famous soldier of whom so muchwas expected, and because I had made myself responsible for his safetyduring the time that he remained in the French capital, I (alsoincognito be it understood) struck up a friendship with one Casimir,the Grand Duke's valet. Nothing is sacred to a valet, and from CasimirI counted upon learning the real reason which had led this nobleman tovisit Paris at so troublous a time. Knowing the Grand Duke to be a manof gallantry, I anticipated finding a woman in the case--and I was notwrong.

  Yes, there was a woman, and _nom d'nom!_she was beautiful.Now in Paris we have many beautiful women, and in times ofinternational strife it is true that we have had to shoot some ofthem. For my own part I say with joy that I have never beeninstrumental in bringing a woman to such an end. Perhaps I amsentimental; it is a French weakness; but on those few occasions whenI have found a guilty woman in my power--and she has been pretty--_morbleu!_--she has escaped! It may be that I have seen to it that shewas kept out of further mischief, but nevertheless she has never met afiring-party because of me. Very well.

  From the good fellow Casimir I learned that a certain dancer appearingat one of our Montmartre theatres had written to the Grand Duke cravingthe honour of his autograph--and enclosing her photograph.

  Pf! it was enough. One week later the autograph arrived--attached to aninvitation to dine with the Grand Duke at his hotel in Paris. Yes--hehad come to Paris. I have said that he was susceptible and I have saidthat she was beautiful. I address myself to men of the world, and Ishall not be in error if I assume that they will say, "A wealthy fooland a designing woman. It is an old story." Let us see.

  The confidences of Casimir interested me in more ways than one. In thefirst place I had particular reasons for suspecting anyone who soughtto obtain access to the Grand Duke. These were diplomatic. And in thesecond place I had suspicions of Zara el-Khala. These were personal.

  Yes--so she called herself--Zara el-Khala, which in Arabic is"Flower of the Desert." She professed to be an Egyptian, and certainlyshe had the long, almond-shaped eyes of the East, but her white skinbetrayed her, and I knew that whilst she might possess Eastern blood,she was more nearly allied to Europe than to Africa. It is my businessto note unusual matters, you understand, and I noticed that thisbeautiful and accomplished woman of whom all Paris was beginning tospeak rapturously remained for many weeks at a small Montmartretheatre. Her performance, which was unusually decorous for the typeof establishment at which she appeared, had not apparently led to anengagement elsewhere.

  This aroused the suspicions to which I have referred. In the characterof a vaudeville agent I called at the Montmartre theatre and wasinformed by the management that Zara-el-Khala received no visitors,professional or otherwise. A small but expensive car awaited her atthe stage door. My suspicions increased. I went away, but returned onthe following night, otherwise attired, and from a hiding-place whichI had selected on the previous evening I watched the dancer depart.

  She came out so enveloped in furs and veils as to be unrecognizable,and a Hindu wearing a chauffeur's uniform opened the door of the carfor her, and then, having arranged the rugs to her satisfaction,mounted to the wheel and drove away.

  I traced the car. It had been hired for the purpose of taking Zarael-Khala from her hotel--to the theatre and home nightly. I sent aman to call upon her at the hotel--in order to obtain press material,ostensibly. She declined to see him. I became really interested. Isent her a choice bouquet, having the card of a nobleman attached toit, together with a message of respectful admiration. It was returned.I prevailed upon one of the most handsome and gallant cavalry officersin Paris to endeavour to make her acquaintance. He was rebuffed.

  _Eh bien!_ I knew then that Mlle. Zara of the Desert was unusual.

  You will at once perceive that when I heard from the worthy Casimirhow this unapproachable lady had actually written to the Grand DukeIvan and had gone so far as to send him her photograph, I becameexcited. It appeared to me that I found myself upon the brink of animportant discovery. I set six of my first-class men at work: threebeing detailed to watch the hotel of the Grand Duke Ivan and three towatch Zara el-Khala. Two more were employed in watching the Hinduservant and one in watching my good friend Casimir. Thus, nine clevermen and myself were immediately engaged upon the case.

  Why do I speak of a "case" when thus far nothing of apparentimportance had occurred? I will explain. Although the Grand Duketravelled incognito, his Government knew of the journey and wished tolearn with what object it had been undertaken.

  At the time that I made the acquaintance of Casimir the Grand Dukehad been in Paris for three days, and he was--according to myinformant--"like a raging lion." The charming dancer had vouchsafedno reply to his invitation and he had met with the same reception, onpresenting himself in person, which had been accorded to myself and tothose others who had sought to obtain an interview with Zara el-Khala!

  My state of mystification grew more and more profound. I studied thereports of my nine assistants.

  It appeared that the girl had been in Paris for a period of two months.She occupied a suite of rooms in which all her meals were served.Except the Hindu who drove the hired car, she had no servant. Shenever appeared in the public part of the hotel unless veiled, and thenmerely in order to pass out to the car or in from it on returning. Shedrove out every day. She had been followed, of course, but herproceedings were unexceptionable. Leaving the car at a point in theBois De Boulogne, she would take a short walk, if the day was fineenough, never proceeding out of sight of the Hindu, who followed withthe automobile, and would then drive back to her hotel. She neverreceived visits and never met any one during these daily excursions.

  I turned to the report dealing with the Hindu.He had hired a room high up under the roof of an apartment house whereforeign waiters and others had their abodes. He bought and cooked hisown food, which apparently consisted solely of rice, lentils and fruit.He went every morning to the garage and attended to the car, calledfor his mistress, and having returned remained until evening in hisown apartment. At night, after returning from the theatre, hesometimes went out, and my agent had failed to keep track of him onevery occasion that he had attempted pursuit. I detached the man whowas watching Casimir and whose excellent reports revealed the factthat Casimir was an honest fellow--as valets go--and instructed himto assist in tracing the movements of the Hindu.

  Two nights later they tracked him to a riverside cafe kept by agigantic quadroon from Dominique and patronized by that type whichforms a link between the lowest commercial and the criminal classes:itinerant vendors of Eastern rugs, street performers and Turkishcigarette makers.

  At last I began to have hopes. The Grand Duke at this time wasspeaking of leaving Paris, but as he had found temporary consolationin the smiles of a lady engaged at the "Folies" I did not anticipatethat he would depart for several days at any rate. Also he was thekind of man who is stimulated by obstacles.

  The Hindu remained for an hour in the cafe, smoking and drinkingsome kind of syrup, and one of my fellows watched him. Presently theproprietor called him into a little room behind the counter
and closedthe door. The Hindu and the quadroon remained there for a few minutes,then the Hindu came out and left the cafe, returning to his abode.There was a telephone in this inner room, and my agent was of opinionthat the Indian had entered either to make or to receive a call. Icaused the line to be tapped.

  On the following night the Hindu came back to the cafe, followed byone of my men. I posted myself at a selected point and listened forany message that might pass over the line to or from the cafe. Atabout the same hour as before--according to the report--someone calledup the establishment, asking for "Miguel." This was the quadroon, andI heard his thick voice replying. The other voice--which had firstspoken--was curiously sibilant but very distinct. Yet it did not soundlike the voice of a Frenchman or of any European. This was theconversation:

  "Miguel."

  "Miguel speaks."

  "_Scorpion._ A message for Chunda Lal."

  "Very good."

  Almost holding my breath, so intense was my excitement, I waitedwhilst Miguel went to bring the Hindu. Suddenly a new voicespoke--that of the Hindu.

  "Chunda Lal speaks," it said.

  I clenched by teeth; I knew that I must not miss a syllable.

  "Scorpion" replied ... in voluble _Hindustani_--a language of which Iknow less than a dozen words!