Thorne Guy
The City in the Clouds

"The men who had brought me up were just rough Chinese workmen from Hong Kong, but a door opened and a Chink of quite another sort came in and took me by the arm.

"You see, Sir Thomas," he explained, "to the ordinary Englishman one Chinaman is just like another, but my experience in the East enables me to distinguish at once.

"The newcomer was of a very superior class, and he led me out of the storeroom, across a swaying bridge of latticed steel to a little rotunda. As we passed along, I had a glimpse of the whole of London, far, far below. The Thames was like a piece of glittering string. Everything else were simply patches of gray, green, and brown.

"We went into the cupola and a tiny lift shot us up like a bullet until it stopped with a clank and I knew that I was now upon the highest platform of all.

"But I could see nothing, for we simply turned down a long corridor lighted by electricity and softly carpeted, which might have been the corridor of one of the great hotels far down below in town.

"My conductor, who wore pince-nez and a suit of dark blue alpaca and who had a charming smile, stopped at a door, rapped, and pushed me in.

"I found myself in a room of considerable size. It was a library. The walls were covered with shelves of old oak, in which there were innumerable books. A Turkey carpet, two or three writing-tables – and Mr. Gideon Morse, whom I had never spoken to, but had seen driving in Hyde Park, sat there smoking a cigar.

"I might have been in the library of a country house, except for two things. There were no windows to this large and gracious room. It was lit from above, like a billiard-room – domed skylights in the roof. But the light that came down was not a light like anything I had ever seen. It lit up every detail of the magnificent and stately place, but it was new – 'the light that never was on earth or sea.' It was just that that made me realize where I was – two thousand three hundred feet up in the air, alone with Gideon Morse, who had snatched me out of life three months before."

"I know Mr. Morse, Rolston. What impression did he make on you?"

"For a moment he stunned me, Sir Thomas. I knew I was in the presence of a superman. All that I had heard about him, all the legends that surrounded his name, the fact of this stupendous sky city in which I was – the ease with which he had stretched out his hand and made me a prisoner, all combined to produce awe and fear."

"Yes, go on."

"I saw two other things – I think I did. One was that the man's sanity is trembling in the balance. The other that if ever a human being lives and moves and has his being in deadly temporal fear, Gideon Mendoza Morse is that man."

The words rang out in that East-end room with prophetic force. It was as though a brilliant light was snapped on to illumine a dark chamber in my soul.

"What did he say to you, Rolston?"

"He was suavity and kindness itself. He said that he immensely regretted the necessity for secluding me so long. 'But of course I shall make it up to you. You're a young man, Mr. Rolston, only just commencing your career. A little capital would doubtless assist that career, in which I may say I have every belief. Shall we say that you leave Richmond this afternoon with a solatium of five hundred pounds?'

"'A thousand would suit me better,' I said.

"He shrugged his shoulders, and suddenly smiled at me.

"'Very well,' he said, 'let it be a thousand pounds.'

"'Of course without prejudice, Mr. Morse.'

"'Please explain yourself.'

"'You've kidnaped me. You've also committed an offense against the law of England – a criminal offense for which you will have to suffer. Perhaps you don't realize that if you built your house miles further up, if you managed to nearly reach the moon, British justice would reach you at last.'

"He shook his head sadly.

"'To that point of view, I hardly agree, Mr. Rolston. I am quite unable to purchase British justice, but I can put such obstacles in its way that could – '

"He suddenly stopped there, lit a little brown cigarette, came up and patted me on the shoulder.

"'Child,' he said, 'you are clever, you are original, I like you. But have a sense of proportion, and remember that you have no choice in this matter. I will give you the money you want on condition that you go away and bring no action whatever against me. If not – '

"'If not, sir?'

"'Well, you will have to stay here, that's all. You won't be badly treated. You can be librarian if you like, but you will never see the outside world again.'

"'May I have a few hours to consider, sir?'

"'A month if you like,' he said, pressing a bell upon his table.

"The same bland young Chinaman led me out of the library and down to the storeroom in the lift. I was blindfolded, and descended to the ground.

"There I met a man whom I had seen two or three times during the last three days, a great seven-foot American with arms like a gorilla, a thing called 'Boss Mulligan,' whom I had gathered from the conversation of my Chinese friends, had now arrived to take charge of the whole city – a sort of head policeman and guard.

"'Sonny,' he said, 'I've had a 'phone down from the top in regard to you. Now don't you be a short sport. You've been made a good offer. You grip it and be like fat in lavender. My advice to you is to wind a smile round your neck and depart with the dollars. I can see you're full of pep and now you've got fortune before you. See that pavilion over there?'

"He pointed to where a little gaudily painted house nestled under one of the great feet of the first tower.

"'That's my mansion. You wander about for an hour or so and come there and say you agree to the boss's terms – we'll take your word for it. Upon the word "Yes," I'll hand you out at the gate and you can go to Paris for a trip.'

"'I'll think it over,' I said.

"'Do so, and don't be a life-everlasting, twenty-four-hours-a-day, dyed-in-the-wool damn fool.'

"It was getting dusk. I was in a new part of the inclosed park. He let me go without any watchful Chinese attendant at my heels, and I strolled off with my head bent down as if deep in thought.

"I'd got an hour, and I think I made the best use of it. I hurried along under the shadow of the towers, past shrubberies, artificial lakes, summer-houses and little inclosed rose-gardens until I was far away from Mr. Mulligan. Here and there I passed a patient Chinese gardener or some hurrying member of Morse's little army. But nobody stopped me or interfered with me. For the first time since my captivity I was perfectly free.

"To cut a long story short, Sir Thomas, I came to a rectangle in the great encircling wall, which at that point was thirty feet high. The parapet at the top was obviously being repaired, for there was a ladder right up, pails of mortar, bricklayers' tools, and a coil of rope for binding scaffolding. I nipped up the ladder, carrying the rope after me, fixed it at the top, slid down easily enough, and in a quarter of an hour was in Richmond station. I didn't dare to go back to my old rooms because I was sure there would be a secret hue and cry after me. I thought of my old friend, Mr. Sliddim, traveled to Whitechapel with my last pence, and here I am."

"Still a member of my staff?"

"If you please, Sir Thomas."

"Ready for anything?"

"Anything and everything."

"Then come with me to Piccadilly – if they look for you there again we shall be prepared."

CHAPTER SEVEN

I have to tell of a brief interlude before I got to work in earnest.

The very day after the rediscovery of Rolston I fell ill. The strain had been too much, a severe nervous attack was the result, and my vet. ordered me to the quietest watering-place in Brittany that I could find. I protested, but in vain. The big man told me what would happen if I didn't go, so I went, faute-de-mieux, and took Rolston with me.

I acquainted Arthur Winstanley and Pat Moore of my movements by letter, and I engaged the seedy Mr. Sliddim to abide permanently in Richmond and to forward me a full report of all he observed, and of all rumors, connected with the City in the Clouds. When I had subscribed to a press-cutting agency to send me everything that appeared in print relating to Gideon Morse and his fantastic home, I felt I had done everything possible until I should be restored to health.

Of my month in Pont Aven I shall say nothing save that I lived on fine Breton fare, walked ten miles a day, left Rolston – who proved the most interesting and stimulating companion a man could have – to answer all my letters, and went to bed at nine o'clock at night.

Heartache, fear for Juanita, occasional fits of fury at my own inaction and impotence? Yes, all these were with me at times. But I crushed them down, forced myself to think as little as possible of her, in order that when once restored to health and full command of my nerves, I might begin the campaign I had planned. You must picture me therefore, one afternoon at the end of October, arriving from Paris by the five o'clock train, dispatching Rolston to Piccadilly with the luggage, and driving myself to Captain Moore's quarters at Knightsbridge Barracks.

I had summoned a meeting of our league, which we had so fancifully named "Santa Hermandad" – a fact that was to have future consequences which none of us ever dreamed of – by telegram from Paris.

Pat and Arthur were awaiting me in the former's comfortable sitting-room. A warm fire burned on the hearth as we sat down to tea and anchovy toast.

I had been in more or less frequent communication with both of them during my sick leave, and when we began to discuss the situation we dispensed with preliminaries.

It was Pat who, so to speak, took the chair, leaning against an old Welsh sideboard of oak, crowded with polo and shooting cups, shields for swordsmanship and other trophies.

"Now, you two," he said, "we know certain facts, and we have arrived at certain conclusions.

"First of all, as to the facts. Miss Morse is as good as engaged to Tom here. Arthur and I are 'also ran.' Fact number one. Fact number two, she has been suddenly and forcibly taken away from the world, and is in great distress of mind. That so, brother leaguers?"

We murmured assent.

"Now for our deductions. Morse, divil take him! has some deadly important reason for this fantastic, spectacular show of his. The public see it as the fancy of a chap who's so much money he don't know what to do with it, a fellow that's exhausted all sensation and is now trying for a new one. Let 'em think so! But we know – here in this room – a long sight more than the general public knows. Tom and that young fly-by-night, with the red hair and the stained-glass-window ears, he's been cartin' about with him, have got behind the scenes."

Pat's face hardened.

"We alone are certain that the man Morse, for all his equanimity and the mask he has presented to London during the season, has been living under the influence of some dirty, cowardly fear or other!"

Arthur interrupted.

"Fear, if you like, Pat, but I don't think it is probably dirty, or even cowardly. You forget Miss Morse."

"Perhaps you're right. At any rate, if Gideon Morse is really menaced by some great danger, what cleverer trick could he have played? To let the world suppose that it's his whim and fancy to live like a rook at the top of an elm tree, when all the time he's providing against the possibility of annihilation, that's a stroke of genius."

"Good for you, Pat," said Arthur with a wink to me, "you're on the track of it."

"Indeed, and I think I am," said the big guardsman simply, "and here's the cunning of it, the supreme sense of self-preservation. If that man Morse is in fear of his life, and in fear for his daughter's too, he couldn't have invented a more perfect security than he has done. From all we know, from all Tom has told us, no one can get at them now but an archangel!"

Then Arthur spoke.

"For my part," he said, "as I'm vowed to the service, I'm going straight to Brazil and I'm going to find out everything I can about the past life of Gideon Morse. I speak Spanish as you know. I think I'm fairly diplomatic, and in a little more than a couple of months I'll return with big news, if I'm not very much mistaken. And there's always the cable too. We are pledged to Tom, but beyond that we're united together to save the little lady from evil or from harm. To-morrow I sail for Rio."

"And I," I said, "have already made my plans. To-morrow I disappear absolutely from ordinary life. Only two people in London will know where I am, and what I am doing – Preston, my servant in Piccadilly, and one other whom I shall appoint at the offices of my paper. While Arthur is gathering information which will be of the greatest use, I must be working on the spot. I imagine there isn't much time to lose."

"And what'll I do?" asked Pat Moore.

"You, Pat, will stay here, lead your ordinary life, and hold yourself ready for anything and everything when I call upon you. And as far as I can see," I concluded, "there will be a very pressing necessity for your help before much more water has flowed under Richmond Bridge."

There was an end of talking; we were all in deadly earnest. We grasped hands, arranged a system of communication, and then I and Arthur went down the stone steps, across the parade ground, and said good-by at Hyde Park corner.

"You – ?" he said.

"You will see in the papers that Sir Thomas Kirby is gone for a voyage round the world."

"And as a matter of fact?"

"I think I won't give you any details, old man. My plan is a very odd one indeed. You wouldn't quite understand, and you'd think it extraordinary – as indeed it is."

"It can't be more fantastic than the whole bitter business," he said, and his voice was full of pain.

I saw, for the first time, that he had grown older in the last few months. The boyishness in him which had been one of his charms, was passing away definitely and forever. He was hard hit, as we all were, and I reproached myself for my egotism. After all, if there was any hope at all, I was the most fortunate. Arthur and staunch old Pat Moore were giving up their time, their energies, to bring about a conclusion from which I alone should benefit.

We were crossing the Green Park as this was borne in upon me. It was a dull, gray afternoon, rapidly deadening into evening. There seemed no color anywhere. But when I thought of the faithful, uncomplaining, even joyous adherence to our oath, when I understood for the first time how these two friends of mine were laboring without hope of reward, then I saw, as in a vision, the wonder and sacredness of unselfish love.

"Arthur," I said, as we were about to part at Hyde Park corner, "God forgive me, but I believe your love for her is greater than mine."

"Don't say that, Tom. When we threw the dice, if the Queen had come to me you would be doing what I am doing now, or what Pat is ready to do."

Well, of course, that was true, but when we gripped hands and turned our backs upon each other, I walked slowly towards my flat with a hanging head.

For one brief moment I had caught a glimpse of that love which Dante speaks of – that love "which moves earth and all the stars" – and in the presence of so high a thing I was bowed and humbled.

Let me also be worthy of such company, was my prayer.

At ten o'clock the next morning I stood in my bedroom with Preston in attendance. Preston's face, usually a well-bred mask which showed nothing of his feelings, was gravely distressed.

"Shall I do, Preston?" I asked.

"Yes, Sir Thomas, you'll do," he said regretfully, "but I must say, Sir Thomas, that – "

"Shut up, Preston, you've said quite enough. Am I the real thing or not?"

"Certainly not, Sir Thomas," he said with spirit. "How could you be the real thing? But I'm bound to say you look it."

"You mean that your experience of a small but prosperous suburban public-house, visited principally by small tradespeople, leads you to suppose that I might pass very well for the landlord of such a place?"

"I am afraid it does, Sir Thomas," he replied with a gulp, as I surveyed myself once more in the long mirror of my wardrobe door.

I was about six feet high in my boots, fair, with a ruddy countenance and somewhat fleshy face – not gross I believe, but generally built upon a generous scale.

That morning I had shaved off my mustache, had my hair arranged in a new way – that is to say, with an oily curl draping over the forehead – and I had very carefully penciled some minute crimson veins upon my nose. I ought to say that I have done a good deal of amateur acting in my time and am more or less familiar with the contents of the make-up box.

[Note. – My master, Sir Thomas Kirby, has long been known as one of the handsomest gentlemen in society. He has a full face certainly, but entirely suited to his build and physical development. Of course, when he shaved off a mustache that was a model of such adornments, it did alter his appearance considerably. – Henry Preston.]

Instead of the high collar of use and wont, I wore a low one, permanently attached to what I believe is known as a "dicky" – that is to say, a false shirt front which reaches but little lower than the opening of the waistcoat. My tie was a made-up four-in-hand of crimson satin – not too new, my suit of very serviceable check with large side-pockets, purchased second-hand, together with other oddments, from a shop in Covent Garden. I also wore a large and massive gold watch-chain, and a diamond ring upon the little finger of my right hand.

That was all, yet I swear not one of my friends would have known me, and what was more important still, I was typical without having overdone it. No one in London, meeting me in the street, would have turned to look twice at me. You could not say I was really disguised – in the true meaning of the word – and yet I was certainly entirely transformed, and with my cropped hair, except for the "quiff" in front, I looked as blatant and genial a bounder as ever served a pint of "sixes."

Preston had left the room for a moment and now came back to say that Mr. W. W. Power had arrived.

W. W. Power was the youngest partner in a celebrated firm of solicitors, Power, Davids and Power – a firm that has acted for my father and myself for more years than I can remember.

Under his somewhat effeminate exterior and a languid manner, young Power is one of the sharpest and cleverest fellows I know, and, what's more, one that can keep his mouth shut under any circumstances.

I went into the dining-room, hoping to make him start. Not a bit of it. He merely put up his eyeglass and said laconically: "You'll do, Sir Thomas" – not more than two years ago he had been an under-graduate at Cambridge!

"You think so, Power?"

He nodded and looked at his watch.

"All right then, we'll be off," I said, and Preston called a taxi, on which were piled a large brass-bound trunk and a shabby portmanteau – also recent purchases, and with the name H. Thomas painted boldly upon them. Preston's Christian name by the way is Henry and I had borrowed it for the occasion.

I got into the cab with a curious sensation that some one might be looking on and discover me. Power seated himself by my side with no indication of thought at all, and we rolled away westward.

"Nothing remains," he said, "but to complete the documents of sale. Everything is ready, and I have the money in notes in my pocket. The solicitor of the retiring proprietor will be in attendance, and the whole thing won't take more than twenty minutes. Newby, the present man, will then step out and leave you in undisturbed possession."

"Very good, Power, and thank you for your negotiations. Seven thousand pounds seems a lot of money for a little hole like that."

"It isn't really. You see the place is freehold and the house is free also. It's not under the dominion of any brewer, and when your purpose in being there is over, I'll guarantee to sell it again for the same money, probably a few hundreds more. As an investment it's sound enough."

He relapsed into silence and we rattled through Hammersmith on our way to Richmond. I was curious about this imperturbable young man, whom I knew rather well.

"Aren't you curious, Power," I said, "to know why I'm doing this extraordinary, unprecedented thing? I can trust you absolutely I know, but haven't you asked yourself what the deuce I'm up to?"

He favored me with a pale smile.

"My dear Sir Thomas," he replied, "if you only knew what extraordinary things society people do do, if you knew a tenth of what a solicitor in my sort of practice knows, you wouldn't think there was anything particularly strange in your little freak."

Confound the cub! I could have punched him in the jaw. I knew his assurance was all pose. Still it was admirable in its way and I burst into hearty laughter.

I had the satisfaction of seeing Master Power's cheeks faintly tinged with pink!

On the slope of the hill, at what one might describe as the back of the high wall which inclosed the grounds at the foot of the three towers – that is to say, it was exactly opposite the great central entrance, and I suppose nearly quarter of a mile from it if one drew a straight line from one to the other – was a crowded huddle of mean streets. It was not in any sense a slum – nothing so picturesque – small, drab, shabby, and respectable. In the center of this area was a fair-sized, but old-fashioned, public-house, known as the "Golden Swan." This was our destination, and in a few minutes more we had climbed the hill and the taxi stood at rest before a side door.

Opening it we entered, Power leading the way, and as we approached some stairs I caught a glimpse of a little plush-furnished bar to the left, where I could have sworn I saw the melancholy Sliddim in company with a pewter pot.

We waited for a moment or two in a long upstairs room. The walls were covered with beasts, birds, and fishes, in glass cases, all of which looked as if they ought to be decently buried. Upon one wall was an immense engraving framed in boxwood of the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, and upon a huge mahogany sideboard which looked as if it had been built to resist a cavalry charge, was a tray with hospitable bottles.

Then the door opened and a dapper little man with side whiskers, the vendor's solicitor, came in, accompanied by Mr. Newby, the retiring landlord himself.

Mr. Newby, dressed I was glad to notice, very much as myself, only the diamond ring upon his finger was rather larger, was a short, fat man of benevolent aspect, and I should say suffering from dropsy. We shook hands heartily.

"Thirty years have I been landlord here," wheezed Mr. Newby, "and now it's time the 'ouse was in younger 'ands. Your respectability 'as been vouched for, Mr. Thomas – I wouldn't sell to no low blackguard for twice the money – and all I can say is, young feller, for you are a young feller to me, you know – I 'ope you'll be as 'appy and prosperous in the 'Golden Swan' as Emanuel Newby 'ave been."

I thought it was best to be a little awkward and bashful, so I said very little while the lawyers fussed about with title deeds, and at last the eventful moment came when one does that conjuring trick in which the gentlemen of the law take such infantile delight. "Put your finger here, yes, on this red seal and say…"

When it was all done and Mr. Newby had stowed away seven thousand pounds in bank-notes in a receptacle over his heart, we drank to the occasion in some remarkably good champagne and then, with a sigh, the ex-proprietor announced his intention of being off.

"My luggage has preceded me," he said, "and I have nothing to do now but retire, as I 'ave long planned, to the city of my birth."

"And where may that be, Mr. Newby?" I asked politely.

"The University City of Oxford," he replied, "which, if you've not known intimate as I 'ave, you can never begin to understand. There's an atmosphere there, Mr. Thomas, but Lord, you won't be interested!" and he wheezed superior.

The situation was not without humor.

When he had gone, together with his solicitor, Power rang the bell.

"As you wish me to manage everything for you," he said, "I have done so. Your entire ignorance of the liquor trade will be compensated by the knowledge and devotion of the assistant I have procured for you, after many inquiries. His name is Whistlecraft, and he is an Honest Fool. He won't rob you, though he'll probably diminish your profits greatly by his stupidity – but as I understand, profit from the sale of drinks isn't your object. He will obey orders implicitly, without even trying to understand their reason, and in short you couldn't have a better man for your purpose."

When Whistlecraft appeared I perfectly agreed with Power. He was a powerful fellow in shirt sleeves, aged about thirty-five, with arms that could have felled an ox. Had he shaved within the last three days he would have been clean shaved, and his hair was polished to a mirror-like surface with suet – I caught him doing it one day. I never saw such calm on any human face. It was the tranquillity of an entire absence of intellect, a rich and perfect stupidity which nothing could penetrate, nothing disturb. His eyes were dull as unclean pewter, without life or speculation, and I knew at once that if I told him to go down into the cellar, wait there till a hyena entered, strangle it, skin it, and bring the pelt upstairs to me, he would depart upon his errand without a word!

Power went away with the most conventional of handshakes – we might have been parting in Pall Mall – and I was left alone, monarch of all I surveyed.

"What's the staff beside you, Whistlecraft?" I asked.

"Mrs. Abbs, sir, cooks and sweeps up, sleeps out. Peter, the odd-job boy, washes bottles and such, and that's all."

"Then at closing time, you and I are left alone in the house?"

"Yes, sir."

There was a loud and impatient knocking from somewhere below.

"I'd better go and serve, sir, hadn't I?" said Whistlecraft – I found later his name was Stanley – and I let him go at that.

I spent the next hour going over the premises from cellar to roof and making many mental notes, for I had come here with a definite purpose, and plans already made.

It was an extraordinary situation to be in. I sat in a little private room behind the bar and every now and again Stanley's idiot countenance appeared, and I had to go behind the counter and be introduced to this or that regular frequenter. I asked every one to have a drink, for the good of the house, and trust I made a fair impression. They all seemed quiet, respectable people enough, who knew each other well.

In the evening I was greatly helped by Sliddim, who was now a seasoned habitué of the "Golden Swan," and whom from the moment of my arrival slipped into the position of Master of the Ceremonies, which saved me a great deal of trouble.

It will be remembered that all the time that I was in Brittany, Sliddim had been employed in my interests at Richmond. Bill Rolston vouched absolutely for the man's fidelity: had told me I could safely trust him in any way. Accordingly, there was perhaps a little misgiving, I had released him from his employment at the third-class detective agency where he worked, and took him permanently into my service. I may say at once, though he took no prominent part in the great events which followed until the very end, he was of considerable use to me and kept my secrets perfectly.

At closing time that night, Mrs. Abbs, the cook, having spread a hot supper in the private room behind the bar and left, I called the potman in from his washing-up of glass and bade him share the meal.

"Now I tell you what, Stanley," I said, when we had filled our pipes, "in the tower inclosure there's a whole colony of Chinks, isn't there?"

"Yes, sir; gardeners, stokers for the engines and such like. They say as there isn't a white man among 'em, except only the boss, and he's an Irishman."

"They don't always live inside that wall?" I jerked my head towards a window which looked out into my back yard, not a hundred feet away from the towering precipice of brick which overshadowed the "Golden Swan," and the surrounding houses.

"Oh, not by no means. They comes out when their work's done in the evenings, though they goes back to sleep and has to be in by a certain time. They do say," and here something happened to Stanley's face which I afterwards grew to recognize as a smile, "they do say as some of the girls downtown are takin' up with 'em, seein' as they dress well, and spend a lot of money."

"I suppose they have somewhere where they go?"

"It's mostly the 'Rising Sun' down by the station, I am told. The boss there was a sailor and understands their ways. He's given them a room to themselves."

I was perfectly aware of all this, but I had a special motive for the present conversation.

"Now, it's come into my mind," I said, "that there's a lot of custom going downtown that ought by rights to come to the 'Golden Swan,' seeing that we are close at the gates, so to speak, and I mean to do what I can to get hold of it. A Chink's money is as good as anybody else's, Stanley, that's my way of looking at it."

He chewed the cud of that idea for a minute or two and then it dawned in the pudding of his mind.

"Why, yes," he said, in the voice of one who had made a great discovery.

"Now, there's that room upstairs," I went on, "I shall never use it. If we could get some of these Chinks to drop in there of a night it would be good business."

"There's just one thing against it," said Stanley, "if you'll pardon my speaking of it, sir. I'm willing to do everything in reason, and I'm not afraid of work. But I don't see as 'ow I can attend to both the saloon and the four-ale bars if I'm to be going upstairs slinging drinks to the Chinks."

"Of course you can't and I wasn't going to suggest it. We must get an extra help – if we can get the Chinks to use the house. We might have a barmaid."

He shook his head.

"It wouldn't work, sir; you'd have to get a new one every week. A young woman can't resist a Chink and they'd marry off like – "