The Complete Detective Sgt. Elk Series (6 Novels in One Edition). Edgar Wallace

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      “Cut it out!” said his unimaginative companion.

      Then of a sudden the black shadow in the west leaped across the sky, and the world went grey black. Where the sun had been was a hoop of fire, a bubbling, boiling circle of golden light, and the circling horizon was a dado of bright yellow. It was as though the sun had set at its zenith, and the sunset glows were shown, east, west, north, and south.

      “My God! My God!” the fat man shook in his terror; “it’s horrible, horrible.”

      He covered his face with his hands, oblivious to everything, save a gripping fear of the unknown that clawed at his heart.

      He was blind and deaf to the hustling, murmuring crowd about him; only he knew he stood in the darkness at high noon, and that something was happening he could not compress within the limits of his understanding.

      Three minutes the eclipse lasted, then, as suddenly as it began, it ended.

      A blazing, blinding wave of light flooded the world, and the stars that had studded the sky went out.

      “Yes — yes, I know I’m a fool.” His face was bathed in perspiration, although with the darkness had come the chill of death. “It’s — it’s my temperament, eh? But never again! It’s an experience.”

      He shook his head, as his trembling legs carried him down the hillside; then he tapped his pocket mechanically and stopped dead.

      “Gone!” he gasped, and dived into his pocket. “Gone! by hell!” he roared. “Fifty thousand francs — gone — I’ve been robbed, Baggin—”

      “You must expect that sort of thing in a crowd,” said the philosophical American.

      Silinski went into the cathedral to count the money — it was very quiet in the cathedral.

II. Silinski Has a Plan

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      Silinski had a sister who was beautiful. She enjoyed a vogue in Madrid as Foudonitya, a great dancer. She went her own way, having no reason for showing respect for her brother, or regard for his authority. This did not greatly exercise Silinski. But her way — so easy a way! — led to outrageous unconventionalities, and there were certain happenings which need not be particularized. She was solemnly excommunicated by the Archbishop of Toledo, and the evening newspapers published her photograph.

      Silinski was annoyed.

      “Child,” he had said gravely to her, “you did wrong to come into conflict with the Church.”

      “It will be a good advertisement,” she said.

      Silinski shook his head, and said nothing.

      That night Foudonitya was hissed off the stage of the Casino, and came to her brother, not weeping or storming, but philosophically alarmed.

      “What am I to do?” she asked.

      “Go away into the country and perform good works; be kind to the poor, hire a duenna, and make the acquaintance of the local correspondent of the Heraldo de Madrid.”

      “It will cost money,’ 9 said the practical Catherine — this was her name.

      “You can do nothing without money,” said Silinski, and would have entered the saying in his notebook, but for the fact that it sounded trite.

      So Catherine went into the country, and from time to time there appeared notes of her charity in the Madrid papers. She was still in the country when the ban of excommunication was withdrawn and she did penance at Cordova.

      Silinski was not greatly surprised to see her dining at the Hotel de Paris at Burgos, on the night of the eclipse, but her hosts — they could not be her guests, for Catherine was one of the frugal sort — gave him occasion for thought. He stood in the doorway watching them. He had been looking for an empty table when he saw Catherine, and after a first glance he would have turned and departed, waiting until his sister was disengaged, but the fat man saw him.

      “Hi!” he bellowed, “there he is — stop him, somebody!”

      Silinski required no stopping; rather he came forward with a smile, offering his hand to the beautiful girl.

      “That was the fellow who was standing near me when I lost the money,” fumed the fat man, and looked helplessly round for a policeman.

      There was a scraping of chairs, a confusion of voices; people rose from their seats craning their necks in an endeavour to secure a better view of what was happening, in the midst of which Mr. Meyers found himself pulled to his chair.

      “Keep quiet — you,” hissed Baggin’s voice in his ear; “you fool, you’re getting exactly a million dollars’ worth of the wrong kind of publicity — he knows the girl.” He leaned across the table and smiled crookedly at Silinski. “Sit down, won’t you? My friend thinks he knows you — introduce us, Senora.”

      The commotion died down as it had begun, occasional curious glances being thrown at the strange quartette.

      “Your brother?” Baggin looked keenly at the bowing stranger. “Well, we’ve met him before, and my friend entertained rather unjust suspicions — but they were preposterous, of course.”

      Silinski bowed again with a grave and patient smile.

      “He didn’t understand English on the hill, eh?”

      Meyers choked as his suspicions found fresh food. “Don’t like it Baggin, don’t like it, I tell you!” He had a trick of dropping pronouns, which gave his speech an extraordinary rapidity of utterance.

      “We had the pleasure of meeting your sister in Eonda a few weeks ago,” Baggin went on smoothly, and Silinski nodded. He did not ask by what means this prosperous-looking American had secured an introduction in this land of punctilio. On Catherine’s hand blazed a ring he had not remembered seeing before. “As we are leaving Spain tomorrow, we offered her a parting feast—”

      He was feeling his way with Silinski, not quite sure of his ground. Silinski might be the outraged relative, the proud hidalgo, quickly and easily affronted, terrible in his vengeance. The girl needed some explaining away.

      As for Silinski, did Baggin but know, the girl had explained her presence when she laid her hand on the white tablecloth and the fires of her ring leaped and fell in the gaslight.

      “Senor,” said Silinski benevolently, “I am gratified beyond measure with your courtesy. We Bohemians, we artists, ask nor offer excuse for our departures from the convention. My little one” — he patted Catherine’s white hand— “makes friends quickly, but” — here he shrugged his shoulders and turned a pained face to the wheezing Mr. Meyers— “some observations have been made which reflect upon my honour.”

      “No offence,” growled Meyers sulkily.

      “Pardon,” Silinski raised his hand, dignity and respect in every pose, “pardon, Senor, I could not fail to comprehend СКАЧАТЬ