A Secret Society (Spy Thriller). Talbot Mundy

to pay for war there would be none. I’ve finished paying for it.”

      “Oh, are you one of those men without a country?” asked Jeremy blandly. “One red flag for all of us, and a world doing lockstep in time to the Internationale.”

      Strange liked that. The question threw light on Jeremy’s own view-point. He laughed—just one gruff bark like a watchdog’s.

      “The man who doesn’t put his country first might as well neglect his own body and expect to do business,” he answered. “On the other hand, a state is composed of individuals, of whom I’m one, with an opinion. I obey the laws. There’s not even wine in my cellar. But I make use of every opening the law allows to escape paying for armaments that I don’t approve of. I lose income by it, because the tax-exempt securities come high; but that loss is part of my contribution to the general interest. That’s what I, personally, do in that particular instance, and intend to keep on doing.”

      “Do you propose to start a society or hire us to preach?” Jeremy suggested.

      “I belong to no societies. I’m an individualist, believing that what I do is my concern, and what other folk do is their concern, subject to the law as it stands on the statute books. Charity leaves me unconvinced. I don’t care to endow colleges. I paid the men who taught me what I wanted to know, with money that I earned.”

      “Well? Where are we getting to?” demanded Grim.

      “To this: I made my money all over the world. I propose to use it all over the world. Nobody can fool me with a bald statement that peoples are self- governing. They should be, but they’re not given a chance to be. They’re herded up in mobs, blarneyed, coaxed, cheated, and made fools of; and because some of them have free institutions, they’re blamed for the result, while the real culprits get away with the plunder. I’m after the real culprits. I want you men to join me.”

      Grim whistled. So did Jeremy. So did I. Three notes of a rising scale.

      “D’you suppose you’ve any right to take that on yourself?” asked Jeremy.

      “As much right as any reformer has, and more,” Strange answered, “for I intend to pay my own expenses! I’ll make it my business to fall foul of these international crooks, who are laughing behind the scenes at the world’s misery. My business is to seek those swine out, force an issue—a personal issue, mind—and swat them!”

      “You want to be a sort of international police?” suggested Grim.

      “I do not. An international police would be answerable to an international government, and there is none. These devils I’m after obey no government. Governments are tricked by them into furthering their designs. Governments are made up of individuals, each of whom can be worked, persuaded, bribed, blackmailed or deceived at some time in some way. The rascals I’m after play with kings and cabinets like pieces on a chess-board. They play crooked boss with the whole world for a stage, and they’re safe because they’ve only got to deal with the representatives of majorities. They’re persons, dealing with impersonal ministries. I’m going to make it a personal issue with them in every instance. But I have to work in secret, or I’ll last about a minute and a half. That’s how you three men happen to be the first who ever heard a word from me on a subject that I’ve been pondering for five-and-twenty years.”

      “Strange, old boy,” said Jeremy. “You altruists are all plausible; and you all turn out in the end to be feathering your own nests.”

      “My impression of you is that you’re honest,” Strange answered.

      “Honest? You don’t know me,” laughed Jeremy. “I posed as a prophet of Islam in an Arab village. They used to pay me to make the dead talk from their tombs, and I charged ‘em so much extra for every ten years the corpse had been dead and buried. Sure I’m honest.”

      “You keep good company,” Strange answered. “How about you, Ramsden? Are you interested?”

      “Interested, yes,” I answered. “Grim is the senior partner. Let’s hear what he has to say.”

      “How about it, Major Grim?”

      “How would it pay?” Grim asked.

      “Five thousand dollars a year for each of you, and all expenses.”

      “Would you expect us to obey you blindly? The answer is ‘No’ in that case,” Grim assured him.

      “Strict confidence, and the best judgment of all of you. Once we agree together on a course my instructions must be carried out.”

      “How about additions to the staff? I’d have to choose the men I’ll work with,” said Grim.

      “I approve of that.”

      “Very well, Mr. Strange. We three will talk it over and give you a definite answer tonight,” said Grim; and we got up together and left Strange sitting there.

      CHAPTER III

       “I have sworn a vow. Henceforward I serve none but queens!”

       Table of Contents

      We had not yet made up our minds, but were dining with Meldrum Strange under a great ornamental palm by a splashing fountain, discussing anything from China to Peru that had no bearing on Strange’s offer, when a coal-black Egyptian servant, arrayed in fez, silver-laced purple jacket, and white cotton smock, brought Grim a scented envelope. The scent had a peculiar, pervading strength that commanded attention without challenging. The envelope was made from linen, stiff, thick, and colored faintly mauve, but bore no address. The seal was of yellow wax, poured on liberally and bearing the impress of a man’s thumb. No woman ever had a thumb of that size. Grim turned the thing over half a dozen times, the servant standing motionless behind his chair. When he tore it open at last the contents proved equally remarkable. In English, written with a damaged quill pen, was a message from Narayan Singh that looked as if he had held the paper in one unsteady hand at arm’s length, and made stabs at it with the other. But it was to the point.

      If the sahib will bring the other sahibs, he shall look into the eyes of heaven and know all about hell. The past is past. The future none knoweth. The present is now. Come at once. —NARAYAN SINGH.

      Grim asked the servant for more particulars—his master’s name, for instance, and where he lived. He answered in harsh Egyptian Arabic that he had been told to show us the way. He absolutely refused to say who had sent him, or whose paper the message was written on; and he denied all knowledge of Narayan Singh. All he professed to know was the way to the house where we were wanted immediately. So we all went upstairs and packed repeating pistols into the pockets of our tuxedos.

      Meldrum Strange agreed to follow us in a hired auto, and to take careful bearings of whatever house we might enter; after which he would watch the place from a distance until midnight. If we didn’t reappear by twelve o’clock, it was agreed that he should summon help and have the place raided.

      Looking back, I rather wonder that we took so much precaution. Cairo was quiet. There hadn’t been a political disturbance for six weeks, which is a long time as things go nowadays. The soldiers of the British garrison no longer had to go about in dozens for self-protection, and for more than a fortnight the rule against gathering in crowds had been suspended. Nevertheless, we were nervous, and kept that assignation armed.

      A carriage waited for us in the luminous shadow in front of the hotel steps. It was a very sumptuous affair, drawn by two bay thoroughbreds and driven by another graven ebony image, in fez, blue frock-coat with silver buttons, and top-boots. There was a footman in similar livery, and behind the carriage, between the great C springs, was a platform for the enigma who had brought the message.

      We were off at a clattering trot almost before the door slammed shut, swaying through the badly lighted streets to the tune of silver harness bells and the shouts of the driver and footman.

      Mere