was with me crying that he was wrong, that many bloody deeds would
be, ere the sacred slipper should return to the East.




CHAPTER XVI

THE DWARF


The manner in which we next heard of the whereabouts of the Prophet's
slipper was utterly unforeseen, wildly dramatic. That the Hashishin
were aware that I, though its legal trustee, no longer had charge
of the relic nor knowledge of its resting-place, was sufficiently
evident from the immunity which I enjoyed at this time from that
ceaseless haunting by members of the uncanny organization ruled by
Hassan. I had begun to feel more secure in my chambers, and no
longer worked with a loaded revolver upon the table beside me. But
the slightest unusual noise in the night still sufficed to arouse
me and set me listening intently, to chill me with dread of what
it might portend. In short, my nerves were by no means recovered
from the ceaseless strain of the events connected with and arising
out of the death of my poor friend, Professor Deeping.

One evening as I sat at work in my chambers, with the throb of busy
Fleet Street and its thousand familiar sounds floating in to me
through the open windows, my phone bell rang.

Even as I turned to take up the receiver a foreboding possessed me