mindjuggler.de

Excerpt: …blotch between his shoulders-before another figure slipped through the division of the curtains and thrust forward the muzzle of a revolver. Trent halted. A flicker of recollection crossed his brain. The man who stood outlined against the vermilion hangings was a native clad in dirty garments; his turban was soiled, his feet bare. As Trent saw the scar running across one cheek and the drooping eyelid, he recognized the snake-charmer who crossed the Bay in the steerage of the Manchester. The fellow grinned impudently, and the expression was reminiscent of another smile. ´´Turn about!´´ he ordered softly, in English-excellent English for a street juggler, as Trent did not fail to notice. ´´Don´t say a word; don´t make a sound!´´ Trent´s eyes dropped to the body; lifted questioningly. Again the snake-charmer grinned-that impudent, strangely reminiscent expression. ´´Never mind that now!´´ he said, and his voice, too, slow and quiet, seemed vaguely familiar. ´´If you want to get out of this place whole, do as I say!´´ Trent turned, facing the window. (And the native did not see the smile that traced itself upon his face.) Instantly the Englishman felt a pressure between his shoulders. ´´Now, drop out of the window!´´ came the whispered command from behind. Trent moved to the window and pulled the curtain aside. As he swung over the sill he caught a glimpse of the juggler´s grinning face. The sash was not more than four feet from the ground, and he discovered that he was behind the joss-house, in the shadow of a lofty wall. Above were stars; at one side, further along the wall, a gateway where the glow from a lighted street fell within. ´´Walk to the gate,´´ was the native´s quiet order, as he lowered himself from the window. ´´Hail a carriage and get in. I´ll be directly behind you. Don´t look around or say a word; if you do.´´ Trent obeyed. He moved slowly, almost carelessly, through the gate and into the street, where a thin stream of Burmans and…