Leslie Charteris - Featuring the Saint

Then the drug she had been given must have put forth one final kick before it was finished with her; for she awoke again with a start, though she had no recollection of falling asleep. The sky through the window looked exactly the same: she was sure that she had only dozed.

She was shivering-she did not know why. Strangely enough, when she had first awoken she had been aware of no fear; that part of her brain seemed to have stayed sunken in sleep. But now she found herself trembling. There was a tight ness about her chest; and she waited, tense with a nameless terror, hardly breathing, certain that some distinct sound had roused her.

Then the sound was repeated; and she would have cried out then, but her throat seemed paralyzed.

Someone was coming up the stairs.

A faint light entered the room. It came from under the door and traced a slow arc around half the floor. The creak of an other board outside sent an icy qualm prickling up her spine; her mouth was dry, and her heart pounded thunderously. . . . The next thing would be the opening of the door. She waited for that, too, in the same awful tenseness: it was like watching a card castle after a sudden draught has caught it; she knew what must come, it was inevitable, but the suspense was more hideous than the active peril. . . . The rattle of a key in the lock made her jump, as if she had been held motionless by a slender thread and the thread had been snapped by the sound. . . .

Involuntarily she closed her eyes. When she opened them again Miles Hallin was relocking the door on the inside, and the bare room was bright with the lamp that he carried.

Then he turned, putting the lamp down on a rough wooden chair, and she saw him properly. She was amazed and aghast at his appearance. His clothes were torn and shapeless and filthy; his collar had burst open, and his tie was halfway down his chest; his hair was dishevelled; his face was smeared and stained with blood.

"Are you awake?" he said.

She could not answer. He advanced slowly to the bed, peering at her.

"You are awake. I've come back. You ought to be glad to see me. I've nearly been killed."

He sat down and put his head in his hands for a moment. Then he looked at her again.

"Killed!" His voice was rough and shaky. "One of your friends tried to kill me. That man Templar. I nearly killed him, though. I'd have done it if I'd been alone. We were on the precipice. There's a two-hundred-foot drop. Can you imagine it? You'd go down-and down-and down-down to the bottom-and break like a rotten apple-- Ugh!" He shuddered uncontrollably. "It was terrible. Have you ever thought about death, Moyna? I think it must be dreadful to die. I don't want to die!"

His hand plucked at her sleeve, and she stared at him, fascinated. His quivering terror was more horrible than anything she had ever imagined.

"I can't die!" he babbled. "Don't you know that? It's in all the newspapers. Miles Hallin- The Man Who Cannot Die! I'm big, strong-Templar couldn't kill me, and he's strong-I can't-go down-and lie still and-and get cold-and never move any more. And you rot. All your flesh-rots. ... In the desert, I thought about it. D'you hear about Nigel's brother? We tossed for who was to die, and he won. And he didn't seem to mind dying. I pretended I didn't mind, either. And I walked with him a long way. And then-I hit him when he wasn't looking. I took the water-and left him. He-he died, Moyna. In the sun. And-shrivelled up. He's been dead -years. Sometimes I can see him. . . ."

The girl moistened her lips. She could not move.

"Ever since then I've been dead, too. I've never been alive. You see, I couldn't tell anyone. Acting-all the time. So-I've always been alone. Never been able to tell anyone-never been with anyone who knew all about it-who-who was frightened, like I was. Until I met you. I knew you'd understand. You could share the secret. I was going-to tell you. And then Templar found out. I don't know how. Or he guessed. He sees everything-his eyes-- I knew he'd try to take you away from me. So I brought you here. I'm going to- live. With you. He won't find us here. I bought this place for you-long ago. It's beautiful. I don't think anyone's ever died here. Moyna! Moyna! Moyna!"

"Yes?" Her voice was faint.

"I wish you'd speak. I was-afraid-you might be going to die. I had to drug you. You know I drugged you? I couldn't explain then-I had to bring you here, where we could be alone. Now I'll untie you."

His fingers tugged at the ropes he had put on her. Presently her hands were free, and he was fumbling with her feet, crooning like a child. She tried to master her trembling.

"Miles, you must let me go!"

"I'm letting you go." He held up the cords for her to see. "And now-we're all right. Just you and me. You'll be-nice to me-won't you, Moyna?" His arms went round her, dragging her towards him.

"Miles." She strove to speak calmly, though she was weak with fear. "You must be sensible! You've got to get me back to London. Mother will be wondering what's happened to me--"

"London?" He seemed to grasp the word dully. "Why?"

"You know I can't stay here. But you can come and see me tomorrow morning--"

His blank eyes gazed at her.

"London? To-morrow? I don't understand." Suddenly he seized her again. "Moyna, you wouldn't run away! You're not going to-to leave me. I can't go to London. You know I can't. I shall be killed. We've got to stay here."

She was as helpless as a babe in his hands. He heard nothing more that she said.

"Moyna, I love you. I'm going to be good to you. I'm going to look after you-tell you-everything--"

"Miles," she sobbed, "oh, let me go--"

"Just-you and me. And we'll stay here. And we-won't die-ever. We won't-die--"

"Oh, don't--"

"You mustn't be afraid. Not of me. We won't be afraid of anything. We're going to stay here-years-hundreds of years -thousands of years. Moyna, you mustn't be frightened. It'll be quite all right--"

"Take your hands off me--"

"But you do love me, don't you? And you're not going to leave me alone. I shan't be frightened of anything if you're here. In the dark, I can see Perry-sometimes. But I shan't mind--"

She fought back at him desperately, but against his tremendous strength she felt as weak as a kitten.

She screamed aloud.

Somewhere a shout answered her. She heard a splintering crash, then someone leaping up the stairs.

Another shout: "Moyna, where are you?"

She cried out again. Hallin let her go. She fell off the bed and flung herself at the door. He caught her again there.

"They're coming," he said stupidly.

Then his eyes blazed. He dragged her away with a force that sent her flying across the room. In an instant he had reached her. She stared in horror at his face, pale and twisted under the smears of blood, only a few inches from her own.

"They're going to kill me," he gasped. "I'm going to die! Moyna, I'm going to die-die! . . . And I haven't lived yet. Love you--"

She half rose, but he threw her down again. The strength that she had found went from her. She felt that she would faint at any moment. Her dress tore in his hands, but the sound seemed to come from an infinite distance.

There was a mighty pounding on the door.

"Open it, Hallin!" someone was shouting. "You can't get away!"

Hallin's whole body was shaking.

"They can't kill me!" he croaked. "Moyna, you know that, don't you? I can't be killed. No one can ever kill me."

"You fool!" came a voice outside. "You won't break the door down that way. Why don't you shoot the lock out?"

Hallin raised himself slowly from the bed. His eyes were like a babe's.

"Shoot out the lock," he said dreamily. "Yes-shoot out the lock--"

With her hand to her mouth Moyna Stanford watched him reel across the room.