THQMA5 -A LINL.EY 15Q2A NORMANDIE AVE GARHFNA CA 90247 THE BLACK BOOKS BY ANGEL ESQUIRE GUNMAN'S BLUFF TEH ANGEL OP TERROR THE HAIRY ARM THE BLACEE ABBOT JACK "JUDGMENT BLUE HAND KATE PLUS 10 CAPTAINS OP SOULS A KING BY NIGHT THE CLEVER ONE THE MAN WHO KNEW THE CLUE OP THE NEW PIN THE MELODY OP DEATH THE CLUE OP THE TWISTED THE MISSING MILLIONS CANDLE THE MURDER BOOK OP J. Q. THE CRIMSON CIRCLE REEDER THE DAFFODIL MURDER THE NORTHING TRAMP THE DARK EYES OP LONDOW THE RINGER DIANA OF KARA-KARA THE SECRET HOUSE THE DOOR WITH SEVEN THE SINISTER MAN LOCKS THE SQUEALER THE FACE IN THE NIGHT THE STRANGE COUNTESS THE FELLOWSHIP OP THE FROG TAM O 1 THE SCOOTS THE FLYING SQUAD THE TERRIBLE PEOPLE THE FOUR JUST MEN TERROR KEEP THE GIRL FROM SCOTLAND THE TRAITORS' GATE YARD THE THREE JUST MEN THE GREEN ARCHER THE TWISTER GREEN RUST THE VALLEY OP GHOSTS THE BLACK By EDGAR WALLACE A. L. BURT COMPANY ^PUBLISHERS New York Chicago Published by arrangement with Doubleday, Doran & Company, Inc. Printed In U. S. A. KK. SIGHTS RESERVED MINTED IN THE UNITED STATES *T THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS GARDEN CITY, N. T. SRLE Mi. TO MARNEY CONTENTS CHAPTER I. The Black II. The Lady of Creith III. The Head of the Creiths IV. A Caller at Wold House V. The Monkey and the Gourd VI. Hamon Tells His News VII. Into the Storm VIII. The Robber IX. Mr. Hamon Loses Money X. The Frame-up XI. Jane Smith XII. Miss Lydia Hamon XIII. AtBlackheath XIV. Caught XV. Joan Makes a Confession XVI. Mr. Hamon Is Shown Out XVII. Gentle Julius XVIII. The Trial XIX. The Tea Shop XX. A Caller XXI. A Volume of Emerson CONTENTS CHAPTER XXII. Welcome Home XXIII. The New Housekeeper XXIV. Jim Learns Things XXV. The Cablegram XXVI. Joan Called Jane XXVII. Mrs. Cornford's Lodger XXVIII. Mr. Welling Gives Advice XXIX. A Love Call XXX. Sadi XXXI. Joan Tells the Truth XXXII. Captain Welling Understands XXXIII. The Foreign Sailor XXXIV. The Cord XXXV. The Letter That Came by Post XXXVI. The Bannockwaite Bride XXXVII. The Letter XXXVIII. A Yachting Trip XXXIX. The Chapel in the Wood XL. The Lover XLI. A Photograph XLII. Captain Welling: Investigator XLIII. The Man in the Night XLIV. Murder XLV. Wanted XLVI. Pointed Shoes XLVII. The Yacht CONTENTS XLVIII. Mutiny 230 XLIX. The Man on the Beach 236 L. The Play- 240 LI. The Courtyard 244 LII. The House of Sadi 248 LIII. The House in the Hollow 253 LIV. A Visit to the Basha 260 LV. The Lady from Lisbon 264 LVI. Captain Welling Adds a Postscript 272 LVII. The Ride to the Hills 276 LVIII. At the White House 279 LIX. The Face at the Window 287 LX. The Marriage 291 LXI. The Beggar Husband 295 LXII. The Escape 302 LXIII. The End of Sadi 35 LXIV. A Moorish Woman's Return 310 LXV. The Reverend Gentleman LXVI. A Luncheon Party 320 LXVII. The Return 326 LXVIII. TheEndofHamon 332 THE BLACK CHAPTER I The Black JAMES LEXINGTON MORLAKE, gentleman of leisure, Lord of the Manor of Wold and divers other titles which he rarely employed, unlocked the drawer of his elaborate Empire writing-table and gazed abstractedly into its depths. It was lined with steel and there were four distinct bolts. Slowly he put in his hand and took out first a folded square of black silk, then a businesslike automatic pistol, then a roll of fine leather. He unfastened a string that was tied about the middle and unrolled the leather on the writing-table. It was a hold-all of finely-grained sealskin, and in its innumerable pockets and loops was a bewildering variety of tools, grips, ratchets each small, each of the finest tempered steel. He examined the diamond-studded edge of a bore, no larger than a cheese tester, then replacing the tool, he rolled up the hold-all and sat back in his chair, his eyes fixed meditatively upon the articles he had exposed. James Morlake's flat in Bond Street was, perhaps, the most luxurious apartment in that very exclusive thoroughfare. The room in which he sat, with its high ceiling fantastically carved into scrolls and arabesques by the most cunning of Moorish workmen, was wide and long and singular. The walls were of marble, the floor an amazing mosaic covered with the silky rugs of Ispahan. Four hanging lamps, delicate fabrics of silver and silk, shed a subdued light. With the exception of the desk, incongruously gaudy in the severe and beautiful setting, there was little furniture. A low divan under the curtained window, a small stool, lacquered a vivid green, and another chair was all. The man who sat at the writing-table might have been forty he was four years less or fifty. His was the face of a savant, 2 THE BLACK eager, alive, mobile. There was a hint of laughter in his eyes, more than a hint of sadness. A picturesque and most present- able person was James Lexington Morlake, reputedly of New York City (though some doubted this) and now of 823 New Bond Street in the County of London and of Wold House in the County of Sussex. His evening coat fitted the broad shoul- his collar valet-tied. ders perfectly ; the white bow at was He looked up from the table and its sinister display and clapped his hands once. Through the silken curtain that veiled the far end of the room came a soft-footed little Moor, his spotless white f ellap and crimson tarboosh giving him a certain vividness against the soft background. "Mahmet, I shall be going away to-night I will let you know when I am returning." He spoke in Moorish, which is the purest of the three Arabics. "When, by the favour of God, I return, I shall have work for you." Mahmet raised his hand in salute, then, stepping forward lightly, kissed each lapel of James Morlake's dress coat before he kissed his own thumb, for Morlake was, by certain stand- ards, holy to the little slave man he had bought in the market- place of Rahbut. "I am your servant, haj" he said. "You will wish to talk with your secretary ?" Morlake nodded, and, with a quick flutter of salaaming hands, Mahmet disappeared. He had never ceased to be amused by this description of Binger. "Secretary" was the delicate euphemism of the Moor who would not say "servant" of any white man. Mr. Binger appeared, a short, stout man with a very red face and a very flaxen moustache, which he rapidly twirled in mo- ments of embarrassment. Without the evidence of the neatly parted hair and the curl plastered over his forehead, he was obviously "old soldier." He>looked at his employer and then at the kit of tools on the table, and sighed. "Coin' hout, sir ?" he asked dolefully. He was that unusual type of Cockney, the man who put aspirates where none were intended. Not one Londoner in THE BLACK 3 ten thousand has this trick, ninety per cent, may drop an "h" only the very few find it. "I'm out I be for some know going ; may away days. You where to find me." "I hope so, sir," said the gloomy Binger. "I hope I shan't find you where I'm always expectin' to find you in a hawful prison cell." James Morlake laughed softly. "You were never designed by providence to be a burglar's valet, Binger," he said, and Mr. Binger shivered. "Don't use that word, sir, please ! It makes me tremble with horrer ! It's not for the likes of me to criticise, which I've never done. An' if you hadn't been a burglar I'd have been a corpse. You ran a risk for me and I'm not likely to forget it !" Which was true. For one night, James Lexington Morlake, in the course of business, had broken into a warehouse of which Binger was caretaker. Morlake took the warehouse en route to a bigger objective there was a bank at the end of the ware- house block and he had found an almost lifeless Binger who had fallen through a trap and had broken a leg in the most com- plicated manner it is possible to break a leg. And Morlake had stopped and tended him ; carried him to the hospital, though Binger guessed him for what he was, "The Black" the terror of every bank manager in the kingdom. In this way both men, taking the most amazing risks, came into acquaintance. Not that it was, perhaps, any great risk for James Morlake, for he understood men. He selected a cigarette from the gold case he took from his pocket, and lit it. "One of these days, perhaps I'll become a respectable mem- ber of society, Binger," he said, a chuckle in his voice. "I 'ope so, sir, I do most sincerely pray you will," said Bin- ger earnestly. "It's not a nice profession you're hout all hours of the night . it's not healthy ! Speaking as a hold soldier, sir, I tell you that honesty is the best policy." "How the devil did you know that there was an 'h* in 'hon- " esty?' asked James Morlake admiringly. "I pronounced it, sir," said Binger. 4 THE BLACK "That is what I mean now, Binger, listen to me. I want the car at the corner of Albemarle Street at two o'clock.