Many Dimensions, Charles Williams [black authors fiction TXT] 📗

she said. “Lord Arglay told me to show him up. Will that be

all right?”

 

“Certainly,” Chloe said nervously, “yes,please bringhimin.” In a minute

the maid announced “Mr. Ibrahim”, and vanished. A little old gentleman,

in Western dress but for his green turban, walked placidly into the

room.

 

“Do sit down,” Chloe said, mastering her agitation. “Probably the maid

told you that Lord Arglay was so sorry he had had to go out, but he

hoped you would be good enough to leave any message with me. If

possible.”

 

Haiji Ibrahim bowed and sat down. “You know, I think, what I have come

about?” he said.

 

“I’m sorry, but Lord Arglay didn’t tell me–only that it might be

rather important,” Chloe answered.

 

The Hajji smiled slightly. “I believe that Lord Arglay did not tell

you,” he said, “but I think you must have seen something last nightwhen

you wentwith him to Sir Giles Tumulty’s house.”

 

“If you know that,” Chloe answered, disagreeably surprised, “you will

know that I left before Lord Arglay and wasn’t with him there—not for

long.”

 

“Long enough,” the Hajji nodded. “Do not let us dispute on that, Miss

Burnett—it was Miss Burnett your servant said? —or we shall waste our

time and our spirit. You know what it is we are seeking, though you may

not know all that it means. It is the End of Desire.”

 

“The end of desire?” Chloe repeated.

 

“It is called the White Stone and the Stone of Suleiman ben Daood (on

whom be the Peace!),” the Hajji went on, “and it has other names also.

But that is its best name, as that is its best work. Now that it is at

large in the world it may bring much sorrow. I think Lord Arglay would

be wise to do what he can to bring it back. No,” he added as he saw

Chloe about to make another effort at denial, “You are acting in good

faith but it is quite useless. I can see that you know the thing if not

the work.

 

“If you have any definite message,” Chloe said, “I shall be most

careful to give it to Lord Arglay.”

 

“I think you have a premonition of the message,” Hajji Ibrahim

answered. “Tell me, have you not seen certain of the marvels of the

Stone and are you not afraid in your heart? Else why should you be so

shaken at speaking with me?”

 

“I am not shaken,” Chloe said indignantly.

 

The other smiled. “Child,” he said, “you have done what you can to be

loyal, but you cannot control your eyes, and there is fear at the back

of them now. Do not fear us who serve the Stone but fear those who

attempt to rule it.”

 

“What is this Stone?” Chloe asked, hoping rather vainly that the

intensity of her feeling would sound like a mere business interest.

 

“I will tell you what is said of it,” the Hajji said, “and you shall

tell Lord Arglay when he returns. It is said that in the Crown of

Suleiman ben Daood there was a strange and wonderful Stone, and it is

said also that this Stone had belonged of old to the giants, to Nimrod

the hunter and his children, and by its virtue Nimrod sought to build

Babel which was to reach to heaven. And something of this kind is

certainly possible to those who have the Stone. Before Nimrod, our

father Adam (the Peace be upon him!) had it, and this only he brought

with him out of Paradise when he fled before the swords of the great

ones-Michael and Gabriel and Raphael (blessed be they!). And there are

those who say that before then it was in the Crown of Iblis the

Accursed when he fell from heaven, and that his fall was not assured

until that Stone dropped from his head. For yet again it is told that,

when the Merciful One made the worlds, first of all He created that

Stone and gave it to the Divine One whom the Jews call Shekinah, and as

she gazed upon it the universes arose and had being. But afterwards it

passed from Iblis to Adam, and from Adam to Nimrod, and from Nimrod to

Suleiman, and after Suleiman it came into the sceptre of Octavianus who

was called Caesar and Augustus and was lord of Rome. But from Rome it

came with Constantine to New Rome, and thence eastward—only in hiding—

till our lord Muhammed (blessed be he!) arose to proclaim the Unity.

And after he was received into the Mercy it belonged to seven Khalifs,

and was taken into Spain when the Faith entered there, and some say

that in his wars Charlemagne the Emperor found it and set it under the

hilt of his sword, which was called joyeuse because of it, and from

that the Franks made a war-shout and cried Montjoy St. Denis. And

because of its virtue and his will the Emperor made himself lord of the

world. After him the world became very evil, and the Stone made for

itself a place of repose and remained therein until to-day. This is the

tale of the Stone of Suleiman, but its meaning is in the mind of him

who hears it.”

 

Chloe Burnett said abruptly, “And they use it for—?”

 

The Persian smiled. “They use it as they will,” he said. “But there are

those who know it -by its name which I have told you. “

 

“But can the end of desire be an evil?” Chloe said.

 

“If the End is reached too violently it may mean chaos and madness,”

Ibrahim told her. “Even in lesser things it is not everyone who can

bear to be carried hither and thither, in time or place or thought, and

so in the greater it is necessary to grow accustomed to the Repose of

the End. I think if you were to set it on your head now and offer your

soul to it, the strength of your nature would be overthrown and not

transformed by its own strength, and you would be destroyed. There is

measure and degree in all things, even upon the Way.”

 

“The Way?” Chloe asked.

 

“The Way to the Stone, which is in the Stone,” the old man said. “Yet

you have a hint of the holy letters on your forehead, and Allah shall

bring you to the Resignation. For you are of Islam at heart.”

 

“1–of Islam?” Chloe cried. “Do you mean a Muhammedan?”

 

“There is no God but God and Muhammed is the Prophet of God,” the old

man intoned gravely. “Yet the Resignation is within. Say what you will

of this to your master, but bid him if he is a wise judge assist us in

the restoration of the Stone.”

 

“But if Sir Giles bought it-” Chloe began.

 

“He that sold it and he that bought it alike sinned,” the Hajji

answered. “Tell your lord that at any time I will come to him to speak

of it if he will. For I do not wish my nephew to let war loose on the

world.”

 

“War?” Chloe exclaimed.

 

“It is the least of the plagues, perhaps,” Ibrahim said. “But tell your

master and bid him think what he will do.” Gravely he took his leave,

with a murmured benediction, and left Chloe in a state of entire

upheaval to await Lord Arglay’s return.

 

When he came she saw that he was himself perplexed and troubled. But

with the exception of asking whether she hhad had a visitor he said

nothing, either of information or inquiry, until after lunch. When they

were back in his study he gave her cigarettes and sat down opposite

her. “And now,” he said, “let’s talk. No—stop—let us have… what

Giles left with us here too.” He went for the Stone and set it, rather

seriously on the table by them. “Now for your visitor,” he said.

 

Chloe went over the conversation as far as she could. When she had

finished—

 

“You didn’t tell him about the division of the Stone?” Lord Arglay

asked.

 

“I didn’t tell him anything at all,” Chloe said. “I didn’t have the

chance. He did all the talking.”

 

“Well, that was the idea, after all. I did exactly the same, only less

tactfully,” Arglay assured her. “Bruce Cumberlan was in the extreme

jumps, all nicely hidden of course, but there without a doubt. He was

so sorry—not at all—yes, but he was, only I was the only respectable

person in touch with Sir Giles. And they wanted, they very much wanted—well, in short they wanted to know what Sir Giles had been up to.

Yesterday, it appears, at some conference on the finances of

Baluchistan or the reform of the gendarmerie in the suburbs of Erzerum,

the Persian Ambassador whispered in Birlesmere’s ear—he’s the Foreign

Secretary, you know. There was a matter of a relic, feloniously

abstracted, under cover of a payment which was really a bribe, by one

of our nationals. The Ambassador himself had no use for it, nor, he

thought, had Riza Khan—but the populace, the fanatical Muhammedan

populace… his lordship the Secretary would understand. Well,

Birlesmere’s used to these unofficial hints, only it seems for the last

month things have been a bit more restive than usual all over the Near

East, in expanding circles. So he began to sit up. Could his Excellency

tell him at all… ? His Excellency, most unofficially, had heard

rumours of Suleiman, and

a crown, and even—without any sort of accusation—of Sir Giles Tumulty.

He didn’t press, he didn’t even ask, for anything; he only remarked

that rumours were about. Pure friendship. Of course if his Britannic

Majesty’s Government could reassure him, just in case the Imams (or

whatever) went to Riza Khan. There was even a young fellow at the

Embassy inclined to make trouble; he would be exchanged certainly—Moscow perhaps. Still…. Birlesmere was pushed; he had to go off to

Sandringham last night, so he switched Cumberland on to it. Who did me

the honour to remember that I was Sir Giles’s brother-in-law, and

begged me to sound him. Had I heard? Could I think? Would I

investigate—delicately? I promised I would, told him nothing, and came

away. So there we are.”

 

They sat and looked at each other. Then Lord Arglay said, “I can only

think of one thing to be done at once, and that’s to stop Reginald. He

won’t want to run risks with the Government, at least I shouldn’t think

so, though he’s thinking’in millions. But he must keep quiet anyhow

till I can see Giles again. City five seven three eight,” he added into

the telephone.

 

“You’ll see Sir Giles when he comes back?” Chloe asked.

 

“I shall see everybody,” Lord Arglay said. “Giles and the Ambassador

and your Hajji and Cumberland again and so on. If I’m in the centre of

it I’m going to enjoy it. Is that Mr. Montague’s? Is Mr. Montague in?

… Lord Arglay…. That you, Reginald?… Look here, I’vejust been in

touch with the Foreign Office and I’m rather anxious about you. It’s

most important you should do and say nothing, absolutely nothing, about

the Stone at present. You’ve got one, haven’t you? Sir Giles left one

with you?… Yes, well you mustn’t even look at it yet. I’ll tell you

… what?”

 

Chloe watched anxiously. In a minute, “O my dear God in heaven!” Lord

Arglay said. “No… O yes, keep it quiet now…. Who is Angus

M.. Sheldrake?… yes, who? Who? I don’t

know his name…. Oh. Can we get at him?… No, I don’t think you’d

better; perhaps I will…. Goodbye.”

 

He looked round. “Reginald has sold a Stone