The Sins of Severac Bablon Part 13

Severac Bablon checked him, with a gesture.

"You will not contribute to a fund designed to aid in the defence of England? That is unjust. You reap large profits from England, Baron. To mention but one instance--you must draw quite twenty thousand pounds per annum from the firm of Romilis and Imer, Hatton Garden!"

Baron Hague stared in angry bewilderment.

"I have nothing to do with Romilis and Imer!"

"No? Then you can have no objection to my placing in the proper hands particulars--which, you will find, have been abstracted from your notebook--of the manner in which this parcel of diamonds reached Hatton Garden! I have the letter from your agent in Cape Town, addressed to the firm, and I have one signed 'Geo. Imer,' addressed to _you_! Finally, I am a telephone subscriber, and De Beers' number is Bank 5740! Shall I ring up the London office in the morning and draw their attention to this parcel, and to the interesting correspondence bearing upon it?"

Baron Hague's large features grew suddenly pinched in appearance. He leant forward, his hands resting upon his knees. Roles were reversed.

The great banker found himself seeking for a defence--one that might satisfy the rogue for whom the police of Europe were seeking!

"Why do you make a victim of _me_?" he gasped. "Antony Elschild is----"

"Mr. Antony Elschild is a member of one of the greatest Jewish families in Europe, you would say? And his interests are wholly British? He has recognised that, Baron. I have his cheque for fifty thousand pounds!"

"For _how much_?"

"For fifty thousand pounds! Should you care to see it? I am forwarding it immediately to the _Gleaner_. Mr. Elschild is my friend. He it was who proposed that this fund be started by the great capitalists so as to stimulate smaller subscribers. His name is never absent from such lists, Baron."

The Baron gulped.

"In Berlin--they would say I was mad!"

"And what will they say in Berlin if I call up De Beers in the morning?

Which reputation is preferable, Baron?"

Hague sat staring, fascinated, at the man in the long robe, who smoked yellow cigarettes and filled the air with their peculiar fumes. It seemed to him, suddenly, that he had taken leave of his senses, and that this cell--this pungent perfume--this man with the soul-searching eyes, the incisive voice--all were tricks of his senses.

What had he preserved the secret of his connection with the Hatton Garden firm for all these long years--each year determining to quit whilst safe, but each year lured on by the prospect of vaster gain--only to lay it at the feet of this Severac Bablon, who would ruin him?

Faintly, sounds of occasional traffic penetrated. From a place of half-shadows beyond the table, Severac Bablon's luminous eyes watched.

Save for those distant sounds which told of a thoroughfare near by, silence lay like a fog upon the place, and upon the mind of Baron Hague.

It grew intolerable, this stillness; it bred fear. Who was Severac Bablon? What was the secret of his power?

Hague looked up.

"Gott im Himmel!" he said hoa.r.s.ely. "Who are you? Why do you persecute those who are Jewish?"

Severac Bablon stretched his hand over the great carved table, holding it, motionless, beneath the lamp. From the bezel of the solitary ring which he wore gleamed iridescent lights, venomous as those within the eye of a serpent.

A device, which seemed to be formed of lines of fire within the stone, glowed, redly, through the greenness. The ring was old--incalculably old--as anyone could see at a glance. And, in some occult fashion, it _spoke_ to Baron Hague; spoke to that which was within him--stirred up the Jewish blood and set it leaping madly through his veins.

Back to his mind came certain words of a rabbi, long since gone to his fathers; before his eyes glittered words which he had had impressed upon his mind more recently than in those half-forgotten childish days.

And now, he feared. Slowly, he rose from the big cushioned chair. He feared the man whom all the world knew as Severac Bablon, and his fear, for once, was something that did not arise from his purse. It was something which arose from the green stone--and from the one who possessed it--who dared to wear it. Hague backed yet farther from the table, squarely, whereupon, beneath the globular lamp, lay the long white hand.

"_Gott!_" he muttered. "I am going mad! You cannot be--you----"

"I am _he_!"

Baron Hague's knees began to tremble.

"It is impossible!"

"Israel Hagar," continued the other sternly. "Those before you changed your ancient name to Hague; but to me you are Israel Hagar! You doubt, because you dare not believe. But there is that within your soul--that which you inherit from forefathers who obeyed the great King, from forefathers who toiled for Pharaoh--there is that within your soul which tells you _who I am_!"

The Baron could scarcely stand.

"Ach, no!" he groaned. "What do you want? I will do anything--anything; but let me go!"

"I want you," continued Severac Bablon, "since you deny the ring, to draw aside yonder curtain and look upon what it conceals!"

But Hague drew back yet further.

"Ach, no!" he said, huskily. "I deny nothing! I dare not!"

"By which I know that you have recognised in whose presence you stand, Israel Hagar! Knowing yourself at heart to be a robber, a liar, a hypocrite, you dare not, being also a Jew, raise that veil!"

Baron Hague offered no defence; made no reply.

"You are found guilty, Israel Hagar," resumed the merciless voice, "of dragging through the mire of greed--through the sloughs of l.u.s.t of gold--a name once honoured among nations. It is such as you that have earned for the Jewish people a repute it ill deserves. Save for such as Mr. Antony Elschild, you and your like must have blotted out for ever all that is glorious in the Jewish name. Despite all, you have succeeded in staining it--and darkly. I have a mission. It is to erase that stain.

Therefore, when the list appears of those who wish to preserve intact the British Empire, your name shall figure amongst the rest!"

Hague groaned.

"It will be explained, for the benefit of the curious, and to the glory of the Jews, that in some measure of recognition of those vast profits reaped from British ventures, you are desirous of showing your interest in British welfare!"

"It will be my ruin in Berlin!"

"I should regret to think so. Had you, in the whole of your career, during the entire period that you have been swelling your money-bags with British money, devoted one guinea--one paltry guinea--to any charitable purpose here, I had spared you the risk. As matters stand, I shall require your cheque for an amount equal to that subscribed by Mr.

Elschild."

"_Fifty thousand pounds!_" gasped Hague.

"Exactly! Pen and ink are on the table. Your cheque book I have left in your pocket!"

"I won't----"

Hague met the eyes of the incomprehensible man who watched him from beyond the table; he saw the gleam of the ring, as Severac Bablon placed a pen within reach.

"You--must be--mad!"

"You will decidedly be mad, Baron, if you refuse, for I a.s.sure you, upon my word of honour, I shall lay those papers before those whom they will interest in the morning!"

"And--if--I give you such a----"

"Immediately your cheque is cleared I will return the papers."