Sins of Severac Bablon

Sax Rohmer

Description

The Sins of Severac Bablon is a thrilling crime novel from the author who would go on to pen the beloved Fu Manchu series. In this story, criminal mastermind Severac Bablon sets out to balance the scales of social justice by extorting a series of affluent victims and forcing them to donate vast sums of money to a variety of charitable causes.

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 juillet 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775459163
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE SINS OF SEVERAC BABLON
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SAX ROHMER
 
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The Sins of Severac Bablon First published in 1914 ISBN 978-1-77545-916-3 © 2012 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - To Introduce Mr. Julius Rohscheimer Chapter II - "Thirty Men Who Were All Alike" Chapter III - Midnight—And the Man Chapter IV - The Head of Caesar Chapter V - A Mystic Hand Chapter VI - The Shadow of Severac Bablon Chapter VII - The Ring Chapter VIII - In the Dressing-Room Chapter IX - Es-Sindibad of Cadogan Gardens Chapter X - Kimberley Chapter XI - Mr. Sanrack Visits the Hotel Astoria Chapter XII - Love, Lucre and Mr. Alden Chapter XIII - The Listener Chapter XIV - Zoe Dreams Chapter XV - At "The Cedars" Chapter XVI - The Lamp and the Mask Chapter XVII - The Damascus Curtain Chapter XVIII - A White Orchid Chapter XIX - Three Letters Chapter XX - Closed Doors Chapter XXI - A Corner in Millionaires Chapter XXII - The Turkish Yataghan Chapter XXIII - M. Levi Chapter XXIV - "V-E-N-G-E-N-C-E" Chapter XXV - An Official Call Chapter XXVI - Grimsdyke Chapter XXVII - Yellow Cigarettes Chapter XXVIII - At the Palace—And Later
Chapter I - To Introduce Mr. Julius Rohscheimer
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"There's half a score of your ancestral halls," said Julius Rohscheimer,"that I could sell up to-morrow morning!"
Of the quartet that heard his words no two members seemed quitesimilarly impressed.
The pale face of Adeler, the great financier's confidential secretary,expressed no emotion whatever. Sir Richard Haredale flashed contemptfrom his grey eyes—only to veil his scorn of the man's vulgaritybeneath a cloud of tobacco smoke. Tom Sheard, of the Gleaner , drewdown a corner of his mouth and felt ashamed of the acquaintance. Denby,the music-hall comedian, softly whistled those bars of a popular balladset to the words, "I stood in old Jerusalem."
"Come along to Park Lane with me," continued Rohscheimer, fixing hisdull, prominent eyes upon Sheard, "and you'll see more English nobilitythan you'd find inside the House of Lords!"
"What's made him break out?" the comedian whispered, aside, to Adeler.For it was an open secret that this man, whose financial operationsshook the thrones of monarchy, whose social fetes were attended by thesmartest people, was subject to outbursts of the kind which now saw himseated before a rapidly emptying magnum in a corner of the greatrestaurant. At such times he would frequent the promenades ofmusic-halls, consorting with whom he found there, and would display thegross vulgarity of a Whitechapel pawnbroker or tenth-rate variety agent.
"'S-sh!" replied the secretary. "A big coup! It is always so with him.Mr. Rohscheimer is overwrought. I shall induce him to take a holiday."
"Trip up the Jordan?" suggested Denby, with cheery rudeness.
The secretary's drooping eyelids flickered significantly, but no otherindication of resentment displayed itself upon that impassive face.
"A good Jew is proud of his race—and with reason!" he said quietly."There are Jews and Jews."
He turned, deferentially, to his employer—that great man havingsolicited his attention with the words, "Hark to him, Adeler!"
"I did not quite catch Mr. Sheard's remark," said Adeler.
"I merely invited Mr. Rohscheimer to observe the scene upon his right,"explained Sheard.
The others turned their eyes in that direction. Through a screen of palmleaves the rose-shaded table lights, sparkling silver, and snowy coversof the supper room were visible. Here a high-light gleamed upon a bareshoulder; there, a stalwart male back showed, blocked out in bold blackupon the bright canvas. Waiters flitted noiselessly about. The drone ofthat vocal orchestra filled the place: the masculine conversation, thebrass and wood-wind—the sweeter tones of women, the violins; theirlaughter, tremolo passages.
"I'm observing it," growled Rohscheimer. "Nobody in particular there."
"There is comfort, luxury, there," said Sheard.
The financier stared, uncomprehensively.
"Now look out yonder," continued the other.
It was a different prospect whereto he directed their eyes.
The diminuendo of the Embankment lamps, the steely glitter of the watersbeyond, the looming bulk of the bridge, the silhouette shape of the Onmonolith; these things lay below them, dimly to be seen from thebrilliant room. Within was warmth, light, and gladness; without, a coldplace of shadows, limned in the grey of discontent and the black of wantand desolation.
"Every seat there," continued Sheard, as the company gazed vaguely fromthe window, "has its burden of hopelessness and misery. Ranks ofhomeless wretches form up in the arch yonder, awaiting the arrival ofthe Salvation Army officials. Where, in the whole world, can misery inbulk be found thus side by side with all that wealth can procure?"
There was a brief silence. Sheard was on his hobbyhorse, and there werefew there disposed to follow him. The views of the Gleaner are noteverybody's money.
"What sort of gas are you handing us out?" asked Rohscheimer. "Thoselazy scamps don't deserve any comfort; they never worked to get it! Thepeople here are moneyed people."
"Just so!" interrupted Sheard, taking up the challenge with true Gleaner ardour. "Moneyed people! That's the whole distinction in twowords!"
"Well, then—what about it?"
"This—that if every guest now in the hotel would write a cheque for anamount representing 1 per cent. of his weekly income, every man, woman,and child under the arch yonder would be provided with board and lodgingfor the next six months!"
"Why do it?" demanded Rohscheimer, not unreasonably. "Why feed 'em up onidleness?"
"Their idleness may be compulsory," replied Sheard. "Few would employ astarving man while a well-nourished one was available."
"Cut the Socialist twaddle!" directed the other coarsely. "It gets on mynerves! You and your cheques! Who'd you make 'em payable to? Editor ofthe Gleaner ."
"I would suggest," said Sir Richard Haredale, smiling, "to SeveracBablon."
"To who?" inquired Rohscheimer, with greater interest than grammar.
"Severac Bablon," said Sheard, informatively, "the man who gave ahundred dollars to each of the hands discharged from the Runek Mill,somewhere in Ontario. That's whom you mean, isn't it, Haredale?"
"Yes," assented the latter. "I was reading about it to-day."
"We had it in this morning," continued Sheard. "Two thousand men."
"Eh?" grunted Rohscheimer hoarsely.
"Two thousand men," repeated Sheard. "Each of them received notes to thevalue of a hundred dollars on the morning after the mill closed down,and a card, 'With the compliments of Severac Bablon.'"
"Forty thousand pounds!" shouted the millionaire. "I don't believe it!"
"It's confirmed by Reuter to-night."
"Then the man's a madman!" pronounced Rohscheimer conclusively.
"Pity he doesn't have a cut at London!" came Denby's voice.
"Is it?" growled the previous speaker. "Don't you believe it! A maniaclike that would mean ruination for business if he was allowed to getaway with it!"
"Ah, well!" yawned Sheard, standing up and glancing at his watch, "youmay be right. Anyway, I've got a report to put in. I'm off!"
"Me, too!" said the financier thickly. "Come on, Haredale. We're overdueat Park Lane! It's time we were on view in Park Lane, Adeler!"
The tide of our narrative setting in that direction, it will be well ifwe, too, look in at the Rohscheimer establishment. We shall findourselves in brilliant company.
Julius's harshest critics were forced to concede that the house in ParkLane was a focus of all smart society. Yet smart society felt oddly illat ease in the salon of Mrs. Julius Rohscheimer. Nobody knew whether theman to whom he might be talking at the moment were endeavouring toarrange a mortgage with Rohscheimer; whether the man's wife had fallenin arrears with her interest—to the imminent peril of the familynecklace; or whether the man had simply dropped in because others of hisset did so, and because, being invited, he chanced to have nothingbetter to do.
These things did not add to the gaiety of the entertainments, but oftheir brilliancy there could be no possible doubt.
Jewish society was well represented, and neither at Streeter's norelsewhere could a finer display of diamonds be viewed than upon one ofMrs. Rohscheimer's nights. The lady had enjoyed some reputation as ahostess before the demise of her first husband had led her to seekconsolation in the arms (and in the cheque-book) of the financier. Sothe house in Park Lane was visited by the smartest people—to the mutualsatisfaction of host and hostess.
"Where's the Dook?" inquired the former, peering over a gildedbalustrade at the throng below. They had entered, unseen, by a privatestair.
"I understand," replied Haredale, "that the Duke is unfortunatelyindisposed."
"Never turns up!" growled Rohscheimer.
"Never likely to!" was Haredale's mental comment; but, his situationbeing a delicate one, he diplomatically replied, "We have certainly beenunfortunate in that respect."
Haredale—one of the best-known men in town—worked as few men work tobring the right people to the house in Park Lane (and to save hiscommission). This arrangement led Mr. Rohscheimer to rejoice exceedinglyover his growing social circle, and made Haredale so ashamed of himselfthat, so he declared to an intimate friend, he had not looked in amirror for nine months, but relied implicitly upon the good taste of hisman.
"Come up and give me your opinion o