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Updated: June 21, 2025
"You live in the Rue du Milieu-des-Ursins, Paris?" "Yes. But, once more, what do you want?" "Nothing now, brother: hereafter, much!" And Faringhea, retiring, with slow steps, left Rodin alarmed at what had passed; for this man, who scarcely trembled at anything, had quailed before the dark look and grim visage of the Strangler.
But, swift as I had been, another had been swifter! I pulled up shortly, one foot set upon the wharf. The new-comer was the double of Nayland Smith! Seemingly exerting no effort whatever, he lifted the strangler in that remorseless grasp, so that the Chinaman's hands, after one quick convulsive upward movement, hung limply beside him like the paws of a rat in the grip of a terrier.
Who were these men the Panthays were leading towards him? He remembered two of his enemies yesterday, and the two leading riders brought them to mind again. Saya Chone had worn a head-dress of brilliant flaming scarlet, the Strangler a turban of bright yellow. Again the little procession filed into sight, out of the bamboos.
With the storm that is called "spirit" did I blow over thy surging sea; all clouds did I blow away from it; I strangled even the strangler called "sin." O my soul, I gave thee the right to say Nay like the storm, and to say Yea as the open heaven saith Yea: calm as the light remainest thou, and now walkest through denying storms.
"Well, who can be certain even of his associates or followers? According to the miscreant's own story, there are thugs all around, knowing each other but not known to us." "Can such things be?" asked the merchant, his eyes showing the fear and horror that had smitten him. "Many times have I travelled in company with just such a promiscuously gathered crowd as the strangler described."
His hand, as he fell, relaxed its hold on the noose; I freed my throat from the knot, and sprang from the copse into the broad sunlit plain. I saw no more of the armed men or the Strangler. Panting and breathless, I paused at last before the fence, fragrant with blossoms, that divided my home from the solitude. The windows of Lilian's room were darkened; all within the house seemed still.
I had acted recklessly, and had fallen into the hands of his Excellency, the Baron Xavier Oberg, the unscrupulous Governor-General fallen into a trap which, it seemed, had been very cleverly prepared for me. I was a prisoner in the terrible fortress whence no single person save the guards had ever been known to emerge the Bastille of "The Strangler of Finland!" I saw I was lost.
These survivors had recovered, thanks to the care they had received in Cardoville House, a country mansion which had sheltered them, and except the prince and the Strangler chief, the others were speedily able to go on to Paris. The old grenadier and the orphans until General Simon should be heard from dwelt in the former's house. His son had kept it, from his mother's love for the life-long home.
In a slightly changed form it was the garroting-machine of old Spain. The Strangler tested the rope, twisted the wheel, while his companion occupied himself by watching the effect of the wheel on the noose on the other side of the partition. Apparently satisfied that the machine was in good working order, the Madagascan straightened up and waved his companion out of the room.
You read in the newspapers, without a doubt, how the Baron Xavier Oberg, the persecutor of Finland, the enemy of education, the relentless foe of the defenseless, the man who ordered women to be knouted to death in Kajana, the heartless official whom the Finns called "The Strangler," was blown to pieces by a bomb thrown beneath his carriage as he drove to the railway station at Helsingfors on his way to have audience with the Emperor.
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