WORTH PAYING FOR
When Anthony says that he will find out things he seldom fails. Perhaps
nobody but a green-turbaned Hadji could so speedily have screwed
information out of secretive Arabs, paid to be silent. And he had to
fit deductions into spaces of the puzzle left empty by fibs and glib
self-excusings. What he did learn was this: a dragoman had come, in a
small boat, from a steam dahabeah to the _Enchantress Isis_ while we
were away at Kasr Ibrim. He presented credentials written out for him
in Cairo by Miss Rachel Guest, and dated a few weeks ago. Inquiring for
her, he seemed sorry to hear that she had gone on the excursion. The
dragoman refused to disturb Antoun Effendi, on hearing that the Hadji
was writing in his cabin. His errand was not of enough importance to
trouble so illustrious a man. All he wanted was permission to type one
or two letters for his employers on the neighbouring dahabeah, which
possessed no machine. In the absence of Mr. Kruger, who had gone on
shore for exercise, the dragoman was given this privilege. Possibly he
had taken some of the boat's letter-paper. Who could be certain of
these trifles? Possibly, also, he had walked about with one of the
cabin stewards, to see the luxurious appointments of the _Enchantress
Isis_. As for paying money for these small favours, who could tell? And
nobody knew if the steam dahabeah had hurried on before us, to anchor
out of sight round the oblique façade of Abu Simbel. In any case, when
we went to look for the suspicious craft seen near Kasr Ibrim, she was
not among the two or three small private dahabeahs of artists and
others, moored within a mile of the Great Temple. Notwithstanding her
absence, however, Anthony and I (suddenly confidential friends again)
thought it likely that the shadows in the Sanctuary had not been its
only tenants when we entered there. The invaluable Bedr knew enough of
the Nile Temples to know that the sun's first light strikes only the
altar and the statues over it, in Abu Simbel's inner shrine: that the
four corners of the small cavern-room remain pitch black, unless the
place is artificially illuminated: and that this is never done at
sunrise. The dragoman and one or both of his employers would have had
no difficulty in getting into the temple before the first streak of
dawn, if they had warned its guardian the night before. So far, our
deductions were simple, after learning how the trick of the typewritten
note had been managed: but it was not so easy to guess the object of
the plot. Was Monny Gilder to have been murdered in the dark Sanctuary,
or was she to have been kidnapped? Either seemed an impossible
undertaking, unless the plotters were willing to face certain detection
and arrest.
As it was, we had no more tangible proof against the man than we had
before, at the House of the Crocodile, in the desert near Medinet, at
Asiut, and at Luxor. With a sly cleverness which did Bedr, or those
employing him, much credit, they had screened themselves behind others.
Even if we had the names of the "tourists" Bedr had served as dragoman,
and if we could lay our hands on their shoulders, we had not enough
evidence of what they had done to obtain a warrant of arrest: and this
of course they knew. Our best chance, Anthony thought, lay in springing
a surprise on them, as they had vainly (so far) tried to do with us;
and when we got them somehow at our mercy, force out the truth.
It was almost certain that a steam dahabeah could not unseen have
passed the _Enchantress Isis_ at Abu Simbel in broad daylight, going
back toward Assuan. Therefore, since it was not moored near the temple,
if it had been in the neighbourhood at all it must have dashed on ahead
of us in the direction of Wady Haifa. With pleasure would we have given
immediate chase, had not the _Enchantress_ been pledged to remain at
Abu Simbel till afternoon. Even as it was, I expected to catch up with
a boat so much smaller than our own; but Anthony damped my hopes,
explaining the difficulties of navigation between Abu Simbel and Wady
Haifa. There were, he said, great shifting sandbanks in the water which
looked so transparently green, so treacherously clear. Without the most
prudent piloting the river was actually dangerous, as new sandbanks had
a habit of forming the minute you shut your eyes or turned your back.
The _Enchantress_ would have to pick her way slowly through the silver
sands of the Nile, which mingled with the spilt gold-dust of the desert
shore. All the same, these impudent rascals would find it hard to hide
from us at Wady Haifa, especially if we stopped the boat and wired from
the next telegraph station to have them watched on the arrival of their
dahabeah.
"Perhaps, as they're so clever they'll be clever enough not to arrive
at all," was my suggestion. And Anthony could only shrug his shoulders.
"Wait and see" had to be our policy.
Happily the Set wandered in and out of the two temples, big and little,
all the morning, ignorant of our worries which, even to us, seemed
small under the benign gaze of the great Colossi. The three stone
Rameses who had faces, wore expressions no one could ever forget; and
there was a sense of loss in turning away from them.
A crocodile swam past the _Enchantress_ as she steamed up river; a
long, dark, prehistoric shape. He seemed an anachronism, but so did
Bedr, with his plottings; yet both were real, real as this Nile-dream
of dark rocks, of conical black mountains shaped like ruined pyramids,
and yellow sandhills whose dazzling reflections turned the blue-green
river to gold.
The next day at noon, we came to Wady Halfa; and the _Enchantress Isis_
who had brought us eight hundred miles from Cairo, was now to be
deserted by those with Khartum in view. All save three of the party
were going on through this gate of the Sudan, where the river way ended
and the desert-way began. Neill Sheridan was turning back immediately,
in a government steamer; and a bride and groom who cared not where they
were, if with each other, would wait on board the _Enchantress_ until
the band of passengers should return from Khartum.
These things had to be thought of. But I meant to let Kruger do most of
the thinking, when we landed at the neat, colourful town of Halfa,
which lies (as Assuan lies) all pink and blue and green along the river
bank, sentinelled with trees. From a distance Anthony and I caught
sight of the steam dahabeah seen near Kasr Ibrim, and we could hardly
wait to get on shore. The camp was but a mile and a half away, and I
had wired in Lark's name, to an officer whom he was sure to know,
asking as a great favour to have the passengers on board a boat of that
description watched; and requesting him if possible to meet the
_Enchantress_ on her arrival. "There he is!" said Fenton, standing at
the rail. "I mustn't seem to recognise him, of course. Can't give
myself away! But you--" "Good Lord, there's Bedr!" I broke in, hardly
believing my eyes. And there Bedr was, looking as if butter would by no
means melt in his mouth: Bedr, smiling from the pier, evidently there
for the special purpose of meeting us. His ugly squat figure, and the
tall, khaki-clad form of the officer, were conspicuous among squatting
blacks, male and female, in gay turbans, veils, and mantles, muffled
babies in arms, and children dressed in exceedingly brief fringes.
"I'll attend to him, while you powwow with Ireton," said Anthony, ready
for the unexpected situation. And while the indispensable if humble
Kruger showed the passengers how to get to the desert train,
superintended the landing of the luggage, and made himself perspiringly
useful, I thanked Major Ireton in Sir Marcus Lark's and my own name.
His news was astonishing. There were no passengers on board the steam
dahabeah _Mamoudieh_. She had arrived with none save her crew, and the
dragoman now talking with that good-looking Hadji there. As I murmured
"Yes," and "No," and "Indeed--Really!" to the officer, who had kindly
worked on our behalf, I was saying to myself, "My _dear_ Duffer, what
an ass you were not to think of that!" For of course the men had
remained at Abu Simbel, hiding till we should be out of the way, and
sending their boat on to put us off the track. A Cook steamer and a
Hamburgh-American boat were due to stop at the temple. We had passed
both on the river. By this time the two men were doubtless on their way
north, making for Cairo and safety.
Still, here was Bedr, looking like a fat fly who had deliberately come
to pay a call on the lean and hungry spider. I was impatient for the
moment when the need for genuine gratitude and "faked" explanations was
over, and Major Ireton had gone about other business.
Then I could follow the Hadji and the Armenian, who had mounted the
steps leading up from river-level to the town. Not far off I could see
the blue-windowed, white-painted desert train, round which, on the
station platform, buzzed and scolded the Set, demanding their
hand-luggage and their compartments. But Anthony and his victim (or was it
by chance vice versa?) were keeping out of eyeshot and earshot of the
late passengers of the _Enchantress_. Brigit and Monny, who must have
seen Bedr, were too tactful to hover near: also they knew "Antoun
Effendi" too well to think it necessary.
Bedr gave me no time to speak. He rushed forward to greet me with
effusion, as if I were a long-lost and well-loved patron. "I bin so
glad see you again after these days, milord. Sure!" he began. "Antoun
Effendi, he tell you I come here on purpose to do you good. I find out
those genlemens very wicked men, so I leave them quick. They want to
pay me for go back with them, but no money big enough now I know they
try to do harm to my nice young lady. She wasn't so good to me as the
other nice young lady, but that makes no matter. I not stand for any
hurt to her, sure I will not, milord."
"The meaning of this rigmarole," Anthony cut him short, speaking in
German (which he knew I understood and trusted Bedr didn't) "is, that
the fellow wants us to buy information from him. He pretends to have
broken with his employers on our account (though his explanation of
getting here to Halfa on their dahabeah is ridiculous) and that, having
come for our benefit against their wishes, he's without pay, penniless,
and stranded."
"A lie of course," I took for granted, also in German.
"The part about being broke--certainly. But it's certain, too, that he
must know some things we'd like to know."
"Could we trust a word he says?"
"No, as far as his moral sense is concerned. But my idea is to bargain
with him. We to pay according to value received. That might be bait for
a fish worth hooking."
"Yes, that's our line. We haven't much time to hear and digest his
story, though. The train will start in less than an hour."
"We shan't waste a minute. Without waiting for you, I began to bargain
on the line I've just suggested."
"How far did you get?"
"A good way, for I was able to scare him a bit. You see, he earns his
living in Cairo, and I've persuaded him that I have some influence
there, in quarters that can make or break him. He hasn't much more time
to spare than we have, if it's true that he wants to start back on the
government boat. You know they take natives, third class. My
suggestion, subject to your approval, is this: in any case we give a
thousand piasters, ten pounds. But if what he can tell us is of real
use or even interest, we rise to the extent of ten times that sum."
"It's a good deal for a beastly baboon like him."
"Remember, he has been doing services lately for which he probably got
high pay."
"All right, whatever you say, goes," I agreed.
"I trust to your honours, my genlemens," remarked the beastly baboon in
question, in a manner so apropos that I guessed him not entirely
ignorant of German, after all.
"Thanks for the compliment," I responded gratefully.
"We shall have to talk here. There's no time to find a more convenient
place," said Fenton, returning to Arabic as a medium of communication.
"Fire away, Bedr. But don't start your story in the middle. Begin where
you took service with these Irish-American gentlemen."
"Was the genlemens Irish? I never know that," purred the guileless
Bedr; but Fenton brought him to his bearings. All questions were to be
from us to him. So Bedr "fired away": and there, within a stone's throw
of the train getting up steam for Khartum, we listened to a strange
tale--as strange, and as great an anachronism as that dark crocodile-shape
we had seen--except in the Nile country, where live crocodiles
and many other dark things can easily happen any day.
Blount's name, according to Bedr, was not Blount, but something else,
well-known in America. It was a name already associated with that of
O'Brien, which inclined us to hope for some grains of truth in the
chaff of lies we expected. Bedr said that in New York, years ago, he
had known the man "Blount." He was related to the American family who
took Bedr from Cairo. Later, when the Armenians had returned to Egypt,
"Blount" had come with him, for a "rest cure." He had engaged Bedr as
dragoman, and on leaving had asked for Bedr's card. That was years ago,
and nothing had been heard from him since: but before the _Laconia_ was
due to arrive, Bedr had received a telegram from Blount instructing him
to meet the ship, and wire to Paris whether Miss Gilder of New York and
a "Mrs. Jones" were on board, with a party. "Blount" knew that Bedr had
seen Miss Gilder as a child, and might now be able to recognize her. On
the day in New York when a block in traffic had given a glimpse of the
little girl in a motor-car with her father, Bedr and "Blount" had been
together.
As soon as possible after Bedr's reply, "Blount" and another man, who
called himself Hanna, had arrived in Cairo. Bedr knew that they had a
fixed theory in regard to the young lady who passed as Miss Gilder. Who
they supposed her to be, he could not tell; but once he had "happened"
to be near, when they were not aware of his presence, and had heard one
of them mention a woman's name, which sounded like "Esny." They
accepted his word that he had been able to identify the so-called Miss
Guest as Rosamond Gilder, and in her they appeared to take no further
interest. Their attention was concentrated on Mrs. Jones and on the
lady who, according to their belief, was but posing as Miss Gilder.
Apparently they imagined her to be quite another person, one whom they
had taken a great deal of trouble to reach. Also they had an idea that
Mrs. Jones possessed something of which they were anxious to get hold.
It was a thing which ought to be theirs, and they had been after it for
years; but she had contrived to hide herself and it, until lately.
Why he had been told to guide the two younger ladies to the House of
the Crocodile, Bedr pretended not to know. Perhaps--only perhaps
--Blount and his companion, Hanna, wished to kidnap the one we called
Miss Gilder, and they called "Esney." But good, kind Bedr had never
dreamed that they meant any real harm. There had been a plan of some
sort for that night. Blount and Hanna were to arrive at the House of
the Crocodile for a close look at the young ladies, when the latter had
gone to sleep under the influence of the hasheesh they intended to
smoke. But the two gentlemen had not kept the appointment. At first,
Bedr had not understood why, and had not known what to do. Afterward,
of course, when he had heard of the row in the street, which had caused
the closing of the house for many tedious hours, he had guessed. And
later when he learned that poor Mr. Blount lay wounded in a hospital,
it had all become clear. Mr. Hanna, who seemed to work under Mr.
Blount's orders, had not been able to act alone.
Then, as to all the travelling up the Nile, Bedr had never been told
why "his genlemen" made the journey. Every one who came to Egypt went
up the Nile. Only, he had been instructed to find out, always, where we
were, and told to arrange their arrival at about the same time. At
Medinet they had not camped, or gone to an hotel, but had stayed in the
house of a friend of Bedr's. It was convenient, though not as
comfortable as he could wish for his clients. The advantage was, that
from the roof it was possible to see into our camp. Bedr had made
friends with one of the camel-boys who went to market to buy the black
lamb: and while we were away, had found out which was the tent where
Mrs. Jones and Miss Gilder (or "Esney") slept. What happened in the
night he could not say. He had stayed at his friend's house, while the
two gentlemen went out. He had done nothing at all for them in Medinet,
except to discover the ladies' tent, and also to buy a bottle of olive
oil. When the gentlemen came home in the middle of the night, they were
angry with him because they said he had shown them the wrong tent. But
that was unjust. It was the only time they had been unkind. Except for
that, they had been good, and had given him plenty of money for a
while. At Asiut and Luxor they had been pleased with him. All they
wanted at Rechid Bey's house, was to get the thing Mrs. Jones had,
which ought to be theirs. They had not told him this, but he heard them
talk sometimes. He knew more languages than they thought. If they
wanted to steal the young lady, they had never said so. When the plan
failed, they did not blame Bedr. It was not his fault. They saw that.
The _Mamoudieh_ had been engaged as long ago as just after Medinet,
when the thing the gentlemen wanted to do there could not be done. But
Bedr thought that, if the Luxor plan had been a success, the steam
dahabeah would have gone north from there instead of south. It was
because of that failure the boat had followed us up the Nile. At Abu
Simbel Bedr had quarrelled with the gentlemen, because he began to
suspect they meant harm to the ladies, or to one of them. He had been
clever, and got on board the _Enchantress_ as they told him to do. He
had obtained writing-paper, and typed a copy of a letter. In America,
he had learned to do typing. Often he could make better money in an
engagement now, because he knew how to use a machine. And when the
steward showed him over the boat, he left the letter in the stateroom
which the Arab boy said was Miss Gilder's. In spite of all these good
services, which no other dragoman in Egypt could have given, those
gentlemen would not listen to a word of advice. Bedr heard them speak
with the guardian of the temple, about going in before any one else
came to see the sunrise: and afterward they talked of hiding in the
Sanctuary. First, they had asked him if it were always dark there, as
the guide-books said. After hearing this he had put two and two
together: and when he remembered what was in the note he typed for Miss
Gilder, Bedr feared for her and Mrs. Jones. He begged the gentlemen not
to do anything rash, and they were so angry at his interference that
they sent him off with no more pay--nothing at all since Luxor.
Oh, no, they were not afraid of him, and what he could tell, because
they said nobody would believe a dragoman's word, against rich white
gentlemen. People would say he lied, for spite. But Bedr thought maybe
we should believe, because we knew already that something strange had
been going on. The gentlemen paid off the men on the _Mamoudieh_ and
ordered her to go on to Wady Halfa. They did not know that Bedr had
slipped on board, and hidden there, on purpose to find us, and tell his
story.
A part of this tale carried truth on its face. But Anthony and I agreed
that there was a queer discrepancy at the end. If Bedr spoke the truth,
Blount and his comrade must have had a reason for wishing to get rid of
the fellow, or for not caring what became of him, a reason unconnected
with a quarrel. And it was certain that, if there had been a quarrel,
it was not because of virtuous plain-speaking from Bedr. It seemed
impossible that he could have got on board their hired boat to follow
us, without his employers' knowledge. Was his appearance at Wady Halfa,
and his apparent betrayal of his clients, all a part of their plan?
We could not decide this question in our minds, or by cross-questioning
Bedr, while the train waited, for only time could prove. But what we
had heard was interesting enough to be worth the promised thousand
piasters, and the fare north on the government boat just starting. To
make sure that Bedr did start, we called Kruger, put the whole sum into
his hands, asking him to help the dragoman by buying his ticket and
getting the notes changed into gold and silver. This little manoeuvre
left the Armenian so calm, however, that we fancied his wish must
really be to depart on the government boat. Such inquiries as we had
time to make concerning the _Mamoudieh_ seemed to show that she must
remain at Halfa for slight repairs to her engine, and instructions from
her owner, who was staying at Assuan. It was just at the last minute of
grace, with the station-master adjuring, and the Set reproaching us,
that Anthony and I jumped on board the train.
* * * * *
Strange that two rows of blue glass windows should have power to turn
the whole world topsy-turvy, or to create a new one, of an entirely
original colour-scheme! But so it was. Those people seated in their
grand, travelling "bed-sitting rooms," had only a superficial
resemblance to the passengers of the _Enchantress Isis_. Monny, for
instance, had pale green hair, with immense purple eyes; and showed
every sign of rapid transformation into a mermaid. Cleopatra's auburn
waves had turned to a vivid magenta: Biddy's black tresses had a blue,
grapey bloom on them: and Anthony's dark eyes were a sinister green,
with red lights. Ghostly, mother o' pearl faces with opal shadows,
peered through the violet glass at an unreal landscape, which would
instantly cease to exist if the windows were opened. But the windows
could not be opened, or a rain of sand would pour in; so we gazed out
on an impossible fairy land consisting of golden sea, with mountainous
shores carved from amethyst, through which shone the glow of pulsing
fires. Always we carried with us an immense shadow, like a trailing
purple banner, unfurling as we moved. Men and women and animals seen at
the numbered white stations in the sand, were but fantastic figures in
a camera obscura. The shadow of the train was torn with fiery streaks:
and when the sun had burned to death on a red funeral-pyre, the moon
stole out to mourn for him. Her coming was sudden. She seemed abruptly
to draw aside a hyacinth curtain, and hold up a lamp over the desert,
when the sun's fire had died. And the lamp gave forth an unearthly
light, which poured over the endless sands a sheet of primrose-yellow
flame. The warm sun-shadow was chilled from purple to gray, and flowed
over the magic primrose fields like a river of molten silver.
At Number Six Station, where we stopped for water after dinner, a hyena
came galumping over the sand like a humpbacked dog, to stare at us, as
we strolled in couples away from the train into the desert. Next
morning, every one was up early to see the gray hornets' nest huts
which were Sudanese villages, and the villagers themselves, who urged
us to buy straw rugs, baskets, fans, oranges, dried beans, live birds,
and milk in wooden bowls, whenever the train stopped: respectable old
ladies, dressed in short fringes, and small, full-stomached boys
dressed in nothing at all.
I had not told Biddy about our bargain with Sir Marcus: Anthony's and
my services in exchange for the Mountain of the Golden Pyramid. Why
should she be forced to share our suspense? For she would share it, if
she knew, even though she didn't yet yield to me, in the matter of a
united future. I wanted to wait before telling her the story, until
Fenton and I had made sure if there were anything golden about the
mountain, except its name. If we were doomed to disappointment I could
then give the tale a humorous turn, easier to do in retrospect than
anticipation. Now, when in blinding light of noon we pointed out, in an
impersonal manner, to all who cared to see, the pyramid-field of Meröe,
it seemed strange to think that no heart but Anthony's and mine beat
the faster. The sun was so hot that most people, blinking dazedly,
retired behind their screens of blue glass almost as soon as the train
stopped, close to Garstang's camp. I had informed the Set, casually,
that wonderful things were being found here in the rocky desert: that
the few neat white tents sheltered men who were going to make of Meröe
a world's wonder: that not only had the army of stunted black pyramids
visible from the train, yielded up treasures, but three tiers of
palaces were being unearthed, or rather, unsanded. I said nothing,
however, of the more distant dark shapes, like the pyramids yet unlike
them. Among those low, conical mountains which perhaps gave inspiration
to the pyramid builders, was our mountain. And I was not sorry when the
burning sun smote curiosity from eyes and brains, and sent nearly all
my flock back to their places, while the train had still some minutes
at the station.
Cleopatra had not come out. She had frankly lost interest in scenic
history, and did not want to be intelligent: but as Anthony and I
stepped off the train, we saw that Brigit and Monny stood arm in arm in
the doorway.
"Would you like to jump down?" I asked, reluctantly. For the first time
I did not wish Biddy O'Brien to give me her society. I hoped she would
say "No, thank you," for I wanted Fenton to point out our mountain
(which he had told me could be seen): and it would be inconvenient to
answer questions.
"Yes, we should like it," they both replied together: so Anthony and I
had to look delighted. It really was a pleasure to help them down: but
even that we could have waited for till our arrival at Khartum. And the
first remark that Biddy made was too intelligent. "What are those weird
things off there in the distance, that look exactly like ruined
pyramids--sort of mudpie pyramids?"
"Mountains," said Fenton.
"What, didn't anybody _make_ them?"
"The legend is, that Djinns, or evil spirits, created them to use as
tombs for themselves."
"But they're almost precisely like the made pyramids, only a little
more tumbledown. Have they names?"
"Some have, I believe," Anthony returned, with his well-put-on air of
indifference. "That blackest and most ruined looking one of all, for
instance, between two which are taller--there, away to the left, I
mean--that is called the 'Mountain of the Golden Pyramid.'"
Our eyes met over the girls' veiled hats. After all, he had found an
opportunity of telling me what I wanted to know.
"What a fascinating name!" said Monny. "It sounds as if there were some
special story connected with it. Is there?"
"Ye--es," Anthony was obliged to admit. "There is a legend that it was
used as a tomb by the first Queen Candace, who lived about two hundred
years B.C. after Ptolemy Philadelphus. She used to reign over what they
called the "Island of Meröe." It was this once fertile kingdom, between
the Atbara River over there, and the Blue Nile. They say she wished to
be buried with all her jewels and treasure, and was afraid of her tomb
being robbed, so she wouldn't trust to a man-made pyramid. She ordered
a secret place to be hollowed out in the heart of a mountain; and
that's the one they pretend it is."
"What a lovely legend! But I suppose there's nothing in it, really, or
clever people like those who're digging here now would have found the
tomb and the treasure long ago," said Monny.
"I don't know," I left Anthony to answer; wondering what he would say.
"Only a very few have ever put enough faith in the story to search, and
they have never been able to discover traces of an entrance into that
mountain or any other. Of course, in trying to enter the great pyramid
of Ghizeh, they looked a long time before they succeeded. But that was
different. There was never any doubt of there being something worth
seeing, inside, whereas this black lump may be solid rock, and nothing
more. It's many years since anybody has tried to get at the secret."
"I beg your pardon," politely said (in French) an elderly man, in a
pith helmet, blue spectacles, and khaki clothes, who stood near. "I
couldn't help hearing your conversation; and it may interest you and
these ladies to learn that at this very moment work is going on at the
so-called Mountain of the Golden Pyramid."
I envied Anthony the brown stain on his face, for I felt the blood
rushing to mine.
"Indeed!" I ejaculated in English. "We are very much interested. Work
--actually going on!"
"Yes, it was begun about four or five weeks ago, by an agent of Sir
Marcus Lark, the well-known financier, who got the concession which
some other party was said to be trying for. I am here," went on the
helmeted man, gazing benevolently through his blue spectacles at the
two pretty women, "I am here with my son, who is one of Garstang's men.
We have nothing to do with the Mountain of the Golden Pyramid. Luckily
for Sir Marcus, it was adjudged to be off our 'pitch.' Still, we are
interested. They are keeping their work very secret, but--these things
are in the air. The talk here is that they're on the point of making,
if they haven't made already, some very startling discovery."
"All aboard, _if_ you please!" shouted the Greek guard.