When the white motor-boat had disappeared in the glitter of the
Ab-i-Diz, Senhor Magin, not unlike other fallible human beings when
released from the necessity of keeping up a pitch, appeared to lose
something of his gracious humor. So, it transpired, did his decorative
boatmen, who had not expected to row twenty-five miles upstream at a
time when most people in that climate seek the relief of their
_serdabs_--which are underground chambers cooled by running water, it
may be, and by a tall _badgir_, or air chimney. The running water, to be
sure, was here, and had already begun to carry the barge down the Karun.
If the high banks of that tawny stream constituted a species of air
chimney, however, such air as moved therein was not calculated for
relief. But when Brazilians command, even a Lur may obey. These Lurs, at
all events, propelled their galley back to the basin of Bund-i-Kir, and
on into the Ab-i-Shuteit--which is the westerly of those two halves of
the Karun. Before nightfall the barge had reached the point where
navigation ends. There Magin sent his majordomo ashore to procure
mounts. And at sunset the two of them, followed by a horse boy, rode
northward six or seven miles, till the city of Shuster rose dark above
them in the summer evening, on its rock that cleaves the Karun in two.
The Bazaar by which they entered the town was deserted at that hour,
save by dogs that set up a terrific barking at the sight of strangers.
Here the _charvadar_ lighted a vast white linen lantern, which he
proceeded to carry in front of the two riders. He seemed to know where
he was going, for he led the way without a pause through long blank
silent streets of indescribable filth and smells. The gloom of them was
deepened by jutting balconies, and by innumerable _badgirs_ that cut out
a strange black fretwork against amazing stars. At last the three
stopped in front of a gate in the vicinity of the citadel. This was not
one of the gateways that separate the different quarters of Shuster,
but a door in a wall, recessed in a tall arch and ornamented with an
extraordinary variety of iron clamps, knobs, locks, and knockers.
Of one of the latter the _charvadar_ made repeated use until someone
shouted from inside. The horse-boy shouted back, and presently his
lantern caught a glitter of two eyes in a slit. The eyes belonged to a
cautious doorkeeper, who after satisfying himself that the visitors were
not enemies admitted the Brazilian and the Lur into a vaulted brick
vestibule. Then, having looked to his wards and bolts, he lighted Magin
through a corridor which turned into a low tunnel-like passage. This led
into a sort of cloister, where a covered ambulatory surrounded a dark
pool of stars. Thence another passage brought them out into a great open
court. Here an invisible jet of water made an illusion of coolness in
another, larger, pool, overlooked by a portico of tall slim pillars.
Between them Magin caught the glow of a cigar.
"Good evening, Ganz," his bass voice called from the court.
"Heaven! Is that you?" replied the smoker of the cigar. "What are you
doing here, in God's name? I imagined you at Mohamera, by this time, or
even in the Gulf." This remark, it may not be irrelevant to say, was in
German--as spoken in the trim town of Zurich.
"And so I should have been," replied the polyglot Magin in the same
language, mounting the steps of the portico and shaking his friend's
hand, "but for--all sorts of things. If we ran aground once, we ran
aground three thousand times. I begin to wonder if we shall get through
the reefs at Ahwaz--with all the rubbish I have on board."
"Ah, bah! You can manage, going down. But why do you waste your time in
Shuster, with all that is going on in Europe?"
"H'm!" grunted Magin. "What is going on in Europe? A great family is
wearing well cut mourning, and a small family is beginning to turn
green! How does that affect two quiet nomads in Elam--especially when
one of them is a Swiss and one a Brazilian?" He laughed, and lighted a
cigar the other offered him. "My dear Ganz, it is an enigma to me how a
man who can listen to such a fountain, and admire such stars, can
perpetually sigh after the absurdities of Europe! Which reminds me that
I met an Englishman this morning."
"Well, what of that? Are Englishmen so rare?"
"Alas, no--though I notice, my good Ganz, that you do your best to thin
them out! This specimen was too typical for me to be able to describe
him. Younger than usual, possibly; yellow hair, blue eyes, constrained
manner, everything to sample. He called himself Mark, or Matthew. Rather
their apostolic air, too--except that he was in the Oil Company's
motor-boat. But he gave me to understand that he was not in the Oil
Company."
"Quite so."
"I saw for myself that he knows nothing about archæology. Who is he?
Lynch? Bank? Telegraph?"
"He's not Lynch, and he's not Bank, and he's not Telegraph. Neither is
he consul, or even that famous railroad. He's--English!" And Ganz let
out a chuckle at the success of his own characterization.
"Ah! So?" exclaimed Magin elaborately. "I hear, by the way, that that
famous railroad is not marching so fast. The Lurs don't like it. But
sometimes even Englishmen," he added, "have reasons for doing what they
do. This one, at any rate, seemed more inclined to ask questions than to
answer them. I confess I don't know whether it was because he had
nothing to say or whether he preferred not to say it. Is he perhaps a
son of Papa, making the grand tour?"
"More or less. Papa gave him no great letter of credit, though. He came
out to visit some of the Oil people. And he's been here long enough to
learn quite a lot of Persian."
"So he starts this morning, I take it, from Sheleilieh. But why the
devil does he go to Dizful, by himself?"
"And why the devil shouldn't he? He's out here, and he wants to see the
sights--such as they are. So he's going to take a look at the ruins of
Susa, and at your wonderful unspoiled Dizful. Shir Ali Khan will be
delighted to get a few _tomans_ for his empty house by the river. Then
the 21st, you know, is the coronation. So I gave him a letter to the
Father of Swords, who--"
"Thunder and lightning!" Magin's heavy voice resounded in the portico
very like a bellow. "You, Ganz, sent this man to the Father of Swords?
He might be one of those lieutenants from India who go smelling around
in their holidays, so pink and innocent!"
"What is that to me?" demanded the Swiss, raising his own voice. "Or to
you either? After all, Senhor Magin, are you the Emperor of Elam?"
The Brazilian laughed.
"Not yet! And naturally it's nothing to you, when you cash him checks
and sell him tinned cows and quinine. But for a man who perpetually
sighs after Europe, Herr Ganz, and for a Swiss of the north, you strike
me as betraying a singular lack of sensibility to certain larger
interests of your race. However--What concerns me is that you should
have confided to this young man, with such a roll of sentimental eyes as
I can imagine, that Dizful is still 'unspoiled'! If Dizful is unspoiled,
he might spoil it. I've found some very nice things up there, you know.
I was even fool enough to show him one or two."
"Bah! He likes to play tennis and shoot! You know these English boys."
Magin considered those English boys in silence for a moment.
"Yes, I know them. This one told me he liked a bit of a lark! I know
myself what a lark it is to navigate the Ab-i-Diz, at the end of July!
But what is most curious about these English boys is that when they go
out for a bit of a lark they come home with Egypt or India in their
pocket. Have you noticed that, Ganz? That's their idea of a bit of a
lark. And with it all they are still children. What can one do with
such people? A bit of a lark! Well, you will perhaps make me a little
annoyance, Mr. Adolf Ganz, by sending your English boy up to Dizful to
have a bit of a lark. However, he'll either give himself a sunstroke or
get himself bitten in two by a shark. He asked me about the channel, and
I had an inspiration. I told him he would have no trouble. So he'll go
full speed and we shall see what we shall see. Do you sell coffins, Mr.
Ganz, in addition to all your other valuable merchandise?"
"Naturally, Mr. Magin," replied the Swiss. "Do you need one? But you
haven't explained to me yet why you give me the pain of saying good-bye
to you a second time."
"Partly, Mr. Ganz, because I am tired of sleeping in an oven, and partly
because I--the Father of Swords has asked me to run up to Bala Bala
before I leave. But principally because I need a case or two more of
your excellent _vin de champagne_--manufactured out of Persian
petroleum, the water of the Karun, the nameless abominations of Shuster,
and the ever effervescing impudence of the Swiss Republic!"
"What can I do?" smiled the flattered author of this concoction. "I have
to use what I can get, in this Godforsaken place."
"And I suppose you will end by getting a million, eh?"
"No such luck! But I'm getting a piano. Did I tell you? A Blüthner. It's
already on the way up from Mohamera."
"A Blüthner! In Shuster! God in heaven! Why did you wait until I had
gone?"
"Well, aren't you still here?" The fact of Magin's being still there, so
unexpectedly, hung in his mind. "By the way, speaking of the Father of
Swords, did you give him an order?"
"I gave him an order. Didn't you pay it?"
"I thought twice about it. For unless you have struck oil, up in that
country of yours where nobody goes, or gold--"
"Mr. Adolf Ganz," remarked the Brazilian with some pointedness, "all I
ask of you is to respect my signature and to keep closed that
many-tongued mouth of yours. I sometimes fear that in you the banker is
inclined to exchange confidences with the chemist--or even with the son
of Papa who cashes a check. Eh?"
Ganz cleared his throat.
"In that case," he rejoined, "all you have to do is to ask him, when you
meet him again at Bala Bala. And the English bank will no doubt be happy
to accept the transfer of your account."
Magin began to chuckle.
"We assert our dignity? Never mind, Adolf. As a matter of fact I have a
high opinion of your discretion--so high that when I found the Imperial
Bank of Elam I shall put you in charge of it! And you did me a real
service by sending that motor-boat across my bow this morning. For in it
I discovered just the chauffeur I have been looking for. I am getting
tired of my galley, you know. You will see something when I come back."
"But," Ganz asked after a moment, "do you really expect to come back?"
"But what else should I do? End my days sneezing and sniffling by some
polite lake of Zurich like you, my poor Ganz, when you find in your hand
the magic key that might unlock for you any door in the world? That, for
example, is not my idea of a lark, as your son of Papa would say! Men
are astounding animals, I admit. But I never could live in Europe, where
you can't turn around without stepping on some one else's toes. I want
room! I want air! I want light! And for a collector, you know, America
is after all a little bare. While here--!"
"O God!" cried Adolf Ganz out of his dark Persian portico.