OVER THE GARDEN WALL
Two oil lamps flared in the little coffee-house. In one circle of
yellow light two bearded Sheiks were playing dominoes with
imperturbable gravity; the other lamp flickered over an empty table
beneath which the thin, flea-bitten legs of a ragged urchin were
showing in the oblivion of his tired sleep. In the shadow beyond sat
a young American with a keen, impatient face, and a one-eyed Arab
shrouded in a huge burnous.
"I make fine dragoman?" the Arab was saying proudly. "This is ver'
old coffee-house. Many things happen here, ver' strange----"
"Yes, but I'm sick of the doggone place," said Billy fiercely. "I
can't sit still and swallow coffee any longer. Can't we start now?"
"Too soon--too soon before the time. You say ten? Come, we go next
door. Nice place next door, perhaps--dancing, maybe."
There was noise enough next door, certainly, to promise dancing. The
strident notes of Oriental music came shrieking out the open
doorway, but as Billy stepped within and stared over the heads of
the squatting throng, he saw no sinewy dancers, but only two tiny
girls in bright colors huddled wearily against the wall. The music
which was absorbing every look came from the brazen throat of a huge
instrument in the corner.
"Lord--a phonograph!" thought the young man in disgust, resenting
this intrusion of the genius of his race into foreign fields.
The squatting men, their dark lips parted in pleased smiles, were
too intent upon the innovation to turn at his entrance, but the
little girls caught sight of him and ran forward, begging
clamorously, their bracelets clanking on their outstretched arms.
With a little silver he tried to soften the vigor of the one-eyed
man's dismissal. "This cheap place--no good dancers any more," the
Arab uttered in disgust. "New man here--no good. Maybe next door
better--eh?"
But next door was only a flight of steps and a lone little doll of a
sentinel, painted and hung like a bedizened idol. Only the dark eyes
in the tinted sockets were alive, and these turned curiously after
the strange young white man who had dropped a coin into her
outstretched hand and passed on so hurriedly.
"I don't want any more of these joints," Billy was saying vehemently
to his harassed guide. "It's dark as the Styx now--let's be on our
way."
The street they were on was narrow enough for any antiquarian, but
the one into which the Arab guide now turned was so narrow that the
jutting bays of the houses seemed pushing their faces impudently
against their neighbors. A voice in one room could have been heard
as clearly in the one over the way. It was a mean little street,
squalid and poor and pitiful, but it maintained its stripped
dignities of screened windows and isolation. It was better not to
wonder what nights were like in those women's rooms in summer heat.
The lane-like path stopped at a rickety sort of wharf, and at their
approach a black head bobbed quickly up from a waiting boat. It was
the little boy who had shadowed the Captain that day--reporting his
arrival at the Khedivial palace--and he climbed out now and sat on
the wharf, watching curiously while Billy and his guide bestowed
themselves in the long canoe, and pushed silently away.
It was an eerie backwater in which they were paddling, a sluggish
stream which moved between dark houses. Sometimes it scraped against
their sides and lapped their balconies; sometimes it was held in
check by walls and narrow terraces. For Billy the water between the
dark houses, the mirrored stars, the unexpected flare of some oil
lamp and its still reflection, the long windings and the stagnant
smells held their suggestions of Venice for his senses, and he
thought the business he was going about was very similar to the
business which had brought so many of the gentry of Venice to sudden
and undesired ends.
The flies were horribly thick here. They settled upon the faces and
arms of the paddlers, totally unapprehensive of rebuff. Billy's
flesh crawled. He finished the swarm with a ringing slap that
brought a low caution from his guide.
Now the canal was wider and shallower. The houses receded, and a
field or so appeared, and frequent walls hedged the way. Then
suddenly the houses came down again to the water, and the ruins of
old mosques and palaces lined the banks for a time; to be replaced
by walls again. The windings were interminable, and just when he was
thinking that his silent guide was as confused as he was, the man
made a sudden gesture to the right bank where a tiny strip of land
showed above the water clinging to a high brick wall, and with
careful, soundless strokes they brought the canoe up to that land.
Billy looked at his watch. It was nearly ten. Hurriedly he climbed
out, taking out the stout, notched pole and the knotted rope with
the iron hook at the end which he had prepared. The message which
had been so unintelligible to him was very simple. "Escape by canal
to-night--come to garden at ten," had been the words, and Billy, on
hearing the description of the canal from the one-eyed man, had felt
he understood.
"You're sure this is the place?" he demanded, and on the man's much
injured protestation, "Because if it isn't I'll wring your neck
instead of Kerissen's," he cheerfully promised and set his pole
against the wall, showing the man how to steady it. It was not the
best climbing arrangement in the world, but time had been extremely
limited, and the one-eyed man not inclined to pursue any
investigations which would advertise their expedition.
Wrapping the rope about his shoulders, he started to pull himself up
that notched pole the Arab was holding against the wall, feeling
desperately for any hold for toes and fingers in the rough chunks
between the old bricks, and breathing hard he reached the top and
threw one leg over. He felt something grind through the serge of his
trousers and sting into the flesh.
"Ground glass--the Old Boy!" said Billy through his teeth. He
hoisted himself cautiously, and with his handkerchief swept the top
of the wall as clean as he could. He heard the little pieces fall
with a perilously loud tinkling sound, and flattened himself upon
the wall, and strained his eyes through the darkness of the garden,
but no alarm was raised. The shadows seemed empty.
He hoped to the Lord that no disturbance would break out in the
garden, for the man below would be off in the canoe like a flash. He
had no illusions about the one-eyed man's loyalty, but the fellow
was already in the secret; he was needy and resourceful and as
trustworthy as any dragoman that he could have gone to. And a
dragoman would have had a reputation and a patronage he'd fear to
lose. This melancholy Arab, hawking crocodiles for a Greek Jew, had
more to gain than lose.
By now he had caught the end of the rough hook over the top of the
wall, and let down the knotted rope into the garden below. It was
long enough, thank goodness, he thought, wondering under what
circumstances and in what company he would ascend it again. Then
with one more keen look into the garden, and a reassuring touch of
the pocket where his revolver bulged, he gripped the rope and
swiftly lowered himself.
Keeping close to the wall he pressed toward the buildings on the
right, which he had been told was the wing of the harem, and as he
stepped forward a flat black shadow near the wall came suddenly to
life. It sprang to its feet, revealing a shrouded little form,
wrapped and hooded in black, and ran to him with steps that stumbled
in excitement.
"Quick, quick!" breathed an almost inaudible voice of terror, and
Billy flung one strong arm about the girl and dashed toward the
dangling rope. Gripping it with one hand he flung the light figure
over his left shoulder, and with a cheerily whispered "Hang tight,"
he threw himself into the ascent. It was arm-wrenching,
muscle-racking work, with that dead weight upon him, but the touch
of those soft arms clinging childishly about his neck seemed to
double and treble his strength, and with incredible quickness he
lifted her to the top of the wall, and then, catching her by the
wrists, he lowered her into the upreaching clasp of the Arab.
An instant more and he had reversed his rope ladder and climbed down
beside her as she stood waiting, and in the throbbing triumph of
that moment he flung his arm grippingly about her to sweep her into
the boat. But as she raised her face to his, the shrouding mantle
fell away, and he found himself staring down into the exultant face
and bright, dark eyes of a girl he had never seen before.
Back of them beyond the wall, pandemonium was breaking out.
[Illustration: "He found himself staring down into the bright dark
eyes of a girl he had never seen"]