Major Joseph Douglas
While Geoff and his friends are aboard that motor-vessel, on the point
of attacking the Turks aboard the steam-launch which had so unexpectedly
opposed their progress up the River Euphrates, let us for a moment turn
aside to follow the fortunes of another individual who has already been
introduced to our readers.
We have already recounted how Major Joseph Douglas, a "political"
officer, said farewell to his friends in that frontier fortress far up
amongst the hills of India, and how he disappeared, as indeed was his
wont, on another of those long expeditions on which the Government of
India employed him. We have said that he reached the Persian Gulf and
made his way to Basra, and thence up country on a river steamer till the
walls of Bagdad enclosed him. Then, having disappeared from the ken of
his fellows entirely, and having contrived almost to reach the heart of
Asiatic Turkey, the war--which was to drag so many nations into its
toils--broke out, and saw the Kaiser's legions overwhelming Belgium, and
invading France and Poland.
That Turkey should have been drawn into this conflict was perhaps as
much a matter for astonishment to the Turks themselves as to other
peoples, for they had, in fact, no grievance against Great Britain or
her allies. Indeed, Britain has always befriended the Turk, and done
what she could for him; yet late years--those years just prior to the
outbreak of this vast war which now tears Europe into pieces--saw what
may be termed a revolution in the country of the Sultan. The "Young Turk
Party" arose, a party which grew in power--thanks, no doubt, to the
scheming help of Germany--till it was able to dethrone the Sultan
himself and capture the reins of Government. In the hands of German
schemers--the agents of the Kaiser and his war lords--these ambitious
young Turks were easily deluded, and, carried away by the successes they
had already met with, listened eagerly to the words of the tempters.
There was gold to be had in abundance, gold, if the Young Turk Party
would but carry out the behests of the German War Lord, if they would
but follow a plan which, they were told, would lead not only to their
own wealth--for rewards and presents would be poured upon them--but to
the greatness of Turkey. War was imminent, they no doubt were informed,
and Germany had designs upon the conquest of all nations. Why should
Turkey be unfriendly to the Germans? Why should the subjects of the new
Sultan fight with the subjects of the Kaiser? There was no desire on the
part of the War Lord of Berlin to conquer the dwellers by the Bosphorus,
the Turks living in Europe or in Asia, but only the fervent wish to be
friendly with them. Then here was the opportunity! Let Turkey side with
Germany against France and Russia, and, if need be, against Great
Britain; let her close the Dardanelles utterly, and so shut off the
Russian enemy from the Mediterranean; and then let her but wait till
Germany had broken the fighting forces of France and of the Tsar of
Russia; then would come the turn of those Powers in the Balkans--once
the subjects of Turkey. Serbia would be overridden, would be decimated,
would be stamped out of existence; if need be, Bulgaria, the ancient
enemy of Turkey, would be destroyed completely. And then see what would
happen! The forces of Germany and of Austria would be linked up with
those of the Sultan, and who could stay their progress? With millions of
men under arms, with engineers to construct railways throughout Asiatic
Turkey, Egypt would be wrested for the Turks from Great Britain--Egypt
the heritage of Turkey; Persia could be gained; Afghanistan itself, and
even India conquered. Look at the prospect! The eyes of the Young Turk
Party were blinded by the brilliance of such a proposition; and for
those who were more sagacious, who knew the German to be a schemer,
there was gold--gold in abundance--with which to bribe them, gold with
which to gild their doubt, and to make them unwilling friends of
Germany.
Little wonder, perhaps, that the guileless and inexperienced, if
unscrupulous, "Young Turk Party" listened to the crafty words of the
Kaiser's agents, and decided to throw in their lot with them. Little
wonder that, following upon the outbreak of the war, they welcomed the
coming of the _Goeben_ and the _Breslau_--two of Germany's most powerful
vessels--and, having admitted them to the Bosphorus, closed the
Dardanelles entirely. Now, see the result of such a movement! In the
Black Sea itself the Turks were hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned by
the vessels of the Russians--that is, prior to the coming of the
_Goeben_ and the _Breslau_; but now that those two vessels had reached
the scene, there was not a vessel in the Tsar's navy capable of easily
standing up to them. Those two, with the help of what Turkey could send
from her dockyards, might very well clear the Black Sea of all Russian
vessels, and make the transport of Turkish troops to Trebizond, and to
the frontier lying between Turkey and Russia, along the Caucasus
Mountains, a matter of ease and safety. Then the coming of those two
powerful vessels would enable the Young Turk Party to reinforce their
army in the Caucasus, and, perhaps, to strike a blow there which would
cause heavy Russian losses. In any case, a force so disposed would
necessitate the placing of Russian armies to oppose them, and Russian
armies so withdrawn from the forces of the Tsar would weaken the troops
needed to stem the tide of Germans and Austrians then pouring into
Poland.
Looked at from every point of view, the coming of Turkey into the
conflict was likely to be of enormous advantage to the Kaiser, and of
signal disadvantage to Britain and her allies. That it was likely to
improve the fortunes of the Turks was problematical only. Indeed, there
is little doubt that if Germany had carried out to the full the first
portion of her programme, and had shattered the forces of France and of
Russia, Turkey would have become merely a puppet in the hands of the
Hohenzollerns. Germans would--and may even yet--sweep into Asiatic
Turkey, and, had they broken the power of their enemies elsewhere--as
fortunately they have not done--the Turks would undoubtedly have become
vassals of the Kaiser. As it is, they have thrown in their lot with the
Germans, and it would appear as if they were to gain nothing but losses
and privations.
But, in any case, they had become enemies of Britain and her allies,
and, seeing that Major Joseph Douglas was most decidedly a Briton, they
were enemies of his, and he was an alien in the midst of them. Such a
well-known person as the Major--for let us say at once that if Major
Joseph Douglas was known far and wide in India, a welcome guest in many
an officers' mess and in a host of cantonments, he was, in a rather
different way, just as well known in the heart of Mesopotamia--was now
an alien, an enemy, and must needs look to his own safety.
Douglas Pasha had, in fact, a most uncanny way of eluding the Turkish
governors of the various provinces he visited. He came openly to them,
and often enough called upon them in the most friendly manner possible,
receiving from them the warmest welcome. Yet, under the silken cloak of
friendship, and beneath the welcome which every well-bred man extends to
another--and your Turk is a gentleman, whatever else you may say of
him--there existed always, when Douglas Pasha turned up upon the scene,
a feeling of doubt, of hesitancy, almost of danger, in the minds of
those Turkish governors. Crafty themselves, they knew well enough that
he had come to investigate every feature of the country, to ascertain
what Turkish forces were maintained, to map the roads, no doubt, to
investigate the progress of such railways as Turkey possessed, and to
unearth a hundred different matters. It followed, therefore, often
enough, that Douglas Pasha's exit from the palace of a governor was
followed, almost automatically, by the dogging of his footsteps. Spies
followed him from place to place, spies who watched his every movement
like a company of cats; spies whom the cheerful and cunning Douglas
Pasha on every occasion managed to elude.
Thus, he was within a few days of the outbreak of war at Bagdad, where
news of European matters had not yet reached the populace. Yet the
governor knew that war was impending--that Turkish governor upon whom
the Major had called that very afternoon, and who had bowed the gallant
officer out of his palace, had smiled in such friendly fashion upon him,
and who, once his back was turned, had snapped his fingers, had clapped
his hands, and had set machinery in motion to have Douglas Pasha
followed and watched. Yet, strange as it may seem, Geoff Keith's most
excellent guardian was by no means the simpleton he seemed, and by no
means ignorant of events then impending.
He strolled down the centre of the Bazaar, a likeable figure in his
dust-coloured travelling-suit, a tall, active man, with the face and the
bearing of a soldier. He stopped to converse with an Arab dealer in
brass-ware, seated cross-legged upon his little stall, and chatted with
him as if he were himself a native. Then he passed on to another stall,
leaving the Arab, usually so uninterested in the affairs of this world,
keenly curious as to the nationality of the stranger who had addressed
him. A dozen yards higher up, there was an Armenian Jew selling
jewellery, and with him, too, Douglas Pasha chatted in the most pleasant
manner and in the Armenian tongue; and then he strolled on for a while,
till, noticing the angular figure of a big-boned Jew seated upon another
stall, with a mass of embroidery laid out before him, he turned back and
strolled towards him.
"Many fine wares to sell, my friend?" he said, addressing him in the
Armenian tongue. "Our brother yonder has jewellery beyond compare; but,
in truth, these wares that you have to offer would delight the heart of
a houri."
Bending down, he picked up one of the gaudily-embroidered pieces of
cloth and admired it openly; while the Jew, after answering him in a
monosyllable, and casting his eyes up at the Major's face for just one
moment, bent them down again upon his goods, as if fearful that someone
might filch them from him.
"Fine gold, friend, and stuff woven in the heart of Persia," the Major
told him. "And what may be the price of this, my friend?"
As might be expected, the price which this hook-nosed and somewhat
ancient Jew set upon the article selected was simply immense, more than
treble its actual value. But, then, it is a habit of the East, where a
purchase more or less is not a matter of importance, where there is time
for everything, and hurry is a thing not to be dreamed of. Shopping in
London or in some busy provincial city and shopping at Constantinople or
in the Bazaar at Bagdad are two utterly different affairs altogether;
the one all haste, intermingled with the most business-like methods, and
the other all dilatoriness, with a strong flavour of friendly haggling,
when hours must be passed before the price of the simplest object is
settled.
"And low in price," the Jew told the Major, glancing cunningly up at
him. "Low in price, Excellency, as truly as I sit before you. But wait,
there are other goods for sale within this store; be seated, take a post
of honour on this bench, and let the youth bring coffee to us."
His bent figure became upright for a moment, and he clapped his hands
loudly. At the same instant he swung his eyes round that portion of the
Bazaar visible from the stall where he was wont to sit the livelong day,
and dropped them instantly. Yet that one glance seemed to have sufficed,
for a smile seamed his face for just one second. Then he rapped out a
sharp order to the Turkish boy who appeared at his summons, and sat on
motionless, without a word, without even venturing to offer more of his
wares, till the coffee had been produced and laid before himself and the
Major. It was then, as the English officer tipped the tiny egg-shaped
cup to his lips, that the eyes of the two met.
"Well!" demanded the Major.
"Excellency, beware! There is news from the outside world," the Jew told
him, and then again swept a swift glance round the confines of the
Bazaar. "Listen, Excellency!" he said, snatching another piece of
embroidered ware and holding it up before the Major, while he made
pretence to point to the gilded work upon it; "listen, Excellency! There
is war!"
"Ah!" came from the Major.
"War between France and Russia on the one hand and the German enemy on
the other."
"And Britain?" asked the Major breathlessly, though to an observer, even
more than casual, he seemed to be engaged in most carefully
scrutinizing the embroidery. "And Britain?" he asked again. "She----"
"There are things that seem strange to one of us people in this land of
Turkey," said the Jew quietly, stretching out a hand to pick up more of
his wares. "There is a place, a country, perhaps peopled by a great
nation for aught I know, a country known as Belgium. Listen, Excellency!
The Germans have invaded that country, have burst their way into it,
have fired upon the people, and have killed many of them."
"That means war, war for Great Britain," said the Major, tossing the
pieces of cloth down and shaking his head as though he could not agree
to purchase them. Then he picked up another piece, and while he
scrutinized it told the Jew to go on with the story.
"Proceed!" he said. "Belgium is a country of much importance. Germany
had sworn, with Britain and France and other nations, to preserve that
country inviolate. Then she has broken her word!"
"As Germans ever break their word," the Armenian Jew told him. "Yes,
Excellency, in the years that have gone by, and increasingly so in these
last few years, I have met with German after German. In public life I
know them not, but in trade, I say, beware of them! They steal behind
the scenes, they are mean, and thrifty, and energetic, and possessed of
many virtues and many failings. I like them not, and trust them not at
all! So, Excellency, they swore to defend this country! And yet tore up
that treaty, and poured soldiers upon her? Truly that is an act of
baseness seldom heard of."
"And means war for my country," the Major told him. "And then, my
friend?" he asked swiftly.
"And then, from the same source, I gather that there is a stir in
Constantinople, that there is a great movement of troops and of vessels,
and that in a little while, even as we speak, perhaps, Turkey may have
joined in with Germany."
If Major Joe Douglas felt inclined to give vent to a shrill whistle of
astonishment, for, after all, he was astonished--though this was a
happening which he had expected now for many years past--he managed to
suppress the wish very promptly. He contrived to go on bargaining and
haggling with the old Jew for perhaps half an hour, and then, throwing
down another piece of embroidered cloth and shaking his head, he passed
from the stall and again along the Bazaar.
Some twenty yards higher up, when near the Turkish portion, he cannoned
into a man of moderate height, dressed like himself in European
clothing, a fat, very stoutly-built man, possessed of a head so closely
cropped that it was hideous, and of a face from which sprouted a
greyish-brown moustache, the centre of which was stained a darker colour
by much cigarette-smoking. This individual wore a broad-brimmed panama
upon his head, as a general rule, but at that moment carried it in one
hand, and was fanning himself with energy.
"Pardon!" said the Major. "Sorry!"
"Ach! It vas you!"
Undoubtedly German, the stout individual into whom the Major had
cannoned turned at first an angry face upon him, a face which a moment
later was lit up by smiles and divided almost asunder by a capacious
grin, stretching a most enormous mouth from ear to ear and disclosing
two rows of stained and yellow teeth within it. Of a truth, the
appearance of this individual was not altogether prepossessing; and yet,
putting his yellow teeth aside, forgetting for one moment his huge and
unwieldy proportions, and his smooth-cropped head and other undesirable
features, the frank expression of his face, the broadness of his grin,
even, were at once captivating.
"My tear Major!" he exclaimed, holding one fat hand up, palm foremost,
while he still continued to fan himself with his panama. "My tear Major,
and who would have thought to meet you here, you of all people!"
"Why, von Hildemaller!"
"Jah! Von Hildemaller! Dis is der greadest bleasure in mein life. Mein
tear Major!"
The big, fat German stood back from the tall, sprucely-dressed, and
brisk-looking English soldier, and surveyed him with a smile which would
have melted the heart of the most implacable of enemies. Von Hildemaller
was geniality itself, brimful of smiles and of friendliness; and, having
mopped his streaming face and fanned himself again with his panama, he
stretched out his broad palm and gripped the one which Major Douglas
presented to him.
"My tear Major!" he exclaimed again, puffing heavily, for, to be sure,
what with his own stoutness of figure, and the close and confined
atmosphere within the Bazaar, the German was none too comfortable. "And
to think dat you vas here of all der places in der world!" He held up
his two hands now, the better to express his astonishment, while his
twinkling and extremely merry eyes shot a swift, if not cunning, glance
at the soldier.
"And you vas here long?" he demanded, mopping his face again with
energy, and using for that purpose a huge handkerchief of Turkish red
silk, which would have done duty at a pinch for a table-cloth. "Nein?
Nod long, you say? Perhabs four, five, six days?"
The Major extracted his cigarette case from his pocket and offered it
politely to the German, as if hinting at the same moment that questions
were hardly to his fancy.
"And you?" he asked when von Hildemaller had helped himself and lighted
up. "But there, what is the good of asking you, my friend, von
Hildemaller? You are here to-day and gone to-morrow. One finds you in
Bagdad perhaps, and then, within a week, in Constantinople; in Kut, or
even in Basra. And, ah! you are such a busy man, von Hildemaller. Men,
such as you, who purchase in such large quantities the dates grown in
this country must be up and about, to make your businesses thrive."
Was there a cunning glint in those rather deep-sunk, small, yet merry
eyes of the German? Did those two uneven rows of yellow teeth come
together of a sudden with a snap indicative of annoyance? No, no! such a
suggestion was entirely out of the question, for see, von Hildemaller
was smiling most genially at this tall Briton.
"Ah! der you vas!" he told the Major, laughing uproariously. "It vas you
who always liked to make der fun! 'Here do-day and gone do-morrow.' Ha!
ha! you make me laugh! And you? And you, my tear Major, id is you who
go here do-day and dere do-morrow, and you do nod even buy dades or oder
produce of dis country."
Behind the cloud of smoke which he shot from between his thick lips, and
sent bubbling out through his discoloured and drooping moustache, there
was a cunning leer on the face of the German--a leer hidden a moment
later by a smile transcending in its friendliness any that had gone
before it. Fanning himself with his panama, and smoking violently the
cigarette with which the Major had presented him, he stood in the centre
of the Bazaar, careless of the obstruction he formed and of the
difficulties he made for the passers-by, while he chatted with Teutonic
eagerness with Douglas Pasha. And all the while, as he smiled and
smirked, and sometimes leered, behind clouds of smoke, he was summing up
the appearance, the height, the broad shoulders, the shapely figure, and
the active limbs of the Englishman.
"Mein Gott! But if all my brothers were like him!" he told himself. "If
all the subjects of the Kaiser were as tall, and as straight, and as
slim, and as active! Then the thing would be done! There would be no
doubt about it; the World would be surely conquered! But, pshaw! It will
be done! The war-dogs are unleashed already, and though there is not
much news as yet, though it is only Belgium which is already almost
conquered, to-morrow, the next day perhaps, surely within a few hours of
this, there will be news of the undoing of France and the capture of
Paris. Himmel! And then?"
This breezy, stout, perspiring, and extremely genial fellow quite lost
himself in a brown study as he reflected on the greatness of his own
country and on the news of triumph which he anticipated.
Let us explain the case in regard to the jovial von Hildemaller--a man
who knew the inside of Mesopotamia almost as well as Douglas Pasha did.
After all, though he might be a trader in dates, as indeed he professed,
he was still before all a German. A German in heart and in thought; a
German, above all, in ambition. Was it likely that he had come to
Mesopotamia for the single purpose of trading in dates alone? Bearing in
mind the fact that practically no German has left the Fatherland for
some foreign country for the single purpose of following his own fortune
alone, one may take it for certain that, like all the others, von
Hildemaller also went on a mission for his Government. He was one of
that enormous band which practised peaceful penetration for the Kaiser,
who went armed with Government funds to some desirable spot in some
still more desirable country, and who there made for himself a business
which gave ample excuse for his remaining in the country. Yet all the
while he was engaged, with Teutonic energy, in looking well about him,
in discovering the secrets of the country, in ascertaining its defences,
and in sending sheaves of notes to his Home Government. Let us say at
once that this von Hildemaller was none other than the stout and genial
German whom Commander Houston had come upon in Basra--the one whom he
had indicated as von Schmidt--and from the gallant Commander we have
already learned that, genial, and smiling, and friendly though this
German trader might be, and very charming to those with whom he came in
contact--whether they were Britons or not--yet behind his guise of
merchant he was indeed a Government Agent--an energetic, far-seeing, and
most likely an unscrupulous agent--placed in Asiatic Turkey for the one
purpose of informing the Kaiser and his war lords of the doings of the
Turks, of the British, and of the Russians; and kept there, ostensibly
as a merchant, but really as a spy, to foster the ambitious designs of
his countrymen.
Did Douglas Pasha suspect this German? Did he realize that behind those
smiling eyes and those wide curving lips there was a cunning brain and a
lying tongue, ready to deceive and thwart him? If he did, he gave no
indication of that fact. For he chatted easily, smiling back at the
German in as friendly a manner as possible, apparently watching more
closely the people passing to and fro in the Bazaar than the face and
the figure of the man who had accosted him. It was with a hearty
handshake and a friendly nod that he parted with the German, and went
striding up through the Bazaar, past the hook-nosed Jew with whom he had
appeared to bargain, and so on to the rooms he was occupying.
As for von Hildemaller, he tossed away the stump of the cigarette he had
been smoking, and watched the departing figure of the British officer
through half-closed lids, while he still panted and mopped his forehead.
Then, thrusting his panama upon his shaven head, he looked craftily
about him for a moment, and, having assured himself that no one in
particular was watching him, lifted his right hand to his shoulder and
made a sudden signal. A moment later a tall, sleek Turk slid up from an
adjacent stall, and halted beside him:
"My master?" he asked, in the Turkish tongue.
"You saw him," demanded the German curtly, with that brutal abruptness
common to the German. "That man--that Douglas Pasha--you saw the man?"
"I did. I watched and waited yonder. And then?" asked the Turk.
"Go and kill him, that's all! Go and slay the man!" von Hildemaller told
him, turning upon his emissary just as friendly a smile as ever he had
turned upon Joe Douglas. "There is no need to discuss the matter
further, for you know the man and you have the method. Go then! When it
is done come back to me and you shall be rewarded."
Who would have thought the worthy von Hildemaller capable of such words,
or of giving such a dastardly order? Indeed, at the very moment when he
was condemning the gallant Major to death by the hand of this Turkish
assassin, the stout German looked so utterly genial, so entirely
friendly and harmless, that none could possibly have suspected the real
gist of his orders. Yet, as we have inferred already, behind those
smiling, merry eyes, which looked so frankly and so honestly at people,
there was a clever scheming brain, and behind those lips which were
never stern, and seemed ever to be parted amiably, was a tongue given to
much lying. Let us add, too, the fact that that brain was capable of
inventing acts which would have shamed an Englishman, and of producing
orders even more dastardly than that which had already been given.
Indeed, there was no limit to the crimes which von Hildemaller could
perpetrate, more particularly if they were for the ultimate benefit of
his own country. With the smooth, smiling, genial face almost of a
child, he was at heart a wretch, a cruel, scheming, cunning creature, an
unscrupulous agent, capable of planning any atrocity. When that was
said, we have von Hildemaller's full character, and we have merely to
add that, like many of his kidney, when the planning was done, when the
schemes for assassination and murder were arranged, the power for evil
of this German suddenly subsided. He could scheme, but he lacked the
courage to carry out his enterprise. His was the crafty brain which
arranged the deed but contrived to get another to carry it out for him.
Thanks to a Government which supplied him with ample funds, he could
command in this country a host of ruffians. Pooh! The assassination of a
British officer was quite a small matter, to be arranged on the spur of
the moment, and to cost not so much as a second thought, and no great
sum of gold when all was considered.
Von Hildemaller snapped his fingers and mopped his face again as the
Turk sped away from him; then, lighting a German cigar, and puffing at
it till he got it going to his satisfaction, he strolled--waddled
rather--through the Bazaar, and on to his own quarters.
"Quite a nice sort of fellow, that Douglas Pasha!" he was telling
himself as he went. "For a Briton, quite a respectable individual!
Conceited? Yes! But then, that's a fault of the nation; but honest,
clear-headed, I think, friendly and--yes--certainly--simple!"
"Simple!" did he say? If the worthy German, waddling through the Bazaar,
could have seen Major Douglas at that moment, he might have had cause to
reflect a little, and to change his opinion. For, though the gallant
Major may have made pretence at simplicity when meeting the German,
though he may have given the impression of being shallow, of being
thoughtless, and of possessing not so much as an atom of cunning, yet
Douglas Pasha had not travelled through Mesopotamia, had not met hosts
of Germans, had not studied the history of Germany and her people,
without learning many lessons. It was a habit of this gallant officer to
study unconsciously the character of every individual with whom he came
in contact, and thus it happened that the worthy von Hildemaller had, as
it were, come under the microscopic examination of this British officer.
"Very charming, ahem! I am sure. A most excellent fellow to meet in a
café, say on the Grand Boulevard in Paris, or in the Unter den Linden in
Berlin. A generous host, a loud-speaking, merry fellow, but insincere,
unscrupulous--like his people--out for something big, something to
benefit his own country; to be carefully watched, and distrusted, and
yet to be met in the most friendly manner possible."
That was the Major's summing-up of the excellent and cunning von
Hildemaller; and now, as he took the nearest cut back to his own
apartments in the city of Bagdad, apartments which he had occupied on
more than one occasion, there was something in his face which, if the
German could have seen it, would have warned him that Douglas Pasha was
hardly so simple as he anticipated.
"Unfortunate meeting that German," Joe Douglas was telling himself as he
hurried along. "Of course he knows just as well as I do that war has
been declared between Great Britain and Germany, and that Turkey is
likely to come into the conflict. That being the case, he and I are
hardly likely to remain on speaking terms after this; indeed, he'll look
upon me as a dangerous enemy, just as I look upon him. Shouldn't wonder
if his hirelings are already watching me, and--yes--there are tales of
the worthy Herr von Hildemaller which aren't too pleasant."
Rapping sharply on the door of his lodgings, he was admitted by an
Armenian servant, and at once strode into his sitting-room. Throwing
himself into a cane-seated chair and lighting a cigarette, he then
rapped sharply on the table.
"Pack up," he ordered; "we leave in five minutes. Wait! What's that?"
Someone was rapping on the floor below them, someone who called in low
tones for admission. Instantly Joe Douglas sprang to his feet, and,
pulling the chair away, and the table, dragged a piece of Turkish carpet
on one side, disclosing a narrow trap-door.
"Enter!" he called, and helped the person below who had demanded
admission to raise the opening.
And slowly, as he did so, there emerged from a dark hole below, by means
of a roughly-made ladder, the big, bony, angular form of that same
hook-nosed Jew with whom he had haggled in the Bazaar not half an hour
before.
"H-h-'sh! Listen, Excellency!" The man stood half in and half out of the
opening, one warning talon held upward, his beady eyes fixed on Douglas
Pasha, his lips trembling. "That man! That German hound! That
scoundrel!"
The gallant Major was the very last individual to show alarm. In fact,
fuss and worry were things he hated intensely, and his nonchalance on
all occasions was something which long ago had attracted the admiration
of his comrades. He still smoked on, and, throwing himself into his
chair, and flinging his legs on the table, he smiled at the Jew and bade
him proceed with the story.
"Yes, the German, von Hildemaller!" he said. "A most excellent
gentleman! And you said beware, my friend, did you not? But surely----"
He gave vent to a laugh, an ironical laugh, which grated on the ears of
those listening, and which warned them that, though the German may have
considered this British officer to be childishly simple, he was yet well
aware of the danger which surrounded him.
"Listen, Excellency!" said the Jew, emerging now completely from the
chamber beneath the room in which Joe Douglas was seated. "I watched the
scene from my stall. Long ago I warned Your Excellency that this German
had no love for you, that his hirelings were watching you and dogging
your steps, and that some day he would do you a mischief. Now the day
has arrived! Even as you hurried away from that accidental meeting with
him, I saw him call to one whom I know to be nothing but an assassin--a
wretch--whose knife is at the bidding of anyone who can pay him
money--one who should long ago have been hanged in the market-place.
Leaving my stall, I followed this rascal, and saw him call to others.
Even now they are arming, and, as dusk falls--which will be within an
hour perhaps--they will break a way into this dwelling and carry out the
purpose of this German."
Joe Douglas whistled, a merry whistle, and smiled in the most friendly
fashion at the Jew. He even got up from his chair, still smoking, and
patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.
"My friend," he said, "I thank you from the bottom of my heart for this
warning; not this time alone, but on many occasions, have you proved a
real friend to me, and may it be many a day before I forget your
loyalty. But, as it happened, I guessed the intentions of our worthy
friend von Hildemaller. Already I have given orders to pack up all my
belongings, and soon, in a little while indeed, we shall be out of this
place, leaving it to the hired assassins of the German."
There was bustle in that little house in the ten minutes which followed,
all hands being engaged in packing the Major's belongings. Then, having
completed the work to his satisfaction, the Jew and the Armenian servant
of Douglas Pasha dragged his trunks through the opening down into the
cellar beneath. Long before that, Joe Douglas had transformed himself
into an absolute replica of the Jew who had come to warn him, and,
indeed, looked the part to perfection. Then, casting a hurried glance
round, and throwing the light from an electric torch into every
corner--for already the dusk was falling, and the house opposite
darkened that in which he had been living--he slid through the opening
in the floor, and gently lowered the trap-door after him, having just
before that dragged the table across it. Then the three made their way
to the far edge of the cellar, and, ascending some steps, entered a
narrow alley. There, at the bidding of the Major, his two companions
went off to their left, while Joe Douglas made ready to venture into the
open.
"You will go to the old quarters," he told them in a whisper, "while I
see what is happening in the street yonder. To-night, as the moon rises,
you will have a conveyance ready for me, and to-morrow we shall be well
out in the desert."
But a minute before, Douglas Pasha, in spite of the rags with which he
was now covered, was without doubt the tall British officer who had made
his way into the heart of the city of Bagdad; but now, as the need to
act up to his disguise arrived, he became transformed in a manner which
was really remarkable. Leaning on a long, stout stick, his head and
shoulders bent, and his legs tottering, he stumbled from the alley into
the open street, and shuffled and clattered his way along past the door
of his own dwelling. It was there that he almost collided, in the dusk,
with three Turkish rascals, one of whom was preparing to break the door
in with a crowbar. Yet the Jew took no notice of them, but stumbled
past, muttering into the cloak which covered his head, talking to
himself, and pulling his rags round him. A little farther on, less than
a hundred yards, perhaps, he caught sight of a rotund and perspiring
figure in a sunken doorway--a figure which was faintly illuminated by an
oil lamp hanging in a passage opposite. It was the figure of von
Hildemaller, who had crept to this spot to watch the doings of his hired
assassins. Again it was characteristic of the Major that he halted in
front of the man, careless of the consequences.
"Money! Money to buy food and lodging," he whined, holding out a
shuddering, shaking hand, while his whole frame swayed and tottered.
"Money, Excellency, to keep body and soul within me!"
"Money! Bah!" The German struck at him with the light cane he was
carrying, and threw a glance of hatred and contempt after the tottering
figure of the Jew as he retreated.
Then with wide-open ears he listened as the door of the house along the
street was burst open, and waited breathlessly for news from his
assassin. It was with a storm of rage and disappointment that he learned
that the place was empty, that Douglas Pasha was gone, and that the
scheme for ending his energies in Mesopotamia had been defeated.
Yet the cunning of this German was not always to meet with such ill
success, for though Douglas Pasha contrived to escape from Bagdad that
night, and made his way into the desert, there came a day when von
Hildemaller traced him. Also there came a day when Douglas Pasha--a
prisoner then, and none too well treated--contrived to get a message out
of the Turkish fortress in which he was incarcerated. Even as Geoff
Keith, and Philip, and Commander Houston braced themselves for a stiff
engagement with the Turks aboard the steam-launch which had been
pursuing them, that message was speeding down the Tigris towards the
British forces. It was a request for help, but with no definite
statement of the position where Douglas Pasha was imprisoned. And there
were miles of desert country to traverse, and hundreds of enemies to
pass, ere the messenger could bear his missive to our Head-quarters. It
was a toss-up, indeed, as to whether the news of the Major's plight
would ever reach his own people; just as it was a toss-up whether Geoff
and his comrades would ever contrive to beat off the Turks who were
about to assail them.