News of Douglas Pasha
"Bagdad! See it in the distance; watch the rising sun glint on the roofs
and minarets!"
It was in a cautious whisper that Geoff drew the attention of his chum
to a point some long distance in advance of the spot over which the
rickety chaise in which von Hildemaller was riding bore them. Very
craftily he had thrust his head out beyond the side of the vehicle, and
though all was still dusk about them, though the night had not
altogether faded, yet, happening to be on a considerable elevation, and
looking down into the distant basin of the Tigris, he had caught just
that faint gleam of the city for which they were making. Balancing
unevenly, uncomfortably, and with many a suppressed groan, on the axle
and spring of the other side, Phil shot his head out like a
jack-in-the-box after Geoff had spoken, and stared ahead hard until he
too saw flashes from the roofs of Bagdad. Then he gave vent to quite a
loud "Jingo!" and instantly ducked his head low behind the back of the
chaise, for von Hildemaller moved. Up to that moment, during weary
hours, he had sat in his seat almost without movement, and undoubtedly
had lapsed into sleep, for his snores, like his breathing, shook the
air about him. Now he woke up with a start, stared about him in a
frightened manner, and then called to the driver:
"Stop! I heard something. Someone speaking, and close at hand."
Obediently the driver pulled up his tired pony, and, looking back,
stared sleepily at his master.
"A voice? Someone speaking? You heard something, master?" he grumbled.
"No, no, surely; for we have been on the road alone, and not a soul has
been near us--not a soul. You have been asleep, Master."
And yet von Hildemaller, the ever-suspicious von Hildemaller, was not
satisfied. He stood up stiffly and with difficulty, gripping the rail
behind the driver's seat to steady himself, and causing the light chaise
to rock on its springs. He stared to either side of him, trying to
penetrate the dusk of early morning; he even peered over the back of the
carriage, whereat Geoff and Phil ducked even lower, while the former,
gripping the axle with those strong fingers of his, made ready to reach
up and grapple with the German. But the Teuton's eyes were still heavy
with sleep, and, failing to see those two who had clung like limpets to
his chaise throughout the night, he turned, setting the vehicle rocking
again, and stared out before him. A guttural exclamation escaped from
those broad lips of his:
"Ach! but Bagdad at last. And there, some comfort, some ease, after a
terrible experience. But wait, wait! I have been thinking, I have been
dreaming. Yes, he who strikes von Hildemaller strikes one who never
forgets, never forgives; and who will repay, however long the interval,
however long the debt may be owing."
He sighed deeply, yawned till his jaws threatened to crack, and until he
displayed a cavity even bigger than that which Geoff had compelled and
into which Philip had thrust the gag with such delight. Then the German
sank back into his seat again, and bade the driver, peremptorily, to
drive onwards. Soon, too, heavy breathing just in front of them told the
two young subalterns that von Hildemaller was sleeping again.
"Rather a near thing that, eh?" grinned Philip, his head now close to
his chum's, and displaying just a little more common sense and caution.
"What would we have done if he had spotted us that time when he looked
round?"
It was Geoff's turn to smile, a meaning smile, while he stretched out
one hand, balancing himself in that uncomfortable position which he had
maintained throughout the night, and slowly doubled up the fingers of
the other hand--fingers bursting with muscle and with tendons as strong
and as elastic as steel--doubled them up slowly, in a manner which
seemed to emphasize the power within them, whereat Philip sniffed and
sniggered. In a moment, in fact, he realized how much Geoff had longed
for another tussle with the German, how he would have almost welcomed
discovery at that moment.
"I know," he whispered. "I know what you'd have done, and the beggar
deserves it. You'd have taken him by the neck, you'd have remembered
Douglas Pasha, and you'd have squeezed the life out of his body."
Of a sudden he gripped the powerful hand held out before him, gripped it
and shook it with energy, while he stared hard at his chum.
"Why not?" he asked. "Good idea! Why not? Why not squeeze the life out
of him now that we've got him, that is, almost squeeze it out of him.
There's nothing to fear, we ain't surrounded by a prison, and we'd soon
clear that driver off, or, for the matter of that, force him to do our
bidding. Why not grab this brutal German and squeeze him till his eyes
bulge out of his head, till he's choking, till he'll be glad to give
away that secret of his, till he'll beg and beg and whine to us that
he'll release Douglas Pasha? Why not?"
He could feel Geoff's powerful hand suddenly compressed under his grip,
could feel the fingers clench even tighter, while Geoff himself dropped
from the axle to the road, as if the words had stung him to energy. It
was what he had done, and Philip too, many a time throughout the night;
on many an occasion, when meeting some long rise, they had been glad, in
fact, to drop from the somewhat uncomfortable perches they had found,
and to trudge along behind the carriage. Unbeknown to the German,
unsuspected by the driver, yet doubtless to the knowledge of the animal
which dragged it, they had even helped to propel the carriage up some of
the risings, accelerating its progress to such an extent that the sleepy
driver was amazed at the powers displayed by the animal he drove, and at
length was so struck by its prowess that he wakened sufficiently to
think the matter over and to weigh its value.
"Allah, but this is a strange thing!" he had said to himself more than
once, at first very sleepily, and then with a little more spirit.
"Allah, but the beast is possessed! For see, ever before when we have
made this journey and have come to these hills I have had to use the
whip with vigour, even I have had to dismount and walk beside the
carriage. It is wonderful; for see how thin the beast is and old, and
now he pulls like a giant, like a thoroughbred, like an Arab."
It entirely defeated him; the phenomenon was one he could not understand
however much he puzzled; and puzzling and wondering made him even more
sleepy. Thus the long hours of darkness had passed, if not comfortably
for Geoff and his chum, yet cheerfully enough. Above all, their thoughts
were filled with the engrossing subject of their liberty. They felt like
birds entrapped who had broken from a cage after weeks and weeks of
imprisonment. They were filled with a feeling of wonderful exhilaration,
while the knowledge that, though free, they were in the midst of an
enemy country, with enemies all about them, added rather a zest to the
whole business.
And now Philip had made a proposition--a proposition of such importance
and so momentous in its results--if the plan were carried out, that
Geoff had felt compelled to leap to his feet and run along behind the
carriage. It was perhaps five minutes later when he plumped himself down
on the axle again, trailing his stockinged feet along the dusty surface
of the road, while he stared out into the rising dusk behind them.
"Eh?" asked Philip, returning eagerly to the subject, knowing well from
his experience of his chum that no decision was to be expected until
sufficient time had elapsed for our hero to consider the proposition.
Perhaps it was that Geoff was possessed of a certain sort of canny
instinct, perhaps even it was those journeys with Douglas Pasha, those
travels amongst Arabs and other peoples, which had taught him caution,
which had in a certain measure taught him to smother his thoughts, and
to hide his feelings from other people. Inscrutable his face never was,
nor ever would be, for it shone with healthy, youthful frankness; but
the eyes were thoughtful eyes, eyes which told those who looked into
them that the owner was possessed of some degree of caution, while, as
we have said, Philip, his best and most intimate chum, knew that Geoff
was one not to be hurried.
"Eh?" he asked again impulsively. "You'd strangle the beast easily. I
could with the fingers of one hand. Wait a moment. If we slip out here
and hang on to these back springs we can pull up that old horse in a
moment; then we tip the show over, and throw our German friend into the
gutter. How's that? I'd love to see him roll."
And so would Geoff, very much indeed, and yet what would be the object?
"Let's just think the matter out, and chat it over quietly," he told the
impulsive Phil, restraining him with a grip of his strong fingers.
"Supposing we'd settled with the scoundrel--now I'd just love to."
"And I'd dote on it," Phil chimed in readily.
"We both would," said Geoff soberly; "and as to our being able to do so,
pooh! there's no doubt about it. Single-handed I think we could easily
handle both those beggars, so that we can put that question aside and
take it for granted that we are easily the victors, but--and here comes
the rub--supposing we've cornered the driver, and have squeezed this
German's neck till his eyes are bulging, and until, in fact, he's
whining and begging for his life, and ready to do anything for
us--supposing we've got to that stage, eh?"
"Yes, supposing we have," Phil grinned, for the very mention of
squeezing von Hildemaller till his eyes bulged reminded him of that
scene in the cell, when Geoff had gripped the German across the mouth,
while Philip stood in front of him. Those cunning eyes had bulged with a
vengeance then, had bulged horribly, had bulged in a manner which showed
the Teuton's terror. Oh yes, it would be pleasant enough to witness such
a thing again, knowing well how much they owed to this treacherous
German; but then--"Let's suppose he's collared then," agreed Phil at
length. "Now then?"
"Well, he's collared, he's shouting for mercy, he's perspiring and
blowing worse than ever," said Geoff. "He's ready to take us right off
to this prison, and ready to hand over his captive. But where are we? We
have got the German and his driver, and we have got this carriage and
the sorry animal that pulls it, but please remember we are still in what
remains of our khaki. We are obviously aliens and enemies, the first
passer-by would recognize us and give an alarm, a crowd would collect in
no time, even far out in the desert, and long before we could get to the
place where my guardian is imprisoned we should be captured--possibly
shot--at any rate foiled altogether."
It was with difficulty that Phil suppressed a whistle--a whistle of
astonishment, of amazement, and of pride in his comrade. He had always
known Geoff to be a strangely long-headed, logical sort of fellow, but
now, hearing him talk so quietly and on such an occasion, he could not
help but admire him.
"Spoken like a lawyer," he said at last, and quite seriously, "a fellow
can see that there's nothing but solid reason behind what you're saying.
We could, as you tell me, easily do for this German and make him
howl--how I'd jolly well like to hear him--but where's the advantage
gained, as you say? Lost altogether by premature action. Only, if we
don't take advantage of the fellow now that he is, as you may say, in
our power, what are we to do? for it's getting lighter every minute, and
in a little while any passers-by there may be--and people will be
beginning to move once daylight comes--will stop us, and will give the
very warning of which you have spoken."
No doubt the problem was a knotty one, and one requiring a great deal of
consideration. That Geoff and Philip could remain much longer on their
unsteady and uncomfortable perches was out of the question, and yet,
where were they to go? which way were they to turn? and, above all,
where could they get refreshment? The sight of a collection of palms to
the right of the road, and almost abreast of them, seemed to decide
Geoff of a sudden, for he turned to Phil on the instant.
"Let's drop off here," he said; "those palms up there may give us some
sort of shelter, and possibly we may discover food also. Later on we'll
go on into Bagdad, and there I shall be able to find at least one friend
who will give us assistance."
Dropping from the carriage at once, they stood in the centre of the
road in a cloud of whirling dust, listening to the carriage as it
rattled onward towards the city; and, as the dust subsided and allowed
them to see farther, they caught once more those gleams of light from
the roofs of Bagdad--flashes which seemed to signal them onward. For the
rest, the country-side all about them was still half-hidden in mist,
above which the tops of that grove of palm-trees which had attracted
Geoff's attention could be seen. Turning towards them without a word,
they scrambled their way uphill, till presently they had left the hard
gravelly surface over which they had been travelling and entered upon an
area clad in green, over which grass and bushes grew profusely; and,
after a little while, found themselves in a thick grove of trees, which,
if they promised nothing else, promised shelter once the sun had risen.
There, standing beneath the palms, they waited until the morning mist
had been dispersed by the rays of the rising sun, and until they could
see far and wide over that portion of Mesopotamia, and even as far as
the city of Bagdad. Then they turned, and, striding on amongst the
palms, were soon far within them, and in little danger of being
discovered by travellers on the high road.
"Hold on a moment," said Phil of a sudden; "I can smell something." He
sniffed the air like a dog, turning in all directions.
"It's over here, behind us, deeper in the palms; there's a fire burning,
I'm sure; and, Jingo! I'm positive there's meat cooking."
The aroma came to their nostrils more strongly as the minutes passed,
and attracted them like a magnet. Slowly and cautiously they crept
between the palms, until they gained the edge of a clearing in the
midst of which stood a somewhat curious dwelling. It was neither tent
nor house nor cottage, but a combination of all three, a domicile
constructed partly of mud walls, partly of palm-leaves, and here and
there finished off, as it were, with stretches of camel-hair material.
In front of it a wood fire smouldered, while a thin wisp of smoke rose
above it and was blown into the trees. A rough, iron tripod stood over
it, and from it depended an iron pot, in which, doubtless, meat was
stewing. The aroma made Philip's mouth water, and made Geoff quite
irritable and impatient.
"Looks like the habitation of some nomad shepherd," he told Philip;
"wonder who it can be, and how many there are in the family? In ordinary
times I'd have gone straight up to the house and asked for food and
shelter, but a fellow can't do that now, and it's more than likely that
whoever owns the place carries arms with him always."
They stood under the shade of those palm-trees for perhaps half an hour,
watching the hut, watching the smouldering fire, and sniffing enviously
at the steam which blew over towards them. If they had never known
before what it was to be really hungry, they knew it well that bright
morning when so close to food, so eagerly desirous of it, and so far, it
seemed, from the likelihood of being able to secure it. It made them
almost desperate at last, till they were ready to risk anything; but
then, again, common sense--that fund of caution possessed by both of
them--held them back, kept them out of sight, and restrained their
impatience. A man came out of the hut at last--a tall, bronzed Arab,
over whose shoulders was slung an ancient rifle, and in whose hand was
borne a long stick which he used to support himself whilst walking.
Calling over his shoulder and whistling for a dog, which came bounding
out of the hut, he set off along a path which led through the trees
within some twenty yards of our heroes, so close, in fact, that it was a
wonder that the dog did not discover them; and when he was gone, and
they could no longer hear his steps, a woman emerged from the hut--an
Arab like her lord and master. Throwing logs on the fire, and
replenishing the contents of the iron pot with something she carried in
a basket, she closed the door of the somewhat dilapidated house, and
took the same path as the man.
[Illustration: "THE ARAB SET OFF ALONG A PATH WITHIN SOME TWENTY YARDS
OF OUR HEROES"]
"Better see where she goes," said Geoff. "We'll slink through the trees
and make quite sure that they are both out of sight. Shouldn't wonder if
he's a simple shepherd, and has gone to visit his flock somewhere about
in this oasis; and it's more than likely that she has gone into Bagdad
to buy things for the household. Sounds curious, doesn't it? But you've
got to remember that people here are very much the same in many ways as
people back in old England. Commodities of every kind don't grow in
houses; they have to be bought. And stores and shops don't exist in the
country, so Turkish and Arab women, like the folks at home, have to go
off on shopping expeditions."
Whatever it was that had taken the woman off, it proved, indeed, to be a
godsend to these two wandering and hungry subalterns, for the woman
disappeared finally down the road leading towards Bagdad, while careful
investigation proved that the man had gone off to the left, where he
could be seen trudging over the grass-covered land quite a mile distant.
As for the hut, it looked lonely enough when they went back, and
uninhabited, though the fire still smouldered in front, and that
delightful aroma still reached their nostrils.
"Well, do we stop here in the shade of the trees, and just satisfy
ourselves with a sniff of that stew cooking in the pot we're looking
at?" exclaimed Philip in somewhat injured, if not impatient, tones, as
he looked out into the sunlit arena in which the dilapidated hut was
situated. "Um!" he sighed; "it's mutton, or--or--or perhaps goat."
He snuffed at the air and projected his head beyond a leafy stem, his
eyes attracted far more by the fire and the cooking-pot above it than by
the hut, and his thoughts occupied with a possible chance of a meal
rather than with the possibility of the hut harbouring further
inhabitants. But the cautious Geoff, even then--his mouth watering at
the appetizing odour of the cooking food, and his hunger made twofold by
it--even then was not to be led into a position which might be harmful
to them. Cautious by nature--as we have inferred already--possessed,
that is to say, of a certain amount of discretion, which stood him and
his subaltern chum in good stead on many an occasion, he was yet not
altogether deficient in that dash and go which are so common in our
subalterns, which, indeed, make all of them such a valuable asset to the
British army.
"You hang on here," he told his chum. "I'll skirmish round a little and
see what's doing. Perhaps there's someone else in the hut, and if so we
should look silly, shouldn't we, if we tackled the food and had a fellow
firing into us with a blunderbuss when least expected?"
Rapid strides took him along the edge of the palm-trees, the grass
rustling at his feet as he trudged through it, and in a little while he
was behind the hut, to find it rather less prepossessing in rear than it
was in front, dilapidated, broken, and presenting many a ragged opening.
Squinting through more than one of these, Geoff could see the interior
quite plainly, for the sunlight was streaming in through the open door
on the farther side. Then he boldly went round one end and entered, to
find, as he had expected, that the place was entirely empty. Turning
about, he and Philip met above the fire, their noses thrust over the
cooking-pot, sniffing hungrily.
"Jingo! Mutton, I'll swear!"
"Goat'll taste just as good, just the same, no doubt," Geoff laughed
heartily. "Hook it off, Phil, while I go and look for some sort of
plates," he cried, "and let's be slippy, or else the owners will be
coming back to dispute our right to make use of their property."
Hook it off Philip did, with a swish, and conveyed the steaming pot
close to the door of the hut, into which Geoff had meanwhile plunged and
luckily found a few articles of crockery. Not that the owners of the hut
were possessed of a very elaborate suite of furniture, or a very
complete equipment of other things usually found in houses in Europe and
elsewhere; but the needs of your nomad shepherd in Asiatic Turkey are
simple enough--humble enough if you will--and this man and his wife
were no exceptions whatever. A couple of plates there were to be found,
both scrupulously clean, so that in a matter of two minutes those two
escaping subalterns might have been found, seated in the sunlight,
careless of their surroundings, making use of their fingers as forks,
and eating rapidly and heartily.
"Of course one's sorry to go and eat another fellow's dinner," grinned
Philip in the midst of the meal, as though the thought had only just
then struck him; "but, don't you know, dear boy, a fellow must eat,
mustn't he?"
"Looks like it," grunted Geoff, helping himself a second time; "and
mighty good this stuff is too. Let's get finished with it."
It took very little time indeed for these two hungry mortals to empty
the steaming pot, whereat Geoff poured some water into it from an
earthen vessel which stood outside the hut, and once more slung it over
the fire. A deep draught from the same vessel refreshed them both
wonderfully, when they were again able to look about them and take some
interest in their immediate surroundings.
"'Pon my word, I was so hungry that I couldn't bother about caution any
longer," said Geoff, "but now that that's been put all right I'm going
to get moving--to do all that is possible so that we shall not again be
captured."
"Hear, hear!" came from Philip.
"Then you get off into the trees again and watch for that shepherd
returning. I'm going to look round the hut to see if I can discover
something which will help us. For look at the two of us; we ain't
exactly the sort of people who could march into Bagdad and escape
notice now, are we?" asked Geoff, standing in front of Philip.
"Speaking for yourself, I presume?" came the merry answer. "Well, now,
to be quite frank, you know, with you, and with every wish to avoid the
suspicion of being personal, or rude, or what-not, don't you know, my
dear Geoff, one couldn't describe your appearance as exactly attractive,
hardly prepossessing; in fact, let's say, a trifle dishevelled,
distinctly ragged, and frightfully dirty."
Philip wound up with a hearty roar of laughter which bent him double,
and then stood up before his friend for examination, an examination
which Geoff made with twinkling eyes and smiles which showed his
amusement.
"Dirty has it first with you," he told Philip. "'Pon my word, after that
drive last night at the back of the chaise, in clouds of dust all the
time, you look rather more like a dust-heap than anything else. My word,
wasn't I thirsty! That draught of water was a perfect godsend. But, to
go back to what I was saying, we ain't, either of us, exactly the sort
of people who could walk into Bagdad in broad daylight and escape the
attention of the people. Now, are we? Not likely! They'd spot us at
once; these ragged remnants of khaki uniform would tell against us
promptly."
"It's a facer," said Phil; "we've either got to get a change of raiment
or we shall have to sneak into Bagdad during the darkness."
"When we would probably knock up against sentries at the gates and be
promptly captured," said Geoff. "You go and keep a bright look-out
whilst I rummage round this place."
Humble though the occupants of that cottage may have been, and, indeed,
undoubtedly were, the interior of the place was, like the crockery
borrowed from it, kept scrupulously clean, and, wending his way from the
main apartment into another, which did service as a sleeping-room, Geoff
found it much the same--clean and tidy, with nothing distasteful about
it. But, like the other contents of the place, which were few and far
between, the store of clothing there was even scantier.
"Sort of shepherd's cloak and hat to match, with sandals for the feet,"
said Geoff, as he examined the articles hanging on a wooden peg. "They'd
do for Philip; he'd look fine in 'em. What's this? Just the ordinary
togs worn by a Turkish peasant--perhaps the very things our friend who
owns the hut wears when he goes into Bagdad. Well, as Philip says, it's
rather rough to deprive him of them; but then, what else is there to do?
And are we to put his feelings and his losses before our own safety?"
Without more ado he brought the garments out of the house into the open,
and whistled loudly to Philip. Then, for fear lest the owner of the
place should return from a different direction and discover them, he
crossed the open space, where the fire was still smouldering, and
plunged into the trees beyond, where, later on, Philip, returning from
the point he had reached, and from which he had been able to view the
road beyond and the path taken by the shepherd, joined him.
"Put on those," Geoff told him, "and stick your boots into your belt.
We'll sit down here and wait till the afternoon is passed, and then take
the road for the city. Slip on the cloak and the hat over your ordinary
clothes; I'll do the same with these things. They're scanty enough, so
that we shan't be too warmly clad, and therefore there is no necessity
to discard our own rags, and perhaps run the risk of having our tracks
discovered by the shepherd or his dog coming across them."
Taking the opportunity of their enforced stay in the grove of
palm-trees, and of the shade which it afforded them, they slept
alternately, thus making up for their lost rest during the preceding
night; and it was while Geoff was on watch, and Philip lay full length
and sleeping heavily, that our hero saw the shepherd return by the same
route that had taken him away and enter his cottage. Minutes passed, and
though he came out and stretched himself in the sun, evidently awaiting
his midday meal and the return of his wife, not once did he suspect that
anyone had been there in the interval. Indeed, there was nothing to
rouse his suspicions, for all was as he had left it, and the two
subalterns had been careful enough to clean the plates they had used and
return them to their respective positions. The dog, too, much to Geoff's
delight, curled himself up at his master's feet, though at first he had
sniffed round, and had shown some traces of curiosity, if not of
momentary excitement.
As for the woman, there was not a sign of her as yet, though when the
day had dragged on a little, and the afternoon had nearly waned, Geoff
saw her coming along the road from Bagdad, and watched her as she
turned off towards the grove of trees and finally entered the sunlit
arena in which the hut was situated. It was as good as a play then,
though he felt rather sorry for it, to watch the woman's amazement when
she took the steaming pot from the fire, and, having brought two basins
from the cottage and placed them upon a ledge just outside, poured some
water into them from it. He watched as the dame dropped the pot and
lifted her hands in amazement; and smiled grimly, too, as the man got
languidly to his feet, not as yet understanding the situation, and then
finally, when he realized that his midday meal was not forthcoming,
clenched his fists and muttered, and showed his anger. Then bewilderment
took possession of the two of them, and, having asked questions the one
of the other, they stared at the pot as it lay on the sandy ground as if
it were a thing possessed, and even edged away from it.
"But it's a strange thing this thing that has happened," the man
muttered between his teeth. "By Allah, no such thing have I known in the
course of all my journeyings! You say, wife, that you placed some flesh
of a sheep within the pot?"
"Say it?" the woman replied in a shrill, angry, and rather frightened
tone, glaring at her lord and master. "But, as Allah hears me, you
yourself saw me add flesh to the pot ere you went, and after you had
gone I added more. What then is this? Ah! A thief, eh?"
That idea had not occurred to either of them before; but now it seized
upon their imagination instantly, and roused them to a pitch of anger
and excitement.
"A thief! Yes, of course. Why did we not think of that before? Here,
dog, find him."
Geoff bent down and shook the sleeping Philip heartily.
"Come along at once," he told him; "let us slip out into the open and
run for the road. It will be dusk almost by the time we reach it, and if
that dog doesn't trace us we ought to be able to get clear away. I ought
to explain that the man and his wife returned while you were asleep, and
now, having decided that probably someone has been there at the cottage
in their absence, they are sending the dog to search round."
The yelps of the animal could be heard at that moment, as the two slid
through the trees and out into the open. Then they took to their heels,
and, following a hollow down which water no doubt poured in the rainy
season, and which protected them from observation, they gained the high
road within a little while--that rough high road, covered inches thick
in sandy dust, along which the ruffianly von Hildemaller had passed in
the hours of darkness.
"We'll walk along steadily, taking notice of no one," said Geoff. "If we
pass people, and they address us, leave it to me to answer, and I'll
find some excuse for you. In any case, if I have to stop for a moment,
you walk on, for there's nothing else that you can do, and to stop might
prove dangerous."
That evening, after dusk had fallen, and just before the gates of the
city were closed, two rough shepherds from the desert passed into the
city of Bagdad unnoticed, unchallenged, without raising the smallest
suspicion. Passing along the main street which leads to the Bazaar,
they turned off sharply into a narrow alley, which led them to an even
narrower street, over which the rows of houses on either side met almost
completely.
"And now?" whispered Philip. "Where to? Here's Bagdad all right, and a
fellow begins to feel a little more free. But what's our next move?
Besides, there's a meal to be considered."
"And a bed," Geoff told him. "This way. You'll find that we are not
entirely without friends in this city. Follow straight up this street
and turn off when I turn into another alley."
Proceeding along that other dark and somewhat noisome alley, Geoff
suddenly ran into an obstacle--an obstacle which rebounded and which
proved to be a man, who was not less startled than himself.
"Pardon!" the man cried, and would have hurried on.
"One moment; your name?" asked Geoff, using the Armenian tongue. "Your
name, my friend, for there is something in your voice that reminds me of
one I have known."
There was silence perhaps for a whole minute, while Philip slid up
behind Geoff, ready to support him, and anticipating trouble. Then
suddenly there came a glad cry of surprise from the individual who had
cannoned into Geoff, and a hand gripped his arm firmly.
"My master, you are Keith Pasha. Yes?" asked the voice--the voice was
Esbul's.
"I am," Geoff told him promptly in tones of relief, for indeed this was
a most happy meeting.
"Then come, my master. I have a place of safety for you; there is one
who will greet you warmly and find food, and space, and raiment for you.
Come, my master, for I also have something which will delight your
heart. Listen, Master! I have news of Douglas Pasha."