So earnestly she spoke that I felt convinced there was in her life some
hideous mystery, and that those who held power over her she regarded
with abject terror. Besides, her frequent allusions to the uncertainty
of her life made it plain that she was apprehensive of a swift and
terrible doom.
Though some of her words and actions were, strange and incomprehensible,
and the effects I had witnessed at the weird Shrine of Darkness had, I
reflected, been probably produced by some kind of mechanical ingenuity,
yet there was something even more remarkable about this Pearl of the
Harem than her entrancing beauty. Her actions led me to the conclusion
that she was actually the woman reputed by the Ennitra to be possessed
of superhuman power, and every moment I now spent in her company
deepened my curiosity concerning her.
The mystery by which she was enveloped was puzzling. I felt myself
bewildered.
That she was well versed in Oriental mystic, rites was certain, but
whether she had actually produced the results I had witnessed without
some ingenious trickery I was half inclined to doubt.
Nevertheless, I loved her blindly. Her beauty fascinated me, and her
words in soft, musical Arabic that fell upon my ears entranced me.
"Then thou wilt go?" she said fondly, entwining her arm around my neck.
"Thou, the Amin, to whom may the Bestower of Good Gifts be merciful, art
willing to face all the terrors of the long journey for my sake?"
"Yes, Zoraida," I replied, looking straight into her dark orbs.
"Already thou hast saved my life. If it lieth within my power I will
save thine."
"Then we must lose no time," she exclaimed suddenly. Leaving me, she
crossed the harem, and took a sheet of paper and an ink-horn from a
little cabinet inlaid with silver and mother-of-pearl, returning to
where I was standing. Sinking upon her soft divan, she spread out the
paper upon a little coffee-stool, and wrote in Arabic character the
following:--
"O revered servant of Allah, learned and mighty, thou whose face is as a
lamp unto those who walk in the darkness and in error stray from the
path, unto thee I send salutation. The One Worthy of Praise made earth
for a carpet, and it is written upon the tablet that Allah, Giver of
Good Gifts, is the living One. May he who despiseth the revelation
enter into the Companionship of the Left Hand, and dwell for ever in Al
Sahira. To seek an elucidation of the Great Mystery, the Roumi, into
whose hands have I given the Crescent of Glorious Wonders, journeyeth
afar unto thee. Know, O Friend, deadly peril surroundeth me. Of a
verity the day hath come when the Great Secret may be revealed, for by
its knowledge my life may be spared. Wherefore I beseech thee to grant
him audience, and direct his footsteps into the valley of felicity, for
assuredly mine enemies may be dumbfounded if thou wiliest.
"In fear have we flown into the refuge of patience, praying to the
Answerer of our Supplications to grant us endurance. When our prayer
for the Great Elucidation hath been responded to, the skirts of thine
innocence shall be purified from the mire of suspicion, and--if it
pleaseth Allah--by the blessing of thy devotions will our petition be
heard, and from us will our affliction be removed. May the Beneficent
Granter of Requests be gracious unto the Roumi and give him prosperity.
Upon thee likewise be perfect peace. Sister."
As she carefully penned the intricate lines, I noticed for the first
time that across the back of her right hand--the hand that bore my
ring--was a small red scar about an inch in length, and I silently
wondered how it had been caused.
"There," she exclaimed at last, as she appended with a flourish the
characters "_Okht_" which apparently she used as her signature,
"together with the Crescent of Glorious Wonders convey this my message
to Hadj Mohammed ben Ishak, the chief _imam_ of the mosque at Agadez.
He will understand my desire. Tell him that thou hast accompanied me
unto the Shrine of Darkness, where I recovered the key to the hidden
mystery, but that knowledge was, alas! not imparted to thee. He will
then instruct thee how to act."
"To Agadez?" I echoed, dismayed, remembering that it lay far south
beyond the Great Sahara, with nearly two thousand miles of trackless and
almost waterless wilderness between it and civilisation.
"Yes; I told thee that the only spot where knowledge can be given thee,
and by which thou canst effect my rescue, was far distant. Dost thou
fear to travel thither?"
I hesitated in uncertainty. Well I knew how tedious and perilous would
be the long journey, for the hostility of the tribes through whose
country I should have to pass constituted a terror even as great as the
enormous difficulties and frightful hardships that I must encounter for
many weeks, perhaps months, in the Great Sahara itself. But the earnest
look of pleading in her splendid eyes decided me.
"I will go, Zoraida. If it is thy will, I shall start to-morrow," I
said.
"Thou wilt traverse the Great Desert for my sake--for my sake?" she
exclaimed, kissing my hand as I took the missive she had folded. "When
I named thee the Amin I was not mistaken. Hadj Mohammed will be
expecting thee."
"Why?"
"Because he will receive early knowledge that the Crescent of Glorious
Wonders is in thy custody. Remember, if lost, it could never be
replaced, having been revealed and given unto us by the Power that is
all-powerful. Thou wilt undertake this mission in order to save my
life, to save me from the horrible fate that threateneth to overwhelm
me. When the Secret hath been imparted, and thou hast used it according
to instructions that will be given by the aged chaplain of the daily
prayers, then wilt thou return to me--and to peace."
"But how shall I find thee? Many moons may perchance rise and fade ere
I return to Algiers."
"Assuredly I shall know thy whereabouts," she replied briefly. "Travel
swiftly. The horse I gave thee on the night I severed thy bonds will
carry thee back from Biskra to El Biodh. Then with camels travel over
the vast northern Touareg and the mountains of Adrar, guarding well thy
life through Djanet until thou comest to Mount Equelles. From there
thou wilt be compelled to guide thyself by the sun over the Desert to
the palms of Issala, where thou wilt find also dates, forage, and water.
Another long and weary course of travel will bring thee at last to
Assiou, thence journeying due south past Azarara and along the great
rocky valleys of Air, where dwell thine enemies, thou wilt at length
enter the gate of Agadez, the City of the Sorcerers, wherein the strange
mystery lieth hidden."
The exact position of Agadez was, I reflected, somewhat uncertain.
Generally believed to be about eighteen hundred miles from Algiers as
the swallow flies, it was placed by most maps at the extreme south of
the Azarara country, to the west of Lake Tsad; but among European
geographers there was a certain amount of doubt as to its exact position
and best approach, for maps of that remote district differ considerably.
However, I had decided to set out to seek this aged _imam_ for
Zoraida's sake, and meant to do my utmost to accomplish my mission.
Leaning before me in silence against a marble column, with her hands
clasped behind her head, her jewels scintillating in the softly-tempered
light, her sequins tinkling musically, her rich silks rustling, her
scented bosom rising and falling as she breathed, she looked a veritable
sultana, a woman for whom any man might have sacrificed his very soul.
"Remember always, O Cecil, that my thoughts follow thee," she said
softly. "Remember, when thou facest the terrors which are inevitable,
that there is one woman who is trusting to thee alone to save her.
Perhaps ere long I shall return to our palace in the impenetrable
mountains beyond Tiouordeouin; nevertheless my thoughts will be
constantly of thee, for now I am convinced of thy love and fearlessness.
May Allah, the One Merciful, guard thee, and may all thine enemies
perish!"
Placing my arm slowly around her slim waist, encircled by a golden
girdle, I drew her towards me, and she kissed me with hot feverish lips.
"I cannot bear the thought, Zoraida, that thou mayest wander again with
thy relatives and clansmen over the burning Desert, and witness those
awful scenes of plunder and massacre. Ah! if I could but think that
thou wouldst be safe here during my absence."
She sighed, toying with the jewelled scent-bottle suspended upon her
breast, the little trinket that contained the antidote.
"Already have I told thee my life is very uncertain," she exclaimed
gloomily. "Even to-night I might fall a victim. The tyranny of
unpropitious times hath thrown the stone of separation upon us. I
might--"
"No, no," I interrupted. "Thou art safe here, surely. Be patient, and
keep a stout heart until I return. Thou knowest I love thee dearly, and
will strive unceasingly to accomplish my mission quickly and
successfully."
"Yes. I shall be thinking always of thee--always," she said softly.
"And when I return I shall have learned the mysterious Secret which is
so absolutely necessary for our mutual welfare."
"Ah, Cecil, my Amin! I love thee! I love thee! As sure as the sun
will illumine to-morrow's dawn, so surely will I--"
Her passionate words were suddenly interrupted by the entrance of the
big negro who had guarded the door of the harem. He rushed in with a
look of abject terror upon his dark, brutal countenance, whispering some
hasty words into his mistress's ear that caused her to become agitated
and deathly pale.
"Quick! Hasten, or I am lost!" she cried, turning to me.
"What danger threateneth?" I inquired in surprise.
"Leave me! Leave me! Thou must not be discovered!" she exclaimed
breathlessly. "Take this, the Crescent, and turn thy face towards the
Desert to-morrow. Remember the instructions I have given thee; and,
above all, promise to seek no explanation of what thou mayest hear or
see regarding me until thou hast returned from Agadez."
"I promise," I replied, as for a second I held her in my arms and our
lips met in passionate farewell.
"Quick! The Roumi! In Allah's name, save him!" she cried, turning to
the gorgeously-attired Soudanese who stood near, like a gigantic statue.
"Follow," he commanded; and, crossing the room, drew aside some silken
hangings, disclosing another small door, of the existence of which I had
been unaware.
I turned. Zoraida had flung herself with languorous abandon upon her
divan, with her hand pressed to her bejewelled forehead. Her wistful
eyes followed me, and as I waved her a last farewell, she said--
"Go, my Amin! May Allah give thee perfect peace!" Through the open
door we passed, and the negro, closing it, bolted it from the outside,
leaving us in total darkness.
"Keep silence. Grasp my arm, and I will lead thee," said the man, but
ere he had uttered the words, there came from the harem a loud, piercing
shriek--the cry of a woman!
It was Zoraida's voice!
"Hark!" I gasped, with bated breath. "Listen! That voice was _hers_!
Let us return."
"No," he replied gruffly. "That is impossible."
"But the cry was one of terrible agony!"
"Slaves of the harem never interfere without orders. Death is the
penalty of the Infidel found within the precincts sacred to the women,"
he answered coldly.
I turned to unbolt the door, but his sinewy hand grasped me by the neck,
and without any further explanation I was half dragged through several
dark, close-smelling passages, and down a flight of broken stone steps,
until we came to a heavy door.
"At least thou canst tell me who is the owner of this place," I said,
slipping a couple of gold coins into his ready palm.
"I cannot. My mistress hath commanded my silence," he answered,
pocketing the bribe, nevertheless.
"May I learn nothing, then?" I asked.
"No. Our Queen of the Desert hath taken every precaution that thou
shalt obtain no knowledge of certain facts. For her own sake secrecy is
imperative, therefore, if thou holdest her in respect, seek not to
loosen my tongue with thy gold."
Then he pushed me gently but firmly outside, and with a parting word
closed the iron-studded door again. The key grated in the lock as it
was secured, and, gazing round, I found myself in the narrow crooked
street.
For a few moments I hesitated. The moon shone brightly, and all was
quiet, for it was long past midnight.
After a final look at the gloomy, mysterious house, I plunged into the
labyrinth of Arab thoroughfares, and, half dazed by the strange, dreamy
experience, I walked on, descending the steep, intricate streets,
trusting to chance to bring me into the Place du Gouvernement, in the
European quarter, wherein was situated my hotel.
At last, after wandering nearly an hour, I found myself in the Rue de la
Lyre, the street of the Algerine merchants, and soon afterwards, having
awakened the sleepy Arab porter at the Regence, climbed to my room.
Opening the jalousies, I sat for a long time gazing out upon the moonlit
Mediterranean. The soft warm wind sighed in the waving palms outside,
and shouting came up now and then from the quay, for the mail steamer
from Europe had just hove in sight. Deeply I pondered over the strange
events of the night, wondering whether I was acting wisely in
undertaking the long journey to Agadez. So strange were many of
Zoraida's words, that more than once was I tempted to regard her as
suffering from mental aberration, yet nevertheless I could not disguise
the fact that there was a terrible earnestness in all her words and
actions, an earnestness which fully bore out her declaration that her
life was at stake.
On the table lay the Crescent of Glorious Wonders, the leathern case of
which was evidently centuries old, for it was worm-eaten, tattered, and
crumbling. What, I wondered, could be its power? How could it assist
me to wealth? How was it possible that a mere piece of steel, with its
strange geometrical inscription--that is here reproduced--could bring
Zoraida and me happiness and peace?
The idea seemed absurd, nevertheless the mystery was inscrutable. It
added fascination to her exquisite charms, and I knew that I loved
Zoraida--I knew she held me by her spell for life or death.
Once a gloomy thought arose. I remembered the ominous words of old Ali
Ben Hafiz; I recollected the strange Omen of the Camel's Hoof! But I
smiled, regarding the superstition, as I had always done, as one of the
many unfounded beliefs of the Bedouins, and just as the first streak of
dawn showed above the distant peaks of Kabylia, I turned in, resolved to
get at least one night's rest in a European bed before setting out upon
my long journey from which I might perhaps never return.
For me, alas! it was a night fraught with horrors. What I had seen in
that strange house in the Kasbah quarter came back vividly to me,
confused and distorted in my dreams. In my horrible nightmare I thought
I saw Zoraida, the beautiful woman who loved me, struck down by an
assassin's knife. I heard her scream, the same shrill cry of agony I
had heard after I left the harem.
This aroused me. The sun was shining brilliantly in its clear vault of
blue; there was movement in the great square, and the _garcons de cafe_
were dusting their tables. The scent of the flowers from the stalls
below wafted in through my open window. I could sleep no longer, so,
dressing again, I swallowed my coffee, and went out, wandering along the
sea-shore, breakfasting _al fresco_ at the Moorish restaurant outside
the Jardin d'Essai, and spending the morning strolling alone, puzzled
and thoughtful. Returning to the Regence at midday, the Arab porter
handed me a small wooden box about a foot in length, six inches deep,
and sealed securely with black wax.
"This came for m'sieur an hour ago," he said.
"For me?" I exclaimed, surprised, glancing at the address, which was in
a man's handwriting. "Who left it?"
"A Biskri servant, m'sieur. He said it was most urgent, and I was to
deliver it immediately you returned."
Who, I wondered, had sent it?
Mounting the two flights of stone stairs hastily, I at length gained my
room. Eagerly I cut the string, broke the great seals, and lifted the
lid.
"God!" I cried, starting back in horror when my gaze fell upon the
object it contained.
Appalled and breathless I stood, unable to move.
Some moments elapsed before I summoned sufficient courage to again rivet
my eyes upon it. The sight was sickening.
The box was lined with black silk, and in it there reposed a woman's
hand that had been hacked from the wrist! It was white and bloodless.
Rings still remained upon the slim waxen fingers, the nails of which
were stained brown with henna. I recognised them! One was the signet
ring that had belonged to my father. On the back of the dead hand was a
scar. I examined it closely. Yes! it was the same that I noticed while
the woman I adored was penning the letter to the _imam_ I now carried in
my pocket!
Trembling, I touched the lifeless fingers. They were cold as marble.
The hideous, blood-smeared Thing that had been sent me was _the dead
severed hand of Zoraida_!