VISITORS.
"I am all right," said Edwards, "but I have just seen someone, and heard
something which has upset me a little. Whom do you think I have been
talking to, Walter?" he asked, turning to me.
"I give it up," said I. "Who was it?"
"Well, I will tell you," said Edwards. "I was walking my horse over the
bridge, when I met a very smart-looking Persian gentleman on foot, and
as I came up to him, to my astonishment he salaamed to me, and addressed
me as 'Hakim.' I knew his face, but I could not put a name to it. So I
stopped and began to talk to him. He hastily told me to go on across the
bridge, and wait for him a little way out in the country, as he did not
wish to be seen by the Baghdadis in my company. I now recognised his
voice, and glancing round, I made certain that I was right. It was our
old friend Sedjur--beautifully disguised. Getting well away from the
town, I waited for him, and when he came up, gave him a warm welcome.
Then, in reply to my inquiries, he told me what he was doing in Baghdad.
He was tracking Yusuf Mersina, who, he said, was supposed to be in
Baghdad, with the Golden Girdle in his possession. So far, he had not
been able to hear anything of him. I was afraid to tell him a word about
your exploits, or that he might ease his mind about the Girdle, because,
honest though I believe Sedjur to be, one can never be quite certain
what these people are up to. I was going to ask him if he knew that you
were alive, when we saw people coming along in the distance, and he
begged me to leave him. I did not do so, however, until I had learned
from him that his father is also here."
"What, my brother Faris?" I exclaimed. "How extraordinary."
"Yes," continued Edwards, "and, what is more, they are both coming down
to see me to-night. Sedjur said that he knew the Residency, and would
drop down in a kufa, so as to be under the wall here as the moon rose. I
promised to meet him, and give him protection as long as he was within
the precincts of the Residency."
"You were making somewhat free of His Majesty's property," laughed the
Consul-General.
"I am sorry, sir," said Edwards, "but I thought that you would be
interested to see these two friends of ours, about whom you have heard
so much."
"I was only joking," said the Consul-General. "I shall be delighted to
welcome them. The moon rises at about eleven o'clock, if I am not
mistaken. Do you think that Henderson ought to sit up so late?"
"I shall be here, sir," said I, looking defiantly at my medical adviser,
"even if I have to go back to bed for another month. I cannot miss
seeing Faris and Sedjur."
It was therefore arranged that we should dine at 8.30 at the Residency,
and afterwards make a night of it. But, in the meanwhile, Edwards
marched me back to his house for two or three hours' rest, though, as a
matter of fact, he kept me busy talking for most of the time.
"What do you imagine that Faris and Sedjur are doing here?" he asked me.
"Looking for Mersina, I suppose," I answered. "But I think that they
must be on the wrong scent."
"I must say," said Edwards, "that I do not like the look of things. If
Mersina has come back to Baghdad, you may be certain that he knows that
you got the Girdle; and, as likely as not, he is planning a burglary or
something of the kind. I do not suppose that Faris and Sedjur are in
with him."
"In any case," said I, "I do not see that it matters. Mersina cannot
burgle the safe."
"Perhaps not," said Edwards, "but he might murder or gag the
Consul-General in his sleep, and take the key."
"You are a fearful alarmist, George," said I. "Do not worry about the
matter, until you hear what the Sheik and Sedjur have to tell us. I am
quite excited at the prospect of seeing them again, and hearing what
happened to them at the Devil's Well, when they let me go."
Dinner that night was a dull affair. Edwards was morbidly gloomy; I, if
not actually depressed, was thoughtful; and our host altogether failed
to enliven us. Afterwards, we sat and smoked in the Consul-General's
sanctum, overhanging the river, until the hour for which we waited
approached. Then Edwards, looking at his watch, rose, and walked out to
the low parapet which bordered the river, to meet the expected Bedouins.
A few minutes later the door opened, and Edwards ushered in Faris and
Sedjur. My heart gave a leap when I saw them again, but instinctively I
stooped over the table with my back towards the door, so that I should
not be recognised. As soon as the Consul-General's greeting was over I
turned suddenly, and, facing Faris, held out my hand.
"Brother," I said, "have you so soon forgotten me?"
The look of amazement and joy that came over the faces of father and son
I shall never forget, and throughout the long discussion that followed,
I constantly observed each of them glancing furtively at me, as if still
doubtful whether I were flesh and blood.
How we talked! First, I had to give my version of my escape from the
well, and so often did they interrupt me with questions, that I was a
long time relating all that had happened to me.
"And where now is this accursed serpent belt?" asked Faris, when I had
concluded.
"Locked up securely," answered the Consul-General "and where it now is
there will it remain, until I myself take it out."
"Marvellous!" said Faris, addressing me. "On more than one occasion,
brother, you forbade me to call you 'magician,' yet henceforward shall I
call you by no other name. For, of a truth, to have raised yourself from
the dead entitles you to that name."
"I care little," said I, with a laugh, "how I am called, now that I have
accomplished my task. But, tell us of your own adventures. How was it
that you let go the rope? And who was the man whom I saw lying dead
among the rocks?"
"That," said the sheik, "must have been the Jew Jusuf Mersina, and I
hurled him there with my own arms."
"Then why," I asked, "have you now come to Baghdad to seek him? I do not
understand."
"Because," said Faris, "we believed that he had not been killed by the
fall, but had escaped with the serpent belt, which the astrologer of
Kerbela afterwards told us was here in Baghdad. But I will tell you
everything, and then you will understand, for you must have thought that
I was guilty of the crime of abandoning my brother, whom I had sworn to
defend and succour for all time."
The sheik, assisted by Sedjur, then related fully all that occurred at
the fatal moment when the rope by which I was suspended suddenly gave
way. My conjectures were fairly correct. Faris lay watching me slowly
descending towards the Girdle, when, without any warning, a wild shout
was raised close behind him, and looking back he saw a party of horsemen
galloping down on him. The Aeniza who was at the tail of the rope,
quickly took a hitch round the rearmost spear, and each man ran to his
horse. Faris immediately recognised the leader of his assailants as
Mersina, and, throwing his horse's bridle to Sedjur, rushed at him and
unhorsed him. The Jew fought tooth and nail, but Faris was too strong
for him, and managed to drag him towards the edge of the well. Then it
was that the Jew, in desperation, clutched at the spear which held my
rope. To Faris's consternation, it flew out of the ground, and my weight
immediately carried away the remaining spear and the rope. In his rage
at my fate, he lifted Mersina bodily from the ground, and hurled him
into the depths below. Turning round, he saw that the others of his
party were hotly engaged with their enemies, and keeping them at bay
until the sheik should mount his horse. The spears of both Faris and
Sedjur had disappeared into the well, so the former, deeming it hopeless
to stand and fight, gave the signal to his party to disengage and break
away, trusting to the speed of his horses to get clear. This was
successfully accomplished, for though the pursuit continued for several
hours, Faris and his three followers rapidly out-distanced their
pursuers, and during the night made good their escape.
Daud, unfortunately, had sustained, during the fight, an ugly spear
wound in the thigh, and the severe ride that followed had not improved
its condition; consequently, Faris decided to take him to the nearest
village by the Euphrates, and leave him there with his old companion,
the Aeniza, while the sheik and his son returned to reconnoitre towards
the well. Having seen Daud safely deposited in the village, my two
friends retraced their steps, and soon discovered that the hostile
horsemen had not gone back to the well, but had struck away to the
north-west, which seemed to confirm the opinion that Daud had expressed
that Mersina's adherents belonged to the kafila of the great sheik who
had purchased the Golden Girdle, and had afterwards thrown it into the
Devil's Well.
When the well was reached, they shouted down into it, and continuously
called to me by name, but getting no reply, they concluded that I had
been killed by my fall. So they gave me up as lost, and proceeded to
gather up their saddle-bags. One, they found, had disappeared, but they
thought that it might have been on the back of my horse, which the enemy
had captured and carried off. Before leaving, however, curiosity
impelled them to look once more at the Golden Girdle, but though they
were certain of the exact spot where it had lain, they were unable to
see it. Of this, at the time, they thought little, because dusk was
already coming on, and they rode all night towards the Euphrates, which
they reached next day.
At the village they had to wait for some little time, until Daud had
recovered sufficiently to travel, when he went to Kerbela, to endeavour
to find out from his friend the astrologer if he had heard of the fate
of Mersina and the Girdle. The Hindu appeared to know some of the events
that had taken place. He knew that the Girdle had been thrown into the
well, and he knew that Mersina had taken a party there to try and
recover it. Furthermore, he stated that he had discovered, by
divination, that the belt of gold had been taken from the well, and was
in Baghdad, hinting at the same time that it was with the Jew Mersina.
This information Daud had obtained only quite recently, and as soon as
Faris and Sedjur heard it, they set out for Baghdad, in search of
Mersina and the Girdle, while Daud remained in Kerbela, with the hope of
picking up fresh news.
"Then you thought," said I, "that I was dead."
"We felt certain of it," said Faris, "otherwise I should have remained
at the well until I had rescued you."
"Why, then," I asked, "since you believed me to be dead, should you have
taken any further trouble about Mersina and the Girdle?"
"Because," replied the sheik, "I considered that I was responsible for
your death, and I intended to come and confess all to the good Hakim.
But I was unwilling to do so unless I could bring to him, for
presentation to your family, the Great Queen's belt, which had cost you
your life. Now that I know that you are alive, and have reaped your
reward, I can return to the desert in happiness."
"There to await," said I, "the coming of Shahzadi's shoe."
"Nay," said the sheik, with a surprised look, "that can never be now;
for I failed to carry out my part of the bargain."
"Who was it, then," I asked, "who lowered me into the well, from which I
recovered the Girdle? Except through you, my brother, I should never
have obtained it; and, as Daud will be rewarded by the sum which was
promised to him, so also shall Shahzadi's shoe be bestowed on
Faris-ibn-Feyzul. Even this day," I continued, "have I sent a message to
my friends, who are coming from the big house across the seas to take
back Sophana's belt, that they should bring with them the shoe which you
desire to possess."
The two Bedouins were delighted, and for some minutes continued to pour
out volumes of thanks. Then the Consul-General suggested that the hours
had slipped by and that soon day would break. Without wishing to hurry
the departure of his guests, he thought that they would desire to leave
while it was still dark.
"When, sheik," he asked, addressing Faris, "do you propose to quit
Baghdad?"
"We shall leave," replied Faris, "within a few hours. So soon, that is,
as we can get our horses and ride away."
"But before you go," said the Consul-General, "you would doubtless like
to see with your own eyes, and perhaps touch, this great treasure in
which you have been so deeply interested. What says our hero? Eh,
Henderson?"
Observing the eagerness depicted on the sheik's countenance, I readily
acquiesced, and the Consul-General took out his keys and walked to the
safe in the corner of the room. As he did so, my eyes happened to turn
towards Edwards. He was clutching convulsively at his chair, and his
face had lost all colour. The key turned in the lock with a sharp click;
at the same moment Edwards rose from his chair, and, saying that he did
not feel well, walked out of the room into the open air. I was so
engrossed with the opening of the safe, that I paid little attention to
Edwards's action; and, almost trembling with excitement, I watched the
Consul-General lift up the mass of intertwined rope and gold. It was
just as I had last seen it, and when it had been placed on the table in
front of Faris, I explained that it was thus that I had bound it to my
body when first I recovered it from the bottom of the Devil's Well.
The Girdle was partly concealed by the rope, and in order that it might
be seen the better, I commenced to disentangle it; but I had hardly
unwound one turn of the rope than a wild cry from outside electrified
us. Dropping the rope and Girdle, I rushed to the door, followed by
Faris and Sedjur; for the cry was an unmistakable call for help, and the
voice I knew to be that of Edwards. As I crossed the room, I had time to
notice that the Consul-General snatched up the Girdle from the table,
and, instantly locking it up in the safe, ran after us, to reach the
courtyard simultaneously with Sedjur. By the side of the wall above the
river, I saw Edwards standing in the moonlight, and looking down into
the water.
"What is the matter, old chap," I asked, as I ran up to him.
"I am afraid it is a bad business," said Edwards, "but it served him
right, whoever he is. There he is, down in that kufa."
We all looked over the edge of the embankment, and we could see below
us, in the dim light, a kufa, with the figure of a man lying across the
gunwale, the head and shoulders at the bottom of the boat, and the legs
trailing in the water over the side.
[Illustration: "WE COULD SEE BELOW US ... THE FIGURE OF A MAN LYING
ACROSS THE GUNWALE"]
"See that he does not escape," shouted Edwards. "He may not be dead."
Quick as thought, Sedjur ran to where his own kufa was fastened, jumped
down into it, and soon brought it alongside the other one. Faris and I
then assisted to drag the man up and lay him on the ground, while
Edwards obtained a lamp from indoors, and made an examination. The man
was dead, his skull having been crushed and his neck broken. Death,
Edwards declared, must have been instantaneous; and, with some
excitement, he told us what had taken place. Feeling faint, he had
walked out into the courtyard, and was sitting on one of the seats in
the fresh air, when he suddenly saw a figure climb stealthily over the
wall from the direction of the river, and creep towards the room where
we were seated. Thinking that something was wrong, Edwards rushed across
to the intruder, but the man was too quick for him, and fled back to the
river-side. Edwards, however, shouting for help, succeeded in cutting
him off, and was able to seize, for a second, the end of his cloak as
the man leapt over the wall into the river. Whether the fugitive knew
that his kufa was immediately below him, and had intended to jump into
it, no one can say; but it was evident that the effect of Edwards's
temporary hold on his cloak was to throw him off his balance, so that he
pitched headlong into the bottom of the boat from a height of some
fifteen feet or more.
Holding the lamp to the dead man's face, we sought to identify him, and
Faris instantly uttered an exclamation of surprise.
"Wallah!" said he, "it is Shustri, the astrologer."
"Wallah!" exclaimed Sedjur, "and he told Daud that he was going to
Damascus."
"Without a doubt," said Faris, "he had come here to steal the Serpent
Belt; but death overtakes even a man who knows all things, and who can
converse with the dead."
There were already signs of day, and Faris was anxious to depart.
"Twere better," said he "that this man's body should not remain here;
for if it became known that such an one had perished in this place, then
would it have an evil reputation for all time. We will therefore take
the body and the kufa a little way with us, and let them float away in
mid-stream, until, if Allah wills, they reach the great Shattu'l Arab."
None of us dissented, and within a few minutes we had grasped the hands
of our Bedouin friends, and had seen them drop down into their kufa.
Then we lowered the body of the Hindu into the other boat, and Sedjur,
casting loose its rope, towed it astern, while Faris paddled away from
land. We stood watching the two black specks moving across the water,
until, in the growing daylight, we saw them part, the one slowly
ascending the river, and the other, caught by the current, sweeping down
stream, out of sight.