So ill was the unfortunate prisoner, that Edwards insisted that during the next day's march he should ride unfettered and in comparative comfort on a camel. He stood the journey well, and on reaching camp he was no worse than he had been at starting in the morning. Again he was consigned to our care and accommodated in our tent.
We were now within four days' ride of Meshed Ali, and the Governor (as we still called him) decided that, before entering the town, it would be necessary to send forward messengers, with presents to the notables, requesting an asylum, and asking permission to rent suitable quarters. This, we learned, might take some considerable time, and in the meanwhile thekafilawas to halt and prepare for the entry into the Holy City. This delay was most annoying to Edwards and myself, for having returned, as it were, to the outskirts of civilisation, we were anxious to take an affectionate farewell of our friends, to whom we could be no longer of any assistance, and get away on our own business. Edwards, of course, wished to return to Baghdad as soon as possible; and I was equally desirous of seeking out Faris, with a view to learning if he had discovered anything about the Golden Girdle.
"I have been thinking," said Edwards, "that we might clear out from here. I do not see any use in going on with Ali Khan to Meshed Ali. Our presence cannot make much difference, and I do not suppose that he and Haroun really care whether we see them all the way to the town or not. They will not want a doctor any longer, and they know that as soon as we reach Meshed Ali we shall continue the journey to Baghdad."
"I quite agree," said I; "the only thing is that we must not do anything to wound the feelings either of Ali Khan or of Haroun. I am still haunted by the idea that it was entirely through us that the poor old Governor came to grief, and he has been a perfect brick about it. Just think what it all means to him."
"Of one thing," said Edwards, "you may be certain. Directly I get back to Baghdad, I will induce the Consul-General to espouse his cause, and I will do my utmost to persuade him to worry the Turkish authorities to death, or at any rate until they have seen justice done to Ali Khan. If they choose, they can easily give Hayil a slap on the face, and reinstate Ali Khan at Adiba, that is to say if the town has not been destroyed."
"Well," said I, "shall we go and suggest that we would like to go off to Baghdad at once, without waiting to go to Meshed Ali?"
"We cannot tackle the business to-night," said Edwards. "It is too late now; I expect they have all turned in; but we will see about it in the morning. We have not yet settled what we are going to do about this feeble prisoner and his two friends."
"Perhaps," I suggested, "they will let them go as our guides."
"Not they," said Edwards. "Each of them means a bit of money—a ransom of a hundred camels for the lot, at least."
"There is nothing for it then," said I, "but the small-pox yarn."
"But I told Haroun to-day that I thought the sick man was ever so much better," remarked Edwards.
Just then we noticed that our patient was sitting up on his rugs in the corner of the tent, and gazing at us intently.
"Do you want anything?" asked Edwards.
"Yes, Beg," said the Shammar, "I want to speak to you. I am so much better, thanks to your care, that I can now talk."
"Probably you wish," said Edwards, "to ask me to let you escape. If that is what you want, I must tell you at once that, although I would gladly see you and the others go free, it cannot be, for I have promised that you shall not escape."
"That does not trouble me," said the Bedouin, "since I have friends in Meshed Ali, and as soon as I reach the place, we shall be ransomed."
"Then what is it that you wish to say?" asked Edwards.
"I have travelled," said the man, "for several days now with you two Ingleezee; and, without your knowledge, I have watched all your actions. You are both kind and good men, but neither of you is the man whom we were seeking when we entered your camp by the marsh and were captured as supposed stealers of horses. We had no intention of taking horses or anything from any man, but we had heard that there were two Ingleezee travelling with the caravan, and we thought that one of them would be the man with whom we have a blood feud. We knew that two Ingleezee had come to the desert, because we found, at the ruins of Katib, the horse and saddle-bags of one of them, and had actually seen him. The other we know well, and for him have dared much, but only to be deceived, to be cheated, robbed, insulted, and even murdered. There must have been three of you. What have you done with the other?"
"According to you," said Edwards, "there should be four, that is two besides my friend here and myself. There is the man with whom you are so anxious to settle accounts, and there is the man whose horse you say you found at the ruins of Katib."
"No," said the Shammar, turning his eyes on me, "only three. The horse that we took at the ruins belonged to your friend."
"How do you know this?" I asked, thrown off my guard by the suddenness with which the statement had been made.
"Thus," he replied; "I met with an accident at the ruins, and was lying alone among the stones, not ten paces from the spot where you had left your horse, when you and that Faris of the Jelas came by, and I laughed when I saw that my friends had taken your horses and left you to walk. But of this I have spoken to no man outside of my own tribe."
I now began to feel uncomfortable, for, as I said to myself, if this man were to disclose what he knew to Ali Khan, I should be in a very awkward predicament. Here was evidence that I and Faris, deprived of our horses, had been seen walking away from the ruins towards the marsh, just at the very time that Ali Khan's horses had been stolen, and I was quite sure that any Arab of ordinary intelligence would be able to put two and two together.
"Why did you not tell this to your captors when you were taken?" I asked.
"Because," said the man, "they would not have believed me. But when I felt very ill, some days back, I was on the point of disclosing everything. Then you came to succour me, and since that time I have been filled with gratitude towards you both—so much so, that even if I were now to be in peril of my life, I would hold my peace concerning what I saw at those ruins, unless it should be your wish that I should speak."
"What harm would it do my friend," asked Edwards, "were you to proclaim that you saw him at Katib? The ruins are free to all."
"Even so," said the Shammar, "but we in the desert know all things. News travels fast. We have heard that Faris did not enter the Jelas encampment on foot, but riding a horse stolen from this self-same Governor of Adiba, then encamped by the marsh at no great distance from Katib. Another horse was stolen at the same time. By whom was it stolen?"
He looked at me, and smiled; but I did not reply at once to his question. I was convinced that he was trying to drive a bargain; that in return for his silence he was to be given his liberty; and I felt that he had got me up into a corner, with power to do much as he pleased with me. At first I thought I would bluff him; then I remembered a piece of advice that Faris once gave me, which was to the effect that one might humbug a townsman with success, but that with a true Bedouin, honesty would be found to be the best policy.
"What matter does it make," said I, "by whom the horse was stolen? The man who stole it required it. The man who lost it could well do without it. So we will say no more on that point. But tell me of this third Ingleezee whom you know so well, and whose blood you wish to shed."
"Whence he came," said the Bedouin, "I cannot tell you, but our sheik, after a visit to Kerbela, brought him back with him to our tents. Since that time, I and all the men of the tribe have had misfortunes. Sheik Abbas was slain in battle by your cruel friend Faris; his nephew, even he who became sheik at the death of Abbas, disappeared at Katib with two trusty companions. We doubt not that they were murdered by a shaitan who dwelt in the ruins. I and ten others—all that remained of our family—went to Katib to find them, but our search was fruitless."
"So, in revenge," said I, "you slew the shaitan, otherwise Raspul, Priest of the Goddess Sophana."
"How know you?" asked the man.
"How I know matters not," I answered. "But I know it, and, furthermore, I know that you stole from his dead body that golden belt, which undoubtedly has proved as great a curse to you as it has to all men who have touched it."
"Since you know these things," said he, "you and Faris must have watched us from some hiding-place."
"True," said I.
"Then you saw all?"
"We saw you break in the roof of the temple, and kill Raspul; and we saw a man descend by a rope."
The Shammar opened his eyes wide, drew a deep breath, and sighed.
"Come now," said I, "tell me what happened to you afterwards."
"There were eleven of us," said he, "and that Ingleezee. As we fled from the ruins, my horse tripped and rolled over with me, leaving me with an injured leg, and galloping loose after the others. It was then that I lay among the stones for many hours, and after a time I saw you and Faris go by. Next day three of my friends came back to fetch me, and we went together to the place where they had left the Ingleezee and the others. All had disappeared. We found the horses' hoof marks, and we followed them up. They were galloping fast, and though we rode rapidly we could not overtake them. At length, after several days, we found the body of one of our friends, lying in the desert. He had been shot by a bullet from the Ingleezee's pistol. Farther on, we came on another of our men, who had also been shot, but was not yet dead; and from him, before he died, we learned all that had occurred. How the Ingleezee had seized that serpent belt, refusing to pay anything that he had promised; how he had ridden away with it; how my people had pursued him; and how when they were overtaking him, he turned upon them and shot them with his pistol. But that was not all the evil that he did; for as we journeyed on, we overtook the rest of the men in awadi, four of them had been wounded, three, as it proved, mortally, and the others had abandoned farther pursuit, in order to attend to their friends. Then we all bound ourselves by an oath that we would not rest again in our tents until we had buried our knives in the body of that Ingleezee. Whither he escaped we could never discover, for shortly afterwards a great sand-storm blew over us, and we were unable to again find the footprints of his horse. It may be that he perished in the storm, but we continued to search for him in all directions. After some weeks, we heard that two Ingleezee were living at Adiba, and I and my two companions started for that place; but, before we had gone very far, we met some Bedouins who told us that the town had been captured by Hayil, and that the Governor and the two Ingleezee were fleeing in our direction. So we halted near the marsh of the great lake, and the rest you are acquainted with. But when I am again free, I shall continue the search for your countryman, and one day, if it please Allah, I shall see him die."
I had purposely refrained from interrupting the Shammar as he told his tale, though I frequently wished to break in and ask questions. Now, however, I could satisfy my curiosity.
"What manner of man," I asked, "is that Ingleezee?"
"A fat man," was the reply, "and dark, not of a red colour like you two."
"Are you sure that he is an Englishman? May he not be a native of some other country of Europe?"
"That I cannot say. I know nothing of the distinctions between the inhabitants of one country and of another. I only know that he is a European."
"Did you not know," I asked, "why he came with your sheik from Kerbela?"
"At first, we were told that he came to see the desert, as Europeans do sometimes. Then, one day, Sheik Abbas called us together and told us that the seer at Katib possessed a gold belt, which the Ingleezee desired to buy; that he would give 5000 kerans for it, and that two of us should go and ask Raspul to sell it. So I and another went to the ruins, and interviewed the seer. He told us that he had no belt, but afterwards he brought it and showed it to us, and expressed his willingness to part with it. We arranged with him that the price should be 2000 kerans, so that we might all share with Sheik Abbas the other 3000, and he agreed to bring the belt to a certain spot near Babil on a certain day. Proudly, we returned to our tents, and told the sheik what we had done, and the Ingleezee, on hearing it, gave each of us some gold money as bakhshish."
"But," I inquired, "had the Ingleezee 5000 kerans with him, so that he might purchase the belt?"
"No," said the Bedouin, "he had only a little money, but a Jew in Kerbela had told our sheik that, if the Ingleezee wrote on a piece of paper the amount of any sum that he required, then Yusuf Mersina, the Baghdad merchant, would pay it. So the Ingleezee wrote down 5000 kerans and gave the paper to the sheik, and it was agreed that when Raspul delivered over the belt, Sheik Abbas should take it and the paper to Baghdad, and receive the money, and we were to ride with the Ingleezee to Bussorah."
"Why was not the Ingleezee to take the belt?" I asked.
"Because Sheik Abbas would not let it go out of his possession until he received the money, since he was to be responsible to the seer for the payment of the 2000 kerans."
"I understand," said I. "But tell me, did the seer bring the belt to the appointed place?"
"No," said the man, "a curse on him! We waited for him for three hours: in his stead came your Faris; and Sheik Abbas fell at his hands. Then the Ingleezee spoke to Sheik Ahmed, and said that if he procured the belt he would give 5000 kerans. Ahmed went to Katib to see Raspul, taking with him two men; and those three we have never seen since. It was thus that the rest of us went to the ruins, and carried off the belt, hoping to obtain the 5000 kerans from the Ingleezee. But my friends tell me that he took the belt and sewed it up in his cloak, and when they demanded the money, he told them that he had already paid Sheik Abbas 5000 kerans, and that he could pay no more. It was then that he rode away, as I have already related."
The man was so exhausted by talking, that Edwards now insisted on his taking a draught and going to sleep. We ourselves sat up for some time, discussing matters, and trying to unravel the mystery of the stranger who had defeated me over the Golden Girdle. As we worked it out, the whole thing seemed clear enough. Some foreigner knew as much as I did about the Girdle, and had somehow learned that it was in existence above ground. He had apparently discovered this from someone at Kerbela, who had handed him over to the Shammar. The German note which we had read was, of course, his order for the payment of the 5000 kerans to Sheik Abbas. The courage of the man astounded us; he made up his mind to annex the Girdle; to keep it, he had made free use of his revolver, and though I did not admire his bloodthirsty methods, it was a bitter thing to me to have to acknowledge that I was not in the running with such a man.
"I am afraid it is all up with the prize now, George," I said.
"Yes, I am afraid so," said Edwards. "But we will get back to Baghdad, and put the screw on this Yusuf Mersina, until he divulges the name of the villain."
"That will not help much," I said. "He has probably reached Bussorah long ago, and is half way to Europe by now."
"A wire will stop him at Karachi, or Aden, or somewhere, and have him arrested for murdering Turkish subjects," said Edwards.
"That would not be very sporting," I replied. "I expect the best thing will be to say nothing of what we have heard."
We were both soon asleep, and of what actually happened after that, and when it happened, I have no knowledge. All I can say is that at some time in the night I was aroused by a slight rustling noise in the tent, and before I was half awake I felt myself being smothered by something like a rug being held over my face. Thinking that I was suffering from nightmare, I kicked and struggled, and wondered when I was going to wake up, but the comforting feeling that it was only a dream never came. Instead of it, several hands seemed to hold me down, and presently, as I still struggled, they gripped me harder and harder, and I found that my legs and arms were being bound with ropes. Then suddenly, fingers passed across my face, under the rug; my mouth was prised open, and, before I could utter a sound, a great wooden gag was thrust between my teeth, and secured by a string behind my neck. In this state, and in total darkness, I was left for a few minutes; then two men quietly lifted me up, and carried me outside the tent, away into the black night, at a jog-trot One man had his arms round my knees, while the other supported my shoulders; and I soon found that by no amount of struggling could I free myself. After travelling in this uncomfortable manner for, it may have been, half a mile, I was deposited on the ground, and a moment later was hoisted on to the back of a squatting camel, and secured with ropes to one side of a pannier-like framework. What weight on the other side balanced mine I could not see, as, although there was a certain amount of light from the stars, the great hump of the beast blocked my view. Several men held on to me as the camel was made to rise, and it was as well; for otherwise, in all probability, I should have had many broken bones. A lurch backwards, a lurch forwards, and a final lurch sideways, brought me high above the ground; then came a frantic plunge, and I knew that the "ship of the desert" had set sail.
The pace was rapid, and the motion painful in the extreme. So uncomfortable was I, that I found it quite impossible to collect my thoughts, and I could not understand why I was being subjected to this hideous torture. My bones ached all over, my body was becoming numbed, and the gag in my mouth almost choked me. Yet I was powerless to do anything, except gaze upwards at the stars, which appeared to swish wildly backwards and forwards, as if attempting to fall in with the gait of the camel. Was I another Mazeppa? Was I to be thus carried about the desert until death came to my relief? Had all this been brought about by the goddess Sophana, wrathful at my desire to possess her sacred girdle? Such thoughts passed rapidly through my brain, and became jumbled up with countless other thoughts. I lost consciousness, and regained it only to find the same eternal condition of affairs, to hear the same thud of the camel's feet, and to feel the same dipping plunge, as the legs on my side of the beast flew forward. At last, I felt that I could stand it no longer, and I prayed fervently that I might die before I went mad. I thought that my prayer was about to be answered; I thought that I was dying, when suddenly I heard shouting, and, without any warning, the camel's legs appeared to scatter in all directions. The "ship of the desert" had cast anchor, and so severe was the shock to my feeble body, that every atom of breath was knocked out of it.
When I recovered, I found myself lying in a delightfully shady grove of date trees, my arms and legs free, and a saddle-bag supporting my head. I looked listlessly around, and saw a few camels and horses, and, at a little distance, a group of Arabs squatting round a fire, and eating their food. I turned over, and looked on the other side, and there, to my surprise and delight, I saw George Edwards lying peacefully asleep, within a yard of me. I tried to speak, but my jaw was stiff, and my tongue would not move; so I sank back, and, utterly exhausted, dropped off to sleep again. When next I awoke, Edwards was sitting by my side, and our Shammar patient was holding a vessel of water to my parched lips. How I drank! And, as I drank, new life seemed to enter into me.
"If this is a dream, George," I remarked, "it is the most beastly nightmare that I have ever assisted at."
"It is no dream, old chap," he said. "It is a stern reality. Thank goodness that it is over."
"What has been going on, then?" I asked.
"I have just been hearing about it from our sick friend here," said Edwards. "Unbeknown to him, his pals planned a rescue, and it seems that they had been watching us for days. They managed to bring away all three of the supposed horse-thieves, as well as their three horses and two others, so they did pretty well."
"Why did they bother to bringus?" I asked.
"They have apologised most humbly," said Edwards, "but they say that it was absolutely necessary that Ali Khan should be induced to believe that we had assisted in the escape of the prisoners."
"Rather rough," said I, "that we should be made the scape-goats, considering all the trouble you took about the sick man. Nice sort of Englishmen old Ali Khan will think us, eating of his salt and accepting his hospitality, and then assisting to rob him of his lawful prisoners and his horses."
"I know," said Edwards; "but we will look up Ali Khan some day, and set matters right. How are you feeling after that awful jolting?"
"Limp," I answered, "disgustingly limp. Were you also trussed up on the side of a camel?"
"Much like yourself," said he. "I was on the same beast as yourself—only that mountain of a hump between us. But I did not discover it until I was taken down. I expect we shall be stiff for days."
Then we talked over all that had occurred, and I found that our experiences had been very similar, except that our kidnappers very nearly did for Edwards by keeping the cloth too tight over his face while they were tying him up. In fact, he had no recollection of anything until he felt the cold air rushing across his face, as the camel bore him along. We congratulated each other on having weathered the tempestuous voyage, and we actually laughed over it—so ludicrous did it seem, now that it was all over. According to what Edwards had heard from the men, we must have come sixty or seventy miles straight on end, as they were afraid of being followed; and how our sick man had survived the journey we could not understand. There did not, however, seem to be much the matter with him, and while we were talking he appeared on the scene, bringing us some food.
"We were just wondering, Daud," said Edwards, addressing him, "why you are alive. Surely you must be feeling ill after the long ride."
"Lord," answered the Bedouin, "it is good to be once more free in the desert. It was the confinement that was killing me."
Naturally anxious to find out what was in store for us, we set to work to cross-question our friend, while we ate the food which he had brought. We learned that he and his two fellow-prisoners knew nothing of the proposed rescue until it was an accomplished fact. Their rescuers had never been able to communicate with them, although they had entered the camp on more than one night, and had discovered how everything was situated. Then they formed their plan, which was certainly a bold one. Originally, the party had consisted of no more than six men, but not daring to attempt the rescue with so few, the chief went off and secured the services of ten of his kinsmen; and to each of the sixteen was allotted a separate task. That they were all men to be trusted to carry through a desperate enterprise the chief knew well; for he was aware that if the courage of one man failed, the plan would be wrecked. He himself and three others were to remain at some distance from the camp, in charge of two camels and the horses of the party; five men were to capture the horses; three to release the two prisoners from their holes in the ground; and four to carry off ourselves and the man lying sick in our tent. Nothing was left to chance; each man knew exactly where he had to go, and each had sworn that if he were detected in the act of performing his part, he would do all in his power to induce his captors to believe that he was a thief who had entered the camp alone. Everything worked without a hitch, and our friend was delighted at the brilliant success.
"I am sorry," he said, as he concluded his story, "that it should have been necessary to put you, my two kind friends, to so much discomfort, but you may be sure that I will ever look after your welfare, and when you shall have accomplished that for which the chief brought you away, then you shall take your horses, and we will see you to within a safe distance of Baghdad."
"I thought," said Edwards, "that you said that we were carried off, so that Ali Khan might be deceived about your rescue."
"That was so," replied the Arab, "and that was what the chief of the party at first told me. He has since given me a second reason; but he will come presently to pay his respects to you, and will then explain everything."
It was not long before the promised visit was paid, and our visitor, who was accompanied by nearly all the members of the party, delighted us by his urbanity—if such a term can be used of a real child of the desert. He was frank and open in his speech, and he told us that he and his men felt greatly honoured by having us with them; that he hoped that we had not suffered much bodily pain by our long ride; and that we would not want for anything while we remained their guests. Then he shook each of us warmly by the hand; smiled on us; and, before we realised that he had told us nothing, walked away. We were on the point of calling after him to stay and explain matters, when Daud, our sick man, whispered to us to have patience; the chief, he said, could not speak fully before all his men, but he would return later, when the camp had settled down for the night.
So we possessed our souls in patience, and spent the remaining hour or so of daylight in making ourselves comfortable in the little wigwam that had been erected for us. Soon after dark, Daud returned with the chief, who brought with him his long pipe, whereby we knew that the sitting was to be of considerable duration. His conversation was delightful, and he discussed nearly everything under the sun; but, to our intense annoyance, kept away from the only topic which for the time being was of interest to us. He recounted deeds of personal valour, and told us of his many encounters with the Aeniza; he dilated on the pleasures of Baghdad; and described the fanaticism of the pilgrims who visit the Holy Shrine at Kerbela each year; and I verily believe that he would have left us in ignorance of the future, had I not summoned up courage to put a direct question to him.
"Tell us now, sheik," I said, "how we can be of service to you. We are willing to assist you in any way that we can, but my friend is eager to return to his duties at Baghdad as soon as it shall be convenient to you."
"Dear me," said he, "I had almost forgotten the object of my visit, so pleasant have I found your company. But now that you have recalled me to myself, we will discuss business."
Long and earnestly did he then speak, and he gave us a full explanation for his having carried us off from Ali Khan's camp. There were three reasons. The first was, as Daud had told us, in order to deceive Ali Khan, and so prevent him from having a cause of everlasting feud with the Shammar tribesmen. As matters stood, it was his hope that Ali Khan would think that Edwards and I had released the three prisoners, and had assisted in the theft of the five horses, for them and ourselves to ride. The second reason was that the sheik knew that Daud was ill and might require the attention of a doctor; he knew that one of us was a doctor, but being uncertain which, had thought it advisable to bring both of us. But the third reason was the most important, and doubtless the real cause of our having been kidnapped.
"From my friend Daud," continued the sheik, "I have learned much information concerning you. From him also you have learned many things, and you know of your mysterious fellow-countryman, as well as of his evil deeds. You know also of the gold belt which he has with him, and for which he promised to pay 5000 kerans. But of more recent events neither you nor Daud have heard."
Then he related how he and his men had come to know that the "ill-born Ingleezee," as he styled him, had taken refuge with two Jews who lived in a hovel close to the Birs Nimroud—the reputed Tower of Babel, a few miles from Hillah. These Jews had always been firm friends of the Shammar, and had helped them out of many difficulties, and for that reason they felt bound to respect the person of the man who had become thedakhil, or protected guest, of the Jews. They were thus cheated of their revenge, and the blood feud was at an end. Yet, there was now a hope that the Ingleezee, who was very ill, would be induced to pay them the money for the belt; in fact, he had told the Jews that he would do so, if he should recover sufficiently to reach Baghdad. The long and the short of it was that Edwards was to go and treat the man, so that the Shammar might get their 5000 kerans. We were, we were told, barely twenty-five miles from the spot, and it was proposed that we should rest the next day, starting on the journey at nightfall. We willingly agreed to undertake the work, for we were naturally inquisitive as to the strange individual of whom we had heard such queer tales. Moreover, I saw before me a chance of striking a bargain for the Golden Girdle. I was prepared to pay the Shammar what had been promised, and to give the mysterious foreigner something for himself in addition. I built palatial castles in the air, and continued to build them until long after our host had brought his visit to a close. The Serpent Belt of Sophana lay within measurable distance of my grasp. Two days hence it might be actually mine. Before the week had ended, Edwards and I might be back in Baghdad, when a wire to my uncle announcing my success would make the name of Walter Henderson famous, if not in the world, at any rate in the British Museum. My mother had often told me how, when I was quite a small boy, she had been present, at the Albert Hall, at the reception given to the great Stanley, on his return from the Emin Pasha expedition; and how the Prince of Wales and all London were there to do him honour. I trembled to think what was in store for me. Would I also have to face tier above tier of London society? Would I have to deliver an address, and relate all my experiences? Undoubtedly all these things would happen, and more besides. I should, of course, be commanded to a private audience of the King at Buckingham Palace, so that he might inspect the Girdle, before others had seen it. Then I thought of the endless dinners of various learned societies in London, whereat I should be the guest of the evening. I began to wonder if I could stand it all; or if it would not be better to seek the post of commander-in-chief to Ali Khan, when he should be reinstated at Adiba.
So I dreamed on far into the night, and the sleep that followed was unbroken for many hours of the following day.
At dusk we prepared for our new journey, and our friend Daud himself brought us our horses, smiling as he told us that the chief presented them to us. I was given the horse that I had ridden to the ruins of Katib with Faris, while Faris's own horse was bestowed on Edwards.
"Little did you think," remarked Daud to me, "that you would ever ride this horse again."
"We never know," said I, "what is written in our fate."
"True," said he; "Allah alone knows."
Then, by the light of a glorious moon, we all rode out across the trackless expanse—a few men ahead, a few on either flank, and others in rear; and thus we continued to ride, Daud and the sheik ever conversing with us, until the moon paled before the rising sun, and daylight showed us, in the far distance, the mound of the Birs Nimroud.
During the heat of the day we halted in a grove, while two men rode on to inform the Jews that an English doctor and his companion were on their way to visit the Ingleezee refugee. Late that night they returned, saying that our arrival would be welcomed by the invalid, who was no better. So, shortly afterwards, we continued our journey, and in the early hours of the morning reached our destination, when the sheik, bidding us remain a few yards away, went on to interview the Jews. He came back almost at once, with the news that the Ingleezee was alone in the hut, as the Jews had left him some hours before. The man was evidently very ill, and wished to see the English doctor as soon as possible, but requested the sheik to keep his Arabs outside the hut.
The squalid dwelling which we entered had but one small room, which was badly lighted by an oil lamp standing on the floor. In one corner lay the man whom we had come to succour. Speaking with a feeble voice, he addressed us in English, but with a foreign accent. The voice was familiar to me, but I could not remember ever to have seen the scrubbly-bearded face of the speaker, who was shading his eyes and gazing into my face.
"Valter 'Enderson," he said, "you do not recollect poor Fritz Kellner."
I stared at him in amazement, and, completely overcome, I could find no words with which to reply. It was a terrible shock to me to see my ever-cheery cabin companion in so desperate a plight, and to think that he and his revolver had played such havoc with the Shammar. I turned away from him almost in horror, while Edwards knelt down and examined him; then, when I had roused myself to a sense of duty, I went across and took his hand.
"My poor friend," I said, "howcouldyou have come to this?"
"It was that accursed Girdle," said he. "Take my advice, and touch it not; for within it lies a devil incarnate, goading one to madness, and impelling one to do such things as no sane man would dream of doing. But it is a lovely treasure—the most superb piece of workmanship that I have ever handled; and to have been the possessor of it even for a few days was well worth all the hardships that I have endured."
"Do you not now possess it?" I asked. "You speak as if it were a thing of the past."
"Alas," he replied, "I had to let it go. The Jews who are my hosts heard a few hours ago that a strong party of Aeniza were in search of it, and had discovered that I had it here. They may arrive at any moment; but they will be disappointed, for the Girdle is now being conveyed by the two Jews to a place of safety."
No sooner did I hear that we were likely to be visited by Aeniza, than I slipped out of the hut, to warn our people. Day was already breaking, and the Shammar sheik laughed when I told him that the Aeniza were coming. They feared no Aeniza, he said; though, even as he spoke, he motioned to his men to get to their horses; and as I returned to the hut, I saw him lead them away, at a canter, to a hollow in the ground situated half a mile or so from the spot. For a long while Edwards and I sat silently watching the unfortunate German, who now had sunk into a restless sleep.
"Can he possibly pull round?" I asked in a whisper.
"I should not like to offer an opinion," said Edwards. "I have not overhauled him properly; but, as far as I can make out, he is in an awful state. If I had him in hospital at Baghdad, I might do something for him. Here, without any appliances, I am powerless."
"What can we do?" I asked.
"We ought to send, or one of us go, into Hillah," said he, "and get our friend the Captain to take the man into his hospital. It cannot be many miles from here, as you will remember that we visited the Tower one morning from Hillah."
"I'll go off myself," I said, "if you will stay and look after the man. I daresay the sheik will see me on the way, as he is interested in Kellner's recovery, though I had better not say that the Girdle has got adrift again."
The words were hardly out of my mouth before the sound of countless galloping horses broke on our ears; and, rushing to the door, we opened it a couple of inches and peered out. The whole place seemed to be alive with Bedouin horsemen, and before we could secure the door, the two foremost of the party, springing from their horses, had torn it open. We recoiled towards the corner where lay the feeble Kellner, who, either in a state of delirium, or from force of habit, sat up and snatched his revolver from under his pillow. Edwards, however, seized his wrist, as his finger touched the trigger, and the bullet buried itself in the roof. But the report of the pistol was the signal for a general assault on the hut; we ourselves were quickly overpowered, and the whole place was levelled to the ground almost before we knew what had happened. Then, above the din, I heard a voice which to me was music. It was the rallying shout of the great Faris; there was no mistaking it; and, a second later, my hand grasped his, and Sedjur and Edwards simultaneously recognised each other.
"So it is you," said Faris, after he had recovered from his first surprise, "whom I have been hunting for so long. How did you succeed in carrying off that serpent belt?"
"I have it not," I answered. "I have never seen it since that horrible night when Raspul was killed."
"But they told me," said Faris, "that an Ingleezee had secured it, and had ridden with it to this spot."
"That may have been true," I replied, "yet——"
I broke off suddenly, remembering then for the first time that our Shammar friends were lying in ambush close by, ready to fall on the Aeniza. I was in a dilemma, and I could see that Edwards had also forgotten everything, in his joy at meeting Faris and Sedjur again. To betray the Shammar, I felt, would be base in the extreme. To allow them to surprise the Aeniza would be still more base. Bloodshed must be avoided at all costs. I knew that the mere handful of men of which the Shammar party consisted, would stand no chance against the hundred or more Aeniza who were with Faris; I felt convinced, also, that, however great the risk, the Shammar sheik would not hesitate to attack. All this passed through my mind in the space of a minute, and within that minute I had also decided on the course I would pursue.
"Sheik Faris," I said, and I spoke rapidly, "I am well acquainted with your generosity. Grant me a favour."
"To you, magician," he answered, laughing, "I will grant anything you ask, knowing, as I do, that you possess the power to take it, whether I grant it or not."
"Then," said I, "bid your men mount at once. A score of Shammar lay concealed over yonder. They are my friends, and I ask of you that there shall be no bloodshed."
"You are certainly taxing my generosity," said he, "but, though I do not pretend to be a Hatim Tai, your friends shall be shown the road to safety."
Collecting his men, and leading them out, Faris rode towards the spot which I had pointed out to him while I watched anxiously to see what would happen I had not to wait long, however; for, before the Aeniza had gone a few yards, I saw, to my intense relief, that even the Shammar were aware that discretion is the better part of valour, and were in full flight across the desert. Faris pursued only to such a distance as to lead his foes to believe that he was in earnest, and then, recalling his men, brought them back to the shadow of the Birs Nimroud.
What astonished the sheik more than anything was the recovery of his own two horses, which we had lost at the ruins of Katib; and, as Edwards had foretold long before, he ascribed it to my dealings with magic.
"One thing is certain," said Faris, after he had heard all our adventures, "and that is that we cannot remain here. Hillah is too near, and the Turkis are in a restless state just now. Our tents are but four days' journey away; our riding camels we can reach to-night; the Jews who have made away with your heart's desire we shall yet reckon with; so you and the good Hakim shall come once again to the Jelas tents, and we will start as soon as possible."
"But what shall we do with the sick stranger?" I asked.
"Leave him to the vultures," was the curt reply.
"Great sheik," I said reprovingly, "that was not spoken out of the heart of Faris-ibn-Feyzul. What if the Englishman who found your wounded Sedjur had uttered such words?"
"Then what do you wish to do with him?" asked Faris. "You say that he is too ill to ride, and we must move quickly."
Edwards and I consulted, and, much against my will, I felt bound to act as he advised. We could not abandon Kellner; to take him away into the desert would probably kill him; moreover, since Edwards had no medicines with him, he could do little or nothing for the ailing German, even if the journey did not prove fatal. On the other hand, Hillah lay only a few miles away, and the Turkish hospital there was well-equipped. So we decided that Kellner must be conveyed to Hillah, and as, of course, the Aeniza would not go near the place, we two would have to accompany him. Now came the difficulty; to walk was out of the question, Kellner had no horse, and the horses which we had been riding belonged to Faris, who, however, was in possession of the two horses which we had brought with us from Baghdad. In the end, we agreed to lay the matter before the sheik, and trust to his generosity to help us. At first he was greatly disappointed at the thought that we proposed to leave him, as he had intended to give us a grand reception at his headquarters, and he had hoped that we would have travelled with his people when they moved to their winter grazing grounds in the Hamad. He argued with us about the folly of abandoning our search for the Girdle, after all that we had passed through, and when there was every hope of our obtaining it, but finding that our minds were made up, and that no words of his would make us change them, he accepted the inevitable, and acted in a far more noble manner than we could have expected.
"You shall have your wish," said he, "and some day you will again visit the Jelas tents, where you will always be truly welcome. I shall send away to their camp all my men save six, who, with Sedjur and myself, will ride with you this night to the very walls of the town. There we shall leave you ere day dawns, when we can gallop away out of danger, and overtake our camels on the way to the tents."
How grateful we felt to the great man for this fresh mark of friendship we found it difficult to convey to him in words, and Kellner, on hearing the news that within twenty-four hours he would be lodged safely in the hospital at Hillah, sobbed with joy. The glittering spears of the Aeniza soon passed away over the distant sky-line, and our small party, lying in a sand hollow, awaited the fall of night.
Almost before it was dark, we set out on what Edwards and I felt was our return to the world. It was a slow journey, for we moved at a walk, two of the Bedouins on foot carrying Kellner, who was found to be incapable of sitting on a horse. But the distance was not great, and, soon after midnight, we saw the walls of Hillah outlined against the starlit sky. Faris led us silently to a small date garden, in the corner of which was a hut, where dwelt an old man, who, he told us, was his friend—or, more correctly, his paid spy. Entering the hut, the sheik soon found the owner, sleeping within the doorway, and a conversation of some length followed. Then a candle was lighted in the inner room, and we were informed that we could stay there for the remainder of the night.
Making Kellner as comfortable as was possible in a corner of the room, we received our last instructions from Faris. As soon as the gates of the town were open, the old man would go and interview the doctor at the hospital, and relate how three Europeans had found their way during the night to his house, and that one of them was very ill. In all probability, a Turkish guard would then be sent out to fetch us in, after which it would be for us to act as circumstances dictated. More than that the sheik regretted that he could not arrange. We thanked him profusely for what he had done for us, and I promised that, if it were ever possible, I would come to the desert again and pay him a visit. He made us a present of the two horses, saying that we might require them to reach Baghdad; and then, to my delight, he lifted up his cloak, and unfastened my chamois-leather belt from his waist.
"I have worn it for safety," said he, "ever since I returned to my tent from our ride to the ruins. Your other goods, and those of the Hakim, I will watch over until we meet again."
"And should we not come again," I answered, "then keep the things in remembrance of us. There is little of value."
"The money in your belt, O magician," continued Faris, laughing as he handed it to me, "still remains untouched. Thus again does your magic recover your long-lost goods. Would that it had brought you Queen Sophana's Serpent Belt also? But I will find it for you. I will yet prove that I am worthy of the reward of the great Shahzadi's shoe. Return to Baghdad, and rest there until a message calls you to the desert. I say no more. Be patient. Allah is great."
Gripping our hands in silence, the sheik and Sedjur parted from us with unfeigned grief, and strode out into the darkness. A moment later we heard a muffled word of command, followed by a clatter of hoofs, and the party had gone.
Sleep was out of the question. The day's work had been full of incident, and a dubious morrow was before us. We had much to think over, and many things to discuss; so, leaving the exhausted Kellner asleep, we went outside, and sat among the palm trees.
"George," said I, "we are in the last lap. It is a straight run home now."
"Yes," he replied, "unless something goes wrong. Personally, I am not altogether sorry, except for your disappointment."
"I suppose the best thing we can do," I remarked, "will be to get away to Baghdad as soon as possible."
"Of course," said Edwards. "What else can we do?"
"Why, slip back to Faris," I answered, "and have another try for the Golden Girdle."
"Believe me," said Edwards, "you will do no good with the thing except through our German friend. He has fought hard for it, and you may rest assured that he was not fool enough to part with it without being perfectly certain that he would find it again. Besides, have you not grasped the fact that it belongs to him. He got it in much the same way as you meant to get it."
"Not quite," said I, "for he did not play fair with the Shammar who helped him to get it. If he had paid them what he promised, then I should certainly agree that he had every right to the Girdle."
"Splitting hairs," said Edwards. "Judging by what we have seen of desert methods, he who possesses a thing considers himself its rightful owner—until he loses it. If I were you, I should wait until Kellner recovers, and then try and come to terms with him."
"I believe you are right, George," I replied. "But, to tell you the honest truth, I have rather lost faith in the gentleman. In fact, since this morning my dull wits have been sharpened, and, if I am not very much mistaken, the German 'shadowed' me all the way from Marseilles to Baghdad, and got out of me all the information that he required. It makes me positively sick when I think of it."
"Never mind," said Edwards, consolingly, "it was not your fault. One cannot go through life in a perpetual state of suspicion of everyone. You have still got something up your sleeve; for, when you tell your story, the world will not count Kellner as much of a hero."
For some reason Edwards and I were both in the lowest spirits. I, for my part, had every cause for being depressed; I had had enough pleasant and unpleasant experiences to last an ordinary man for his lifetime; my labours had borne no fruit; I should return to Baghdad without having effected anything, and, in all probability, my absence would have caused grave anxiety to my parents. But, perhaps, what troubled me most was the knowledge that I had been such a fool as to be taken in by Kellner. Edwards, on the other hand, had, to my mind, very little to complain of. He had seen more of the desert than almost any European had ever done, had come through everything without a scratch, and was as fit as he had been at starting. We had been living a free life for so long, that now that there was the immediate prospect of our having to conform to the conventionalities of civilisation, neither of us relished the idea of the change. That was what was the matter with us; and I believe that if I had argued with my companion for a little longer, he would have agreed to leave Kellner to the old man, and have set out with me in search of Faris. But I restrained my desire to influence Edwards one way or the other, for my conscience told me that it was our duty to look after our invalid.
We talked spasmodically until the stems of the date trees gradually began to stand out against the increasing light in the heavens. Then, when day had come, the old Arab set out on his mission, while we returned to the hut to keep the German company. Thus we waited, it may have been for a couple of hours, occasionally going outside to see if the expected relief was coming; and at last we saw a party of soldiers riding towards us, accompanied by men carrying a stretcher.
"Gentlemen," said the Turkish officer commanding the party, as he drew up his men in front of the hut, and addressed us in French, "my instructions are to have the man who is ill removed to the military hospital, and to request that you will consider yourselves as my prisoners, and accompany me to the barracks."
We told him that, of course, we should obey any orders that he gave us, and at the same time asked him if he knew who we were. To this he replied that his orders forbade him to converse with us on any subject whatever, and he begged us to understand that, disagreeable as his duty was, he was bound to carry out his instructions to the letter. There was nothing more to be said, and though we were permitted to see that Kellner was comfortably settled on the stretcher, we were afterwards ordered to mount our horses, and ride, like real prisoners, in the midst of the guard.
As we entered the town we soon saw that our capture had been noised abroad; crowds of Arabs had assembled in the streets to witness our arrival; but it was evident, from the remarks that we overheard, that there was a good deal of speculation as to what it all meant. Until that moment, I had not considered what queer-looking figures we must be, and when I looked at Edwards and then at my own clothes, I almost laughed aloud. Each of us wore dirty and ragged Arab garments; our hair was long and unkempt, and our beards were thick and stubbly. That we were respectable Englishmen no one would have guessed. Even our own mothers would have failed to recognise us.
In due course we reached the barrack gate and were admitted, when we found ourselves within a large quadrangle, where numbers of conscripts were being drilled. Here we were ordered to dismount, and, our horses having been led away, we were conducted to a house at the far end of the quadrangle and shown into a well-appointed room, when the officer told us that we were to remain there until visited by the Commandant.
As soon as we were alone, Edwards and I looked at one another, and burst out laughing.
"We are a jolly looking couple," said I.
"Just what I was thinking," said Edwards.
"What do you suppose is going to happen to us?" I asked.
"Oh, nothing much," he replied. "As soon as we have proved our identity, things will be all right. They seem to have a great many more troops here than when last we were in the place. I wonder if our old friend, the Captain who showed us round last time, is still here."
While we were talking, the door was suddenly thrown open, and the Commandant himself was ushered in. He was a stout and pleasant-looking old gentleman, with a merry twinkle in his eye, and no sooner did he see us than he broke into a guffaw, at the same time holding out his hand to each of us in turn.
"Pardon my laughing," said he, "but, for the life of me, I could not help it. We will have you washed, and cleaned, and put into respectable clothes, before you are taken before the Governor. In the meanwhile, now that we have got you safe inside the barracks, if you like to give me your word that you will not leave them, I shall be glad if you will become my guests."
At first we thought that he was amusing himself at our expense, but he appeared to be in earnest, so we accepted his proffered hospitality, and were soon enjoying the luxuries of really good coffee and a cigarette.
"How long, Effendi, have you been in Hillah?" I asked, for the sake of something to say.
"Barely two weeks," he replied. "We came up with reinforcements for this place and Meshed Ali, as trouble was expected from the desert."
"Some of the tribes in revolt, I suppose," said I.
"Yes," replied the Commandant, smiling, "but when I have heard you two gentlemen cross-examined by His Excellency, I shall know more about what has been going on. Now I will give you a piece of advice: when you are asked questions, answer straightforwardly, and tell all you know. You will save us all a vast amount of trouble, and you will not do yourselves any harm. Of course we have spies everywhere, but we cannot rely on them entirely, and in any case the views and opinions of two intelligent Englishmen will be of more value to us than the information supplied by a hundred Bedouin spies. The Governor is to interview you this afternoon, and I have no doubt that, before that takes place, you would like the services of a barber, and would wish to have a bath, and some European clothes. I daresay we shall be able to provide them for you."
We were delighted with the turn of events, and agreed to help the Governor with any information that we were able to give, and we jumped at the suggestion of cleaning ourselves up. So calling an orderly, the Commandant told him to conduct us to the bath. There a real surprise awaited us, for no sooner did we enter the room than we saw Edwards's Persian servant boy, busying himself with towels and soap.
"What, Aziz!" gasped Edwards, gazing at him in blank astonishment. "How, in heaven's name, did you get here?"
"Hoozoor," answered the lad, beaming with joy at the sight of his long-lost master, "I was ordered some days back, to pack clothes for your highness and the other sahib, and to leave Baghdad with the dragoman and some zaptiehs, and to come to Hillah. I suffered much on the road from fear of robbers, who were reported to be numerous, but, praise be to Allah, we arrived here safely."
"Where is Dimitri Sahib?" asked Edwards.
"He journeyed a few days since to Meshed Ali," said Aziz, "saying that he went to meet you, and would return with you here."
Then we plied the boy with questions, in the attempt to discover what rumour had said about us, but we could get no coherent story out of him. From what we could gather, at first we were supposed to have been murdered; but, after a time, a report came that we had turned Mohammedans, and were living with the people of some distant desert town. But he did not appear to know very much, and he harked back continuously to what was evidently the most important thing in the world, viz., that he, Aziz, had braved the perils of the journey from Baghdad to Hillah—in his eyes as great an event as a pilgrimage to Mecca. We forgave him, however, for his inability to provide us with news, chiefly because of the skill that he had displayed in his selection of the clothes which he thought we would require. He had forgotten nothing; and it was a real delight to us, after we had passed through the hands of the barber and revelled in our baths, to get into true British suits again.
Our toilet completed, we returned, with the patient orderly who had been waiting for us, to our quarters, where we found the Commandant and several other officers ready to accompany us to the Governor's audience. The Commandant looked us up and down with apparent satisfaction, and then we all marched off. Whether we were still supposed to be prisoners I could not make out; at any rate, we walked along by the side of the Commandant, and conversed with him as if we were his oldest friends, until we reached our destination when everyone suddenly assumed an official air.
A verbatim report of what took place at the great interview which followed I shall not attempt to give. I doubt if any shorthand writer could have done justice to it, for it was what may be described as unconventional. We were treated by the Governor with the greatest deference, and we were asked innumerable questions on everything connected with the desert and the people whom we had come across. The Aeniza and the Shammar, however, did not interest them much, as they were regarded, like mosquitoes, as necessary evils. What they wanted information about was Adiba and the trouble with Hayil, and on this topic we were considered to be (as indeed we probably were) the best authorities. Between us, we related our experiences with Ali Khan, and gave a graphic description of the bombardment of his town and of his enforced flight, striving to impress upon our listeners that he had been basely betrayed by his Arab doctors, and that the Amir of Hayil had behaved in a most high-handed manner. The dropping of the proverbial pin could have been heard while Edwards gave his account of his treatment of the sick child, and his description of the way in which he had outwitted his rival physicians was received with no little applause. Ali Khan became the hero of the hour, and the tyrant of Hayil was freely cursed. Many and various were the questions asked us about the road to Adiba, about the town itself, and about the strength of its defences, and then we learned that Hayil was in the bad books of the Ottoman Empire, and that the Turkish troops would probably be ordered to conduct Ali Khan back to Adiba.
So far we had got on capitally, and had quite enjoyed the interview. Now, however, the conversation took an awkward turn, and the Governor's questions became more or less of a personal nature.
"Some four months ago," said our inquisitor, "you two gentlemen were here, in Hillah. You left the town against the wishes of the Captain of Police; he, poor man, is no more, but I possess a document signed by yourselves, and its contents you will probably remember. In it you stated that you determined to visit certain tribes of the desert, even although he warned you that to do so might place himself and his Government in difficulties. What have you to answer on that count?"
"Nothing," I replied, "except that we regret to have been the cause of any inconvenience to your Government. We were anxious to visit the Bedouins in their encampments, and we were willing to accept all risk in so doing."
"Have you considered," continued the Governor, "what has resulted from your headstrong behaviour? Possibly you may not have given it a thought. Know, then, that had you not cast yourselves adrift in the desert, all this trouble with Adiba and Hayil would never have occurred, and my Government would not now be called upon to expend vast sums of money in restoring order in those outlying provinces. Think again of the misfortunes of Ali Khan and of all his people, driven from their homes into the pitiless desert. Think of those homes, even when the people once more return to them; many destroyed by shells, many burnt to the ground, and all pillaged."
We stood before the assembly, with heads hung down, and feeling as uncomfortable as any pair of naughty schoolboys, while our tormentor, who was a word-painter of no mean order, continued to lash us with his tongue. When, at length, he stopped, I took courage and spoke out.
"Your Excellency," I said, humbly, "all that you have said, we acknowledge to be true, and your condemnation of us appears to be just. Yet, on more than one occasion, we offered full apologies to our protector, Ali Khan, for the great troubles that we had brought on himself and his people; and not only did he freely forgive us everything, but he even told us that he would not have it otherwise, since he considered that, had we not visited Adiba, his child would have died."
"And in return for such generosity," said the Governor, haranguing us again, "you thought it right, when within a few marches of Meshed Ali, to desert your kind host, and not only to desert him, but also to liberate three of his lawful prisoners and to steal five of his horses. Why you should have acted thus we cannot understand."
The speaker was now wound up, and refused to allow himself to be interrupted, so we were forced to remain silent and listen to what he had to say. He told us how, when we first disappeared from Hillah, and did not return, our escort had proceeded for some distance into the desert in search of us, but failing to find any trace of us went back to Baghdad with the news that we had surely perished. The British Consul-General then induced the authorities to make inquiries about us, and at last it was reported that we had reached Adiba, and were the guests of Ali Khan. Subsequently came the news of the downfall of Adiba, and that we were with the sheik's party in flight towards Meshed Ali. Naturally it was supposed that we would enter that town with Ali Khan; and the British Consul-General, having been informed of events, despatched his dragoman, Dimitri, to meet us and take us back to Baghdad. As far as he himself was concerned, concluded the Governor, the matter was at an end; he did not wish to intrude in our private affairs, as our Consul-General had agreed to hold a full inquiry into our conduct, which would doubtless form the subject of lengthy negotiations between the two Governments, in all probability ending in the payment of full compensation.
"On one point, however," said he, "I am anxious for information: the sick man whom you brought with you. How did you meet with him?"
"We found him yesterday," I replied, "close to the Birs Nimroud, and he seemed so ill that we abandoned our intention of journeying to Baghdad, in order to bring the man to your hospital."
"He shall be properly attended to," said the Governor, "and for what he has done he will have to account later on."
We were not sorry when the call to evening prayer closed the interview, and the Governor, shaking hands with us, consigned us to the care of the Commandant. With the latter we returned to the barracks, and on the way learned that we were to be on parole, until the dragoman should take charge of us. Our restraint was not very irksome, for the Commandant and other officers went out of their way to make themselves agreeable to us, and were evidently proud of having the opportunity of making the acquaintance of men who had penetrated so far into the desert. How much more interested they would have been, if they had known the whole story of our wanderings!
That night Edwards and I talked matters over, and I found that he was wretchedly down-hearted about the future. If things were really as bad, he argued, as the Governor had made out, it was all up with him and his appointment. The Consul-General would, of course, refuse to let him return to duty at Baghdad, and though he might possibly be ordered to India to assume medical charge of a native regiment, the chances were that he had already been either cashiered, or removed from the service for absence without leave.
"As to you," he said, "you have nothing to lose, since you do not hold any official appointment; and you do not understand what it may mean to me to be thrown on the world, without anything to do."
He was so doleful about it all, that he positively made me laugh.
"There is always Adiba," I said. "Ali Khan will take you back with him as physician in ordinary, I am sure, if you ask him nicely."
But he was not to be comforted; and thinking it advisable to leave him alone, I went outside and paced up and down in the moonlight. While thus occupied, I encountered the Commandant, who had just returned from dining with the Governor, and was coming to see us on important business. I told him that my companion was not feeling well and had already gone to bed; so he unburdened his mind to me. Our escapades had been the subject of discussion at the Governor's dinner party, and the end of it was that the Governor had decided that, as Dimitri had not yet been informed of our arrival at Hillah, we should be sent to Meshed Ali and be handed over to him there. It struck me at once as a somewhat strange proceeding, because Meshed Ali and Baghdad lay on opposite sides of Hillah, and there seemed to be no reason for sending us off on a three days' journey and bringing us back again. But on my remarking on this to the Commandant, I was told that the Governor considered that we should be given the opportunity of renewing our friendship with Ali Khan, and of explaining to him why we had deserted him. We were to start early in the morning, and the Commandant himself would accompany us. I expressed myself as delighted at the idea of a visit to Meshed Ali, and of once again seeing Ali Khan; and after arranging that we would be ready to set out soon after daybreak, I bade the Commandant "good-night," and went off to break the news to Edwards. To my surprise, he seemed quite agreeable to fall in with the new plan, saying that the sooner he met Dimitri, the better pleased he should be, as he was anxious to find out how he stood with the Consul-General.
Our ride to Nejf, or Meshed Ali, was a three days' picnic; we had everything that we could want, a large escort, the companionship of the cheery Commandant, the services of a cook who served up excellent dinners, and Edwards's boy, Aziz, to wait upon us. Even Edwards forgot his sorrows, and agreed with me that we were being treated right royally.
"I suppose it will all go down in the bill," said he.
"What bill?" I asked.
"Why, the matter of the compensation to which the Governor referred—the cost of all our evil deeds," said Edwards.
"Let us live in the present," said I, "and eat and drink all the good things that we can. What is the use of worrying about the future, and about such a hopeless thing as compensation? When nations begin to discuss compensation, it means thousands, if not millions, of pounds. How do you imagine that anyone is going to squeeze a paltry thousand pounds, or even a hundred pounds, out of two such paupers as you and me? My worldly possessions consist of the fifty golden sovereigns in my salvaged money-belt, and they really belong to my uncle. So away with dull care, and let the future look after itself."
"Excellent advice in theory," said Edwards. "However, I will try it for a bit, and will be ever so jovial."
"Good man!" said I. "By the way, I wonder how that poor unfortunate Kellner is getting on. Do you suppose we shall be able to take him to Baghdad with us?"
"I should think not," said Edwards; "besides, he is much better off where he is. I expect that the man in charge of the hospital knows quite as much about his business as I do, and the long journey to Baghdad would probably throw the patient back, and as likely as not kill him."
"Then," said I, "I think I shall try and stay at Hillah for a week or two."
"What on earth for?" asked Edwards.
"To look after Kellner," I replied.
"What possible good do you think you can do him?"
"He might want to ease his mind," said I, laughing. "People do have things on their mind sometimes, when they are sick. He might wish to tell me, for instance, what has become of the Golden Girdle."
"Still that old, old story," said my companion sadly. "Surely you and your Will-o'-the-wisp have done enough harm already. The words of wisdom which we heard in Hillah the other day do not seem to have made much impression on you."
"Water off a duck's back, old man," I replied. "When I have laid Sophana's Serpent Belt at the feet of my uncle, then will I repent of all my sins, and be good for ever afterwards."