"I think so," he said. "When all is said and done, desert and sea are akin, and most certainly a sea voyage benefits the eyes. Yet, now that you mention it, the atmosphere is remarkably clear to-day."
"Are you weather-wise, Mr. Royson? Is not that a sign of storm?"
"I sought instruction from Sheikh Abdur Kad'r on that very point only this morning. He says that the Kamsin does not blow at this season, and there is every reason to believe that it has not rained in this locality during the past three hundred years."
"Dear me! Three—hun-dred—years!"
"Yes. Sorry, but I can't make it any less."
"Then you may give Sheikh Abdur Kad'r my compliments and tell him I predict either a thunderstorm or some unusual disturbance before night. Mrs. Haxton has a very effective smile, I admit, but it requires exceptional charm to make a smile distinctly visible at—how far did you say?—two miles?"
The lady in question was certainly bending towards Mr. Fenshawe, and the smile was a reasonable conjecture. But they had tacitly agreed to forget their earlier conversation. They chatted freely now with the friendly ease that was their wont ever since the exigencies of camp life had thrown them together far more than was possible on board ship. Five weeks ago theAphroditedropped anchor off Pajura after crossing from Aden, where Mr. Fenshawe had despatched his cablegrams and obtained a portion of the equipment needed for the desert tour. The arrival of such a large party occasioned no little excitement at the French port. That tiny station had not seen so many white faces at one time since its establishment, and, when its polite Commandant recovered from his voluble surprise, he warned Mr. Fenshawe that the interior was somewhat unsafe. But stories of Arab unrest were familiar to the veteran. He had heard them regularly during the preceding thirty years, and he was more than ever bent on outwitting the jealous rivals who had placed such obstacles in his path.
The French officers at Pajura thought he was rather cracked to take ladies with him, yet they were obliged to admit that desert travel was healthy and enjoyable, provided supplies were ample, and, on this score, the skilled explorer of Soudan by-ways showed that he had lost none of his cunning. Before the caravan started news came from Aden that theCignohad been dragged off her sandspit. This gave an added value to the land route, as the coast of Erythrea was assuredly closed to them; the French authorities, on the other hand, rendered every assistance in their power.
And now, after a month of steady marching, the caravan was well within Italian territory. The route lay parallel with the sea, but nearly a hundred miles distant from it. It traversed the interminable wadys and shelving table-lands leading down to the coast from the granite and pink Nubian stone foothills of the inner range of giants which guarded the fertile valleys of Abyssinia. Thus far, no unexpected difficulties had cropped up. The few nomads encountered were only too anxious to be friendly. The weather, scorching by day and intensely cold by night, was quite bearable. Indeed, to any one in good health, it supplied a marvelous tonic. Travelers less admirably equipped might have suffered annoyance from the snakes and scorpions which seem to thrive in the midst of sunburnt desolation, but thesevoyageurs de luxeslept in hammocks slung in roomy tents, and assiduous servants dislodged every stone before they spread the felt carpets on which the heaven-born deigned to sit at meals.
Yet—as Irene had guessed correctly—this magnificent progress through the desert contained a canker that threatened its destruction. Either von Kerber's calculations were at fault, or the papyrus was a madman's screed. The caravan was already two marches beyond the point agreed on by every authority consulted as that fixed by the Greek who survived the massacre of the Roman legion. The unhappy Austrian could no more identify the Five Hills mentioned in the papyrus as the essential clue to the whereabouts of the treasure than a man in an unknown forest can distinguish a special group of five trees. That is to say, he may blunder on them by chance, but he cannot find them by using his judgment. As Irene put it, here were not five, but five thousand hills. The mortal puzzle before von Kerber was to pick his five.
When the caravan arrived at the halting-place the tense solitude gave way to pandemonium. Camels grunted and squealed in eager plaint to be relieved of their loads, horses neighed and fought for the best tufts of grass, men raged at each other as though the work of preparing the camp were something new and wholly unexpected.
Through the turmoil strode Abdur Kad'r, a lean, saturnine Arab, who anathematized all his assistants indiscriminately, only varying his epithets according to the nationality of the man under the lash of his tongue at the moment.
"Bestir yourself, illegitimate one. Are we to await the setting sun ere the tents are fixed?" he shouted at a negro who was bothered by a knotted rope. A crash behind him told that a too-zealous Arab had tumbled a box to the ground.
"Oh, you owl, what evil have you done?" roared the Sheikh, transfixing the culprit with a glittering eye.
"Lo, I loosened a strap, honored one, and the accursed thing fell," was the explanation.
"It fell, eh? So shall my whip fall, Sidi Hassan, if thou art not more painstaking." He rushed towards a group of Somali syces.
"Pigs, and children of pigs," he cried, "for what does the Effendi pay ye? Is there not occupation, ye black dogs? May your fathers' graves be defiled by curs!"
Stump, whose rubicund visage was burnt brick-red by the desert, took a keen interest in Abdur Kad'r's daily outpourings. He had no Arabic, but he appreciated the speaker's fluency.
"He'd make a bully good bo's'n," was his favorite comment, and he would add sorrowfully, "I wish I knew wot he was sayin'. It 'ud do me a treat."
In an astonishingly short space of time the camp would be in form, fires lit with parched shrubs gathered during the last stage of the journey, a meal cooked, and every one settled down to rest until sunset, when, if there was no evening march, the Arabs and negroes would sing, and perhaps indulge in amazingly realistic sword-play, while the dozen sailors brought from the yacht would watch the combatants or engage in a sing-song on their own account.
The present encampment offered no exception to the general rule. Abdur Kad'r, it is true, may have raged a little more extensively than usual when it was discovered that the well had caved in from sheer disuse, and several hours' labor would be necessary before some brackish water could be obtained. He did not trouble the Effendi with this detail, however. There was another more pressing matter to be dealt with, but, Allah be praised, that might wait till a less occupied hour, for the Frank was in no hurry, and he paid like a Kaliph.
About four o'clock Irene was sitting in her tent making some belated jottings in a diary. Being thirsty, she called a servant, and told him to bring a bottle of soda-water. A few minutes later she heard a stumble, a crash, and a loud exclamation in Arabic. The man had fallen over one of the heavy stones to which the guy-ropes were fastened.
She looked up smilingly, and wondered whether he would understand her if she said in French that she hoped he had not injured himself. The glass was broken, but the bottle was intact, for the native had caught it as he fell.
"Ça ne fait rien," she cried encouragingly. Then she found that the Somali had risen to his knees, and was gazing skyward with every token of abject terror. At the same instant a strange commotion broke out in the camp. Through the open side of the tent she saw Europeans and natives all looking in the one direction—northwards. The Britons and Arabs had an air of profound astonishment. They pointed and gesticulated, but otherwise showed self-control. But the negroes were in a panic. For the most part they were kneeling. A few prostrated themselves at full length, and howled dolorously.
The girl was alone, and she naturally felt alarmed. Royson was not far away, and he, like the rest, was held spellbound by some spectacle the nature of which she could not guess. Perhaps his thoughts were not far removed from Irene, because he turned and looked at her.
"Come quickly, Miss Fenshawe," he shouted. "Here is the most wonderful mirage!"
Was that it—a mirage? Why, then, this hubbub? She had grown so accustomed to the grim humor of the desert in depicting clear streams of running water, smooth, tree-bordered lakes, and other delightful objects of which the arid land dreamed in its sleep of death, that the excitement caused in the camp was wholly inexplicable.
"What are you doing there?" she cried sharply to the frightened servant. "Go and get another glass, and take care you do not fall next time."
If he heard he paid no heed. He continued to stare at the sky with wide-open eyes.
Conscious of a fresh thrill of fear, she ran towards Royson.
"What in the world—"
Then she saw, and was stricken dumb with the sight, for she was looking at a spectacle which the desert seldom provides even to those who pass their lives within its bounds. A thin haze had taken the place of the remarkable clearness of the morning hours. Away to the north it had deepened almost into a fog, a low-lying and luminous mist like the white pall which often shrouds the sea on a calm bright day in summer. The sky was losing its burnished copper hue and becoming blue again, and, on the false horizon supplied by the crest of the fog-bank, stood a brilliantly vivid panorama.
There were military tents, lines of picketed camels and horses, a great number of Arabs and blacks, and some fifty Italian soldiers, all magnified to gigantic proportions, but so clearly defined that the trappings of the animals, the military uniforms, and the gay-colored burnous of the Arabs were readily distinguishable.
It could be seen, too, that they were working. Mounds of rock and earth showed that considerable excavations had been made. While those gathered round the well were yet gazing at this bewildering and lifelike picture, the moving ghosts in the sky underwent a change which enhanced their realism. One squad of soldiers and natives marched off towards the tents while another took their places. Were it not for the grotesque size of men and animals and the eerie silence of their movements it was hard to believe that the eyes were not witnessing actualities. The thing was fantastic, awe-inspiring, stupendous in design, but faultlessly true in color and treatment. No artist could ever hope for such a canvas. Its texture was vapor, its background the empyrean, and nature's own palette supplied the colors.
And this cloud scene was pitiless in its moral. Two of the onlookers, Mrs. Haxton and von Kerber, knew exactly what it meant, while others read its message correctly enough. The expedition was forestalled. The long voyage and longer march, the vast expenditure, the hardships inseparable from the journey through the desert, the hopes, the fears, all the planning and contriving, went for nothing, since Alfieri the dreamer, Alfieri the fool, had apparently succeeded in locating the treasure of Sheba.
To the Arab every white man is a Frank. The European invader was given that name during the First Crusade, and the Paynim does not change appreciably with the centuries. But he has learnt to differentiate between certain varieties of Frank, and Abdur Kad'r murmured maledictions on the Italian species as he watched the mirage slowly fading into nothingness. Though no one had told him the ultimate objective of the caravan, he felt that the presence of Italian soldiers at the nearest stopping-place put a bar to further progress. The mere fact that thekafilacame from French territory was unanswerable. There were difficulties enough already, difficulties which must be discussed that evening, but this obstacle was wholly unforeseen.
Under his bent brows the gaunt sheikh had noted Mr. Fenshawe's manner when he turned excitedly to demand an explanation from von Kerber. The Effendi's change of tone told its own tale. Abdur Kad'r, true believer and desert-born, remarked to a brother Arab that Allah was Allah and Mahomet was undoubtedly the Prophet, but that of all the misbegotten produce of swine now cumbering the earth the Italians ranked easily first—or words to that effect. Then he relieved his feelings by objurgating the panic-stricken Somalis, whose superstitious minds interpreted the appearance of the air-borne host as a sure indication of war. He was in the midst of an eloquent outburst when his employer summoned him.
"How far is it to the next oasis?" came the dreaded query.
Abdur Kad'r, shrewd judge of men, knew that he must be explicit.
"Sixty kilometers, honored one," he replied.
"What! Nearly forty English miles?"
"It may be so, Effendi. In our reckoning it is twenty kos and one kos is three kilometers."
"But these Italians—in the mirage—they must be camped near water?"
"There is none nearer than the Well of Suleiman, Effendi."
"Is it possible that a mirage would reveal so clearly a scene taking place at such a distance?"
"Strange things happen in the desert, Effendi. I have seen a village in the sky which my camels were four hours in reaching, and I have been told of sights even more wonderful."
"You are sure about the sixty kilometers?"
"Quite sure, O worthy of honor."
Mr. Fenshawe was skeptical. Mirage-phenomena were familiar to him, but never had they dealt with natural objects beyond a range of a few miles. For the most part, the mirage of the desert is a baseless illusion, depending on the bending of light-rays by air strata of differing densities. The rarer "looming," witnessed occasionally in more northerly latitudes, shows scenes actually in existence, and the best authenticated instance of a long-range view is that testified to by the inhabitants of Hastings, who during three hours on July 26, 1798, saw the whole coastline of France, from Calais to Dieppe, with a distinctness that was then regarded as miraculous.
But, whether Abdur Kad'r's figures were correct or not, there was no gainsaying the evidence of the mirage itself. The collapse of the undertaking was imminent, and the millionaire's tone was exceedingly curt when he called von Kerber to conference.
"There are certain matters which must be cleared up, now that nature has assumed the role of guide," he said dryly. "I have been well aware during the past few days that you were not able to fix on the exact place described in the papyrus. I could pardon that. We are in a country where landmarks are bewilderingly alike, and therefore apt to cause confusion. But how comes it that our rivals can go straight to the place we are in search of, while we wander blindly in the desert? You assured me that yours was the only copy of the papyrus extant with the sole exception of the photographic reproductions supplied to me. Is that true? And, if it is true, who gave these others the information that has brought about our failure?"
Mr. Fenshawe's pride was wounded. All the wrath of the disappointed connoisseur welled forth in his contemptuous words. Their very calmness and precision showed the depth of his anger, and von Kerber, like Abdur Kad'r, felt that the time for specious pretext had gone. So he answered, with equal exactness of phrase:
"I gave you that assurance months ago in Scotland, and repeated it in London, but I have not said it since we met on board the yacht, for the very good reason that the papyrus was stolen from me at Marseilles."
"Stolen!"
"Yes, I was waylaid and robbed while driving from the station to the harbor."
"Purposely, do you mean? Was the papyrus the object of the attack?"
"Yes."
"Then this man, Alfieri, knew of it?"
"I have never concealed that from you."
"It is hard to say what you have or have not concealed, Baron von Kerber. My confidence in you is shaken. How am I to know that this latest version of Alfieri's amazing interference in your affairs is the true one?"
No man is so sensitive of his honor as he who is conscious of by-gone lapses. Von Kerber started as though the other had stabbed him.
"That is an unworthy imputation," he cried. "Mr. Royson can tell you that the papyrus was stolen. He rescued me from my assailants, yes? Mrs. Haxton is aware of it, and, unless I am mistaken, Miss Fenshawe also is no stranger to the news, seeing that our second mate is so greatly in her confidence."
The older man, still watching the last wraiths of the mirage, seemed to be deaf to the Austrian's biting allusion to Irene.
"I did not look for such a web of deceit," he murmured. "The papyrus was genuine, and I sought no other proof of honesty. You say Mrs. Haxton and my granddaughter are in this pact of silence. Let us have their testimony."
Irene, as might be expected, indignantly disclaimed any sympathy with von Kerber's methods.
"I heard, by chance, of the part Mr. Royson took in the affair at Marseilles," she said. "My maid told me. It was the gossip of the ship. Yet, when I questioned Mr. Royson himself, he refused to discuss the matter, owing to some pledge of secrecy drawn from him by Baron von Kerber. You forget, grandad, how often you have told me that I did not understand this undertaking sufficiently to justify my hostility to it. I have never believed in it, not for one moment. If you wish to know what happened at Marseilles, why not ask Mr. Royson himself?"
"Yes," said Mr. Fenshawe quietly, "that will be well. Send for him,Irene."
It was noteworthy that he addressed no question to Mrs. Haxton. That lady, nervous and ill-at-ease, could not guess how far the rupture between von Kerber and his patron had gone. She felt intuitively that the Austrian was puzzled, perhaps alarmed, by the presence of an official expedition in the very territory he had hoped to explore without hindrance—yet his manner hinted at something in reserve. Though he quivered under Irene's outspoken incredulity, his aspect was that of a man whose schemes have been foiled by sheer ill-luck. A rogue unmasked will grovel: von Kerber was defiant. For the moment, Mrs. Haxton was struck dumb with foreboding. Mr. Fenshawe's dejected air showed that a deadly blow had been dealt to the project to which she had devoted all her resources since the beginning of the march. She, too, had begun to doubt. Here, in the desert, the buried treasure was an intangible thing. In England, the promises of the Greek's dying message were satisfying by their very vagueness. In Africa, face to face with the tremendous solitude, they became unbelievable, a dim fable akin to the legends of vanished islands and those mysterious races to be found only in unknown lands, which have tickled the imaginations of mankind, ever since the dawn of human intelligence. So, a live millionaire being a more definite asset than the hoard of a forgotten city, she had coolly informed von Kerber that if he wished to improve his fortunes, he would do well to pay attention to Miss Fenshawe, and leave her free to win a wealthy husband. It was a villainous pact, but it might have succeeded, at any rate in Mrs. Haxton's case, for no woman could be more gracious and deferentially flattering than she when she chose to exert herself. And now, reality seemed to yield to unreality. The substantial fabric of close friendship between Fenshawe and herself had crumbled before the fiery breath of the wilderness. What a turn of fortune's wheel! Here were all her plans shattered in an instant, and the man on whom depended the future changed into a hostile judge.
Royson found a queer conclave awaiting him. Irene, distressed by the injustice of her grandfather's suspicion that she was sharing in a conspiracy of silence, had retired to a corner of the tent, and wore an air of indifference which she certainly did not feel. Mrs. Haxton, pallid, striving desperately to regain her self-possession, draped herself artistically in a comfortable camp chair. Von Kerber, scowling and depressed, stood near the entrance, and Mr. Fenshawe was seated in the center of the tent. The red light of the declining sun was full on his face, and Dick fancied that he had aged suddenly. Nor was this to be wondered at. No enthusiast, not even a wealthy one, likes to have his hopes of realizing a great achievement dashed to the ground, nor is it altogether gratifying that a woman who has won one's high esteem should be associated with a piece of contemptible trickery.
Mr. Fenshawe's first question told Dick that a serious dispute was toward.
"It has been stated," said Mr. Fenshawe, looking at him in a curiously critical way, "that a valuable document was stolen from Baron von Kerber at Marseilles—what do you know about it?"
Dick, hourly expecting a strenuous turn to the placid marching and camping of the past few weeks, was not taken unaware. He had mapped out a clear line, and meant to follow it.
"I regret to say that I cannot answer you, Mr. Fenshawe," said he, meeting the older man's searching glance unflinchingly.
"Why not?"
"Because I gave an undertaking to that effect to Baron von Kerber."
"But I am your employer, not he."
"No, sir. That is not my view of the contract I signed."
"Have you a copy of that contract'?"
"Yes."
"Will you show it to me?"
"That is unnecessary," broke in von Kerber, with a savage impatience of the quasi-judicial inquiry which Mr. Fenshawe was evidently bent on conducting. "I give Mr. Royson full permission to answer any question you may put to him."
"You do, eh? You give permission? Do you pay his salary?" demanded the millionaire indignantly.
"Yes, on your behalf. Surely the arrangement between us cannot be disputed. I was to make all arrangements, yes?"
"As my paid agent, you should add."
Mrs. Haxton suddenly sat forward in her chair.
"We had a tacit agreement for an equal division of the spoil," she interposed, with an acidity that Mr. Fenshawe probably found in marked contrast with her usual honeyed speech.
"That agreement would have been kept by me," said Fenshawe. "You may not be aware that Baron von Kerber pleaded poverty, and I promised to remunerate him for his services, whether we won or lost. I have no doubt he has my letter, duly stamped at Somerset House, carefully packed away with Mr. Royson's agreement."
The retort was in the nature of the tac-au-tac riposte beloved of the skilled swordsman. It was succeeded by a tense silence. Mrs. Haxton glared at the Baron. The ghost of a smile flickered on Irene's lips as she glanced at Dick. Von Kerber swished one of his boots viciously with a riding-whip. He found he must say something.
"Why are we creating difficulties where none exist?" he snarled. "If the agreement stands in the way, I absolve Mr. Royson from any promise he has made. I wanted to guard against treachery, not to tie him down to serve me exclusively."
"You asked for obedience and a still tongue, Baron. I have given you both," said Dick.
"There is your employer, and mine—speak."
Von Kerber could not be other than dramatic. He pointed to Mr. Fenshawe with a fine gesture.
"I have not much to say, unless in the form of opinions. You certainly were attacked at Marseilles, and you yourself charged one of your assailants with stealing the papyrus. Beyond that, I know little of your business, though, from letters and cablegrams which reached me at various places, it seems to have been quite extensively known in London."
"Who was your informant?" asked Fenshawe.
"A solicitor named Forbes. He is not personally acquainted with Baron von Kerber, but this man Alfieri, of whom we have heard so much, employed private detectives. They, in the course of events, discovered my identity, and met Mr. Forbes. It is only fair to Baron von Kerber to say that I have never heard his version of the charge brought against him by Alfieri."
"I have," said the millionaire, grimly.
There was no mistaking the inference to be drawn from his words. Von Kerber was wholly discredited. It was exceedingly probable that the first march of the return journey to Pajura would be ordered forthwith. Indeed, Fenshawe rose to his feet, meaning to bid Abdur Kad'r prepare to strike camp after the evening meal, when Mrs. Haxton, divining his intent, cried shrilly:
"May I ask what new circumstance has brought about this remarkable change in your plans, Mr. Fenshawe? It is true that we have been favored by an extraordinary vision of an Italian expedition at no great distance from our own, but what proof have we that it is successful, or even engaged on an errand similar to ours?"
"The mere fact that extensive research is being carried on is sufficiently convincing. Italian soldiers and Arabs do not form huge earthworks in the desert for amusement," said Fenshawe.
"They may be trying a last desperate chance," she retorted.
"You forget that they have the same information as ourselves. There is no trouble in deciphering demotic Greek and the hieroglyph minerals are quite simple. Once the papyrus left Baron von Kerber's possession, our exclusive right to it vanished, and you can hardly expect me to engage in an armed attack on the military forces of a friendly nation."
"So far as the papyrus goes, it is utterly useless to any one," broke in von Kerber suddenly.
Mr. Fenshawe was stirred out of his studied calm by the seeming absurdity of the interruption.
"Useless!" he exclaimed, and his brow seamed with anger, "that is a strange word to apply to the only evidence of your story that you have ever produced."
"I always feared Alfieri," said the other, throwing his hands out as if he were pushing away a threatening phantom. "He was spiteful, and jealous, and he knew enough to drive him mad with desire. But I would allow no one to interfere with me, yes? When I was sure of my ground, when I had secured translations of each piece of the papyrus, I altered it."
"Altered it!"
Incredulity and hope were oddly mixed in the cry which came simultaneously from the lips of two of his hearers. Even Irene and Dick, less wrapped up in the dream of finding the Sabaean hoard, awaited von Kerber's next utterance with bated breath. The man was too unnerved to feel any triumph at the sensation he had created.
"Yes," he said, sinking wearily into a chair, though his voice almost cracked with excitement. "I changed the distances in every instance permitted by the text. As it stands now, the papyrus is utterly worthless. I acted for the best, yes? A secret known to more than one ceases to be a secret. But I am tired of pretense, and you shall have the truth, though it carries with it a confession of ghastly failure. I do not know what good fortune Alfieri has blundered into at Suleiman's Well, and I admit that the place offered my own last chance. Yet, if he has found the treasure, it was not because of the papyrus, but despite it. Here are photographs of every section in their present form," and he produced some prints from a pocket-book.
"You were taught some Greek at school, Mr. Royson? Very well. Look at the passages which are faintly underlined, and you will, see where I have altered whole phrases, converted tens of miles into hundreds, and hundreds of paces into thousands. And that is the document which Alfieri obtained at Marseilles. He would recognize it as the original, though it is now quite misleading. If he is digging at the right place by reason of the directions given there, it is something beyond belief, yes?"
"You speak of Alfieri recognizing the papyrus. Evidently, then, he had seen it earlier. In what manner was he connected with its discovery?"
Mr. Fenshawe's coldly direct question came in sharp contrast with the Austrian's impassioned outburst. Von Kerber did not reply. With his elbows resting on his knees, and supporting his chin between clenched fists, he looked through the open door of the tent with eyes that stared into vacancy. The man was in a frenzy of despair. He saw the chance of his life slipping away from him, but he could urge no plea in his own behalf. It was Mrs. Haxton who answered, and her composure was oddly at variance with von Kerber's distress.
"Alfieri was assistant curator of a museum at Naples when the Italian occupation of Erythrea led to his appointment as government archeologist in this territory," she said. "My husband was in charge of the Red Sea cable at that time, and Signor Giuseppe Alfieri was a friend of ours. An Arab named Abdullah El Jaridiah, grubbing among old tombs for curios, came across a roll of papyri. He sold it to Alfieri for a few francs, and Alfieri gave it to my husband."
She paused; she was not a woman who said too much.
"I take it that Alfieri knew no Greek?" said Mr. Fenshawe, with a touch of irony that was not lost on the lady.
"He certainly failed to appreciate its importance," was the quiet response. "My husband deciphered most of the narrative, but he, in his turn, had no knowledge of hieroglyphics, and, as you are aware, many of the words and figures are contained in ovals, or cartouches, and written in Egyptian characters. He would have learnt their meaning from some other source, but he—died—very suddenly. An accident caused Alfieri to suspect the value of the papyrus, and he asked me to return it. Unfortunately, I led him to believe that I would meet his wish, but Baron von Kerber, who, as you know, was medical officer to a German mission to King Menelek, came to my assistance at the time, and I told him of my husband's views with regard to the portion he had translated. Baron von Kerber read the hieroglyphics, though he had to wait nearly a year before he could obtain expert advice as to the accuracy of his rendering. Meanwhile, Signor Alfieri and I had quarreled. I may as well tell you that he was pestering me to marry him, and I grew to hate the man. Then I returned to England, and a friend suggested that I should endeavor to interest you. Now you have the whole story, so far as I am concerned in it."
"If that is so, it would have been better had you taken me into your confidence at the outset," said Fenshawe.
"Alfieri was using threats. I feared the loss of your co-operation if a melodramatic element were introduced."
"But are not you and Baron von Kerber, and, as it would seem, your Italian admirer also, attributing an absurdly fictitious value to the find? People do not pay high prices for old coins merely because they are historic. I have always regarded this treasure-trove as purely antiquarian in its interest. It may contain some vessels or statuettes worth money; but to what extent? Certainly not such fabulous sums as you appear to imagine."
Mrs. Haxton smiled sourly.
"We are dealing in candor," she cried. "Pray complete your confession,Baron von Kerber."
The Austrian did not abandon his dejected pose, but he took up the parable readily.
"There is one slip of papyrus you have never seen, Mr. Fenshawe," he said. "Perhaps you have been surprised that such a careful scribe as Demetriades gave no details of the loot? I kept them back. There were fifty camel-loads of precious vessels and rare stuffs brought from the East. There were one hundred and twenty camel-loads of gold coins, and two camels carried leather wallets filled with pearls and rubies and diamonds."
Irene could not restrain a little gasp of wonderment at von Kerber's amazing catalogue. Her grandfather looked at her.
"You were wiser than I, little girl," he murmured. "You warned me that these people were deceiving me, yet I refused to listen."
"Oh, one has to follow the path that promises success," interrupted von Kerber savagely. "Had I told you these things you would have been the first to inform the Italian government. Why do you prate of deceit? Had we found the treasure, you must have seen everything. I only meant to hold you to your bond and demand my third share.Lieber Gott!if you were not a stiff-necked Englishman you would now, even at the twelfth hour, force these Italian hirelings to disgorge."
"Meaning that you advise a surprise march on Suleiman's Well, and the massacre of every person who resists as?" inquired Mr. Fenshawe, acidly impatient.
"Better that than turn back at the very threshold."
"Excellent! The voyage of theAphroditewould then achieve an international fame which would survive the ages."
The blank despair in von Kerber's face won Royson's pity. He could not help sympathizing with him. And there was something to be said for his point of view. If Mrs. Haxton had given the true version of the finding of the papyrus, the Austrian's methods were comprehensible. Seldom has poverty been tempted by a vision of such enormous wealth.
"May I make a suggestion, sir?" he asked, seeing that no one was willing to resume a somewhat acrid conversation.
"As to the form of attack?"
Mr. Fenshawe was still amused by the idea of treating the Italians to acoup de main.
"No. We have made a long journey, and it might at least be determined whether or not it was justified. Will you allow me and Abdur Kad'r, and, perhaps, one other Arab less widely known than the sheikh, to try a small experiment. Let us endeavor to enter the Italian camp and find out what is going on? I can pass easily as a member of a shooting party who has lost his way. They will not slay me at sight on that account. At any rate, I am quite prepared to risk it."
"The very thing!" exclaimed Mrs. Haxton, springing out of her chair. "Abdullah is there, and you know him. You must not appear. Let Abdur Kad'r send one of his men into the camp by night. He will bring Abdullah to you at a preconcerted rendezvous, and Abdullah will tell you what Alfieri is doing. Better still, let Abdullah come here. If he knows I sent you he will accompany you without a moment's delay."
"The proper person to go and summon Abdullah is Baron von Kerber," put in Irene tremulously.
"Before I sanction any proceeding of the sort, I wish to ask whyAbdullah is apparently in league with your sworn enemy?" demanded Mr.Fenshawe.
"The Governor of Massowah told me he was despatching an expedition to the Five Hills," said Mrs. Haxton eagerly. "I was sure it would fail, for reasons which the Baron has explained, but I bade Abdullah join thekafila, seeing that we could not carry out our first plan of landing lower down the coast. Then, if the Italian party received news of our whereabouts, Abdullah would steal away and warn us. The mere fact that he is not here now shows that our presence in this locality is altogether unsuspected." Fenshawe seemed to weigh his words before he answered.
"I prefer that Mr. Royson should go, and not Baron von Kerber," said he. "On the understanding that he interferes with our rivals in no way whatever, I shall be glad of his report. If we have failed, there is no harm in knowing the facts. May I ask, Baron, have you any other surprises to give us in the shape of history, ancient or modern?"
"I have nothing else to say," muttered the other.
"Then, as it is nearly dinner-time, I trust we may forget Saba and its legends until we learn what progress Signor Alfieri has made. You start to-night, Mr. Royson?"
"At the first possible moment, sir."
"No, no. Eat, rest, and travel under the stars. That is the golden rule of a forced march in the desert. We will give you two nights and a day. Then, if you do not return, I shall send an open embassy to inquire for you."
Thus it came about that, soon after night fell, three sulky Bisharin camels were led away from their fellows and compelled to kneel unwillingly to receive their riders. The operation was attended with much squealing and groaning.
"They love not to leave their brethren," said Abdur Kad'r, pausing to take breath for a fresh torrent of abuse. The camels were forcibly persuaded, and Royson climbed into the high-peaked saddle. His last thought, as he quitted the red glare of the camp-fires, was that Irene might have snatched a few minutes from her rest to bid him farewell. But she was nowhere to be seen, so after a final hand-shake with Stump, he rode away into the night.
The march Royson had undertaken was a trying one. The desert runs to extremes, and, at that season, the thermometer varied a hundred degrees between noon and midnight. When the sun dipped behind the hills, a tense darkness fell on the land. This impenetrable pall is peculiar to Egypt; probably it suggested to Moses that ninth plague wherewith he afflicted the subjects of a stubborn Pharaoh. Though this "darkness that may be felt" yields, as a rule, to the brilliancy of the stars after half an hour's duration, while it lasts a lighted match cannot be seen beyond a distance of ten or twelve feet. It is due, in all likelihood, to the rapid radiation of surface heat. When the cold air has robbed sand and rock of the temperature acquired from the broiling sun, the atmosphere clears, and the desert reveals itself again in the gloomy monotone of night.
It may reasonably be supposed, that the excess of humidity which caused the remarkable mirage of the afternoon helped to continue the "black hour," as the Arabs term it, far beyond its ordinary limits. Hence it was nearly ten o'clock when Royson quitted the camp on his self-imposed task. To all outward semblance, he differed not a jot from the two Arabs who accompanied him. A burnous and hood covered his khaki riding costume. He bestrode a powerful camel nearly eight feet high. Like his companions, he carried a slung rifle; a haversack and water-bottle completed his equipment. His size alone distinguished him from Abdur Kad'r and Sheikh Hussain of Kenneh, the latter being a man whom Abdur Kad'r had selected as best fitted to win his way unquestioned into the Italian camp. Royson's Arab dress was intended to secure the party from espionage while they traveled towards Suleiman's Well. When they neared it he would throw aside the burnous. His pith helmet was on his saddle, but the Arab hood enabled him to dispense with it by night.
The older Arab led: behind him rode Royson; Hussain brought up the rear. In this fashion they climbed the slight rise of the wide valley which sheltered the expedition. They had gone some three hundred yards, and the leader was scanning the horizon for a gap through which the track passed, when they were all amazed to hear Miss Fenshawe's clear voice.
"I thought you were never coming, Mr. Royson," she said. "I was on the point of going back to my tent, but I caught the grumbling of your camels. Then I knew that you had really made a start."
After the first gasp of wonder and delight, Dick slipped to the ground. He narrowly avoided a spiteful bite from his unwilling conveyance, but he handed the single rein to Abdur Kad'r, and hastened towards a rock in whose shadow stood Irene, garbed and cloaked so that she was scarcely discernible.
"I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you, Miss Fenshawe," he cried, "yet, in the same breath, I must protest against your wandering so far from the camp. Are you alone?"
"You may be sure of that. Otherwise I should not be here." She laughed cheerfully, for the escapade had in it a spice of adventure, and she wished to give it a lighter turn.
"Then you have news for me?"
"No. You heard all that passed to-day. Since then, my grandfather has refused to discuss the affair. As a result, Mrs. Haxton and the Baron were snappy during dinner. In fact, they were unendurable, and I was delighted when they left us."
"It is a hateful thing to have to lecture you," he said, coming nearer, and trying to peer into her face, "but you know you ought not to take this risk. It is too venturesome. I think that this section of the desert is fairly clear of any real danger, so far as prowling Bedouins are concerned, but there are other unpleasant neighbors—in the shape of snakes and scorpions—"
"I am wearing riding boots," she interrupted. "And I shall soon relieve your anxiety by returning to my hammock. Pray don't trouble about me, Mr. Royson. I have waylaid you with a purpose. It is too late now, I suppose, to dissuade you from carrying out a useless and absurd journey, but I do ask you not to commit the further folly of sacrificing your own life, and, perhaps, the lives of others, in the mistaken belief that you are serving Mr. Fenshawe's interests."
Though she strove to speak in a tone of conventional friendliness, her voice shook a little. Dick was profoundly moved. It seemed to him suddenly that the burnous he wore exercised a stifling effect on him. He threw it off, and it fell unheeded to the loose stones at his feet. The girl laughed again, somewhat tremulously.
"What of those nasty creatures against which you warned me a moment ago?" she exclaimed. "Or is it that your disguise has become unbearable? You make an astonishingly tall Arab, Mr. Royson. I should have picked you out anywhere."
That wayward heart of Dick's drove a hot flood of color to his face, but he still held mastery over his tongue.
"Why do you think I am likely to run into danger?" he asked. For an instant his calmness misled her. She had grown accustomed to his habit of self-restraint, and looked for nothing else.
"Because you would dare anything rather than fail," she said. "You would ride alone into the midst of a thousand enemies if you thought that thereby you could attain your ends. And I want to assure you that I—that Mr. Fenshawe—would object most strenuously to your incurring any real peril for the sake of the worthless people who have brought us to Africa on a wild-goose chase. By all means secure for us any possible information that can be obtained through the Arabs, but I came here because—because I shall feel happier if you promise me—that—you will avoid this man, Alfieri, and his friends. Did you see the look on Baron von Kerber's face to-day? I never before realized what the hunger for gold meant. He would kill any one who barred his path. I could read his very soul. And—and—it frightened me. So you must come back safely, Mr. Royson, for I have confidence in you and Captain Stump, but I am terrified of what may happen if von Kerber tells the others the story of the treasure, and promises them a large share in it, should it be found."
"I had not thought of that," said Dick simply. Indeed, his mind was not at all occupied just then with von Kerber's scheming.
"So I imagined. And that is why I stole out of my tent and waited here. I was sure you would agree with me that the really important thing is our speedy return to the yacht. It is the only possible course. My grandfather never intended to gain his ends by armed force, and von Kerber is assuredly dreaming of that at this moment."
"I begin to see your point of view," said he, forcing himself to answer her words, though his brain was weaving other phrases. "Even if I discover that Alfieri is digging up those precious camel-loads, it will be best for all parties that his success should be minimized."
"Yes, yes," she cried eagerly. "That is my meaning. I do not care what happens so long as we all reach Pajura. Then let the Baron and Mrs. Haxton do as they choose. Even if they want to borrow our money and our goods and chattels for the purpose of a second expedition I shall be the first to support the idea."
"You are not longing, then, for a sight of the Sheban wealth?"
"No. I hate the very thought of it. It is—bloodstained. Oh, Mr. Royson, everything now depends on you. Please contrive matters so that we shall travel to the coast without delay. That is all. You understand me, I think. It only remains for me to wish you good-by and God-speed."
She moved a little apart, but Dick's left hand caught her by the shoulder.
"No, Irene, it is not all," he whispered. "I am going now, and I shall return to you, God willing, within thirty-six hours, and, before I go, I want to kiss you."
He could feel the quiver that shook her slender form at the unexpectedness of it. She uttered a startled cry, and wondered if she had heard aright, but she yielded to the clasp of an encircling arm. Perhaps she lifted her face in sheer amazement; be that as it may, Dick kissed her, not once, but many times.
"May Heaven guard and keep you, sweetheart," he said brokenly. "You know that I love you. You have known it many a day, but I forced myself to be silent because I was proud. Now my pride has given way to the joy of whispering that I love you. To-morrow, that stubborn pride of mine may rebuke me, and say that I had no right to take you to my heart to-night, but to-night my love laughs at all that idle pretense of money erecting a barrier between you and me. You are dearer to me than life, and why should I not tell you so? I wanted to meet you to-night, Irene. I made plaint to the stars when I did not see you at parting. Now that you are here, I find myself at the gates of Paradise. Yet you must leave me now, dear one. Let me carry the fragrance of your kiss on my lips until the dawn. Then, in the chill of morning, when cold reason chides me, I shall refuse to listen to her, for I shall remember that Irene kissed me."
The girl clung to him during a blissful instant.
"Oh!" she sighed, and "Oh!" again as though her heart was throbbing its life out. Then she murmured:
"You have not even asked me if I loved you, King Dick!"
With that she glanced up at him, and placed both hands on his shoulders.
"No," he said. "I only asked you to kiss me. I shall ask for your love when I may come without reproach and ask you to be my wife."
"Dick," she said, with adorable shyness, "it is not yet to-morrow."
He strained her to his breast. Their lips met again rapturously.
"Oh, my sweet," he said, "has ever man received more angelic answer to a question that filled his heart with longing throughout many days?"
"Yet you are leaving me, and of your own accord."
"Irene—you, too, are proud. Would you have me return now?"
"No. I know now that fate has chosen you to decide our fortunes. Go, Dick, but come back to me in safety, or my poor little heart will break."
Then, as though afraid of her own weakness, she drew herself from his arms and hurried away towards the camp. He stood motionless, listening to her footsteps, and his soul sang blithe canticles the while. At last, when assured that she was within her tent, he picked up the discarded burnous, strode to the waiting camels, and quickly the desert enfolded him and his dreams in its great silence.
And Dick thanked the desert for its kindliness, which had made possible that which was beyond credence. In London, how could a poverty-stricken outcast dare to raise his eyes to the patrician heiress? He remembered that first glance of hers, and the tactful way in which she had discriminated between the man who might be glad of a sovereign for the service he had rendered, and him who would value a woman's thanks far beyond gold. And then, with what quiet dignity she had ignored his fierce repudiation of von Kerber's offer of recompense. In that bitter hour how might he foresee the turn of fortune's wheel which in two short months would bring that dainty girl to his lover's embrace! How delightful it was to hear his nickname from her lips! King Dick! Well, such bold wooing ran in the blood, and it would go hard with any man, whether Frank or Saracen, who barred the way between him and his chosen lady. What if her grandfather were fifty times a millionaire! What had millions to do with love? Precious little, quoth Richard, if all he had read of rich men's lives were even partly true. He had a twinge or two when he reflected that, at present, he occupied the position of second mate on Fenshawe's yacht. He pictured himself asking the old gentleman for Irene's hand in marriage, and being told that he was several sorts of a lunatic. But the memory of Irene's kisses rendered her grandfather's anticipated wrath quite bearable, and Dick laughed aloud at the joy and folly of it all, until Sheikh Abdur Kad'r was moved to say sharply:
"At night, in the desert, Effendi, the ears carry farther than the eyes, so it behooves us to make no more noise with our tongues than our camels make with their feet."
They journeyed slowly until a wondrous amber light first flooded the eastern horizon and then tinted the opposite hills with pink coral. Soon, rainbow shades of blue and green began to blend with the pink, and the undulating plateau they were traversing revealed with startling suddenness its scattered rocks and patches of loose stones. The camels were urged into a lurching trot, and thirty miles were covered in less time than it had taken to travel eight during the dark hours.
Beyond a few gazelles, a pair of marabout storks, and a troup of jackals, they saw no living creature. But they took every precaution against surprise. If others were on the march they meant to discover the fact before they were themselves seen. So, when the ground was practicable, they crossed the sky-line at top speed, hastened through the intervening valley, and crept in Indian file to the next crest.
The Bisharin camels had long ceased to utter their unavailing growls. Such reasoning powers as they possessed told them that they must make the best of a bad business, as the lords of creation on their backs meant to reach the allotted destination without reference to the outraged feelings of three ill-used animals who had been deprived of a night's rest. Now, a camel has been taught, by long experience, that the legitimate end of a march is supplied only by something in the shape of an oasis, no matter how slight may be its store of prickly bushes and wiry grass. Therefore, these Bisharin brethren must have felt something akin to surprise when they were tethered and fed in a rock-strewn wady which offered neither food nor water. Animals and men had to depend on the supplies they had carried thither. Shelter, of course, there was none, and at nine o'clock the sun was already high in the heavens.
One unhappy beast made a tremendous row when Hussain mounted him again after a brief respite, and bade him be moving. Nevertheless, protest was useless, and only led to torture. Finally, squealing and weeping, the camel moved off, while his erstwhile sympathizers regarded him blandly and unmoved, seeing that they were not disturbed, but permitted to munch in peace the remains of a meal. Hussain was soon out of sight. According to Abdur Kad'r's calculations, the Italian camp was in the center of the next important valley. At the utmost, it was three miles distant, and Hussain's presence early in the forenoon would be more readily accounted for if he put in an appearance on a camel that was obviously leg-weary.
Royson had given the man explicit instructions. If questioned, he was to state the actual facts—that an Englishman and himself, with one other Arab, had made a forced march from the nearest oasis, that his exhausted companions were resting at no great distance, and that he purposed returning to them with a replenished water-bag and some food for their camels. But, amid the bustle of a large encampment, it was more than likely that his arrival would pass unnoticed save by his brother Arabs. In that event, he could satisfy their curiosity without going into details, ascertain whether or not Abdullah the Spear-thrower was among them, and, by keeping his eyes and ears open, learn a good deal as to the progress effected by Alfieri in the work of exploration.
By hook or by crook, he must endeavor to return before sundown—if accompanied by Abdullah, so much the better. Then, having learnt his news, they could decide on the next step to be taken. Perhaps, if Abdullah came, they would be able to rejoin the expedition without further trouble.
After Hussain's departure, Royson and Abdur Kad'r disposed themselves to rest. Utilizing camel cloths astentes d'abri, they snatched a couple of hours of uneasy sleep; but the heat and insects drove even the seasoned sheikh to rebellion, and by midday both men preferred the hot air and sunshine to the sweltering shade of the stuffy cloths.
Irene was right when she said that Dick had made a great advance with his Arabic. He was master of many words of every-day use, and had also learnt a number of connected phrases. Abdur Kad'r knew some French. These joint attainments enabled them to carry on a conversation.
The Arab, with the curiosity of all men who do not read books, sought information as to life in big cities, and Royson amused himself by depicting the marvels of London. A limited vocabulary, no less than the dense ignorance of his guide on such topics as railways, electricity, paved streets, cabs, and other elements of existence in towns, rendered the descriptions vague. Suddenly, the sheikh broke in on Dick's labored recital with a query that gave the conversation an extraordinary turn.
"If you have so many remarkable things in your own land, Effendi, what do you seek here?" he asked, waving a lean hand in comprehensive sweep. "This is no place for town-bred men like the Hakim Effendi, nor for two such women as those who travel with us. You have ridden three hundred kilometers across the desert, and for what? To find five hills, says the Hakim. May Allah be praised that rich men should wish to spend so much money for so foolish a reason!"
"But the Hakim Effendi believes that there is an oasis marked by five hills somewhere in this district, and, were he to find it, we would dig, and perhaps discover some ancient articles buried there, articles of small value to the world generally, but highly prized by those who understand their history."
"I know this desert as you know those streets you have been telling me of," said Abdur Kad'r, "and there is no oasis marked by five hills. You have seen every camping-ground between here and Pajura. There is but one other track, an old caravan road from the sea, which crosses our present line a few kilometers to the south. We passed it last night in the dark. It has only four wells. The nearest one is called the Well of Moses, the next, the Well of the Elephant—"
"Why should you Arabs have a well of Moses?" asked Dick, smiling. "It is not thought that Moses ever wandered in this locality, is it?"
"We respect Moses and all the prophets," said Abdur Kad'r seriously. He smoked in silence for a minute, seemingly searching his memory for something that had escaped it.
"Is it true," he demanded doubtingly, "that once upon a time many of the hills gave forth fire and smoke as from a furnace?"
"Quite true. Volcanoes we call them. All these mountains are volcanic in their origin."
"Then a moulvie whom I met once did not lie to me. He said that seven little mounds which stand near that well had been known to vomit ashes and flame: thus, they came to be called the Seven-branched Candlestick of Moses. I suppose the well took the prophet's name in that way. Who knows?"
Royson had learnt of late how to school his face. Long practise under the witchery of Irene's eyes and Mrs. Haxton's ceaseless scrutiny enabled him now to conceal the lightning flash of inspiration that fired his intelligence. An old caravan road from the sea, a road that led to the Nile, with its fourth stopping-place made notable by seven tiny cones of an extinct volcano—surely that had the ring of actuality about it! Von Kerber had confessed to altering figures and distances in the papyrus—was this an instance?—were the "hills" they sought not five but seven in number? What an amazing thing it would be if this gaunt old sheikh held the clue to the burial-place of the treasure! It must have been on the tip of his tongue ever since they met him, yet the knowledge was withheld, solely on account of von Kerber's secretive methods. Had he told Abdur Kad'r that he was searching for an oasis sheltered by seven hills it was almost quite certain that the Well of Moses would at least have been mentioned as the only locality offering a remote resemblance to that which he sought. Somehow, Dick felt that he had stumbled on to the truth. Though tingling with excitement, he managed to control his voice.
"You say it is four marches from here to the sea?" he asked.
"Five, Effendi. There are four wells, but each is thirty or thirty-five kilometers from the other. At one time, I have been told, manykafilascame that way, but the trade was killed by goods being carried in ships to other points, while it is recorded among my people that the curse of Allah fell on the land, and blighted it, and the trees died, and the streams dried up, until it became as you now see it."
Dick lit a fresh, cigarette, and blew a great cloud of smoke before his eyes, lest the observant Arab should read the thoughts that made them glisten.
"Let us suppose," he said slowly, "that Fenshawe Effendi decided to make for the sea by that shorter road, there would be no difficulty in doing it?"
"Difficulty!" re-echoed the sheikh, "it might cost us many lives. A few men, leading spare camels with water-bags, might get through in safety, but it would be madness to attempt it with a big caravan. By the Prophet's beard, I did not like the prospect of this present march, though I knew there was water and food in plenty at Suleiman's Well. What, then, would happen if we found every well on the eastern road dry as a lime-kiln?"
"Yet you have been that way, you say?"
"Once, when I was young. But we were only a few Arabs, with a long string of camels."
"Did you find water?"
"Malish—I have forgotten. It is so long ago."
Royson rose to his feet and stretched himself. He wondered what Alfieri was disinterring at Suleiman's Well if the legion of Aelius Gallus had followed the old-world route described by the Arab. Perhaps it was all a mad dream, and this latest development but an added trick of fantasy. Abdur Kad'r, looking up at him, chuckled softly.
"Effendi," he cried, "if you are as strong as you look, you must be of the breed of that Frankish king whom our great Soldan, Yussuf Ibn Ayub, fought in Syria eight hundred years ago.Bismillah!I have seen many a proper man, but none with height and bone like you."
Now, Dick knew that Abdur Kad'r was speaking of Richard the First and Saladin, and it did seem a strange thing that the founder of his race should be named at that moment. He laughed constrainedly.
"You have guessed truly, my friend," he said. "I am indeed a descendant of that famous fighter. Alas, the days have long passed since men met in fair contest with lance and sword. If I were fool enough to seek distinction today in the battle-field I might be slain by any monkey of a man who could aim a rifle."
"We die as God wills," was the Arab's pious rejoinder, "yet I have been in more than one fight in which a Frank of your size could have won a name for himself. But I am growing old. My hot days are ended, and you giaours are erecting boundary pillars on the desert. The free people are dying. We are scattered and divided. Soon there will not be a genuine Arab left. May the wrath of Allah fall on all unbelievers!"
Then did Royson laugh again, with a heartiness that drove that passion of retrospect from Abdur Kad'r's dark features.
"Whatever happens, let not you and me quarrel," he cried. "We have enough on hand that we should keep our heads cool. And who can tell what this very day may bring forth? Things may happen ere we rejoin our caravan, Abdur Kad'r."
The sheikh, bowed his head in confusion. It must have been the heat, he muttered, that caused his tongue to utter such folly. And, indeed, the excuse might serve, for the hot hours dragged most wearily, and the sun circled ever towards the hills, yet there came no sign of Hussain.
Royson, was divided between his promise to Irene not to incur any avoidable risk and his natural wish to obtain the information so eagerly awaited in the camp. Though he meant to begin the return journey at sunset, here was five o'clock, and he no wiser than yesterday at the same hour. At last, inaction grew irksome. He helped Abdur Kad'r to saddle the camels, and they mounted, with intent to climb the northerly ridge, and thus survey the road which Hussain must pursue if he managed to get away from Italian surveillance before nightfall.
They proceeded warily. On gaining the opposing height they found that a broad plateau, flanked by a steep hill on the seaward side, barred any distant view, but Abdur Kad'r felt assured that the crest of this next hill would give them command of the whole range of broken country for many miles ahead. With this objective, they urged the camels into a trot. When the shoulder of the rising ground became almost impassable for four-footed animals, and awkward beasts at that, they dismounted, tied the camels to heavy stones, and climbed the remainder of the way on foot.
They looked across a narrow valley into a wide and shallow depression, where a clump of palm trees and dense patches ofsayallbushes instantly revealed the whereabouts of the oasis. It was easy to see the regular lines of newly-turned rubble and sand where trenches had been cut by the explorers. But the place was deserted. Not a man or horse, camel or tent, stood on the spot where the mirage had revealed a multitude some twenty-six hours earlier.
Royson was so perplexed by the discovery that his gaze did not wander from the abandoned camp. Abdur Kad'r, quicker than he to read the tokens of the desert, pointed to a haze of dust that hung in the still air far to the north.
"The Italians have gone, Effendi," he said. "Perhaps they, too, were looking for an oasis with five hills. Behold, they have found one by a fool's counting, for this is the fifth hill within two kilometers of Suleiman's Well. The ways of Allah are wonderful. Can it be that they have discovered that which you seek?"
A sharp pang of disappointment shot through Royson's breast. He was about to tell Abdur Kad'r that they must now regain their camels and hasten to the oasis while there was sufficient light to examine the excavations, when the sheikh suddenly pulled him down, for Dick had stood upright on a boulder to obtain an uninterrupted field of vision.
"Look!" he growled. "Four of them! And, by the Holy Kaaba, they mean mischief!"
Royson's eyes were good, clearer, in all probability, than the Arab's, but they were not trained to detect moving objects with such minute precision. Nevertheless, in a few seconds he made out the hoods of four men who were peering over the crest which separated the small valley from the larger one. They disappeared, and, while Royson and Abdur Kad'r were speculating on the motive that inspired this espionage, the hoods came in sight again, but this time they had the regular swing that betokened camel-riders. The four halted on the sky-line, and seemingly exchanged signals with others in the fear. Then they resumed their advance. They were fully armed; they carried their guns across the saddle-bow, and Dick saw that their cloaks were rather differently fashioned to those which he had taken note of hitherto.
"Hadendowas!" murmured Abdur Kad'r. "They are good fighters, Effendi, but born thieves. And how many ride behind? Not for twenty years have I met Hadendowas on this track."
The Arab's keen eyes did not cease to glare fixedly beyond the ridge.Soon he whispered again:
"They may not have seen us, Effendi, but we must be ready for them. Go you, and lead our camels into the hollow there," and he thrust his chin towards the seaward base of the hill. "I shall soon know if they are playing fox with us. Our camels are of the Bisharin breed, while theirs are Persian, so we can always outstrip them if it comes to a race. You understand, Effendi; they come from Suleiman's Well. Perchance evil hath befallen Hussain."
Abhur Kad'r's advice was so obviously reasonable that Dick obeyed it, though unwillingly. He took the camels to the place indicated by his companion, and had no difficulty in finding a cleft in which they were quite hidden from the ken of any who followed the main track.
Soon he heard the sheikh hurrying after him.
"Had we awaited Hussain another half hour we should have been dead or captured by this time, Effendi," was his bewildering news. "A white man and nearly seventy Hadendowas, all armed, and leading pack camels, follow close behind the scouts. With them are Hussain and another, but their arms are bound, and they are roped to their beasts. The Giaour—may he be withered—rides my Bisharin camel."
Then Royson knew by intuition what had happened. Alfieri had failed in his quest. The Italian commander of the troops, refusing to sanction useless labor any longer, had marched north with his men. Alfieri, still clinging desperately to a chimera, had decided to remain and scour the desert until his stores gave out. And, at this crucial moment in his enterprise, came Hussain, the unconscious emissary of his rivals. The fact that the Arab was a prisoner spoke volumes. He had tried to communicate with Abdullah, and the watchful Italian had guessed his true mission. The man might have been tortured until he confessed the whereabouts not only of Royson himself and Abdur Kad'r but of the whole expedition. There was but one thing to do, and that speedily.
"Up!" he shouted, dragging the camels forth to an open space. "You ride in front and set the pace."
"What would you do, Effendi?" cried the sheikh in alarm. "They will see us ere we have gone five hundred meters. Let us wait for the night."
"Up, I tell you," roared Royson, catching the Arab's shoulder in a steel grip. "In another ten minutes they will know we have fled, and they will hurry south at top speed. What chance have we of passing them in this country at night? Our sole hope is to head them. No more words, but ride. Believe me, Abdur Kad'r, it is life or death for you, and it matters little to me whether you die here, or in the next valley, or not at all."
Then the Arab knew that he had met his master. He climbed to the saddle, said words not in the Koran, and urged his camel into a frenzied run. Royson, who could never have persuaded his own long-legged steed to adopt such a pace, found it easy enough to induce the beast to follow his brother.
In this fashion, riding like madmen, they traversed the plateau and had almost begun the descent into the wady where they had spent the day, when a distant yell reached them. There was no need to look back, even if such a hazardous proceeding were warranted by their break-neck gait. They were discovered, but they were in front, and that counts for a good deal in a race. They tore down the hill, lumbered across the dried-up bed of a long-vanished torrent, and pressed up the further side. As they neared the ridge, four rifle shots rang out, and Dick saw three little spurts of dust and stones kick up in front on the right, while a white spatter suddenly shone on a dark rock to the left.
"Faster!" he roared to Abdur Kad'r. "They cannot both ride and fire. In the next wady we shall be safe. Bend to it, my friend. Your reward will be great, and measured only by your haste in bringing me back to our camp."