"Presently the firing re-commenced, and Naoum gave orders to attack." p. 90"Presently the firing re-commenced, and Naoum gave orders to attack." p. 90
Presently the firing re-commenced with a fearfulfusillade, and Naoum gave orders to attack. Nearer and nearer came the rebels, and more fierce became the firing. George was on one side of the vessel and Naoum on the other encouraging the men in their defence.
The rebels' ranks were thinning fast, and George began to hope they would give in. They were still three to one, however, and if they should once get aboard the dahabîeh the defenders' chance would be a very poor one.
They were but a few yards off and ceased firing. Evidently they had spent all their ammunition, and were going to attempt to board the vessel and capture it with a hand-to-hand fight.
While they were yet watching, one of the boats drew near to the vessel's side, and the next moment a head appeared above the bulwarks of the dahabîeh, quickly followed by another and another.
This was the signal Naoum's men waited for, and without further delay they set to work with a will, pitching the struggling rebels back into the water and taking pot shots at them afterwards as if they were ducks.
The struggle, however, had only just begun; as fast as the defenders beat the assailants off more came on. Whilst themêléewas in progress the defenders had not seen the other boats come alongside, and the reinforcements they brought. All along the side of the dahabîeh the Arabs were clambering up like so many ants, and though theadvantage was still with Naoum, the outcome looked doubtful. The crew were hard put to it.
Helmar worked indefatigably with his rifle used as a club; everywhere he darted, dealing terrible blows as the dusky creatures showed themselves, but despite his efforts they seemed to be in overwhelming numbers.
At last they gained a foothold on the deck, and the firing ceased altogether. It became a struggle to the death, man against man. It was here the crew showed their superiority over their enemies, and slowly but surely began to drive them back.
Suddenly George saw three men pressing Naoum sorely. He himself had just succeeded in throwing off his own assailant; with a bound he went to his friend's rescue. He arrived only just in time, the men were in the act of knifing him.
Without a thought, he rained blow after blow with his clubbed rifle on the would-be assassins, and they went down like ninepins; then, turning to where the crew were fighting, he saw to his delight that they had driven the foe back over the bulwarks, while the deck lay covered with damaged rebels. Naoum's men had fought like demons, and their devotion to their master touched Helmar—it would have been so much easier for them to have sold him.
In a few more moments the rebels were driven off, dropping over the side into the water, without thinking as to the whereabouts of the boats so longas they got safely out of the hornet's nest they had fallen into.
As the last of them disappeared, Helmar fell rather than sat down on the deck, breathing hard.
"That was a close call," he panted. "If they'd held on a bit longer, I was completely done. Poof! I've had enough for one day."
Naoum was taking pot shots at the boats as they dodged about, picking up the men who had fallen into the water. He paused at his companion's words.
"Yes, Allah is good, we are now out of danger and have no more to fear."
The rifles were collected and put away, and the dahabîeh resumed its calm appearance as it glided lazily onwards.
The following morning it entered the Mahmoudieh Canal, which runs direct to Alexandria. After his late experience, George realized what the appearance of a white face on board might mean to his protector, and for the rest of the journey kept out of sight.
THE REIGN OF TERROR IN ALEXANDRIA
After what had happened, Helmar was prepared for almost anything when he actually arrived at Alexandria.
For some time past everybody had been possessed of the feeling that something serious was about to happen. Arabi Pasha and his co-conspirator, Mahmoud Sami, had caused sedition to be preached amongst the native soldiers and police, and amassed together so large a followingthat his party had become masters of the situation. His firm conviction that the Khedive's rule and the power of the Europeans could be easily overthrown, got so instilled into the souls of the populace they could restrain their hot-blooded feelings no longer, and on an ever-memorable day in June 1882, broke out in one of the bloodiest riots of modern times.
The first indication of what was to take place occurred one afternoon, when the chief streets of the city were suddenly awakened from their tranquillity by the shouts and yells of hundreds of natives.
"Down with the Christians," some cried; others, "Death to the unbelievers!" And they rushed about madly in different parts of the town, ultimately joining forces when the riot became general.
Europeans were beaten with "nabouts," knocked down and trampled on; shots were fired, the soldiers charged, and the police helped to make the butchery more complete. Shops and houses were attacked and pillaged, the proprietors being taken out and massacred in cold blood, and, after all valuables had been taken from them, their bodies thrown into the bye-streets. In one of these streets were found three bodies of Europeans. One was stabbed through the heart, another had bullet-holes in his head, whilst the head of the third was almost severed from the trunk, and the body divested of nearly all its clothes. The mob evidently felt confident that their actions wereapproved, for they paraded the streets with their stolen goods and clothes with an air of glory and bravado. One soldier was seen to sit on the curbstone and change his own garments for the new stolen ones he had just acquired.
The riff-raff of the crowd consisted of the lowest class of Arabs of the city. They fortified themselves with club-like weapons, felled their victims with them, and after stripping their bodies, cast them into the sea. Most diabolical deeds and acts were perpetrated, and the Arabic cry, coming almost spontaneously from the infuriated crowd, of, "Oh, Moslems! Kill him! Kill the Christian!" rent the air whenever a European appeared. One poor merchant was dragged from his carriage and bayoneted on the spot, whilst not many yards away a German, who had appealed to a soldier for protection, was responded to with a shot which penetrated his face. At the gate of the town the guard on duty was seen to draw his sword and strike a man twice, splitting his skull with the first stroke, and severing his head from his body with the second.
These are but a tithe of the instances of the brutality displayed by the rioters which history chronicles, and which went on incessantly all day, during which time hundreds met their death at the hands of this maddened, murderous crew. Arabi was appealed to, to put a stop to the riot. To show the hold he had over the people, it is only necessaryto say that at his given word the tramping, yelling, and shouting ceased almost as quickly as it had begun.
For days after the place remained littered with the bodies of the massacred, and the spectacle, together with the appearance of the shops and houses that had been attacked, made Alexandria look like a town after a siege. Shops were shut and barred, windows barricaded with iron shutters, and the only persons about the streets were Arab soldiers.
Fugitives were removed by train, the people crowding on the roofs and steps; ships laden with the English set off as quickly as possible for Malta.
Outside the harbour was drawn up the French and English fleet.
It was at this period that the dahabîeh, with George Helmar carefully kept from view, arrived outside the town almost unnoticed. The occupants of the place were too busily engaged to pay much attention to the addition of one vessel to the already large number idling about the canal. Besides, this was a trading boat and owned by a well-known native.
When the night-time approached Naoum suggested to George that he might venture up and take a view of the situation.
"It seems to me suspiciously quiet," said Naoum, as he stood beside George, eyeing the shore with a keen glance. "Can't say I like it."
"Yes, it is quiet, but do you see those shops are barricaded at the end of the streets leading down to the water?"
"Um—I don't like the look of that. There's been mischief."
"What's that smoke over there?" exclaimed George, hurriedly. "Why, it's a fire, and look—look at those shattered houses, and—hallo, there's a gang of murderous-looking soldiers—we are too late!"
Naoum did not answer. He was watching all the things his companion had drawn his attention to. There was no doubt in his mind now—the place was evidently in the rebels' hands, the process of sacking was going on. He turned to George.
"Well?" he said inquiringly. "You daren't go ashore."
"What, then, am I to do? I can't trespass on your good-nature any longer, and, besides, my presence here is a constant source of danger to you. No, Imustchance it. I can't stay here."
He spoke with determination, and Naoum was not slow to appreciate the sentiments that prompted him; yet he would not see him deliberately plunge into the deadly danger that awaited him ashore.
"As I said, you can't land, friend Helmar. Allah has guided your steps to me, and you will have to throw in your lot on this boat until we can find a safe means for your escape. Come, you area good man, say, will you stay? Sooner or later things will calm down and then——"
"No, no, Naoum, you have done so much for me already, I cannot let you risk more. My mind is made up, I will forge my own way ahead now."
"There is no need to talk of risk, or of what I have done," he replied, with a kind look into the resolute face beside him; "I ask for no greater pleasure than that you stay here."
Helmar only shook his head. It seemed to him that his duty lay plainly before him—he must no longer jeopardize this man's safety. He was well and strong again now, and must fight his own battles. Inclination made him wish to remain, but he must go.
Seeing his charge's mind was made up, Naoum, with the philosophy of the East, attempted no further persuasion, and resigned himself to the inevitable.
"When, then, will you leave?" he asked.
"As soon as you will help me to land," George answered at once. "Do not think me ungrateful, Naoum—I am only doing my duty."
"The boat shall be brought along the shore when you like," he replied, turning away, "but I should advise you to await darkness; remember your face is still white."
Accepting his friend's advice, Helmar decided to wait until the sun had gone down and then seekshelter in some small drinking saloon where doubtless he might meet other refugees. He had still the money on him which he had in his pocket at the time he was wounded, and this would pay for his immediate wants.
As darkness came on, the boat was pulled for the landing-stage. All along the river silence reigned, but from the distant parts of the city they could hear many sounds grating discordantly on the still night air. That little trip to the shore was, to the occupants of the boat, impressive to a degree. Neither knew what the future was to bring forth, both realized that danger was on all sides, and each one felt that he was parting from a friend, tried as only those who have fought side by side for one another are tried.
The younger man fully appreciated the risks this stranger had run for his sake, and a feeling possessed him that though duty demanded the parting, still, in a measure, it seemed like desertion.
Naoum on the other hand admired the spirit which prompted George's decision, and though he regretted bitterly the loss of so brave and good a companion, would not have had it otherwise.
The landing-stage reached, Helmar sprang ashore, and, with a hearty grip of the hand and a quiet "good-bye and good luck," they parted. Each felt he knew the other's thoughts, and, if good wishes could help them, there was no doubt their lives would be prosperous and happy.
"Allah is good. I shall see the boy again," thought Naoum.
Left to himself, George primed his revolver, put it in his belt ready to hand, and then made his way from the water's edge to explore the city.
It was some moments before he decided which way to go. In every street the houses were barricaded, and along the water front they were quite deserted. At last he decided to venture up a little dark alley to the left. He selected this particular one on account of its obscurity.
From the vessel he had seen a stray party of Arabi's soldiery, and he had no fancy for running the risk of encountering them by taking one of the larger thoroughfares.
How dark and quiet it seemed, not a sign of life was to be seen anywhere. In the distance he could still hear the discordant cries from other parts of the town and sometimes the discharge of fire-arms, but here—here in the lowest quarter of the city, where crime and low life usually prevailed, everything was silent as the grave.
George stepped cautiously along, his ears strained to catch the least suspicious sound, his eyes peering on every side to catch a glimpse of light through some stray chink in the closed and shuttered windows—but none presented itself.
After he had traversed the street without discovering anything to alarm him, he breathed more freely and turned into another, stretching his legsin a brisk walk instead of keeping to his furtive, silent glide.
This street, like the last, appeared to be deserted, but the houses showed signs of rough treatment; windows were broken, doors smashed, mounds of plaster, brick, and wood lay scattered about, evidences of the wanton work of the looting hordes that had no doubt recently visited it.
As he neared the end of this unwholesome, wretched place, he fancied he saw the faint flicker of a light from one of the windows, and he hurriedly made his way towards it.
His senses had not deceived him, the house was inhabited—but by whom? He paused outside and looked up at the window. The light was gone, but the sound of voices inside cheered his heart. He stood for a moment listening. At first he could not make out the language that was being spoken, but after a while, as his ear became accustomed to the confused tongues, he detected one voice speaking in his own language.
His heart beat high with hope, and he strained his ear against the wood-work of the walls. There evidently were many persons inside and of mixed nationality. This gave him his cue; if all these people of different tongues were gathered together in one house it could only mean one thing—refugees.
Without speculating further he tapped on the shuttered window of the ground floor, and waited.Immediately the voices inside ceased. He tapped again, louder than before. A moment after, the shutter of the window above was cautiously opened, and against the dim light of the sky he saw a head protruded.
The night was so dark he could not make out whether the head was that of a white man or not, but he inclined to the latter belief, and summoning all his best Arabic, he asked for shelter for the night.
"I have money to pay," he added, "but have nowhere to sleep."
There was a grunt as the head was withdrawn and another face appeared in its place. There was no mistaking it this time, it was distinctly white, and when a voice came in English—
"Who are you and what do you want?" Helmar's heart gave an instinctive leap for joy.
"These are queer times," the speaker went on, "and I do not care to do business with every passing stranger."
"I am a German," replied Helmar in the same language, "and am a stranger just come to the city from Cairo. I do not know what has happened here, but the town seems to be full of trouble. I must find somewhere to sleep."
The tones of his voice evidently calmed the stranger's fears, for he replied in much milder tones—
"Are you alone?"
"Quite," replied Helmar.
"Very well then, wait a moment," and the head disappeared and he heard footsteps descending the stairs.
The next moment the door was cautiously opened, and the burly figure of a man stood in the dark uninviting passage.
"Quick, come in," he said in hurried tones, "thereistrouble about, and we don't want more; this house is supposed to be deserted."
George stepped in quickly, and the door was closed behind him. The man bolted and barred it as though the place was in a state of siege.
"Step this way," he said, evidently relieved at having got him safely in and the door secured.
Helmar followed the man to the end of the passage, where, flinging open another door, his host ushered him into a well-lighted room.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "another guest. I hope there is no objection?"
At the sight of the new-comer several men rose from their seats and looked earnestly at him. The room in which Helmar found himself was part of the bar of one of the many cheap cafés of this neighbourhood. It was filled by a number of men and women of all nationalities, seated at various small tables scattered round the room. The room itself was innocent of all attempts at decoration; the walls showed its dirty plaster, the rough floor was sanded, and the worn and cheerless tables andbenches were polished with the dirt of ages. The atmosphere reeked with the smell of tobacco and coffee, and, as he stepped in, bowing to the assembled company, Helmar could not help feeling a strong desire to open a window.
After their scrutiny, the occupants, one by one, resumed their seats, and George felt that they were mutely asking him for an explanation. As fugitives they were naturally suspicious of strangers, and he was about to speak, when he saw a slight figure step from an obscure corner.
In a moment his eyes glistened, and an exclamation rose to his lips as he almost jumped forward and grasped the hand of his old chum Osterberg.
THE MEETING OF FRIENDS
George was simply thunderstruck. It seemed almost miraculous that he should meet his bosom friend in such a place and under such circumstances. The two stared at each other in perfect astonishment for some moments, still clasping hands.
"Well, of all the wonders," George exclaimed, after they had expressed sufficient surprise and finished their greetings, "who would have expected this? But why are you here, and why all this mystery?"
"But surely you know, George! You know what has happened?" said Osterberg.
"I know nothing more than that Arabi is leading a rebellion against the Khedive's rule, with the object of deposing him, and that Cairo is becoming impossible to residents in consequence. I suppose Alexandria, from the look of the streets I came through, is in even a worse plight. But tell me about it."
"That's putting it mildly. We've had one of the most inhuman riots here imaginable. The Seditionists have been pillaging the town and massacring all Europeans who came in their way. I only came here a week ago, and now, like all the occupants of this house, am hiding, waiting for an opportunity to get away in safety. It's frightful, it's terrible. Heaven only knows how many people have been massacred."
"I didn't know it was as bad as that. You must have all been terror-stricken," replied George. "But let us come and have a quiet talk. How marvellous I should have chosen this place above all others to seek refuge in!"
The two young men sat and talked in the background, Helmar first giving an account of all that had happened to him, which was punctuated with exclamations of surprise from Osterberg as George recounted his adventures.
Osterberg, after parting with his friend at Constantinople, obtained work in the bank and gavegreat satisfaction to his employer. One day the latter called him in and told him there was a vacancy in the branch at Alexandria, and offered it to Osterberg. He accepted with alacrity and arrived in the town but a few days before the riots took place.
"And here I am taking refuge like the others, with the proprietor of this café," he wound up. "Not quite so eventful a time as yours, George, is it?"
"And what are we going to do now? Do you think we are safe for any length of time? Surely they must attack us in due course?" said George.
"I think we shall be unmolested for a while," replied Osterberg. "The place was visited early by the rabble soldiery and they took all that was worth taking, so now I don't suppose they will bother us."
That night was one of the worst Helmar had ever experienced; the only beds that could be scrambled together were used by the women-folk, and the men slept on the floor, benches, and tables. Fortunately blankets were not needed, as the heat was intense, but the benches were rickety and the sand on the floor worked into the sleepers' clothes. Altogether the plight of the refugees was miserable.
Helmar was unfeignedly delighted to meet his friend once more, and this compensated largely for the woeful condition in which he found himself. Osterberg, as he said, had now endured it for threedays and so didn't mind the imprisonment; but with George it was different, and he had yet to get used to it.
The next two days were passed in this miserable captivity. Helmar chafed at the confinement, but was forced to put up with it. He often thought of leaving and trusting to good luck in the outside world, but Osterberg was always at his side, ready to point out the madness of such a proceeding.
At last the welcome news came that Arabi, probably tired of his soldiers' wanton slaughter, had issued a proclamation that every European must leave the city within a certain time or abide by the consequences.
This was news indeed, and the whites flocked in hundreds to the ships in the harbour. So great was the crush that Helmar and Osterberg were only just able to secure a passage in the last one to leave. They determined to go to Port Said and there apply to the British authorities for assistance. What they were to do after that, fate should decide; both able-bodied men, they had no doubt that they could make themselves useful. Helmar's idea, now that he could speak a little Arabic, was to try to become an interpreter.
It was a dreary journey to Port Said, but they reached it in safety and proceeded immediately to the British Consul. Helmar was to be spokesman and explain the object of their visit. After some delay, they were told an interview would be grantedin about half-an-hour's time. Leaving the office, they strolled about in order to kill time.
"Wearein luck," said George, as they walked arm-in-arm. "I wonder what will happen."
"Being Germans, possibly we shall be sent about our business," said Osterberg, "and after all, it's only to be expected."
"I don't think so," replied his friend; "you don't know these people. I'll bet something will be done for us."
At this moment he caught sight, through the window, of a man dressed in European clothes crossing the square. The figure was so familiar that he paused and looked again.
"By Jove! If I'm not very much mistaken, that's our old friend the doctor we met on the boat going to Constantinople!"
Osterberg looked across at the man approaching.
"You are right. It is he," he exclaimed, and they both made straight for the doctor.
"Ah, my friends, we meet sooner than we anticipated. I am delighted to see you, but am sorry for your plight. But come," he went on, shaking hands heartily, "this is no place to talk, we will go to my quarters."
Helmar and his friend followed the doctor to his rooms.
"So you managed to escape from Alexandria?" said Doctor Dixon, as he leant back in his chair after listening to the young men's story. "Well,considering all things, you are lucky. Arabi Pasha, or his followers, are about the most inhuman devils I ever came across. And to think Arabi was one of the Khedive's most trusted ministers! Well, well, we live and learn!"
"Now the point comes, what are we to do?" said George. "This rebellion has robbed us of our means of living, and we are simply thrown on the world without resource—at least without money. We have been to see the consul, but cannot do so for half-an-hour."
The doctor laughed. George felt angry at this outburst of merriment at their troubles, and his face showed it.
"There, there, my lad," said the officer, becoming serious, "I was not laughing at your troubles, but the way you put them. Now I dare say we can do something for you. You say you speak Arabic. Well," as George nodded in assent, "I'll see the consul and try to use my influence with him in getting you a job as interpreter. How'll that do?"
"Excellently," replied our hero, beaming with delight; "but how about Osterberg?"
"Ah, well, we'll look after him. He has his bank to go to, and I don't suppose for a moment Arabi will be allowed to remain in Alexandria for long. In fact, news came through this morning that the British warships were bombarding the place already, and if that is so, the blue-jackets will soon clear thetown of the rabble. In the meantime provision will be made for him."
Osterberg thanked him for his kind words, and the trio fell to discussing their journey from Varna to Constantinople.
"By the way," said the doctor, "didn't you say that another fellow left the University with you? He played you a scurvy trick or something—didn't you say?"
"Yes, you mean Mark Arden," said Helmar quickly.
"Was that his name? You didn't tell me before. Strange——"
"Why, what do you mean?" asked both young men in a breath.
"Oh, it's nothing. Only some weeks ago a young German of that name came here and he was found some employment. I forget exactly what. Anyhow the fellow misbehaved himself—stole some money or something and was imprisoned. There was a frightful scene when sentence was passed on him. He swore revenge for what he called 'the insulting treatment,' was taken away to the cells, and three days afterwards escaped."
"What was he like?" asked George.
The doctor described him. There was no doubt about it, it was certainly Mark.
"The scoundrel," said Helmar, bitterly, "to think he should disgrace himself in such a manner! Has anything been heard of him since?"
"No, we found no trace at all, and I shouldn't be surprised if he made his way into the rebel camp. But come, we must get to business. Osterberg can remain here until we return."
Helmar followed his friend over to the consul's office. The doctor left him for a moment outside while he interviewed the arbitrator of his fate.
Whilst waiting the result, Helmar could not help thinking of the perfidious Mark. What a viper he had been, and how quickly he had again fallen across his path! One thing was certain, if ever Helmar met him again, he would extort from him the money he had stolen, and denounce him for the rascal he was.
His reflections were cut short by the door being thrown open and a sharp summons for him to enter.
George found himself in a bare-looking office. The only furniture consisted of a desk, one or two hard, uncomfortable chairs, and a long, wooden bench. For decoration the wall was covered with innumerable paper files and maps. He had no time for inspection. He was standing in front of the desk, seated at which was a slight man. He was partially bald, and his face matched his hair—it was brick-dust colour. His features were small, though clear and sharply cut, while his eyes were jet black and keenly penetrating. The doctor was standing beside him, and the pair eyed the young man as he stepped forward.
"German," said the man, without taking hiseyes from Helmar's face. "Any relatives in the country?"
"No, sir," replied George without hesitation.
"Want work, eh? Um," and he bit the end of his pen; "you speak Arabic, Dr. Dixon tells me?"
"Yes, sir."
"How much do you know?" he asked in that language.
George replied in the same tongue, and the rest of the conversation was carried on in it.
"Well, I can't promise you anything now at once, but Dr. Dixon recommends you highly, so that if we require any one, I have no doubt you will suit. You speak Arabic well for a man only a few months in the country."
"I speak English and French as well, sir," broke in Helmar, "and——"
"Yes, yes, I have no doubt—that will do. You will hear from me as soon as it is possible."
The doctor smiled at the way the interview was closed, but George simply expressed his thanks and walked out. Presently the doctor joined him, and the two walked back to the quarters.
"Well, what do you think of him?" asked the doctor.
"Who? The consul? A smart-looking man."
"A little abrupt, eh?"
"Yes, but all business men are more or less like that. If he finds me something to do, itwillbe arelief, and anyway I can never thank you sufficiently for what you have done. It is strange, I always seem to be under obligations. First Mariam, then Naoum, and now you."
"Never mind that, my boy, every one must start in life, and to get that start one has to be under obligations to some one, if it's only your parents. Now about quarters? I'll arrange that you have a spare room with your friend in my house, and you must be my guests until something turns up. No, no more thanks, you've done quite enough in that line already."
In a few hours the two friends, Osterberg and George, were installed in the doctor's house. He was a bachelor, and his place was comfortably arranged. Everything he had he placed at their disposal, and for the next three or four days they thoroughly enjoyed themselves. At last the summons George had awaited came. After the doctor had finished his hospital duties he returned home with the announcement.
"Our fleet has bombarded Alexandria, and the blue-jackets have landed," he cried, as he stepped into the sitting-room. "You, Osterberg, will be able to return to your bank, and you, Helmar, the consul is going to send to the general commanding the forces there as an interpreter. Everything will be arranged here, you will be engaged at a certain salary before you go, and I believe you leave to-night."
The news was so good and had come so suddenly that neither of the young men knew what to say, they were so overjoyed. At length their feelings burst out in a torrent of thanks, from which the kindly doctor took refuge by leaving the room.
A MYSTERIOUS MESSENGER
Everything turned out as the doctor had said, and at seven o'clock they bade good-bye to their friend and protector, and left for the transport.
They had three hours to spare before the boat left, and to fill in the time they went for a walk round the port.
"It seems to me the most marvellous thing, the way in which we have fallen on our feet," said George, as they walked slowly along. "No one can doubt but that a Higher Power guides ourfootsteps. The miraculous escapes I have so far had teach me this, if I had needed any teaching."
"Yes, and the providential way we have been brought together astonishes me still more," answered his companion. "Let us turn down here, it will take us out of the town; we have plenty of time. I don't suppose either of us will have much opportunity for pleasure after this. I say, isn't Dr. Dixon a brick?"
"Rather! I only wish I was going to see more of him."
They had turned into a quiet street, which rapidly brought them to the outskirts of the town. The houses on either side stood right up to the pavement, and appeared to be of the better class. This portion of Port Said was much more picturesque than the parts of Cairo and Alexandria to which our hero was used, and he remarked upon it.
As they neared the end of the street, an Arab turned into it, from one of the many bye-ways, and came quickly towards them. He was a picturesque-looking man, dressed in his native garb. His dusky polished skin shone in the evening light, and he hurried along with a light, easy, swaying stride, his every movement displaying the athletic qualities that his robes tended to hide. As he approached the two friends, his watchful black eyes glanced quickly up and down the street, and then, apparently satisfied with what he saw, rested with a keen, penetrating look upon Helmar.
Without slackening his pace for a moment, or giving the least indication of his intention, he suddenly held out his hand and a piece of paper fluttered at our hero's feet, and the fellow passed swiftly on.
The whole thing was done so suddenly, that neither of the friends had time to say a word before the man had passed; and when, after picking up the paper, they looked round for him, he had disappeared as quickly as he had come.
George gazed at his companion, holding the missive in his hand, and burst out laughing.
"What a queer chap! If it weren't that he touched me as he passed, and I felt that he was flesh and blood, I should be inclined to think he was a ghost. I wonder what he is up to?"
"Examine the paper. Doubtless that will enlighten us," said the practical Osterberg. "If I'm not mistaken, this is some game, in which we are wanted to participate."
George examined the paper, turning it over and over wonderingly. It was a dirty envelope, of the cheaper kind, sealed down and addressed to him.
"The mystery deepens. It's from some one who knows me, evidently. The writing seems familiar, too. I wonder——"
"Confound it, man, open it!" broke in his impatient companion. "You are right about the handwriting. Itisfamiliar."
Helmar tore the envelope open, and examined thecontents. It was a brief note, signed by Mark Arden.
The two read the contents eagerly.
"Dear George,
"I have just found out you are in the town. For certain reasons, I cannot meet you in public; but, if you will meet me at the last Mosque outside the town, on the lake's edge (any one can direct you), in half-an-hour, I shall be glad to return you the money I borrowed at Varna.
"Yours ever,"Mark."
As they finished reading this extraordinary epistle, the two young men silently looked at one another. Osterberg was the first to break the silence.
"Well, of all the unadulterated cheek I ever heard of, this beats everything! I suppose he's going to pay you out of what he stole from the barracks. What are you going to do about it?"
Helmar looked long at the paper before replying. He was trying to find out what lay hidden under these lines. Somehow, he could not bring himself to believe in their genuineness. There was a deeply suspicious air about the whole thing, not the least being the delivery of the note. At last he appeared to make up his mind.
"We'll see it through. If there is any trickery, I dare say we can hold our own. Will you come?"
"Rather!" cried his friend. "But have we time?"
Helmar looked at his watch. It still wanted two hours to the time he must be aboard the transport, and he had no doubt the quay could be reached in time.
"Oh, yes, heaps of time! We'd better find out where this particular Mosque is. We'll ask the first person we meet."
At this moment an elderly Arab came along from behind, as if in answer to his expressed intention, and Helmar stopped him, and inquired the way. The old fellow grinned, showing a row of perfect white teeth, which, in a man of his apparent years, astonished the companions.
"It is not far," he said, in a peculiar, grating voice, "and I am going that way myself. It will take but a few minutes."
Osterberg looked inquiringly at George.
"All right, come along. You lead the way, old man," said Helmar, "and we will follow."
Helmar slipped his hand in his coat pocket to make sure his revolver was there, and, having satisfied himself on the point, hurried along behind the Arab, talking and laughing with his friend, as if he had not the slightest doubt but that everything was fair and above-board.
The limit of the town was reached, and they passed along the sandy road until they came to some gardens. Here they turned off, and soon found themselves in a lonely, obscure sort of disused brick-fieldsurrounded by some tumble-down hovels. At this spot their guide suddenly stopped.
"That is the Mosque, in the distance," he said, and without waiting for reply, hurried off at a pace that belied his age.
"I believe there's some trickery," said Osterberg. "I half wish we hadn't come. What's to be done?"
"That old man has brought us to this spot for a purpose," said Helmar. "Why didn't he leave us at the gardens?" A dark look came into his eyes as he spoke. "Well, we'll give Mr. Mark ten minutes to turn up," he went on. "After that, we'll go."
The two young men stood for a minute or two, kicking their heels about, and, at last, Osterberg got so impatient that he suddenly burst out——
"Come on, don't let us wait here, let us get back to the quay. This is some beastly hoax. The place is as silent as the grave—it gives me the creeps."
"I said we would give him ten minutes, and we will do so," said George, determinedly. "I'm not going until the time has elapsed. Hallo!" as he caught sight of a figure approaching, "here comes somebody. Perhaps it's Mark."
His surmise proved correct. Mark came quickly up, and held out his hand. He was dressed in Egyptian costume, and with his dark complexion and black eyes might easily have passed as a native.
"Ah! Helmar, and you, Osterberg!" he said."I am glad to see you." Then, as neither took the proffered hand, he drew back. "Why, what's up? Aren't you going to shake hands?"
"You said in your note," exclaimed our hero, impatiently, "that you wanted to return the money you owe me. Where is it?"
"Ah, that's it!" answered Mark, with apparent relief. "Well, if you'll come into this house I'll give it you. Oh, it's all right!" as Helmar did not offer to move, "there's not a soul about besides ourselves. Come along."
"But why can't you pay me here? I have no time to fool about, and must get back to the quay in time to catch the boat."
"I know—at least, that is—all right," said Mark, seeing that he had made a mistake. "But you don't understand. This is where I have to live."
"Since you robbed those who helped you here, eh?" said George, contemptuously.
"I see you have heard of that, then," replied Mark, with a smile. "But really I had no intention of stealing, I only borrowed it as I borrowed it from you, and am equally as ready to return it as I am yours."
"Why don't you do so, then?" said Helmar, a little mollified at the man's open words. "Look here, Mark, I don't want to say hard things, but if you're not a knave you are a fool, and the sooner you pull yourself together and live a decent life, the better!"
"Oh, don't preach, Helmar!" cried Arden impatiently."Allow me to do as I think fit. Now, will you come and get that money, or must I, on account of some silly notion of yours, go and fetch it? Of course, if you will not, then——"
"All right, lead the way," said Helmar, "I'll follow."
Arden led the way to a tumble-down, two-storied building, and the trio entered. It was dark inside.
"You'd better follow me pretty closely," said their guide, "the floor is none too sound, and you may have a tumble if you don't."
The two friends followed close up to their guide, and as they turned into a room, Osterberg fancied he heard a sound proceed from it. As nothing further alarmed him, he put it down to his straining nerves. As soon as they were inside, the door closed sharply behind them, and the ominous click of the lock made them both start. Helmar was about to say something, when Mark anticipated him.
"Hold on while I strike a light. The beastly wind has blown the door to."
This was such palpable nonsense that George expostulated.
"There isn't a breath of wind, man. Hurry up with the light!"
Arden fumbled with some matches for a moment, and then a light was struck.