  The treasure was taken from the panniers and, still snugly packed in the canvas sacks which Van Dorn had so carefully sealed, carried to my stateroom and dumped unceremoniously into a huge chest. After a brief conference we had decided to leave it untouched until after we had passed through the Suez Canal and, free from the shores of Egypt, were safe on the broad waters of the Mediterranean. Then we would open the sacks, sort and examine the treasure, and divide it in ways still to be agreed upon. Our contract with Van Dorn, you will remember, gave us his share in case of his death. And now, while we sailed up the long branch of the Red Sea which is called the Arabian Gulf, I examined with some curiosity the things Ned had taken from the Professor’s dead body. His note book had been a sort of diary, but from it several leaves had been torn, as if he had recorded events which he afterward feared might compromise him, and had thus destroyed their written evidence. From what remained I gathered that the man was no “professor” at all, but a wandering adventurer attracted to Egypt by the recent valuable discoveries there. Falling in with Lovelace, he had hired his services to that savant to assist his search, and from scattered notations in the book I formed the shrewd conclusion that the fellow had never possessed the shadow of a claim to Lovelace’s discovery. Abdul Hashim had read his character fairly well, and it seemed that Van Dorn had played a desperate and murderous game to win the treasure for himself and rob, incidentally, the real discoverer and any others who might lay claim to a portion of the buried wealth. Turning from the note book, I cut the stitches of the goatskin cover of the parcel which Van Dorn had so cleverly concealed in the lining of his coat, and proceeded to break the seals, which I observed bore the monogram “J. L.,” surmounted by a winged sphinx. This was not Van Dorn’s seal, but that of Lovelace Pasha, and I judged that after the owner had sewn and sealed the packet it had in some way come into the possession of Van Dorn, who had never yet ventured to open it. At this time all of those most interested were gathered with me in the Captain’s room: Uncle Naboth, Ned, Archie and Joe, as well as my father. When I removed the covering a small locket dropped out, and this I opened to glance at a sweet, womanly face that met my gaze. Over my shoulder came a sob and a cry and Joe seized the locket from my hands. “My mother!” he said, softly, as he devoured the miniature with eager, loving eyes. We looked at the boy in astonishment. “Your mother, Joe?” I questioned, stupidly. He swiftly drew from beneath his clothing the slender chain which I had often observed he wore around his neck, and showed us a similar locket attached to it. Opening this with trembling fingers, the boy laid the lockets side by side, and we saw that the portraits were nearly identical. “Father and I each had one,” he said, in an awed whisper; “mother has often told me that.” “Did you ever know what became of your father, Joe?” I inquired. “No; he went away when I was a baby, and we never heard of him again. For that reason mother was sure he was dead, for she said he loved her and would not otherwise have deserted her.” “Then,” said I, softly, “you are about to discover your father, Joe; for the man who wrote this and owned the locket could be none other.” “Wrote what?” asked Uncle Naboth. I had been hastily examining a flat book which accompanied the locket. It had leaves of coarse paper closely covered with writing in a fine, scholarly hand. “Here is a manuscript which I believe I will read aloud,” said I. “It may be interesting to us, in view of our recent adventure, and I am sure it will tell Joe something about his father.” As I spoke I turned over the pages to the end, and Uncle Naboth, peering over my shoulder, exclaimed: “Why, it’s signed by John Lovelace. That must be the same Lovelace Pasha who discovered the treasure.” “He was not a Pasha,” I returned, “although he was called so. He was not even entitled to the name of Lovelace, for here he tells us who he really was—John Herring.” Joe was staring intently, first at the lockets and then at me. His face was pale and his dark eyes glowed with nervous excitement. “Sit down, uncle,” I said, “and let me read what is here written.” All now assumed attentive attitudes while I proceeded to read as follows: “‘This shall be, to any who reads it after my death, my last testament and my final behest. For some weeks I, John Herring, have feared treachery and sudden death, although I cannot discover from what direction the danger threatens. So I am determined to explain herein my position in Egypt, for, being reserved by nature, I know that at present I am a mystery to all with whom I have come into contact in this ancient and romantic land. “‘I am an American, a native of Galveston, and a graduate of Harvard. Soon after I left college my father, who was reputed a wealthy man, died without estate, and I was thrown upon my own resources. Being little fitted for a business career I gained scant success, except that I took a wife to share my poverty—a gentle natured woman who gave me devotion and love but was unable to further my fortunes because her nature was weaker than my own. “‘I was led into an illegitimate venture by a friend named JosÉ Marrow, an enterprising Mexican who owned a sloop and proposed that I join him in smuggling laces and cigars from Mexico into the United States. We succeeded for a time and I made considerable money. But at length I was discovered, as was inevitable, and only saved myself from imprisonment by sudden escape. Marrow managed to get me aboard a vessel bound for Gibraltar and I was obliged to leave my wife and baby boy without the comfort of a farewell, although I sent them all the money I had and my friend Marrow promised to see they were provided for in case I was unable to send them more before it was gone. But I thank God I have been able to supply their wants, and each year I have sent a substantial remittance to them through Marrow, who by good fortune was never suspected of being implicated in the smuggling.’” “But we never got a dollar!” broke in Joe, indignantly. “Old Marrow must have kept every penny of the money.” Without replying to this I continued to read: “‘Twelve years ago I made my way to Egypt, and having been a student of Egyptology in my college days, I became much interested in the excavations being made to secure ancient relics. Soon I was myself successfully engaged in this search, and I have had the good fortune to discover several important tombs of the Twenty-fourth Dynasty. “‘This success finally led to my undertaking a queer and seemingly impossible search—for the treasure hidden by the High Priest Amana of Karnak at the time of Cambyses’ invasion. I conceived the idea that the treasure had been buried in the sands of the desert, instead of in the Sacred Lake, according to popular tradition. For several years I searched the desert around Karnak without result, and just as I was beginning to despair I came upon an inscription graven upon an angle of the ruined walls of the temple of Seti, which described—although not accurately—the place where the treasure had been hidden. “‘I must explain that this treasure of Karnak is mainly a library of papyri recounting the history of the Egyptians during the period between the Sixth and Twelfth Dynasties. As no other records of this period exist our historians have been in the dark concerning this broad epoch, although we know from inscriptions found at Abydos and Edfu that the papyrus rolls hidden by the priest of Karnak gave a full account of that portion of Egyptian history which we have hitherto been unable to account for. So the discovery of this library means fame and riches to one fortunate enough to find it, and it is supposed that a store of gold and precious jewels was buried by the priests at the same time, which should further enrich the discoverer. “‘I have an explorer’s and excavator’s license granted me by the Khedive under the name of John Lovelace, which name I assumed on coming to Egypt, although, as I have said, my real name is John Herring. It was necessary to cover my identity in this way to avoid extradition in case the American customs officers discovered my retreat. But my crime was not an important one and I believe it has long since been forgotten. “‘The finding of the Karnak treasure is now merely a question of time, since I know by the secret inscription where to search for it. But I found that I needed help, and engaged a man named Van Dorn, who has at one time been a foreman at the workings of the Italian excavators in the Tombs of the Kings at Thebes, to assist me. He has now been with me nearly three years, receiving 400 piasters a month, which is equal to about 20 American dollars. He is a faithful worker, but has a covetous and dishonest mind, so that I suspect he will not be trustworthy in case I discover the treasure. Unfortunately I have been obliged to intrust him with knowledge nearly equal to my own, and the misgivings I have expressed at the beginning of this testament are mostly due to this man’s connection with my search. I fear the day when the treasure is at last unearthed. “‘Besides Peter Van Dorn, who is to receive one thousand dollars, in addition to his wage, if the treasure is found, I have employed members of an Arab desert tribe led by one Abdul Hashim, which inhabits a village near Tel-Ambra. For his services the sheik Abdul Hashim is also to receive one thousand dollars when I find the treasure, but nothing if I am unsuccessful. My contract with the sheik, to be exact, is for 200 pounds Egyptian. My permit from the Khedive obliges me to sell the papyri to the Cairo Museum for a sum not less than the total of my expenses during the search for them, and should there be other treasure of gold or jewels, one-half belongs to the Khedive and the other half to me. This I write plainly to explain all just claims against the treasure, should I succeed in finding it.’” Here the writing halted, but under date of January 11, 190—, it continued as follows: “‘At last the search for the treasure of Karnak has been successful. Last night Van Dorn and I located a granite slab in which are set three bronze rings—evidence indisputable that here lies the wealth hidden centuries ago to escape the rapacity of Cambyses. To-night we are to take two Arabs of Abdul Hashim’s tribe to assist us in lifting the slab, which Van Dorn and I were unable to do alone. I am eager to see what lies beneath it. Van Dorn has been acting more suspiciously than ever this morning, and is in a state of wild excitement. Perhaps that is natural, and I do not see how he can rob me of either the honor of the discovery or of the treasure itself; but I shall watch him closely. “‘Some months ago I wrote to JosÉ Marrow, my friend in Galveston, who now commands a trading ship, stating that I expected shortly to find a large treasure, and that if I succeeded I would send all of my share to him to be applied to the education and advancement in life of my son, who is now nearly fifteen years of age. Marrow has written me that my wife is ill and needs more money than I have sent; but I am now sure of being able to provide generously for my family. “‘If anything happens to me to prevent my carrying out this plan, I implore whoever may come into possession of this writing as a matter of simple humanity and justice to fulfill my wishes and send my share of the proceeds of the treasure to Capt. JosÉ Marrow, at Galveston, Texas, U. S. A., to be applied by him for the sole welfare of my wife and son. And I ask his Gracious Highness, the Khedive, if by chance this should come to his notice, to order my estate disposed of as I have said above. “‘I shall seal and otherwise protect this manuscript from prying eyes, and it may be that my fears are fanciful and unfounded, and that I shall myself have the delight of enriching my dear ones in person. I wish nothing for myself. The honor to my name as the discoverer of the historic papyri of Karnak will be a sufficient reward. “‘John Lovelace.’” “Humph!” said Uncle Naboth; “is that all?” “That is all, sir,” I answered, closing the book. “But it explains a lot that we did not know, and transfers the ownership of the treasure from us to Joe.” They all sat thoughtfully considering this for a time. Then Joe said: “I may have a sort of claim to my father’s share, although that is not quite clear. But the half that was to go to the Khedive you people are now fully entitled to.” “That’s a sure thing,” observed Archie, whose keen Yankee wit had grasped the situation quicker than mine did. “But let’s consider another thing, my friends. We agreed long ago that the hidden treasure of those old priests belonged by right to whoever was lucky enough to grab it. It isn’t the Khedive’s, and never has been. Lovelace—or Joe’s father—may have made a deal with the Khedive to insure his own safety, but Lovelace did nothing more than to locate the place where the treasure lay. He never got his fists on it. Neither did Abdul Hashim, nor Van Dorn, nor old Gege-Merak, although any one of ’em would have seized it if he could and held on to it like grim death to a grasshopper. The fact is, we got possession of the treasure ourselves, at considerable risk, and it belongs to us except for the liens Joe’s father had on it. In my opinion we needn’t consider the Khedive any more than the Shah of Persia or any other hungry shark.” “You’re right,” said Uncle Naboth. “We’ll keep half an’ give Joe half. That’s fair, I guess.” “But first,” said I, “let’s get safely away from Egypt,” and I left them and went on deck to find we had just sighted Suez. |
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