  On the first of March, about mid-afternoon, the Catalonia steamed into the harbor of Alexandria. Pauline, at the rail, watched the clearing outlines of mosques and minarets, as the beautiful city became visible. It was a glistening, dazzling strip, between the deep blue of the sea and the azure of the sky, and, breathless with delight, she gazed at the shining sunlit picture. Then the Arab pilot came aboard, and soon Pauline found herself in a shore-boat, swiftly making for the quay. She knew Loria would meet her at Alexandria, she had had a telegram at Naples to that effect, and she thrilled with pleasure at thought of seeing wonderful Egypt with him. Landing, she was bewildered by the crowd of strange-looking people, natives, tourists, officials and porters, all shouting, running and getting in each other’s way. Luggage was everywhere, and the game seemed to be to present any piece of it to anybody except the owner. Pauline fell to laughing at the antics of a black man robed in white and a brown man robed in yellow fighting for possession of a small portmanteau, while its timid and bewildered owner desperately hung on to it herself. Three or four Arabs gathered round Pauline herself, each asserting his claim to all the virtues of a perfect dragoman. In more or less intelligible English, each insisted he had been sent to her personally by Effendi This or That, of marvelous wealth and power. Greatly interested, she listened to their arguments, until, encouraged, they became so insistent that she was frightened. Seeing this, they waxed threatening, even belligerent, in their determination to be engaged, and just as one laid his brown, long fingers on her arm, and she drew back in a panic of fear, she saw Carr Loria’s smiling face coming to her through the crowd. With a wave of his hand and a few short commands, he sent the bothersome Arabs flying, and greeted Pauline with affectionate enthusiasm. “Polly, dear! but I’m glad to see you! Have you had a good trip? But such questions must wait a bit. Where are your checks? Do you see your boxes?” “There’s only one, and some hand things. Here is——” “All right,” and Loria took the little sheaf of papers she produced from her handbag. “Ahri, look after these.” A tall Arab glided to Loria’s side, and took the checks. “Ahri is my dragoman and body-servant and general factotum,” said Loria, by way of introduction. “This lady, Ahri, is my cousin, Miss Stuart. Her word is law.” “Yes, Mr. Loria. Miss Stoort is queen of all.” The man made a salaam of obeisance and turned away to look after the luggage. “He’s a wonder, that Ahri,” said Carrington Loria, looking after the retreating Arab. “But be very haughty with him, Polly. He presumes upon the least encouragement. Treat him like the dust under your feet, and he’ll adore you.” “That’s easy enough,” and Pauline smiled. “I’m scared to death of these brown and black men. But your servant is so grand of costume.” “Yes, he’s a very high-class affair. Handsome chap and fond of dress. But he’s invaluable to me. Speaks almost perfect English, and knows everything there is to know,—and then some. Knows, too, everybody who has ever been in Cairo or ever thought of coming here. And he possesses the proud distinction of being the only dragoman here-abouts who hasn’t a letter of recommendation from Hichens. You haven’t that, have you, Ahri?” for the Arab had just reappeared. A marvelous set of white teeth gleamed in the sunlight, as the response came quickly: “I had one, Mr. Loria, but I sold it. They are of use to others; Ahri needs none.” His self-conceit was superb, and he spoke with the air of a prince. But warned by Loria, Pauline gave him no answering smile, rather a patronizing nod, and Ahri’s respect for the newcomer went up several points. “Come along, girlie,” commanded Carrington and he took Pauline’s arm as he hurried her to the boat-train. Watchful Ahri showed them to the compartment he had secured for them, and soon they were on their way to Cairo. “Now, tell me everything,” said Carr Loria, as they sat alone. “This is a three-hour trip and I want to know the whole story. Just think, Pauline, I’ve had only a few letters, and they were—well,—they were almost contradictory in some ways. So tell me all, from the beginning.” Pauline did, and by the time they reached Cairo, Loria knew as much as she of the death of their aunt and the subsequent search for the murderer. “Wasn’t it strange,” he mused, “that that Bates person should go in to kill her, the very night somebody else had the same intention?” “Well, but, Carr, Bates didn’t start out to kill her, you know; he went to steal the jewels, and he knew they were all in the house that night, because Estelle told him so. Now, of course, whoever gave her the poison, must have known it too——” “Oh, I don’t know. Why didn’t somebody want to put her out of the way to get a bequest? Not necessarily the Count gentleman, but maybe one of the servants. Maybe that Estelle? Didn’t she receive a legacy in Aunt Lucy’s will?” “Yes, but nobody has thought of suspecting her.” “Don’t see why not. I thought of her first clip. I don’t think that Stone paragon amounts to much. Hey, what are you blushing about? Sits the wind in that quarter?” “Don’t tease me, Carr. I do like him better than any man I ever saw, but——” “And so you ran away and left him! Out with it, Polly. Tell your old Uncle Dudley the story of your life!” “There’s nothing to tell, Carr, about Mr. Stone. But I came to you, because some people suspect me,—ME—of—of killing Aunt Lucy——” “Pauline! They don’t! Who suspects you?” “All the police people, and Gray and Anita Frayne,——” “They do! You poor little girl! I’m glad you came to me. I’ll take care of you. But, Polly, whom do you suspect? Honest, now, who is in your mind?” “I don’t know, Carr. I can’t seem to think. But when they fastened it on me, I was so frightened, I just flew. Why, just think, every one at Garden Steps was suspicious of me! I could see it even in the servants’ eyes. I couldn’t stand it, and I was afraid——” “Yes, dear, go on,——” “Well, I was afraid Mr. Stone would think so, and I couldn’t bear that, so I just ran off on impulse. I regretted it lots of times on the trip over,—and then at other times I was glad I came. Are you glad?” “Sure, Polly. I wanted you to stick to your plan of coming over, you know. Yes, I’m glad you’re here. Now, we’ll soon be in Cairo, and you’ll love it,—all the strange sights and experiences. You’ll live at Shepheard’s for the present. I’ve engaged a chaperon for you.” “How thoughtful you are, Carr.” “Oh, of course, a beautiful young woman can’t live alone in Cairo, and also of course, you couldn’t live with me. So, Mrs. MacDonald will look after you, but she won’t in any way bother you. Whenever you need a duenna, she’ll be right at your elbow, and when you don’t want her about, she is self-effacing. You’ll like her, too, she’s not half-bad as a companion.” At Cairo, Ahri handed them from the train. Again Polly was impressed with the Arab’s dignified bearing and rich costume. His long galabeah, shaped like a well-fitting bathrobe, was of white corded silk, exquisitely embroidered. Collarless, it gave glimpses of other silken vestments, and over it he wore a correct English topcoat, short and velvet-trimmed. From his tarbush to his English shoes and silk hose, he was perfectly garbed and groomed, while the scarab ring on his little finger was the only bit of jewelry visible. “That’s nothing,” laughed Loria, following her glance. “Wait till you see him in all the glory of his burnoose and other contraptions. Here, Ahri, take this duffel, too. And, now, Polly-pops, you’ll see Cairo.” The ride to the hotel was like a moving picture in color. The street crowds were rushing by, a flare of bright-hued raiment and dark-skinned faces. Everywhere, baubles were for sale. Street vendors carried them on their heads, in their arms, or thrust them forth with eager hands. Post-cards, jewelry, scarfs, and fans. Fly-whisks with dangling beads. Embroideries, carved ivories, brasses, sweetmeats, fruits and newspapers, all were successively and collectively offered for immediate, almost compulsory sale. “And I want to buy every one!” declared Pauline, entranced at the sight of the catch-penny toys. “All in good time, honey. To-morrow, Ahri shall take you to the bazaars, with or without Mrs. MacDonald, as you choose, and you can get a bushel of foolishness if you want to. Everybody has to cure that first mad desire to buy rubbish, by yielding to it. You soon get enough.” “Then I may go alone with Ahri to the shops?” “Yes, anywhere, by daylight, except to social affairs. There, or to any in-door entertainment, you must take her. But she’ll know all these things. Abide always by her decision.” “But won’t you be with me, Carr? You speak as if I will be much without you.” “I’m awfully busy, Pauline; I’ll tell you all about it this evening. Then you’ll understand. Here we are at Shepheard’s. Did you ever see such a horde of freaks?” It was just about dusk. The last rays of the Egyptian sunset were lingering, as if for Pauline to get one glimpse of the picture by their rainbow lights. Many were at tea on the broad Terrace; the scarlet-coated band crashed their brasses; and Pauline entered the hotel, her whole being responding to the strange thrill that Cairo gives even to the most phlegmatic visitor or jaded tourist. Later, at dinner, she met Mrs. MacDonald, a correct, tactful and diplomatic widow, who looked forward with pleasure to the chaperonage of the beautiful girl to whom she was introduced. At Loria’s advice, Pauline had put on evening dress; and she made a striking picture, in black tulle, devoid of all jewelry or ornament save a breast-knot of purple orchids her cousin had sent to her rooms. At dinner, conversation was general, and the trio was made a quartet by the addition of an English friend of Loria’s whom he ran across in the hotel lobby. Later, after they had had their coffee in the great hall, Mrs. MacDonald and the Englishman strolled away and the cousins were left alone. “How beautiful you have grown, Pauline,” Carr said, his eyes resting on her piquant face, crowned with its mass of soft, dark hair. “Speak for yourself, John,” she returned smiling up into the handsome, sunburned face of the man who scrutinized her. “You have acquired not only a becoming tan, but a new air of distinction.” “Glad you think so, girlie. Thanks a whole lot. How do you like the MacDonald?” “Very much so far. She won’t try to boss me, will she?” “Not unless you make it necessary; but you must remember that English etiquette obtains in Cairo, and you mustn’t try to be unconventional, except as Mrs. MacDonald approves.” “Oh, I won’t disgrace you, Carr, I’ve common sense, I hope. Now tell me about yourself.” “I’m deep in a new project, Polly, a wonderful one. It’s an enormous undertaking, but I shall put it through all right.” “What is it? Excavation?” “In a way. But here’s the story. Mind, now, it’s a dead secret. Don’t mention it to Mrs. Mac. I trust you with it, but it must go no further. Well, in a word, I’ve come into possession of an old papyrus, that tells of a treasure——” “Oh, Carr, are you a treasure-seeker?” “Now, wait till I tell you. This papyrus is authentic, and it’s nothing more nor less than an account of a great hoard of jewels and gold sunk, purposely, by an old Egyptian king to save them from seizure. You wouldn’t understand all the reasons that prove this is a true bill, but it is, and so you must take my word for it. All right. The old duffer saw fit to sink this stuff in the Nile, at a certain spot, designated in this papyrus thing, and all I’ve got to do is to dig her up, and there you are!” Carr Loria’s face lighted up with the enthusiasm of the true archÆologist, and Pauline caught the spirit, too, as she exclaimed, “How splendid! How do you get down to it,—if it’s under the Nile?” “It’s a big scheme, Polly!” and Loria’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve got to have a coffer-dam, an enormous one,—and, oh, and a whole lot of paraphernalia, and it will cost like fury, but the end justifies the expense,—and then, think of the glory of it!” “Have you got a right to do all this? Can anybody dig wherever he likes in Egypt?” “No, you little goose! But I’ve managed all that part. I won’t tell even you about it, but I’ve—well, I’ve fixed it up. Now, listen here, Pollypops, you’re to tell just simply nobody a word of all this,—not one, littlest, leastest mite of a word! See?” “All right, Carr, of course I won’t tell, if you say not to. But will you be away from us? Out of Cairo?” “Off and on. I’ll be back and forth, you know. This place is up the Nile a bit, and, of course, I have to be there much of the time. But you’ll be all right. I know heaps of people, jolly sort, too, and Mrs. Mac will take you round, and you’ll have the time of your sweet young life!” “I’m sure I shall. But, Carr, have you forgotten all about America, and Aunt Lucy and—and Fleming Stone?” “No, Pauline, I haven’t forgotten those things. But, I own up, aside from the awful circumstances, I’m not terribly wrought up over Aunt Lucy’s death. Poor old thing, she wasn’t so awfully happy, you know, and Lord knows, she didn’t make anybody else happy. Then, too, you must realize that as I wasn’t there, through the dreadful time, as you were, I can’t feel the same thrill and horror of it. In fact, I try to forget it all I can, as I can’t do anybody any good by mulling over it. So, if you want to please me, old girl, you’ll refer to it as little as you can.” “But don’t you care who killed her? Don’t you want to find out the murderer and bring him to justice?” “I want that done, Polly, but I don’t want to do it. That’s why I put it all in Haviland’s hands; that’s why I didn’t want to go to America, unless, as I told you at first, unless you needed me. I can’t pay proper attention to my work here if I have any such worriment as that on my shoulders. And I tell you, Pauline, this chance that has come to me is the chance of a lifetime, the chance of a century! It means fortune, fame and glory for me. It means—oh Pauline, it means everything!” “All right, Carr, I won’t interfere in anyway with your work. I’ll do as you tell me, but—but if they continue to suspect me,——” “Suspect you! My dear girl! Let ’em try it! I’ll see to that! Don’t you fear. If anything bothers you, just leave it to me! Ah, here come our truants. Now, Polly, for my sake, leave all those subjects for the present, and be your own dear entertaining self.” And Pauline granted his request, and was so attractive and charming that the Englishman straightway fell over head and heels in love and Mrs. MacDonald was torn between throes of admiration and envy. |
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