WORTH PAYING FOR

When Anthony says that he will find out things he seldom fails. Perhaps nobody but a green-turbaned Hadji could so speedily have screwed information out of secretive Arabs, paid to be silent. And he had to fit deductions into spaces of the puzzle left empty by fibs and glib self-excusings. What he did learn was this: a dragoman had come, in a small boat, from a steam dahabeah to the Enchantress Isis while we were away at Kasr Ibrim. He presented credentials written out for him in Cairo by Miss Rachel Guest, and dated a few weeks ago. Inquiring for her, he seemed sorry to hear that she had gone on the excursion. The dragoman refused to disturb Antoun Effendi, on hearing that the Hadji was writing in his cabin. His errand was not of enough importance to trouble so illustrious a man. All he wanted was permission to type one or two letters for his employers on the neighbouring dahabeah, which possessed no machine. In the absence of Mr. Kruger, who had gone on shore for exercise, the dragoman was given this privilege. Possibly he had taken some of the boat's letter-paper. Who could be certain of these trifles? Possibly, also, he had walked about with one of the cabin stewards, to see the luxurious appointments of the Enchantress Isis. As for paying money for these small favours, who could tell? And nobody knew if the steam dahabeah had hurried on before us, to anchor out of sight round the oblique faÇade of Abu Simbel. In any case, when we went to look for the suspicious craft seen near Kasr Ibrim, she was not among the two or three small private dahabeahs of artists and others, moored within a mile of the Great Temple. Notwithstanding her absence, however, Anthony and I (suddenly confidential friends again) thought it likely that the shadows in the Sanctuary had not been its only tenants when we entered there. The invaluable Bedr knew enough of the Nile Temples to know that the sun's first light strikes only the altar and the statues over it, in Abu Simbel's inner shrine: that the four corners of the small cavern-room remain pitch black, unless the place is artificially illuminated: and that this is never done at sunrise. The dragoman and one or both of his employers would have had no difficulty in getting into the temple before the first streak of dawn, if they had warned its guardian the night before. So far, our deductions were simple, after learning how the trick of the typewritten note had been managed: but it was not so easy to guess the object of the plot. Was Monny Gilder to have been murdered in the dark Sanctuary, or was she to have been kidnapped? Either seemed an impossible undertaking, unless the plotters were willing to face certain detection and arrest.

As it was, we had no more tangible proof against the man than we had before, at the House of the Crocodile, in the desert near Medinet, at Asiut, and at Luxor. With a sly cleverness which did Bedr, or those employing him, much credit, they had screened themselves behind others. Even if we had the names of the "tourists" Bedr had served as dragoman, and if we could lay our hands on their shoulders, we had not enough evidence of what they had done to obtain a warrant of arrest: and this of course they knew. Our best chance, Anthony thought, lay in springing a surprise on them, as they had vainly (so far) tried to do with us; and when we got them somehow at our mercy, force out the truth.

It was almost certain that a steam dahabeah could not unseen have passed the Enchantress Isis at Abu Simbel in broad daylight, going back toward Assuan. Therefore, since it was not moored near the temple, if it had been in the neighbourhood at all it must have dashed on ahead of us in the direction of Wady Haifa. With pleasure would we have given immediate chase, had not the Enchantress been pledged to remain at Abu Simbel till afternoon. Even as it was, I expected to catch up with a boat so much smaller than our own; but Anthony damped my hopes, explaining the difficulties of navigation between Abu Simbel and Wady Haifa. There were, he said, great shifting sandbanks in the water which looked so transparently green, so treacherously clear. Without the most prudent piloting the river was actually dangerous, as new sandbanks had a habit of forming the minute you shut your eyes or turned your back. The Enchantress would have to pick her way slowly through the silver sands of the Nile, which mingled with the spilt gold-dust of the desert shore. All the same, these impudent rascals would find it hard to hide from us at Wady Haifa, especially if we stopped the boat and wired from the next telegraph station to have them watched on the arrival of their dahabeah.

"Perhaps, as they're so clever they'll be clever enough not to arrive at all," was my suggestion. And Anthony could only shrug his shoulders. "Wait and see" had to be our policy.

Happily the Set wandered in and out of the two temples, big and little, all the morning, ignorant of our worries which, even to us, seemed small under the benign gaze of the great Colossi. The three stone Rameses who had faces, wore expressions no one could ever forget; and there was a sense of loss in turning away from them.

A crocodile swam past the Enchantress as she steamed up river; a long, dark, prehistoric shape. He seemed an anachronism, but so did Bedr, with his plottings; yet both were real, real as this Nile-dream of dark rocks, of conical black mountains shaped like ruined pyramids, and yellow sandhills whose dazzling reflections turned the blue-green river to gold.

The next day at noon, we came to Wady Halfa; and the Enchantress Isis who had brought us eight hundred miles from Cairo, was now to be deserted by those with Khartum in view. All save three of the party were going on through this gate of the Sudan, where the river way ended and the desert-way began. Neill Sheridan was turning back immediately, in a government steamer; and a bride and groom who cared not where they were, if with each other, would wait on board the Enchantress until the band of passengers should return from Khartum.

These things had to be thought of. But I meant to let Kruger do most of the thinking, when we landed at the neat, colourful town of Halfa, which lies (as Assuan lies) all pink and blue and green along the river bank, sentinelled with trees. From a distance Anthony and I caught sight of the steam dahabeah seen near Kasr Ibrim, and we could hardly wait to get on shore. The camp was but a mile and a half away, and I had wired in Lark's name, to an officer whom he was sure to know, asking as a great favour to have the passengers on board a boat of that description watched; and requesting him if possible to meet the Enchantress on her arrival. "There he is!" said Fenton, standing at the rail. "I mustn't seem to recognise him, of course. Can't give myself away! But you—" "Good Lord, there's Bedr!" I broke in, hardly believing my eyes. And there Bedr was, looking as if butter would by no means melt in his mouth: Bedr, smiling from the pier, evidently there for the special purpose of meeting us. His ugly squat figure, and the tall, khaki-clad form of the officer, were conspicuous among squatting blacks, male and female, in gay turbans, veils, and mantles, muffled babies in arms, and children dressed in exceedingly brief fringes.

"I'll attend to him, while you powwow with Ireton," said Anthony, ready for the unexpected situation. And while the indispensable if humble Kruger showed the passengers how to get to the desert train, superintended the landing of the luggage, and made himself perspiringly useful, I thanked Major Ireton in Sir Marcus Lark's and my own name.

His news was astonishing. There were no passengers on board the steam dahabeah Mamoudieh. She had arrived with none save her crew, and the dragoman now talking with that good-looking Hadji there. As I murmured "Yes," and "No," and "Indeed—Really!" to the officer, who had kindly worked on our behalf, I was saying to myself, "My dear Duffer, what an ass you were not to think of that!" For of course the men had remained at Abu Simbel, hiding till we should be out of the way, and sending their boat on to put us off the track. A Cook steamer and a Hamburgh-American boat were due to stop at the temple. We had passed both on the river. By this time the two men were doubtless on their way north, making for Cairo and safety.

Still, here was Bedr, looking like a fat fly who had deliberately come to pay a call on the lean and hungry spider. I was impatient for the moment when the need for genuine gratitude and "faked" explanations was over, and Major Ireton had gone about other business.

Then I could follow the Hadji and the Armenian, who had mounted the steps leading up from river-level to the town. Not far off I could see the blue-windowed, white-painted desert train, round which, on the station platform, buzzed and scolded the Set, demanding their hand-luggage and their compartments. But Anthony and his victim (or was it by chance vice versa?) were keeping out of eyeshot and earshot of the late passengers of the Enchantress. Brigit and Monny, who must have seen Bedr, were too tactful to hover near: also they knew "Antoun Effendi" too well to think it necessary.

Bedr gave me no time to speak. He rushed forward to greet me with effusion, as if I were a long-lost and well-loved patron. "I bin so glad see you again after these days, milord. Sure!" he began. "Antoun Effendi, he tell you I come here on purpose to do you good. I find out those genlemens very wicked men, so I leave them quick. They want to pay me for go back with them, but no money big enough now I know they try to do harm to my nice young lady. She wasn't so good to me as the other nice young lady, but that makes no matter. I not stand for any hurt to her, sure I will not, milord."

"The meaning of this rigmarole," Anthony cut him short, speaking in German (which he knew I understood and trusted Bedr didn't) "is, that the fellow wants us to buy information from him. He pretends to have broken with his employers on our account (though his explanation of getting here to Halfa on their dahabeah is ridiculous) and that, having come for our benefit against their wishes, he's without pay, penniless, and stranded."

"A lie of course," I took for granted, also in German.

"The part about being broke—certainly. But it's certain, too, that he must know some things we'd like to know."

"Could we trust a word he says?"

"No, as far as his moral sense is concerned. But my idea is to bargain with him. We to pay according to value received. That might be bait for a fish worth hooking."

"Yes, that's our line. We haven't much time to hear and digest his story, though. The train will start in less than an hour."

"We shan't waste a minute. Without waiting for you, I began to bargain on the line I've just suggested."

"How far did you get?"

"A good way, for I was able to scare him a bit. You see, he earns his living in Cairo, and I've persuaded him that I have some influence there, in quarters that can make or break him. He hasn't much more time to spare than we have, if it's true that he wants to start back on the government boat. You know they take natives, third class. My suggestion, subject to your approval, is this: in any case we give a thousand piasters, ten pounds. But if what he can tell us is of real use or even interest, we rise to the extent of ten times that sum."

"It's a good deal for a beastly baboon like him."

"Remember, he has been doing services lately for which he probably got high pay."

"All right, whatever you say, goes," I agreed.

"I trust to your honours, my genlemens," remarked the beastly baboon in question, in a manner so apropos that I guessed him not entirely ignorant of German, after all.

"Thanks for the compliment," I responded gratefully.

"We shall have to talk here. There's no time to find a more convenient place," said Fenton, returning to Arabic as a medium of communication. "Fire away, Bedr. But don't start your story in the middle. Begin where you took service with these Irish-American gentlemen."

"Was the genlemens Irish? I never know that," purred the guileless Bedr; but Fenton brought him to his bearings. All questions were to be from us to him. So Bedr "fired away": and there, within a stone's throw of the train getting up steam for Khartum, we listened to a strange tale—as strange, and as great an anachronism as that dark crocodile-shape we had seen—except in the Nile country, where live crocodiles and many other dark things can easily happen any day.

Blount's name, according to Bedr, was not Blount, but something else, well-known in America. It was a name already associated with that of O'Brien, which inclined us to hope for some grains of truth in the chaff of lies we expected. Bedr said that in New York, years ago, he had known the man "Blount." He was related to the American family who took Bedr from Cairo. Later, when the Armenians had returned to Egypt, "Blount" had come with him, for a "rest cure." He had engaged Bedr as dragoman, and on leaving had asked for Bedr's card. That was years ago, and nothing had been heard from him since: but before the Laconia was due to arrive, Bedr had received a telegram from Blount instructing him to meet the ship, and wire to Paris whether Miss Gilder of New York and a "Mrs. Jones" were on board, with a party. "Blount" knew that Bedr had seen Miss Gilder as a child, and might now be able to recognize her. On the day in New York when a block in traffic had given a glimpse of the little girl in a motor-car with her father, Bedr and "Blount" had been together.

As soon as possible after Bedr's reply, "Blount" and another man, who called himself Hanna, had arrived in Cairo. Bedr knew that they had a fixed theory in regard to the young lady who passed as Miss Gilder. Who they supposed her to be, he could not tell; but once he had "happened" to be near, when they were not aware of his presence, and had heard one of them mention a woman's name, which sounded like "Esny." They accepted his word that he had been able to identify the so-called Miss Guest as Rosamond Gilder, and in her they appeared to take no further interest. Their attention was concentrated on Mrs. Jones and on the lady who, according to their belief, was but posing as Miss Gilder. Apparently they imagined her to be quite another person, one whom they had taken a great deal of trouble to reach. Also they had an idea that Mrs. Jones possessed something of which they were anxious to get hold. It was a thing which ought to be theirs, and they had been after it for years; but she had contrived to hide herself and it, until lately.

Why he had been told to guide the two younger ladies to the House of the Crocodile, Bedr pretended not to know. Perhaps—only perhaps —Blount and his companion, Hanna, wished to kidnap the one we called Miss Gilder, and they called "Esney." But good, kind Bedr had never dreamed that they meant any real harm. There had been a plan of some sort for that night. Blount and Hanna were to arrive at the House of the Crocodile for a close look at the young ladies, when the latter had gone to sleep under the influence of the hasheesh they intended to smoke. But the two gentlemen had not kept the appointment. At first, Bedr had not understood why, and had not known what to do. Afterward, of course, when he had heard of the row in the street, which had caused the closing of the house for many tedious hours, he had guessed. And later when he learned that poor Mr. Blount lay wounded in a hospital, it had all become clear. Mr. Hanna, who seemed to work under Mr. Blount's orders, had not been able to act alone.

Then, as to all the travelling up the Nile, Bedr had never been told why "his genlemen" made the journey. Every one who came to Egypt went up the Nile. Only, he had been instructed to find out, always, where we were, and told to arrange their arrival at about the same time. At Medinet they had not camped, or gone to an hotel, but had stayed in the house of a friend of Bedr's. It was convenient, though not as comfortable as he could wish for his clients. The advantage was, that from the roof it was possible to see into our camp. Bedr had made friends with one of the camel-boys who went to market to buy the black lamb: and while we were away, had found out which was the tent where Mrs. Jones and Miss Gilder (or "Esney") slept. What happened in the night he could not say. He had stayed at his friend's house, while the two gentlemen went out. He had done nothing at all for them in Medinet, except to discover the ladies' tent, and also to buy a bottle of olive oil. When the gentlemen came home in the middle of the night, they were angry with him because they said he had shown them the wrong tent. But that was unjust. It was the only time they had been unkind. Except for that, they had been good, and had given him plenty of money for a while. At Asiut and Luxor they had been pleased with him. All they wanted at Rechid Bey's house, was to get the thing Mrs. Jones had, which ought to be theirs. They had not told him this, but he heard them talk sometimes. He knew more languages than they thought. If they wanted to steal the young lady, they had never said so. When the plan failed, they did not blame Bedr. It was not his fault. They saw that.

The Mamoudieh had been engaged as long ago as just after Medinet, when the thing the gentlemen wanted to do there could not be done. But Bedr thought that, if the Luxor plan had been a success, the steam dahabeah would have gone north from there instead of south. It was because of that failure the boat had followed us up the Nile. At Abu Simbel Bedr had quarrelled with the gentlemen, because he began to suspect they meant harm to the ladies, or to one of them. He had been clever, and got on board the Enchantress as they told him to do. He had obtained writing-paper, and typed a copy of a letter. In America, he had learned to do typing. Often he could make better money in an engagement now, because he knew how to use a machine. And when the steward showed him over the boat, he left the letter in the stateroom which the Arab boy said was Miss Gilder's. In spite of all these good services, which no other dragoman in Egypt could have given, those gentlemen would not listen to a word of advice. Bedr heard them speak with the guardian of the temple, about going in before any one else came to see the sunrise: and afterward they talked of hiding in the Sanctuary. First, they had asked him if it were always dark there, as the guide-books said. After hearing this he had put two and two together: and when he remembered what was in the note he typed for Miss Gilder, Bedr feared for her and Mrs. Jones. He begged the gentlemen not to do anything rash, and they were so angry at his interference that they sent him off with no more pay—nothing at all since Luxor.

Oh, no, they were not afraid of him, and what he could tell, because they said nobody would believe a dragoman's word, against rich white gentlemen. People would say he lied, for spite. But Bedr thought maybe we should believe, because we knew already that something strange had been going on. The gentlemen paid off the men on the Mamoudieh and ordered her to go on to Wady Halfa. They did not know that Bedr had slipped on board, and hidden there, on purpose to find us, and tell his story.

A part of this tale carried truth on its face. But Anthony and I agreed that there was a queer discrepancy at the end. If Bedr spoke the truth, Blount and his comrade must have had a reason for wishing to get rid of the fellow, or for not caring what became of him, a reason unconnected with a quarrel. And it was certain that, if there had been a quarrel, it was not because of virtuous plain-speaking from Bedr. It seemed impossible that he could have got on board their hired boat to follow us, without his employers' knowledge. Was his appearance at Wady Halfa, and his apparent betrayal of his clients, all a part of their plan?

We could not decide this question in our minds, or by cross-questioning Bedr, while the train waited, for only time could prove. But what we had heard was interesting enough to be worth the promised thousand piasters, and the fare north on the government boat just starting. To make sure that Bedr did start, we called Kruger, put the whole sum into his hands, asking him to help the dragoman by buying his ticket and getting the notes changed into gold and silver. This little manoeuvre left the Armenian so calm, however, that we fancied his wish must really be to depart on the government boat. Such inquiries as we had time to make concerning the Mamoudieh seemed to show that she must remain at Halfa for slight repairs to her engine, and instructions from her owner, who was staying at Assuan. It was just at the last minute of grace, with the station-master adjuring, and the Set reproaching us, that Anthony and I jumped on board the train.

Strange that two rows of blue glass windows should have power to turn the whole world topsy-turvy, or to create a new one, of an entirely original colour-scheme! But so it was. Those people seated in their grand, travelling "bed-sitting rooms," had only a superficial resemblance to the passengers of the Enchantress Isis. Monny, for instance, had pale green hair, with immense purple eyes; and showed every sign of rapid transformation into a mermaid. Cleopatra's auburn waves had turned to a vivid magenta: Biddy's black tresses had a blue, grapey bloom on them: and Anthony's dark eyes were a sinister green, with red lights. Ghostly, mother o' pearl faces with opal shadows, peered through the violet glass at an unreal landscape, which would instantly cease to exist if the windows were opened. But the windows could not be opened, or a rain of sand would pour in; so we gazed out on an impossible fairy land consisting of golden sea, with mountainous shores carved from amethyst, through which shone the glow of pulsing fires. Always we carried with us an immense shadow, like a trailing purple banner, unfurling as we moved. Men and women and animals seen at the numbered white stations in the sand, were but fantastic figures in a camera obscura. The shadow of the train was torn with fiery streaks: and when the sun had burned to death on a red funeral-pyre, the moon stole out to mourn for him. Her coming was sudden. She seemed abruptly to draw aside a hyacinth curtain, and hold up a lamp over the desert, when the sun's fire had died. And the lamp gave forth an unearthly light, which poured over the endless sands a sheet of primrose-yellow flame. The warm sun-shadow was chilled from purple to gray, and flowed over the magic primrose fields like a river of molten silver.

At Number Six Station, where we stopped for water after dinner, a hyena came galumping over the sand like a humpbacked dog, to stare at us, as we strolled in couples away from the train into the desert. Next morning, every one was up early to see the gray hornets' nest huts which were Sudanese villages, and the villagers themselves, who urged us to buy straw rugs, baskets, fans, oranges, dried beans, live birds, and milk in wooden bowls, whenever the train stopped: respectable old ladies, dressed in short fringes, and small, full-stomached boys dressed in nothing at all.

I had not told Biddy about our bargain with Sir Marcus: Anthony's and my services in exchange for the Mountain of the Golden Pyramid. Why should she be forced to share our suspense? For she would share it, if she knew, even though she didn't yet yield to me, in the matter of a united future. I wanted to wait before telling her the story, until Fenton and I had made sure if there were anything golden about the mountain, except its name. If we were doomed to disappointment I could then give the tale a humorous turn, easier to do in retrospect than anticipation. Now, when in blinding light of noon we pointed out, in an impersonal manner, to all who cared to see, the pyramid-field of MerÖe, it seemed strange to think that no heart but Anthony's and mine beat the faster. The sun was so hot that most people, blinking dazedly, retired behind their screens of blue glass almost as soon as the train stopped, close to Garstang's camp. I had informed the Set, casually, that wonderful things were being found here in the rocky desert: that the few neat white tents sheltered men who were going to make of MerÖe a world's wonder: that not only had the army of stunted black pyramids visible from the train, yielded up treasures, but three tiers of palaces were being unearthed, or rather, unsanded. I said nothing, however, of the more distant dark shapes, like the pyramids yet unlike them. Among those low, conical mountains which perhaps gave inspiration to the pyramid builders, was our mountain. And I was not sorry when the burning sun smote curiosity from eyes and brains, and sent nearly all my flock back to their places, while the train had still some minutes at the station.

Cleopatra had not come out. She had frankly lost interest in scenic history, and did not want to be intelligent: but as Anthony and I stepped off the train, we saw that Brigit and Monny stood arm in arm in the doorway.

"Would you like to jump down?" I asked, reluctantly. For the first time I did not wish Biddy O'Brien to give me her society. I hoped she would say "No, thank you," for I wanted Fenton to point out our mountain (which he had told me could be seen): and it would be inconvenient to answer questions.

"Yes, we should like it," they both replied together: so Anthony and I had to look delighted. It really was a pleasure to help them down: but even that we could have waited for till our arrival at Khartum. And the first remark that Biddy made was too intelligent. "What are those weird things off there in the distance, that look exactly like ruined pyramids—sort of mudpie pyramids?"

"Mountains," said Fenton.

"What, didn't anybody make them?"

"The legend is, that Djinns, or evil spirits, created them to use as tombs for themselves."

"But they're almost precisely like the made pyramids, only a little more tumbledown. Have they names?"

"Some have, I believe," Anthony returned, with his well-put-on air of indifference. "That blackest and most ruined looking one of all, for instance, between two which are taller—there, away to the left, I mean—that is called the 'Mountain of the Golden Pyramid.'"

Our eyes met over the girls' veiled hats. After all, he had found an opportunity of telling me what I wanted to know.

"What a fascinating name!" said Monny. "It sounds as if there were some special story connected with it. Is there?"

"Ye—es," Anthony was obliged to admit. "There is a legend that it was used as a tomb by the first Queen Candace, who lived about two hundred years B.C. after Ptolemy Philadelphus. She used to reign over what they called the "Island of MerÖe." It was this once fertile kingdom, between the Atbara River over there, and the Blue Nile. They say she wished to be buried with all her jewels and treasure, and was afraid of her tomb being robbed, so she wouldn't trust to a man-made pyramid. She ordered a secret place to be hollowed out in the heart of a mountain; and that's the one they pretend it is."

"What a lovely legend! But I suppose there's nothing in it, really, or clever people like those who're digging here now would have found the tomb and the treasure long ago," said Monny.

"I don't know," I left Anthony to answer; wondering what he would say. "Only a very few have ever put enough faith in the story to search, and they have never been able to discover traces of an entrance into that mountain or any other. Of course, in trying to enter the great pyramid of Ghizeh, they looked a long time before they succeeded. But that was different. There was never any doubt of there being something worth seeing, inside, whereas this black lump may be solid rock, and nothing more. It's many years since anybody has tried to get at the secret."

"I beg your pardon," politely said (in French) an elderly man, in a pith helmet, blue spectacles, and khaki clothes, who stood near. "I couldn't help hearing your conversation; and it may interest you and these ladies to learn that at this very moment work is going on at the so-called Mountain of the Golden Pyramid."

I envied Anthony the brown stain on his face, for I felt the blood rushing to mine.

"Indeed!" I ejaculated in English. "We are very much interested. Work —actually going on!"

"Yes, it was begun about four or five weeks ago, by an agent of Sir Marcus Lark, the well-known financier, who got the concession which some other party was said to be trying for. I am here," went on the helmeted man, gazing benevolently through his blue spectacles at the two pretty women, "I am here with my son, who is one of Garstang's men. We have nothing to do with the Mountain of the Golden Pyramid. Luckily for Sir Marcus, it was adjudged to be off our 'pitch.' Still, we are interested. They are keeping their work very secret, but—these things are in the air. The talk here is that they're on the point of making, if they haven't made already, some very startling discovery."

"All aboard, if you please!" shouted the Greek guard.