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diff --git a/43749-8.txt b/43749-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1af97f2..0000000 --- a/43749-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8808 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Carpet from Bagdad, by Harold MacGrath, -Illustrated by Andre Castaigne - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - - - - -Title: The Carpet from Bagdad - - -Author: Harold MacGrath - - - -Release Date: September 16, 2013 [eBook #43749] -Last Updated: July 13, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CARPET FROM BAGDAD*** - - -E-text prepared by Annie R. McGuire from page images generously made -available by the Google Books Library Project (http://books.google.com) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 43749-h.htm or 43749-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43749/43749-h/43749-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43749/43749-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - the Google Books Library Project. See - http://www.google.com/books?id=KClwkmqxc-MC - - - - - -THE CARPET FROM BAGDAD - - -[Illustration] - - -THE CARPET FROM BAGDAD - -by - -HAROLD MACGRATH - -Author of -A Splendid Hazard -The Man on the Box - -With Illustrations by Andre Castaigne - - - - - - - -Indianapolis -The Bobbs-Merrill Company -Publishers - -Copyright 1911 -The Bobbs-Merrill Company - - - - -TO -ROBERT HICHENS - - - - - _The wild hawk to the windswept sky,_ - _The deer to the wholesome wold,_ - _And the heart of a man to the heart of a maid,_ - _As it was in the days of old._ - - --_Rudyard Kipling._ - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I WHAT'S IN A NAME? 1 - II AN AFFABLE ROGUE 20 - III THE HOLY YHIORDES 37 - IV AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 55 - V THE GIRL WHO WASN'T WANTED 74 - VI MOONLIGHT AND POETRY 96 - VII RYANNE TABLES HIS CARDS 114 - VIII THE PURLOINED CABLE 132 - IX THE BITTER FRUIT 145 - X MAHOMED LAUGHS 160 - XI EPISODIC 179 - XII THE CARAVAN IN THE DESERT 200 - XIII NOT A CHEERFUL OUTLOOK 219 - XIV MAHOMED OFFERS FREEDOM 240 - XV FORTUNE'S RIDDLE SOLVED 259 - XVI MAHOMED RIDES ALONE 279 - XVII MRS. CHEDSOYE HAS HER DOUBTS 301 - XVIII THE MAN WHO DIDN'T CARE 323 - XIX FORTUNE DECIDES 337 - XX MARCH HARES 354 - XXI A BOTTLE OF WINE 367 - XXII THE END OF THE PUZZLE 380 - - - - -CHAPTER I - -WHAT'S IN A NAME? - - -To possess two distinctly alien red corpuscles in one's blood, -metaphorically if not in fact, two characters or individualities under -one epidermis, is, in most cases, a peculiar disadvantage. One hears of -scoundrels and saints striving to consume one another in one body, -angels and harpies; but ofttimes, quite the contrary to being a curse, -these two warring temperaments become a man's ultimate blessing: as in -the case of George P. A. Jones, of Mortimer & Jones, the great -metropolitan Oriental rug and carpet company, all of which has a -dignified, sonorous sound. George was divided within himself. This he -would not have confessed even into the trusted if battered ear of the -Egyptian Sphynx. There was, however, no demon-angel sparring for points -in George's soul. The difficulty might be set forth in this manner: On -one side stood inherent common sense; on the other, a boundless, roseate -imagination which was likewise inherent--a kind of quixote imagination -of suitable modern pattern. This _alter ego_ terrified him whenever it -raised its strangely beautiful head and shouldered aside his -guardian-angel (for that's what common sense is, argue to what end you -will) and pleaded in that luminous rhetoric under the spell of which our -old friend Sancho often fell asleep. - -P. A., as they called him behind the counters, was but twenty-eight, and -if he was vice-president in his late father's shoes he didn't wabble -round in them to any great extent. In a crowd he was not noticeable; he -didn't stand head and shoulders above his fellow-men, nor would he have -been mistaken by near-sighted persons, the myopes, for the Vatican's -Apollo in the flesh. He was of medium height, beardless, slender, but -tough and wiry and enduring. You may see his prototype on the streets a -dozen times the day, and you may also pass him without turning round for -a second view. Young men like P. A. must be intimately known to be -admired; you did not throw your arm across his neck, first-off. His -hair was brown and closely clipped about a head that would have gained -the attention of the phrenologist, if not that of the casual passer-by. -His bumps, in the phraseology of that science, were good ones. For the -rest, he observed the world through a pair of kindly, shy, blue eyes. - -Young girls, myopic through ignorance or silliness, seeing nothing -beyond what the eyes see, seldom gave him a second inspection; for he -did not know how to make himself attractive, and was mortally afraid of -the opposite, or opposing, sex. He could bully-rag a sheik out of his -camels' saddle-bags, but petticoats and lace parasols and small Oxfords -had the same effect upon him that the prodding stick of a small boy has -upon a retiring turtle. But many a worldly-wise woman, drawing out with -tact and kindness the truly beautiful thoughts of this young man's soul, -sadly demanded of fate why a sweet, clean boy like this one had not been -sent to her in her youth. You see, the worldly-wise woman knows that it -is invariably the lay-figure and not Prince Charming that a woman -marries, and that matrimony is blindman's-buff for grown-ups. - -Many of us lay the blame upon our parents. We shift the burden of -wondering why we have this fault and lack that grace to the shoulders of -our immediate forebears. We go to the office each morning denying that -we have any responsibility; we let the boss do the worrying. But George -never went prospecting in his soul for any such dross philosophy. He was -grateful for having had so beautiful a mother; proud of having had so -honest a sire; and if either of them had endued him with false weights -he did his best to even up the balance. - -The mother had been as romantic as any heroine out of Mrs. Radcliff's -novels, while the father had owned to as much romance as one generally -finds in a thorough business man, which is practically none at all. The -very name itself is a bulwark against the intrusions of romance. One can -not lift the imagination to the prospect of picturing a Jones in ruffles -and highboots, pinking a varlet in the midriff. It smells of -sugar-barrels and cotton-bales, of steamships and railroads, of stolid -routine in the office and of placid concern over the daily news under -the evening lamp. - -Mrs. Jones, lovely, lettered yet not worldly, had dreamed of her boy, -bayed and decorated, marrying the most distinguished woman in all -Europe, whoever she might be. Mr. Jones had had no dreams at all, and -had put the boy to work in the shipping department a little while after -the college threshold had been crossed, outward bound. The mother, while -sweet and gentle, had a will, iron under velvet, and when she held out -for Percival Algernon and a decent knowledge of modern languages, the -old man agreed if, on the other hand, the boy's first name should be -George and that he should learn the business from the cellar up. There -were several tilts over the matter, but at length a truce was declared. -It was agreed that the boy himself ought to have a word to say upon a -subject which concerned him more vitally than any one else. So, at the -age of fifteen, when he was starting off for preparatory school, he was -advised to choose for himself. He was an obedient son, adoring his -mother and idolizing his father. He wrote himself down as George -Percival Algernon Jones, promised to become a linguist and to learn the -rug business from the cellar up. On the face of it, it looked like a big -job; it all depended upon the boy. - -The first day at school his misery began. He had signed himself as -George P. A. Jones, no small diplomacy for a lad; but the two initials, -standing up like dismantled pines in the midst of uninteresting -landscape, roused the curiosity of his school-mates. Boys are boys the -world over, and possess a finesse in cruelty that only the Indian can -match; and it did not take them long to unearth the fatal secret. For -three years he was Percy Algy, and not only the boys laughed, but the -pretty girls sniggered. Many a time he had returned to his dormitory -decorated (not in accord with the fond hopes of his mother) with a -swollen ear, or a ruddy proboscis, or a green-brown eye. There was a -limit, and when they stepped over that, why, he proceeded to the best of -his ability to solve the difficulty with his fists. George was no -milksop; but Percival Algernon would have been the Old Man of the Sea on -broader shoulders than his. He dimly realized that had he been named -George Henry William Jones his sun would have been many diameters -larger. There was a splendid quality of pluck under his apparent -timidity, and he stuck doggedly to it. He never wrote home and -complained. What was good enough for his mother was good enough for him. - -It seemed just an ordinary matter of routine for him to pick up French -and German verbs. He was far from being brilliant, but he was sensitive -and his memory was sound. Since his mother's ambition was to see him an -accomplished linguist, he applied himself to the task as if everything -in the world depended upon it, just as he knew that when the time came -he would apply himself as thoroughly to the question of rugs and -carpets. - -Under all this filial loyalty ran the pure strain of golden romance, -side by side with the lesser metal of practicality. When he began to -read the masters he preferred their romances to their novels. He even -wrote poetry in secret, and when his mother discovered the fact she -cried over the sentimental verses. The father had to be told. He laughed -and declared that the boy would some day develop into a good writer of -advertisements. This quiet laughter, unburdened as it was with ridicule, -was enough to set George's muse a-winging, and she never came back. - -After leaving college he was given a modest letter of credit and told -to go where he pleased for a whole year. George started out at once in -quest of the Holy Grail, and there are more roads to that than there are -to Rome. One may be reasonably sure of getting into Rome, whereas the -Holy Grail (diversified, variable, innumerable) is always the exact sum -of a bunch of hay hanging before old Dobbin's nose. Nevertheless, George -galloped his fancies with loose rein. He haunted the romantic quarters -of the globe; he hunted romance, burrowed and plowed for it; and never -his spade clanged musically against the hidden treasure, never a forlorn -beauty in distress, not so much as chapter one of the Golden Book -offered its dazzling first page. George lost some confidence. - -Two or three times a woman looked into the young man's mind, and in his -guilelessness they effected sundry holes in his letter of credit, but -left his soul singularly untouched. The red corpuscle, his father's -gift, though it lay dormant, subconsciously erected barriers. He was -innocent, but he was no fool. That one year taught him the lesson, -rather cheaply, too. If there was any romance in life, it came -uninvited, and if courted and sought was as quick on the wing as that -erstwhile poesy muse. - -The year passed, and while he had not wholly given up the quest, the -practical George agreed with the romantic Percival to shelve it -indefinitely. He returned to New York with thirty-pounds sterling out of -the original thousand, a fact that rejuvenated his paternal parent by -some ten years. - -"Jane, that boy is all right. Percival Algernon could not kill a boy -like that." - -"Do you mean to infer that it ever could?" Sometimes a qualm wrinkled -her conscience. Her mother's heart told her that her son ought not to be -shy and bashful, that it was not in the nature of his blood to suspect -ridicule where there was none. Perhaps she had handicapped him with -those names; but it was too late now to admit of this, and useless, -since it would not have remedied the evil. - -Jones hemmed and hawed for a space. "No," he answered; "but I was afraid -he might try to live up to it; and no Percival Algernon who lived up to -it could put his nose down to a Shah Abbas and tell how many knots it -had to the square inch. I'll start him in on the job to-morrow." - -Whereupon the mother sat back dreamily. Now, where was the girl worthy -her boy? Monumental question, besetting every mother, from Eve down, -Eve, whose trials in this direction must have been heartrending! - -George left the cellar in due time, and after that he went up the ladder -in bounds, on his own merit, mind you, for his father never stirred a -hand to boost him. He took the interest in rugs that turns a buyer into -a collector; it became a fascinating pleasure rather than a business. He -became invaluable to the house, and acquired some fame as a judge and an -appraiser. When the chief-buyer retired George was given the position, -with an itinerary that carried him half way round the planet once a -year, to Greece, Turkey, Persia, Arabia, and India, the lands of the -genii and the bottles, of arabesques, of temples and tombs, of -many-colored turbans and flowing robes and distracting tongues. He -walked always in a kind of mental enchantment. - -The suave and elusive Oriental, with his sharp practices, found his -match in this pleasant young man, who knew the history of the very wools -and cottons and silks woven in a rug or carpet. So George prospered, -became known in strange places, by strange peoples; and saw romance, -light of foot and eager of eye, pass and repass; learned that romance -did not essentially mean falling in love or rescuing maidens from -burning houses and wrecks; that, on the contrary, true romance was -kaleidoscopic, having more brilliant facets than a diamond; and that the -man who begins with nothing and ends with something is more wonderful -than any excursion recounted by Sinbad or any tale by Scheherazade. But -he still hoped that the iridescent goddess would some day touch his -shoulder and lead him into that maze of romance so peculiar to his own -fancy. - -And then into this little world of business and pleasure came death and -death again, leaving him alone and with a twisted heart. Riches mattered -little, and the sounding title of vice-president still less. It was with -a distinct shock that he realized the mother and the father had been -with him so long that he had forgotten to make other friends. From one -thing to another he turned in hope to soothe the smart, to heal the -wound; and after a time he drifted, as all shy, intelligent and -imaginative men drift who are friendless, into the silent and intimate -comradeship of inanimate things, such as jewels, ivories, old metals, -rare woods and ancient embroideries, and perhaps more comforting than -all these, good books. - -The proper tale of how the aforesaid iridescent goddess jostled (for it -scarce may be said that she led) him into a romance lacking neither -comedy nor tragedy, now begins with a trifling bit of retrospection. One -of those women who were not good and who looked into the clear pool of -the boy's mind saw the harmless longing there, and made note, hoping to -find profit by her knowledge when the pertinent day arrived. She was a -woman so pleasing, so handsome, so adroit, that many a man, older and -wiser than George, found her mesh too strong for him. Her plan matured, -suddenly and brilliantly, as projects of men and women of her class and -caliber without variation do. - -Late one December afternoon (to be precise, 1909), George sat on the -tea-veranda of the Hotel Semiramis in Cairo. A book lay idly upon his -knees. It was one of those yarns in which something was happening every -other minute. As adventures go, George had never had a real one in all -his twenty-eight years, and he believed that fate had treated him rather -shabbily. He didn't quite appreciate her reserve. No matter how late he -wandered through the mysterious bazaars, either here in Egypt or over -yonder in India, nothing ever befell more exciting than an argument with -a carriage-driver. He never carried small-arms, for he would not have -known how to use them. The only deadly things in his hands were -bass-rods and tennis-racquets. No, nothing ever happened to him; yet he -never met a man in a ship's smoke-room who hadn't run the gamut of -thrilling experiences. As George wasn't a liar himself, he believed all -he saw and most of what he heard. - -Well, here he was, eight-and-twenty, a pocket full of money, a heart -full of life, and as hopeless an outlook, so far as romance and -adventure were concerned, as an old maid in a New England village. Why -couldn't things befall him as they did the chap in this book? He was -sure he could behave as well, if not better; for this fellow was too -handsome, too brave, too strong, not to be something of an ass once in a -while. - -"George, you old fool, what's the use?" he thought. "What's the use of a -desire that never goes in a straight line, but always round and round in -a circle?" - -He thrust aside his grievance and surrendered to the never-ending wonder -of the Egyptian sunset; the Nile feluccas, riding upon perfect -reflections; the date-palms, black and motionless against the -translucent blue of the sky; the amethystine prisms of the Pyramids, and -the deepening gold of the desert's brim. He loved the Orient, always so -new, always so strange, yet ever so old and familiar. - -A carriage stopped in front, and his gaze naturally shifted. There is -ceaseless attraction in speculating about new-comers in a hotel, what -they are, what they do, where they come from, and where they are going. -A fine elderly man of fifty got out. In the square set of his shoulders, -the flowing white mustache and imperial, there was a suggestion of -militarism. He was immediately followed by a young woman of twenty, -certainly not over that age. George sighed wistfully. He envied those -polo-players and gentleman-riders and bridge-experts who were stopping -at the hotel. It wouldn't be an hour after dinner before some one of -them found out who she was and spoke to her in that easy style which he -concluded must be a gift rather than an accomplishment. You mustn't -suppose for a minute that George wasn't well-born and well-bred, simply -because his name was Jones. Many a Fitz-Hugh Maurice or Hugh -Fitz-Maurice might have been---- But, no matter. He knew instinctively, -then, what elegance was when he saw it, and this girl was elegant, in -dress, in movement. He rather liked the pallor of her skin, which hinted -that she wasn't one of those athletic girls who bounced in and out of -the dining-room, talking loudly and smoking cigarettes and playing -bridge for sixpenny points. She was tall. He was sure that her eyes were -on the level with his own. The grey veil that drooped from the rim of -her simple Leghorn hat to the tip of her nose obscured her eyes, so he -could not know that they were large and brown and indefinably sad. They -spoke not of a weariness of travel, but of a weariness of the world, -more precisely, of the people who inhabited it. - -She and her companion passed on into the hotel, and if George's eyes -veered again toward the desert over which the stealthy purples of night -were creeping, the impulse was mechanical; he saw nothing. In truth, he -was desperately lonesome, and he knew, moreover, that he had no business -to be. He was young; he could at a pinch tell a joke as well as the next -man; and if he had never had what he called an adventure, he had seen -many strange and wonderful things and could describe them with that -mental afterglow which still lingers over the sunset of our first -expressions in poetry. But there was always that hydra-headed monster, -for ever getting about his feet, numbing his voice, paralyzing his -hands, and never he lopped off a head that another did not instantly -grow in its place. Even the sword of Perseus could not have saved him, -since one has to get away from an object in order to cut it down. - -Had he really ever tried to overcome this monster? Had he not waited for -the propitious moment (which you and I know never comes) to throw off -this species from Hades? It is all very well, when you are old and dried -up, to turn to ivories and metals and precious stones; but when a -fellow's young! You can't shake hands with an ivory replica of the Taj -Mahal, nor exchange pleasantries with a Mandarin's ring, nor yet confide -joys and ills into a casket of rare emeralds; indeed, they do but -emphasize one's loneliness. If only he had had a dog; but one can not -carry a dog half way round the world and back, at least not with -comfort. What with all these new-fangled quarantine laws, duties, and -fussy ships' officers who wouldn't let you keep the animal in your -state-room, traveling with a four-footed friend was almost an -impossibility. To be sure, women with poodles.... And then, there was -the bitter of acid in the knowledge that no one ever came up to him and -slapped him on the shoulder with a--"_Hel_-lo, Georgie, old sport; -what's the good word?" for the simple fact that his shoulder was always -bristling with spikes, born of the fear that some one was making fun of -him. - -Perchance his mother's spirit, hovering over him this evening, might -have been inclined to tears. For they do say that the ghosts of the dear -ones are thus employed when we are near to committing some folly, or to -exploring some forgotten chamber of Pandora's box, or worse still, when -that lady intends emptying the whole contents down upon our unfortunate -heads. If so be, they were futile tears; Percival Algernon had -accomplished its deadly purpose. - -Pandora? Well, then, for the benefit of the children. She was a lady who -was an intimate friend of the mythological gods. They liked her -appearance so well that they one day gave her a box, casket, chest, or -whatever it was, to guard. By some marvelous method, known only of gods, -they had got together all the trials and tribulations of mankind (and -some of the joys) and locked them up in this casket It was the Golden -Age then, as you may surmise. You recall Eve and the Apple? Well, -Pandora was a forecast of Eve; she couldn't keep her eyes off the latch, -and at length her hands--Fatal curiosity! Whirr! And everything has been -at sixes and at sevens since that time. Pandora is eternally recurring, -now here, now there; she is a blonde sometimes, and again she is a -brunette; and you may take it from George and me that there is always -something left in the casket. - -George closed the book and consulted his sailing-list. In a short time -he would leave for Port Saïd, thence to Naples, Christmas there, and -home in January. Business had been ripping. He would be jolly glad to -get home again, to renew his comradeship with his treasures. And, by -Jove! there _was_ one man who slapped him on the shoulder, and he was no -less a person than the genial president of the firm, his father's -partner, at present his own. If the old chap had had a daughter now.... -And here one comes at last to the bottom of the sack. He had only one -definite longing, a healthy human longing, the only longing worth while -in all this deep, wide, round old top: to love a woman and by her be -loved. - -At exactly half after six the gentleman with the reversible cuffs -arrived; and George missed his boat. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -AN AFFABLE ROGUE - - -The carriage containing the gentleman with the reversible cuffs drew up -at the side entrance. Instantly the Arab guides surged and eddied round -him; but their clamor broke against a composure as effective as granite. -The roar was almost directly succeeded by a low gurgle, as of little -waves receding. The proposed victim had not spoken a word; to the Arabs -it was not necessary; in some manner, subtle and indescribable, they -recognized a brother. He carried a long, cylindrical bundle wrapped in -heavy paper variously secured by windings of thick twine. His regard for -this bundle was one of tender solicitude, for he tucked it under his -arm, cumbersome though it was, and waved aside the carriage-porter, who -was, however, permitted to carry in the kit-bag. - -The manager appeared. When comes he not upon the scene? His quick, -calculating eye was not wholly assured. The stranger's homespun was -travel-worn and time-worn, and of a cut popular to the season gone the -year before. No fat letter of credit here, was the not unreasonable -conclusion reached by the manager. Still, with that caution acquired by -years of experience, which had culminated in what is known as Swiss -diplomacy, he brought into being the accustomed salutatory smile and -inquired if the gentleman had written ahead for reservation, otherwise -it would not be possible to accommodate him. - -"I telegraphed," crisply. - -"The name, if you please?" - -"Ryanne; spelled R-y-a double-n e. Have you ever been in County Clare?" - -"No, sir." The manager added a question with the uplift of his eyebrows. - -"Well," was the enlightening answer, "you pronounce it as they do -there." - -The manager scanned the little slip of paper in his hand. "Ah, yes; we -have reserved a room for you, sir. The French style rather confused me." -This was not offered in irony, or sarcasm, or satire; mining in a Swiss -brain for the saving grace of humor is about as remunerative as the -extraction of gold from sea-water. Nevertheless, the Swiss has the -talent of swiftly substracting from a confusion of ideas one point of -illumination: there was a quality to the stranger's tone that decided -him favorably. It was the voice of a man in the habit of being obeyed; -and in these days it was the power of money alone that obtained -obedience to any man. Beyond this, the same nebulous cogitation that had -subdued the Arabs outside acted likewise upon him. Here was a brother. - -"Mail?" - -"I will see, sir." The manager summoned a porter. "Room 208." - -The porter caught up the somewhat collapsed kit-bag, which had in all -evidence received some rough usage in its time, and reached toward the -roll. Mr. Ryanne interposed. - -"I will see to that, my man," tersely. - -"Yes, sir." - -"Where is your guest-list?" demanded Mr. Ryanne of the manager. - -"The head-porter's bureau, sir. I will see if you have any mail." The -manager passed into his own bureau. It was rather difficult to tell -whether this man was an American or an Englishman. His accent was -western, but his manner was decidedly British. At any rate, that tone -and carriage must be bastioned by good English sovereigns, or for once -his judgment was at fault. - -The porter dashed up-stairs. Mr. Ryanne, his bundle still snug under his -arm, sauntered over to the head-porter's bureau and ran his glance up -and down the columns of visiting-cards. Once he nodded with approval, -and again he smiled, having discovered that which sent a ripple across -his sleeping sense of amusement. Major Callahan, room 206; Fortune -Chedsoye, 205; George P. A. Jones, 210. - -"Hm! the Major smells of County Antrim and the finest whisky in all the -isle. Fortune Chedsoye; that is a pleasing name; tinkling brooks, the -waving green grasses in the meadows, the kine in the water, the fleeting -shadows under the oaks; a pastoral, a bucolic name. To claim Fortune for -mine own; a happy thought." - -As he uttered these poesy expressions aloud, in a voice low and not -unpleasing, for all that it was bantering, the head-porter stared at -him with mingling doubt and alarm; and as if to pronounce these emotions -mutely for the benefit of the other, he permitted his eyes to open their -widest. - -"Tut, tut; that's all right, porter. I am cursed with the habit of -speaking my inmost thoughts. Some persons are afflicted with insomnia; -some fall asleep in church; I think orally. Beastly habit, eh?" - -The porter then understood that he was dealing not with a species of -mild lunacy, but with that kind of light-hearted cynicism upon which the -world (as porters know it) had set its approving seal. In brief, he -smiled faintly; and if he had any pleasantry to pass in turn, the -approach of the manager, now clothed metaphorically in deferentialism, -relegated it to the limbo of things thought but left unsaid. - -"Here is a letter for you, Mr. Ryanne. Have you any more luggage?" - -"No." Mr. Ryanne smiled. "Shall I pay for my room in advance?" - -"Oh, no, sir!" Ten years ago the manager would have blushed at having -been so misunderstood. "Your room is 208." - -"Will you have a boy show me the way?" - -"I shall myself attend to that. If the room is not what you wish it may -be exchanged." - -"The room is the one I telegraphed for. I am superstitious to a degree. -On three boats I have had fine state-rooms numbered 208. Twice the -number of my hotel room has been the same. On the last voyage there were -208 passengers, and the captain had made 208 voyages on the -Mediterranean." - -"Quite a coincident." - -"Ah, if roulette could be played with such a certainty." - -Mr. Ryanne sighed, hitched up his bundle, which, being heavy, was -beginning to wear upon his arm, and signified to the manager to lead the -way. - -As they vanished round the corner to the lift, the head-porter studied -the guest-list. He had looked over it a dozen times that day, but this -was the first instance of his being really interested in it. As his chin -was freshly shaven he had no stubble to stroke to excite his mental -processes; so he fell back, as we say, upon the consoling ends of his -abundant mustache. Curious; but all these persons were occupying or -about to occupy adjacent rooms. There was truly nothing mysterious -about it, save that the stranger had picked out these very names as a -target for his banter. Fortune Chedsoye; it was rather an unusual name; -but as she had arrived only an hour or so before, he could not -distinctly recall her features. And then, there was that word bucolic. -He mentally turned it over and over as physically he was wont to do with -post-cards left in his care to mail. He could make nothing of the word, -except that it smacked of the East Indian plague. - -Here he was saved from further cerebral agony by a timely interruption. -A man, who was not of bucolic persuasion either in dress or speech, -urban from the tips of his bleached fingers to the bulb of his bibulous -nose, leaned across the counter and asked if Mr. Horace Ryanne had yet -arrived. Yes, he had just arrived; he was even now on his way to his -room. The urban gentleman nodded. Then, with a finger slim and -well-trimmed, he trailed up and down the guest-list. - -"Ha! I see that you have the Duke of What-d'ye-call from Germany here. -I'll give you my card. Send it up to Mr. Ryanne. No hurry. I shall be in -again after dinner." - -He bustled off toward the door. He was pursy, well-fed, and decently -dressed, the sort of a man who, when he moved in any direction, created -the impression that he had an important engagement somewhere else or was -paring minutes from time-tables. For a man in his business it was a -clever expedient, deceiving all but those who knew him. He hesitated at -the door, however, as if he had changed his mind in the twenty-odd paces -it took to reach it. He stared for a long period at the elderly -gentleman who was watching the feluccas on the river through the window. -The white mustache and imperial stood out in crisp relief against the -ruddy sunburn on his face. If he was aware of this scrutiny on the part -of the pursy gentleman, he gave not the least sign. The revolving door -spun round, sending a puff of outdoor air into the lounging-room. The -elderly gentleman then smiled, and applied his thumb and forefinger to -the waxen point of his imperial. - -In the intervening time Mr. Ryanne entered his room, threw the bundle on -the bed, sat down beside it, and read his letter. Shadows and lights -moved across his face; frowns that hardened it, smiles that mellowed -it. Women hold the trick of writing letters. Do they hate, their -thoughts flash and burn from line to line. Do they love, 'tis lettered -music. Do they conspire, the breadth of their imagination is without -horizon. At best, man can indite only a polite business letter, his -love-notes were adjudged long since a maudlin collection of loose -sentences. In this letter Mr. Ryanne found the three parts of life. - -"She's a good general; but hang these brimstone efforts of hers. She -talks too much of heart. For my part, I prefer to regard it as a mere -physical function, a pump, a motor, a power that gives action to the -legs, either in coming or in going, more especially in going." He -laughed. "Well, hers is the inspiration and hers is the law. And to -think that she could plan all this on the spur of the moment, down to -the minutest detail! It's a science." He put the letter away, slid out -his legs and glared at the dusty tips of his shoes. "The United Romance -and Adventure Company, Ltd., of New York, London, and Paris. She has the -greatest gift of all, the sense of humor." - -He rose and opened his kit-bag doubtfully. He rummaged about in the -depths and at last straightened up with a mild oath. - -"Not a pair of cuffs in the whole outfit, not a shirt, not a collar. Oh, -well, when a man has to leave Bagdad the way I did, over the back fence, -so to speak, linen doesn't count." - -He drew down his cuffs, detached and reversed them, he turned his -folding collar wrong-side out, and used the under side of the foot-rug -as a shoe-polisher. It was the ingenius procedure of a man who was used -to being out late of nights, who made all things answer all purposes. -This rapid and singularly careless toilet completed, he centered his -concern upon the more vital matter of finances. He was close to the -nadir: four sovereigns, a florin, and a collection of battered coppers -that would have tickled the pulse of an amateur numismatist. - -"No vintage to-night, my boy; no long, fat Havana, either. A bottle of -stout and a few rags of plug-cut; that's the pace we'll travel this -evening. The United Romance and Adventure Company is not listed at -present. If it was, I'd sell a few shares on my own hook. The kind Lord -knows that I've stock enough and to spare." He laughed again, but -without the leaven of humor. "When the fool-killer snatches up the last -fool, let rogues look to themselves; and fools are getting scarcer every -day. - -"Percival Algernon! O age of poets! I wonder, does he wear high collars -and spats, or has she plumbed him accurately? She is generally right. -But a man changes some in seven years. I'm an authority when it comes to -that. Look what's happened to me in seven years! First, Horace, we shall -dine, then we'll smoke our pipe in the billiard-room, then we'll softly -approach Percival Algernon and introduce him to Sinbad. This independent -excursion to Bagdad was a stroke on my part; it will work into the -general plan as smoothly as if it had been grooved for the part. Sinbad. -I might just as well have assumed that name: Horace Sinbad, sounds well -and looks well." He mused in silence, his hand gently rubbing his chin; -for he did possess the trick of talking aloud, in a low monotone, a -habit acquired during periods of loneliness, when the sound of his own -voice had succeeded in steadying his tottering mind. - -What a woman, what a wife, she would have been to the right man! Odd -thing, a man can do almost anything but direct his affections; they -must be drawn. She was not for him; nay, not even on a desert isle. -Doubtless he was a fool. In time she would have made him a rich man. -Alack! It was always the one we pursued that we loved and never the one -that pursued us. - -"I'm afraid of her; and there you are. There isn't a man living who has -gone back of that Mona Lisa smile of hers. If she was the last woman and -I was the last man, I don't say." He hunted for a cigarette, but failed -to find one. "Almost at the bottom, boy; the winter of our discontent, -and no sun of York to make it glorious. Twenty-four hundred at cards, -and to lose it like a tyro! Wallace has taught me all he knows, but I'm -a booby. Twenty-four hundred, firm's money. It's a failing of mine, the -firm's money. But, damn it all, I can't cheat a man at cards; I'd rather -cut his throat." - -He found his pipe, and a careful search of the corners of his -coat-pockets revealed a meager pipeful of tobacco. He picked out the -little balls of wool, the ground-coffee, the cloves, and pushed the -charge home into the crusted bowl of his briar. - -"To the devil with economy! A pint of burgundy and a perfecto if they -hale us to jail for it. I'm dead tired. I've seen three corners in hell -in the past two months. I'm going as far as four sovereigns will take -me.... Fortune Chedsoye." His blue eyes became less hard and his mouth -less defiant. "I repeat, the heart should be nothing but a pump. -Otherwise it gets in the way, becomes an obstruction, a bottomless pit. -Will-power, that's the ticket. I can face a lion without an extra beat, -I can face the various countenances of death without an additional -flutter; and yet, here's a girl who, when I see her or think of her, -sends the pulse soaring from seventy-seven up to eighty-four. Bad -business; besides, it's so infernally unfashionable. It's hard work for -a man to keep his balance 'twixt the devil and the deep, blue sea; -Gioconda on one side and Fortune on the other. Gioconda throws open -windows and doors at my approach; but Fortune locks and bars hers, nor -knocks at mine. That's the way it always goes. - -"If a man could only go back ten years and take a new start. Ass!" -balling his fist at the reflection in the mirror. "Snivel and whine over -the bed of your own making. You had your opportunity, but you listened -to the popping of champagne-corks, the mutter of cards, the inane drivel -of chorus-ladies. You had a decent college record, too. Bah! What a -guileless fool you were! You ran on, didn't you, till you found your -neck in the loop at the end of the rope? And perhaps that soft-footed, -estimable brother of yours didn't yank it taut as a hangman's? You heard -the codicil; into one ear and out the other. Even then you had your -chance; patience for two short years, and a million. No, a thousand -times no. You knew what you were about, empty-headed fool! And to-day, -two pennies for a dead man's eyes." - -He dropped his fist dejectedly. Where had the first step begun? And -where would be the last? In some drab corner, possibly; drink, morphine, -or starvation; he'd never have the courage to finish it with a bullet. -He was terribly bitter. Everything worth while seemed to have slipped -through his fingers, his pleasure-loving fingers. - -"Come, come, Horace; buck up. Still the ruby kindles in the vine. No -turning back now. We'll go on till we come bang! against the wall. There -may be some good bouts between here and there. I wonder what Gioconda -would say if she knew why I was so eager for this game?" - -He went down to dinner, and they gave him a table in an obscure corner, -as a subtle reminder that his style was _passé_. He didn't care; he was -hungry and thirsty. He could see nearly every one, even if only a few -could see him. This was somewhat to his vantage. He endeavored to pick -out Percival Algernon; but there were too many high collars, too many -monocles. So he contented himself with a mild philosophical observance -of the scene. The murmur of voices, rising as the wail of the violins -sank, sinking as the wail rose; the tinkle of glass and china, the -silver and linen, the pretty women in their rustling gowns, the delicate -perfumes, the flash of an arm, the glint of a polished shoulder: this -was the essence of life he coveted. He smiled at the thought and the -sure knowledge that he was not the only wolf in the fold. Ay, and who -among these dainty Red Riding Hoods might be fooled by a vulpine -grandmother? Truth, when a fellow winnowed it all down to a handful, -there were only fools and rogues. If one was a fool, the rogue got you, -and he in turn devoured himself. - -He held his glass toward the table-lamp, moved it slowly to and fro -under his nose, epicureanly; then he sipped the wine. Something like! It -ran across his tongue and down his throat in tingling fire, nectarious; -and he went half way to Olympus, to the feet of the gods. For weeks he -had lived in the vilest haunts, in desperate straits, his life in his -open hands; and now once more he had crawled from the depths to the -outer crust of the world. It did not matter that he was destined to go -down into the depths again; so long as the spark burned he was going to -crawl back each time. Damnable luck! He could have lived like a prince. -Twenty-four hundred, and all in two nights, a steady stream of gold into -the pockets of men whom he could have cheated with consummate ease, and -didn't. A fine wolf, whose predatory instincts were still riveted to -that obsolete thing called conscience! - -"Conscience? Rot! Let us for once be frank and write it down as caution, -as fear of publicity, anything but the white guardian-angel of the -immortality of the soul. Heap up the gold, Apollyon; heap it up, higher -and higher, till not a squeak of that still small voice that once awoke -the chap in the Old Testament can ever again be heard. Now; no more -retrospection, Horace; no more analysis; the vital question simmers down -to this: If Percival Algernon balks, how far will four sovereigns go?" - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE HOLY YHIORDES - - -George drank _his_ burgundy perfunctorily. Had it been astringent as the -native wine of Corsica, he would not have noticed it. The little nerves -that ran from his tongue to his brain had temporarily lost the power of -communication. And all because of the girl across the way. He couldn't -keep his eyes from wandering in her direction. She faced him diagonally. -She ate but little, and when the elderly gentleman poured out for her a -glass of sauterne, she motioned it aside, rested her chin upon her -folded hands, and stared not at but through her _vis-à-vis_. - -It was a lovely head, topped with coils of lustrous, light brown hair; -an oval face, of white and rose and ivory tones; scarlet lips, a small, -regular nose, and a chin the soft roundness of which hid the resolute -lift to it. To these attributes of loveliness was added a perfect form, -the long, flowing curves of youth, not the abrupt contours of maturity. -George couldn't recollect when he had been so impressed by a face. From -the moment she had stepped down from the carriage, his interest had been -drawn, and had grown to such dimensions that when he entered the -dining-room his glance immediately searched for her table. What luck in -finding her across the way! He questioned if he had ever seen her -before. There was something familiar; the delicate profile stirred some -sleeping memory but did not wake it. - -How to meet her, and when he did meet her, how to interest her? If she -would only drop her handkerchief, her purse, something to give him an -excuse, an opening. Ah, he was certain that this time the hydra-headed -one should not overcome him. To gain her attention and to hold it, he -would have faced a lion, a tiger, a wild-elephant. To diagnose these -symptoms might not be fair to George. "Love at first sight" reads well -and sounds well, but we hoary-headed philosophers know that the phrase -is only poetical license. - -Once, and only once, she looked in his direction. It swept over him with -the chill of a winter wind that he meant as much to her as a tree, a -fence, a meadow, as seen from the window of a speeding railway train. -But this observation, transient as it was, left with him the indelible -impression that her eyes were the saddest he had ever seen. Why? Why -should a young and beautiful girl have eyes like that? It could not mean -physical weariness, else the face would in some way have expressed it. -The elderly man appeared to do his best to animate her; he was kindly -and courteous, and by the gentle way he laughed at intervals was trying -to bolster up the situation with a jest or two. The girl never so much -as smiled, or shrugged her shoulders; she was as responsive to these -overtures as marble would have been. - -George's romance gathered itself for a flight. Perhaps it was love -thwarted, and the gentleman with the mustache and imperial, in spite of -his amiability, might be the ogre. Perhaps it was love and duty. Perhaps -her lover had gone down to sea. Perhaps (for lovers are known to do such -things) he had run away with the other girl. If that was the case, -George did not think highly of that tentative gentleman's taste. Perhaps -and perhaps again; but George might have gone on perhapsing till the -crack o' doom, with never a solitary glimmer of the true state of the -girl's mind. Whenever he saw an unknown man or woman who attracted his -attention, he never could resist the impulse to invent a romance that -might apply. - -Immediately after dessert the two rose; and George, finding that nothing -more important than a pineapple ice detained him, got up and followed. -Mr. Ryanne almost trod on his heels as they went through the doorway -into the cosy lounging-room. George dropped into a vacant divan and -waited for his _café à la Turque_. Mr. Ryanne walked over to the -head-porter's bureau and asked if that gentleman would be so kind as to -point out Mr. George P. A. Jones, if he were anywhere in sight. He -thoughtfully, not to say regretfully, laid down a small bribe. - -"Mr. Jones?" The porter knew Mr. Jones very well. He was generous, and -treated the servants as though they were really human beings. Mr. -Ryanne, either by his inquiry or as the result of his bribe, went up -several degrees in the porter's estimation. "Mr. Jones is over there, -on the divan by the door." - -"Thanks." - -But Ryanne did not then seek the young man. He studied the quarry from a -diplomatic distance. No; there was nothing to indicate that George -Percival Algernon Jones was in any way handicapped by his Arthuresque -middle names. - -"No fool, as Gioconda in her infinite wisdom hath said; but romantic, -terribly romantic, yet, like the timid bather who puts a foot into the -water, finds it cold, and withdraws it. It will all depend upon whether -he is a real collector or merely a buyer of rugs. Forward, then, Horace; -a sovereign has already dashed headlong down the far horizon." The curse -of speaking his thoughts aloud did not lie heavily upon him to-night, -for these cogitations were made in silence, unmarked by any facial -expression. He proceeded across the room and sat down beside George. "I -beg your pardon," he began, "but are you not Mr. Jones?" - -Mildly astonished, George signified that he was. - -"George P. A. Jones?" - -George nodded again, but with some heat in his cheeks. "Yes. What is -it?" The girl had just finished her coffee and was going away. Hang this -fellow! What did he want at this moment? - -If Ryanne saw that he was too much, as the French say, he also perceived -the cause. The desire to shake George till his teeth rattled was -instantly overcome. She hadn't seen him, and for this he was grateful. -"You are interested in rugs? I mean old ones, rare ones, rugs that are -bought once and seldom if ever sold again." - -"Why, yes. That's my business." George had no silly ideas about trade. -He had never posed as a gentleman's son in the sense that it meant -idleness. - -Ryanne presented his card. - -"How do you pronounce it?" asked George naïvely. - -"As they do in Cork." - -"I never saw it spelled that way before." - -"Nothing surprising in that," replied Ryanne. "No one else has, either." - -George laughed and waited for the explanation. - -"You see, Ryan is as good a name as they make them; but it classes with -prize-fighters, politicians, and bar chemists. The two extra letters put -the finishing touch to the name. A jewel is all right, but what tells -is the way you hang it round your neck. To me, those additional letters -represent the jewel Ryan in the hands of a Lalique." - -"You talk like an American." - -"I am; three generations. What's the matter?" with sudden concern. - -George was frowning. "Haven't I met you somewhere before?" - -"Not to my recollection." A speculative frown now marred Ryanne's -forehead. It did not illustrate a search in his memory for such a -casualty as the meeting of George. He never forgot a face and certainly -did not remember George's. Rather, the frown had its source in the mild -dread that Percival Algernon had seen him somewhere during one of those -indispositions of the morning after. "No; I think you have made a -mistake." - -"Likely enough. It just struck me that you looked something like a chap -named Wadsworth, who was half-back on the varsity, when I entered my -freshman year." - -"A university man? Lord, no! I was turned loose at ten; been hustling -ever since." Ryanne spoke easily, not a tremor in his voice, although -he had received a slight mental jolt. "No; no college record here. But I -want to chat with you about rugs. I've heard of you, indirectly." - -"From the carpet fellows? We do a big business over here. What have you -got?" - -"Well, I've a rug up in my room I'd like to show you. I want your -judgment for one thing. Will you do me the favor?" - -Since the girl had disappeared and with her those imaginary -appurtenances that had for a space transformed the lounging-room into a -stage, George saw again with normal vision that the room was simply a -common meeting-ground for well-dressed persons and ill-dressed persons, -of the unimpeachable, the impeccable, the doubtful and the peccant; for -in Cairo, as in ancient Egypt, there is every class and kind of humans, -for whom the Decalogue was written, transcribed, and shattered by the -turbulent Moses, an incident more or less forgotten these days. From the -tail of his eye he gave swift scrutiny to this chance acquaintance, and -he found nothing to warrant suspicion. It was not an unusual procedure -for men to hunt him up in Cairo, in Constantinople, in Smyrna, or in -any of the Oriental cities where his business itinerary led him. The -house of Mortimer & Jones was widely known. This man Ryanne might have -been anywhere between thirty and forty. He was tall, well set up, blond -and smooth-skinned. True, he appeared to have been ill-fed recently. A -little more flesh under the cheek-bones, a touch of color, and the -Irishman would have been a handsome man. George could read a rug a -league off, as they say, but he was a child in the matter of -physiognomy, whereas Ryanne was a past-master in this regard; it was -necessary both for his business and safety. - -"Certainly, I'll take a look at it. But I tell you frankly," went on -George, "that to interest me it's got to be a very old one. You see, -it's a little fad of mine, outside the business end of it. I'm crazy -over real rugs, and I know something about every rare one in existence, -or known to exist. Is it a copy?" - -"No. I'll tell you more about it when we get to my room." - -"Come on, then." George was now quite willing to discuss rugs and -carpets. - -Having gained the room, Ryanne threw off his coat and relighted his -cigar, which, in a saving mood, he had allowed to go out. He motioned -George to be seated. - -"Just a little yarn before I show you the rug. See these cuffs?" - -"Yes." - -"You will observe that I have had to reverse them. Note this collar? -Same thing. Trousers-hems a bit frayed, coat shiny at the elbows." -Ryanne exhibited his sole fortune. "Four sovereigns between me and a -jail." - -George became thoughtful. He was generous and kind-hearted among those -he knew intimately or slightly, but he had the instinctive reserve of -the seasoned traveler in cases like this. He waited. - -"The truth is, I'm all but done for. And if I fail to strike a bargain -here with you.... Well, I should hate to tell you the result. Our consul -would have to furnish me passage home. Were you ever up against it to -the extent of reversing your cuffs and turning your collars? You don't -know what life is, then." - -George gravely produced two good cigars and offered one to his host. -There was an absence of sound, broken presently by the cheerful crackle -of matches; two billowing clouds of smoke floated outward and upward. -Ryanne sighed. Here was a cigar one could not purchase in all the length -and breadth of the Orient, a Pedro Murias. In one of his doubtfully -prosperous epochs he had smoked them daily. How long ago had that been? - -"Yonder is a rug, a prayer-rug, as holy to the Moslem as the idol's eye -is to the Hindu, as the Bible is to the Christian. For hundreds of years -it never saw the outside of the Sultan's palace. One day the late, the -recently late, Abdul the Unspeakable Turk, gave it to the Pasha of -Bagdad. Whenever this rug makes its appearance in Holy Mecca, it is -worshiped, and none but a Sultan or a Sultan's favorite may kneel upon -it. Bagdad, the hundred mosques, the old capital of Suleiman the Great, -the dreary Tigris and the sluggish Euphrates, a muezzin from the turret -calls to prayer, and all that; eh?" - -George leaned forward from his chair, a gentle terror in his heart. "The -Yhiordes? By Jove! is that the Yhiordes?" - -Admiration kindled in Ryanne's eyes. To have hit the bull's-eye with so -free and quick an aim was ample proof that Percival Algernon had not -boasted when he said that he knew something about rugs. - -"You've guessed it." - -"How did you come by it?" George demanded excitedly. - -"Why do you ask that?" - -"Man, ten-thousand pounds could not purchase that rug, that bit of -carpet. Collectors from every port have been after it in vain. And you -mean to tell me that it lies there, wrapped in butcher's paper?" - -"Right-O!" - -Ryanne solemnly detached a cuff and rolled up his sleeve. The bare -muscular arm was scarred by two long, ugly knife-wounds, scarcely -healed. Next he drew up a trousers-leg, disclosing a battered shin. "And -there's another on my shoulder-blade, the closest call I ever had. A man -who takes his life in his hands, as I have done, merits some reward. Mr. -Jones, I'll be frank with you. I am a kind of derelict. Since I was a -boy, I have hated the humdrum of offices, of shops. I wanted to be my -own man, to go and come as I pleased. To do this and live meant -precarious exploits. This rug represents one of them. I am telling you -the family secret; I am showing you the skeleton in the closet, -confidentially. I stole that rug; and when I say that the seven labors -of our old friend Hercules were simple diversions compared, you'll -recognize the difficulties I had to overcome. You know something of the -Oriental mind. I handled the job alone. I may not be out of the jungle -yet." - -George listened entranced. He could readily construct the scenes through -which this adventurer had gone: the watchful nights, the untiring -patience, the thirst, the hunger, the heat. And yet, he could hardly -believe. He was a trifle skeptical. Many a rogue had made the mistake of -playing George's age against his experience. He had made some serious -blunders in the early stages of the business, however; and everybody, to -gain something in the end, must lose something at the start. - -"If that rug is the one I have in mind, you certainly have stolen it. -And if it's a copy, I'll tell you quickly enough." - -"That's fair. And that's why," Ryanne declared, "I wanted you to look at -it. To me, considering what I have gone through to get it, to me it is -the genuine carpet. To your expert eye it may be only a fine copy. I -know this much, that rare rugs and paintings have many copies, and that -some one is being hooked, sold, bamboozled, sandbagged, every day in the -week. If this is the real article, I want you to take it off my hands," -the adventurer finished pleasantly. - -"There will be a hue and cry." - -"No doubt of it." - -"And the devil's own job to get it out of Egypt." These were set phrases -of the expert, preliminaries to bargaining. "One might as well carry -round a stolen elephant." - -"But a man who is as familiar with the game as you are would have little -difficulty. Your integrity is an established fact, on both sides of the -water. You could take it to New York as a copy, and no appraiser would -know the difference. It's worth the attempt. I'd take it to New York -myself, but you see, I am flat broke. Come; what do you or I care about -a son-of-a-gun of a Turk?" drolly. - -"What do you want for it, supposing it's genuine?" George's throat was -dry and his voice harsh. His conscience roused herself, feebly, for it -had been a long time since occasion had necessitated her presence. - -Ryanne narrowed his eyes, carefully balancing the possibilities. "Say, -one thousand pounds. It is like giving it away. But when the devil -drives, you know. It is beyond any set price; it is worth what any -collector is willing to pay for it. I believe I know the kind of man you -are, Mr. Jones, and that is why, when I learned you were in Cairo, I -came directly to you. You would never sell this rug. No. You would -become like a miser over his gold. You would keep it with your emeralds -(I have heard about them, too); draw the curtains, lock the doors, -whenever you looked at it. Eh? You would love it for its own sake, and -not because it is worth so many thousand pounds. You are sailing in a -few days; that will help. The Pasha is in Constantinople, and it will be -three or four weeks before he hears of the theft, or the cost," with a -certain grimness. - -"You haven't killed any one?" whispered George. - -"I don't know; perhaps. Christianity against paganism; the Occidental -conscience permits it." Ryanne made a gesture to indicate that he would -submit to whatever moral arraignment Mr. Jones deemed advisable to make. - -But George made none. He rose hastily, sought his knife and, without so -much as by your leave, slashed the twine, flung aside the paper, and -threw the rug across the counterpane. It was the Yhiordes. There was not -the slightest doubt in his mind. He had heard it described, he had seen -a photograph of it, he knew its history and, most vital of all, he owned -a good copy of it. - -Against temptation that was robust and energetic and alluring (like the -man who insists upon your having a drink when you want it and ought not -to have it), what chance had conscience, grown innocuous in the long -period of the young man's good behavior? Collectors are always honest -before and after that moment arrives when they want something -desperately; and George was no more saintly than his kind. And how deep -Ryanne and his confederates had delved into human nature, how well they -could read and judge it, was made manifest in this moment of George's -moral relapse. - -[Illustration] - -Bagdad, the jinns, Sinbad, the Thousand and One Nights, Alibaba and the -Forty Thieves: George was transported mentally to that magic city, -standing between the Tigris and the Euphrates, in all its white glory of -a thousand years gone. Ryanne, the room and its furnishings, all had -vanished, all save the exquisite fabric patterned out of wool and cotton -and knotted with that mingling love and skill and patience the world -knows no more. He let his hand stray over it. How many knees had pressed -its thick yet pliant substance? How many strange scenes had it mutely -witnessed, scenes of beauty, of terror? It shone under the light like -the hide of a healthy hound. - -The nerves of a smoker are generally made apparent by the rapidity of -his exhalations. These two, in the several minutes, had filled the room -with a thick, blue haze; and through this the elder man eyed the -younger. The sign of the wolf gleamed in his eyes, but without -animosity, modified as it was by the half-friendly, half-cynical smile. - -"I'll risk it," said George finally, having stepped off the magical -carpet, as it were. "I can't give you a thousand pounds to-night. I can -give you three hundred, and the balance to-morrow, between ten and -eleven, at Cook's." - -"That will be agreeable to me." - -George passed over all the available cash he had, rolled up the treasure -and tucked it under his arm. That somewhere in the world was a true -believer, wailing and beating his breast and calling down from Allah -curses upon the giaour, the dog of an infidel, who had done this thing, -disturbed George not in the least. - -"I say," as he opened the door, "you must tell me all about the -adventure. It must have been a thriller." - -"It was," replied Ryanne. "The story will keep. Later, if you care to -hear it." - -"Of course," added George, moved by a discretionary thought, "this -transaction is just between you and me." - -"You may lay odds on that," heartily. "Well, good night. See you at -Cook's in the morning." - -"Good night." George passed down the corridor to the adjoining room. - -And now, bang! goes Pandora's box. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE - - -That faculty which decides on the lawlessness of our actions: so the -noted etymologist described conscience. It fell to another distinguished -intellect to add that conscience makes cowards of us all. Ay. She may be -overcome at times, side-tracked for any special desire that demands a -clear way; but she's after us, fast enough, with that battered red -lantern of hers, which, brought down from all tongues crisply into our -own, reads--"Don't do it!" She herself is not wholly without cunning. -She rarely stands boldly upon the track to flag us as we come. She -realizes that she might be permanently ditched. No; it is far safer to -run after us and catch us. A digression, perhaps, but more pertinently -an application. - -Temptation then no longer at his shoulder, George began to have qualms, -little chaps, who started buzzing into his moral ears with all that -maddening, interminable drone which makes one marvel however do -school-teachers survive their first terms. Among these qualms there was -none that pleaded for the desolate Turk or his minions whose -carelessness had made the theft possible. For all George cared, the -Moslem might grind his forehead in the soulless sand and make the air -palpitate with his plaints to Allah. No. The disturbance was due to the -fact that never before had he been wittingly the purchaser of stolen -goods. He never tried to gloze over the subtle distinction between -knowing and suspecting; and if he had been variously suspicious in -regard to certain past bargains, conscience had found no sizeable wedge -for her demurrers. The Yhiordes was confessedly stolen. - -He paused, with his hand upon the door-knob of his room. If he didn't -keep the rug, it would fall into the hands of a collector less -scrupulous. To return it to the Pasha at Bagdad would be pure folly, and -thankless. It was one of the most beautiful weavings in existence. It -was as priceless in its way as any Raphael in the Vatican. And he -desired its possession intensely. Why not? Insidious phrase! Was it not -better that the world should see and learn what a wonderful craft the -making of a rare rug had been, than to allow it to return to the sordid -chamber of a harem, to inevitable ruin? As Ryanne said, what the deuce -was a fanatical Turk or Arab to him? - -Against these specious arguments in favor of becoming the adventurer's -abettor and accomplice, there was first the possible stain of blood. The -man agreed that he had come away from Bagdad in doubt. George did not -like the thought of blood. Still, he had collected a hundred emeralds, -not one of which was without its red record. Again, if he carried the -rug home with his other purchases, he could pull it through the customs -only by lying, which was as distasteful to his mind as being a receiver -of stolen goods. - -He had already paid a goodly sum against the purchase; and it was not -likely that a man who was down to reversing his collars and cuffs would -take back the rug and refund the money. The Yhiordes was his, happen -what might. So conscience snuffed out her red lantern and retired. - -Some light steps, a rustle, and he wheeled in time to see a woman open a -door, stand for a minute in the full light, and disappear. It was she. -George opened the door of his own room, threw the rug inside, and -tiptoed along the corridor, stopping for the briefest time to ascertain -the number of that room. He felt vastly more guilty in performing this -harmless act than in smothering his mentor. - -There was no one in the head-porter's bureau; thus, unobserved and -unembarrassed, he was free to inspect the guest-list. Fortune Chedsoye. -He had never seen a name quite like that. Its quaintness did not suggest -to him, as it had done to Ryanne, the pastoral, the bucolic. Rather it -reminded him of the old French courts, of rapiers and buckles, of -powdered wigs and furbelows, masks, astrologers, love-intrigues, of all -those colorful, mutable scenes so charmingly described by the genial -narrator of the exploits of D'Artagnan. And abruptly out of this age of -Lebrun, Watteau, Molière, reached an ice-cold hand. If that elderly -codger wasn't her father, who was he and what? - -The Major--for George had looked him up also--was in excellent trim for -his age, something of a military dandy besides; but as the husband of so -young and exquisite a creature! Out upon the thought! He might be her -guardian, or, at most, her uncle, but never her husband. Yet (O -poisonous doubt!), at the table she had ignored the Major, both his -jests and his attentions. He had seen many wives, joyfully from a safe -distance, act toward their husbands in this fashion. Oh, rot! If his -name was Callahan and hers Chedsoye, they could not possibly be tied in -any legal bonds. He dismissed the ice-cold hand and turned again to the -comforting warmth of his ardor. - -He had never spoken to young women without presentation, and on these -rare occasions he had broached the weather, suggested the possibilities -of the weather, and concluded with an apostrophe on the weather at -large. It was usually a valedictory. For he was always positive that he -had acted like a fool, and was afraid to speak to the girl again. Never -it failed, ten minutes after the girl was out of sight, the brightest -and cleverest things crowded upon his tongue, to be but wasted on the -desert air. He was not particularly afraid of women older than himself, -more's the pity. And yet, had he been as shy toward them as toward the -girls, there would have been no stolen Yhiordes, no sad-eyed maiden, no -such thing as The United Romance and Adventure Company, Ltd.; and he -would have stepped the even tenor of his way, unknown of grand passions, -swift adventure, life. - -George was determined to meet Fortune Chedsoye, and this determination, -the first of its kind to take definite form in his mind, gave him a -novel sensation. He would find some way, and he vowed to best his old -enemy, diffidence, if it was the last fight he ever put up. He would -manoeuver to get in the way of the Major. He never found much trouble -in talking to men. Once he exchanged a word or two with the uncle or -guardian, he would make it a point to renew the acquaintance when he saw -the two together. It appeared to him as a bright idea, and he was rather -proud of it. Even now he was conscious of clenching his teeth strongly. -It's an old saying that he goes farthest who shuts his teeth longest. He -was going to test the precept by immediate practice. - -He had stood before the list fully three minutes. Now he turned about -face, a singular elation tingling his blood. Once he set his mind upon a -thing, he went forward. He had lost many pleasurable things in life -because he had doubted and faltered, not because he had reached out -toward them and had then drawn back. He was going to meet Fortune -Chedsoye; when or how were but details. And as he discovered the Major -himself idling before the booth of the East Indian merchant, he saw in -fancy the portcullis rise and the drawbridge fall to the castle of -enchantment. He strolled over leisurely and pretended to be interested -in the case containing mediocre jewels. - -"This is a genuine Bokhara embroidery?" the Major was inquiring. - -"Oh, yes, sir." - -"How old?" - -The merchant picked up the tag and squinted at it. "It is between two -and three hundred years old, sir." - -To George's opinion the gods themselves could not have arranged a more -propitious moment. - -"You've made a mistake," he interposed quietly. "That is Bokhara, but -the stitch is purely modern." - -The dark eyes of the Indian flashed. "The gentleman is an authority?" -sarcastically. - -"Upon that style of embroidery, absolutely." George smiled. And then, -without more ado, he went on to explain the difference between the -antique and the modern. "You have one good piece of old Bokhara, but it -isn't rare. Twenty-pounds would be a good price for it." - -The Major laughed heartily. "And just this moment he asked a hundred for -it. I'm not much of a hand in judging these things. I admire them, but -have no intimate knowledge regarding their worth. Nothing to-night," he -added to the bitter-eyed merchant. "The Oriental is like the amateur -fisherman: truth is not in him. You seem to be a keen judge," as they -moved away from the booth. - -"I suppose it's because I'm inordinately fond of the things. I've really -a good collection of Bokhara embroideries at home in New York." - -"You live in New York?" with mild interest. The Major sat down and -graciously motioned for George to do the same. "I used to live there; -twenty-odd years ago. But European travel spoils America; the rush -there, the hurry, the clamor. Over here they dine, there they eat. -There's as much difference between those two performances as there is -between _The Mikado_ and _Florodora_. From Portland in Maine to Portland -in Oregon, the same dress, same shops, same ungodly high buildings. Here -it is different, at the end of every hundred miles." - -George agreed conditionally. (The Major wasn't very original in his -views.) He would have shed his last drop of blood for his native land, -but he was honest in acknowledging her faults. - -Conversation idled in various channels, and finally became anchored at -jewels. Here the Major was at home, and he loved emeralds above all -other stones. He proved to be an engaging old fellow, had circled the -globe three or four times, and had had an adventure or two worth -recounting. And when he incidentally mentioned his niece, George wanted -to shake his hand. - -Would Mr. Jones join him with a peg to sleep on? Mr. Jones certainly -would. And after a mutual health, George diplomatically excused himself, -retired, buoyant and happy. How simple the affair had been! A fellow -could do anything if only he set his mind to it. To-morrow he would -meet Fortune Chedsoye, and may Beelzebub shrive him if he could not -manage to control his recalcitrant tongue. - -As he passed out of sight, Major Callahan smiled. It was that old -familiar smile which, charged with gentle mockery, we send after -departing fools. It was plain that he needed another peg to keep company -with the first, for he rose and gracefully wended his way down-stairs to -the bar. Two men were already leaning against the friendly, inviting -mahogany. There was a magnum of champagne standing between their -glasses. The Major ordered a temperate whisky and soda, drank it, -frowned at the magnum, paid the reckoning, and went back up-stairs -again. - -"Don't remember old friends, eh?" said the shorter of the two men, -caressing his incarnadined proboscis. "A smile wouldn't have hurt him -any, do you think?" - -"Shut up!" admonished Ryanne. "You know the orders; no recognition on -the public floors." - -"Why, I meant no harm," the other protested. He took a swallow of wine. -"But, dash it! here I am, more'n four thousand miles from old Broadway, -and still walking blind. When is the show to start?" - -"Not so loud, old boy. You've got to have patience. You've had some good -pickings for the past three months, in the smoke-rooms. That ought to -soothe you." - -"Well, it doesn't. Here I come from New York, three months ago, with a -wad of money for you and a great game in sight. It takes a week to find -you, and when I do.... Well, you know. No sooner are you awake, than -what? Off you go to Bagdad, on the wildest goose-chase a man ever heard -of. And that leaves me with nothing to do and nobody to talk to. I could -have cried yesterday when I got your letter saying you'd be in to-day." - -"Well, I got it." - -"The rug?" - -"Yes. It was wild; but after what I'd been through I needed something -wild to steady my nerves; some big danger, where I'd simply have to get -together." - -"And you got it?" There was frank wonder and admiration in the pursy -gentleman's eyes. "All alone, and you got it? Honest?" - -"Honest. They nearly had my hide, though." - -"Where is it?" - -"Sold." - -"Who?" - -"Percival." - -"Horace, you're a wonder, if there ever was one. Sold it to Percival! -You couldn't beat that in a thousand years. You're a great man." - -"Praise from Sir Hubert." - -"Who's he?" - -"An authority on several matters." - -"How much did he give you for it?" - -"Tut, tut! It was all my own little jaunt, Wallace. I should hate to lie -to you about it." - -"What about the stake I gave you?" - -Ryanne made a sign of dealing cards. - -"Threw it away on a lot of dubs, after all I've taught you!" - -"Cards aren't my _forte_." - -"There's a yellow streak in your hide, somewhere, Horace." - -"There is, but it is the tiger's stripe, my friend. What I did with my -money is my own business." - -"Will she allow for that?" - -"Would it matter one way or the other?" - -"No, I don't suppose it would. Sometimes I think you're with us as a -huge joke. You don't take the game serious enough." Wallace emptied his -glass and tipped the bottle carefully. "You're out of your class, -somehow." - -"So?" - -"Yes. You have always struck me as a man who was hunting trouble for one -end." - -"And that?" Ryanne seemed interested. - -Wallace drew his finger across his throat. Ryanne looked him squarely in -the eye and nodded affirmatively. - -"I don't understand at all." - -"You never will, Wallace, old chap. I am the prodigal son whose brother -ate the fatted calf before I returned home. I had a letter to-day. She -will be here to-morrow sometime. You may have to go to Port Saïd, if my -little plan doesn't mature." - -"The _Ludwig_?" - -"Yes." - -"Say, what a _Frau_ she would have made the right man!" - -Ryanne did not answer, but glowered at his glass. - -"The United Romance and Adventure Company." Wallace twirled his glass. -"If you're a wonder, she's a marvel. A Napoleon in petticoats! It does -make a fellow grin, when you look it all over. But this is going to be -her Austerlitz or her Waterloo. And you really got that rug; and on top -of that, you have sold it to George P. A. Jones! Here's----" - -"Many happy returns," ironically. - -They finished the bottle without further talk. There was no conviviality -here. Both were fond of good wine, but the more they drank, the tighter -grew their lips. Men who have been in the habit of guarding dangerous -secrets become taciturn in their cups. - -From time to time, flittingly, there appeared against one of the -windows, just above the half-curtain, a lean, dark face which, in -profile, resembled the kite--the hooked beak, the watchful, preyful -eyes. There were two hungers written upon that Arab face, food and -revenge. - -"Allah is good," he murmured. - -He had but one eye in use, the other was bandaged. In fact, the face, -exhibited general indications of rough warfare, the skin broken on the -bridge of the nose, a freshly healed cut under the seeing eye, a long -strip of plaster extending from the ear to the mouth. There was nothing -of the beggar in his mien. His lean throat was erect, his chin -protrusive, the set of his shoulders proud and defiant. Ordinarily, the -few lingering guides would rudely have told him to be off about his -business; but they were familiar with all turbans, and in the peculiar -twist of this one, soiled and ragged though it was, they recognized some -prince from the eastern deserts. Presently he strode away, but with a -stiffness which they knew came from long journeys upon racing-camels. - -George dreamed that night of magic carpets, of sad-eyed maidens, of -fierce Bedouins, of battles in the desert, of genii swelling -terrifically out of squat bottles. And once he rose and turned on the -lights to assure himself that the old Yhiordes was not a part of these -vivid dreams. - -He was up shortly after dawn, in white riding-togs, for a final canter -to Mena House and return. In two days more he would be leaving Egypt -behind. Rather glad in one sense, rather sorry in another. Where to put -the rug was a problem. He might carry it in his steamer-roll; it would -be handier there than in the bottom of his trunk, stored away in the -ship's hold. Besides, his experience had taught him that steamer-rolls -were only indifferently inspected. You will observe that the luster of -his high ideals was already dimming. He reasoned that insomuch as he was -bound to smuggle and lie, it might be well to plan something -artistically. He wished now that he was going to spend Christmas in -Cairo; but it was too late to change his booking without serious loss of -time and money. - -He had a light breakfast on the veranda of the Mena House, climbed up to -the desert, bantered the donkey-boys, amused himself by watching the -descent of some German tourists who had climbed the big Pyramid before -dawn to witness the sunrise, and threw pennies to the horde of blind -beggars who instantly swarmed about him and demanded, in the name of -Allah, a competence for the rest of their days. He finally escaped them -by footing it down the incline to the hotel gardens, where his horse -stood waiting. - -It was long after nine when he slid from the saddle at the side -entrance of the Semiramis. He was on his way to the bureau for his key, -when an exquisitely gloved hand lightly touched his arm. - -"Don't you remember me, Mr. Jones?" said a voice of vocal honey. - -George did. In his confusion he dropped his pith-helmet, and in stooping -to pick it up, bumped into the porter who had rushed to his aid. -Remember her! Would he ever forget her? He never thought of her without -dubbing himself an outrageous ass. He straightened, his cheeks afire; -blushing was another of those uncontrollable asininities of his. It was -really she, come out of a past he had hoped to be eternally -inresuscitant; the droll, the witty woman, to whom in one mad moment of -liberality and Galahadism he had loaned without security one hundred and -fifty pounds at the roulette tables in Monte Carlo; she, for whom he had -always blushed when he recalled how easily she had mulcted him! And here -she was, serene, lovely as ever, unchanged. - -"My dear," said the stranger (George couldn't recall by what name he had -known her); "my dear," to Fortune Chedsoye, who stood a little behind -her, "this is the gentleman I've often told you about. You were at -school at the time. I borrowed a hundred and fifty pounds of him at -Monte Carlo. And what do you think? When I went to pay him back the next -day, he was gone, without leaving the slightest clue to his whereabouts. -Isn't that droll? And to think that I should meet him here!" - -That her name had slipped his memory, if indeed he had ever known it, -was true; but one thing lingered incandescently in his mind, and that -was, he _had_ written her, following minutely her own specific -directions and inclosing his banker's address in Paris, Naples, and -Cairo; and for many passings of moons he had opened his foreign mail -eagerly and hopefully. But hope must have something to feed upon, and -after a struggle lasting two years, she rendered up the ghost.... It -wasn't the loss of money that hurt; it was the finding of dross metal -where he supposed there was naught but gold. Perhaps his later shyness -was due as much to this disillusioning incident as to his middle names. - -"Isn't it droll, my dear?" the enchantress repeated; and George grew -redder and redder under the beautiful, grateful eyes. "I must give him -a draft this very morning." - -"But.... Why, my dear Madame," stammered George. "You must not.... -I...!" - -Fortune laughed. Somehow the quality of that laughter pierced George's -confused brain as sometimes a shaft of sunlight rips into a fog, -suddenly, stiletto-like. It was full of malice. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE GIRL WHO WASN'T WANTED - - -If any one wronged George, defrauded him of money or credit, he was -always ready to forgive, agreeing that perhaps half the fault had been -his. This was not a sign of weakness, but of a sense of justice too well -leavened with mercy. Humanity errs in the one as much as in the other, -doubtless with some benign purpose in perspective. Now, it might be that -this charming woman had really never received his letter; such things -have been known to go astray. In any case he could not say that he had -written. That would have cast a doubt upon her word, an unpardonable -rudeness. So, for her very beauty alone, he gave her the full benefit of -the doubt. - -"You mustn't let the matter trouble you in the least," he said, his -helmet now nicely adjusted under his arm. "It was so long ago I had -really forgotten all about it." Which was very well said for George. - -"But I haven't. I have often wondered what you must have thought of me. -Monte Carlo is such a place! But I must present my daughter. I am Mrs. -Chedsoye." - -"I am glad to meet you, Mr. Jones;" and in the sad eyes there was a -glimmer of real friendliness. More, she extended her hand. - -It was well worth while, that hundred and fifty pounds. It was well -worth the pinch here and the pinch there which had succeeded that loan. -For he had determined to return to America with a pound or two on his -letter of credit, and the success of this determination was based upon -many a sacrifice in comfort, sacrifices he had never confided to his -parents. It was not in the nature of things to confess that the first -woman he had met in his wanderings should have been the last. As he took -the girl's hand, with the ulterior intent of holding it till death do us -part, he wondered why she had laughed like that. The echo of it still -rang in his ears. And while he could not have described it, he knew -instinctively that it had been born of bitter thought. - -They chatted for a quarter of an hour or more, and managed famously. It -seemed to him that Fortune Chedsoye was the first young woman he had -ever met who could pull away sudden barriers and open up pathways for -speech, who, when he was about to flounder into some _cul-de-sac_, -guided him adroitly into an alley round it. Not once was it necessary to -drag in the weather, that perennial if threadbare topic. He was truly -astonished at the ease with which he sustained his part in the -conversation, and began to think pretty well of himself. It did not -occur to him that when two clever and attractive women set forth to make -a man talk (always excepting he is dumb), they never fail to succeed. To -do this they contrive to bring the conversation within the small circle -of his work, his travels, his preferences, his ambitions. To be sure, -all this is not fully extracted in fifteen minutes, but a woman obtains -in that time a good idea of the ground plan. - -Two distinct purposes controlled the women in this instance. One -desired to interest him, while the other sought to learn whether he was -stupid or only shy. - -At last, when he left them to change his clothes and hurry down to -Cook's, to complete the bargain for the Yhiordes, he had advanced so -amazingly well that they had accepted his invitation to the polo-match -that afternoon. He felt that invisible Mercurial wings had sprouted from -his heels, for in running up the stairs, he was aware of no gravitative -resistance. That this anomaly (an acquaintance with two women about whom -he knew nothing) might be looked upon askance by those who conformed to -the laws and by-laws of social usages, worried him not in the least. On -the contrary, he was thinking that he would be the envy of every other -man out at the Club that afternoon. - -"Well?" said Mrs. Chedsoye, a quizzical smile slanting her lips. - -"You wish my opinion?" countered the daughter. "He is shy, but he is -neither stupid nor silly; and when he smiles he is really good-looking." - -"My child," replied the woman, drawing off her gloves and examining her -shapely hands, "I have looked into the very heart of that young man. A -thousand years ago, a red-cross on his surtout, he would have been -beating his fists against the walls of Jerusalem; five hundred years -later, he would have been singing _chant-royales_ under lattice-windows; -a paladin and a poet." - -"How do you know that? Did he make love to you?" - -"No; but I made love to him without his knowing it; and that was more to -my purpose than having him make love to me," enigmatically. "Three days, -and he was so guileless that he never asked my name. But in Monte Carlo, -as you know, one asks only your banker's name." - -"And your purpose?" - -"It is still mine, dear. Do you realize that we haven't seen each other -in four months, and that you haven't offered to kiss me?" - -"Did he go away without writing to you about that money?" - -Mrs. Chedsoye calmly plucked out the inturned fingers of her gloves. "I -believe I did receive a note inclosing his banker's address, but, -unfortunately, in the confusion of returning to Paris, I lost it. My -memory has always been a trial to me," sadly. - -"Since when?" coldly. "There is not a woman living with a keener memory -than yours." - -"You flatter me. In affairs that interest me, perhaps." - -"You never meant to pay him. It is horrible." - -"My dear Fortune, how you jump at conclusions! Did I not offer him a -draft the very first thing?" - -"Knowing that at such a moment he could not possibly accept it?" -derisively. "Sometimes I hate you!" - -"In these days filial devotion is a lost art." - -"No, no; it is a flower parents have ceased to cultivate." - -And there was in the tone a strained note which described an intense -longing to be loved. For if George Percival Algernon Jones was a lonely -young man, it was the result of his own blindness; whereas Fortune -Chedsoye turned hither and thither in search of that which she never -could find. The wide Lybian desert held upon its face a loneliness, a -desolation, less mournful than that which reigned within her heart. - -"Hush! We are growing sentimental," warned the mother. "Besides, I -believe we are attracting attention." Her glance swept a half-circle -complacently. - -"Pardon me! I should be sorry to draw attention to you, knowing how you -abhor it." - -"My child, learn from me; temper is the arch-enemy of smooth -complexions. Jones--it makes you laugh." - -"It is a homely, honest name." - -"I grant that. But a Percival Algernon Jones!" Mrs. Chedsoye laughed -softly. It was one of those pleasant sounds that caused persons within -hearing to wait for it to occur again. "Come; let us go up to the room. -It is a dull, dusty journey in from Port Saïd." - -Alone, Fortune was certain that for her mother her heart knew nothing -but hate. Neglect, indifference, injustice, misunderstanding, the chill -repellence that always met the least outreaching of the child's -affections, the unaccountable disappearances, the terror of the unknown, -the blank wall of ignorance behind which she was always kept, upon these -hate had builded her dark and brooding retreat. Yet, never did the -mother come within the radius of her sight that she did not fall under -the spell of strange fascination, enchaining, fight against it how she -might. A kindly touch of the hand, a single mother-smile, and she would -have flung her arms about the other woman's neck. - -But the touch and the mother-smile never came. She knew, she understood: -she wasn't wanted, she hadn't been wanted in the beginning; to her -mother she was as the young of animals, interesting only up to that time -when they could stand alone. That the mother never made and held -feminine friendships was in nowise astonishing. Beauty and charm, such -as she possessed, served immediately to stimulate envy in other women's -hearts. And that men of all stations in life flocked about her, why, it -is the eternal tribute demanded of beauty. Here and there the men were -not all the daughter might have wished. Often they burnt sweet flattery -at her shrine, tentatively; but as she coolly stamped out these -incipient fires, they at length came to regard her as one regards the -beauty of a frosted window, as a thing to admire and praise in passing. -One ache always abided: the bitter knowledge that had she met in kind -smile for smile and jest for jest, she might have been her mother's boon -companion. But deep back in some hidden chamber of her heart lay a -secret dread of such a step, a dread which, whenever she strove to -analyze it, ran from under her investigating touch, as little balls of -quicksilver run from under the pressure of a thumb. - -She was never without the comforts of life, well-fed, well-dressed, -well-housed, and often her mother flung her some jeweled trinket which -(again that sense of menace) she put away, but never wore. The bright -periods were when they left her in the little villa near Mentone, with -no one but her old and faithful nurse. There, with her horse, her books -and her flowers, she was at peace. Week into week and month into month -she was let be. Never a letter came, save from some former schoolmate -who was coming over and wanted letters of introduction to dukes and -duchesses. If she smiled over these letters it was with melancholy; for -the dukes and duchesses, who fell within her singular orbit, were not -the sort to whom one gave letters of introduction. - -Where her mother went she never had the least idea. She might be in any -of the great ports of the world, anywhere between New York and Port -Saïd. The Major generally disappeared at the same time. Then, perhaps, -she'd come back from a pleasant tram-ride over to Nice and find them -both at the villa, maid and luggage. Mayhap a night or two, and off -they'd go again; never a word about their former journey, -uncommunicative, rather quiet. These absences, together with the -undemonstrative reappearances, used to hurt Fortune dreadfully. It gave -her a clear proof of where she stood, exactly nowhere. The hurt had -lessened with the years, and now she didn't care much. Like as not, they -would drag her out of Eden for a month or two, for what true reason she -never could quite fathom, unless it was that at times her mother liked -to have the daughter near her as a foil. - -At rare intervals she saw steel-eyed, grim-mouthed men wandering up and -down before the gates of the Villa Fanny, but they never rang the bell, -nor spoke to her when she passed them on the street. If she talked of -these men, her mother and the Major would exchange amused glances, -nothing more. - -If, rightly or wrongly, she hated her mother, she despised her uncle, -who was ever bringing to the villa men of money, but of coarse fiber, -ostensibly with the view of marrying her off. But Fortune had her -dreams, and she was quite content to wait. - -There was one man more persistent than the others. Her mother called him -Horace, which the Major mellowed into Hoddy. He was tall, blond, -good-looking, a devil-may-care, educated, witty, amusing; and in evening -dress he appeared to be what it was quite evident he had once been, a -gentleman. At first she thought it strange that he should make her, -instead of her mother, his confidante. As to what vocation he pursued, -she did not know, for he kept sedulous guard over his tongue; but his -past, up to that fork in the road where manhood says good-by to youth, -was hers. And in this direction, clever and artful as the mother was, -she sought in vain to wrest this past from her daughter's lips. To the -mother, it was really necessary for her to know who this man really was, -had been, knowing thoroughly as she did what he was now. - -Persistent he undeniably was, but never coarse nor rude. Since that time -he had come bade from the casino at Monte Carlo, much the worse for -wine, she feared him; yet, in spite of this fear, she had for him a -vague liking, a hazy admiration. Whatever his faults might be, she stood -witness to his great physical strength and courage. He was the only man, -among all those who appeared at the Villa Fanny and immediately -vanished, who returned again. And he, too, soon grew to be a part of -this unreal drama, arriving mysteriously one day and departing the next. - -That a drama was being enacted under her eyes she no longer doubted; but -it was as though she had taken her seat among the audience in the middle -of the second act She could make neither head nor tail to it. - -Whenever she accompanied her mother upon these impromptu journeys, her -character, or rather her attitude, underwent a change. She swept aside -her dreams; she accepted the world as it was, saw things as they were; -laughed, but without merriment; jested, but with the venomed point. It -was the reverse of her real character to give hurt to any living thing, -but during these forced marches, as the Major humorously termed them, -and such they were in truth, she could no more stand against giving the -cruel stab than, when alone in her garden, she could resist the tender -pleasure of succoring a fallen butterfly. She was especially happy in -finding weak spots in her mother's armor, and she never denied herself -the thrust. Mrs. Chedsoye enjoyed these sharp encounters, for it must be -added that she gave as good as she took, and more often than not her -thrusts bit deeper and did not always heal. - -Fortune never asked questions relative to the family finances. If she -harbored any doubts as to their origin, to the source of their -comparative luxury, she never put these into speech. - -She had never seen her father, but she had often heard him referred to -as "that brute" or "that fool" or "that drunken imbecile." If a portrait -of him existed, Fortune had not yet seen it. She visited his lonely -grave once a year, in the Protestant cemetery, and dreamily tried to -conjure up what manner of man he had been. One day she plied her old -Italian nurse with questions. - -"Handsome? Yes, but it was all so long ago, _cara mia_, that I can not -describe him to you." - -"Did he drink?" Behind this question there was no sense of moral obloquy -as applying to the dead. - -"Sainted Mary! didn't all men drink their very souls into purgatory -those unreligious days?" - -"Had he any relatives?" - -"I never heard of any." - -"Was he rich?" - -"No; but when the signora, your mother, married him she thought he was." - -It was not till later years that Fortune grasped the true significance -of this statement. It illumined many pages. She dropped all -investigations, concluding wisely that her mother, if she were minded to -speak at all, could supply only the incidents, the details. - - * * * * * - -It was warm, balmy, like May in the northern latitudes. Women wore white -dresses and carried sunshades over their shoulders. A good band played -airs from the new light-operas, and at one side of the grand-stand were -tea-tables under dazzling linen. Fashion was out. Not all her votaries -enjoyed polo, but it was absolutely necessary to pretend that they did. -When they talked they discussed the Spanish dancer who paraded back and -forth across the tea-lawn. They discussed her jewels, her clothes, her -escort, and quite frankly her morals, which of the four was by all odds -the most popular theme. All agreed that she was handsome in a bold way. -This modification invariably distinguishes the right sort of women from -the wrong sort, from which there is no appeal to a higher court. They -could well afford to admit of her beauty, since the dancer was outside -what is called the social pale, for all that her newest escort was a -prince _incognito_. They also discussed the play at bridge, the dullness -of this particular season, the possibility of war between England and -Germany. And some one asked others who were the two well-gowned women -down in front, sitting on either side of the young chap in pearl-grey. -No one knew. Mother and daughter, probably. Anyhow, they knew something -about good clothes. Certainly they weren't ordinary tourists. They had -seen What's-his-name tip his hat; and this simple act would pass any one -into the inner shrine, for the general was not promiscuous. There, the -first-half was over. All down for tea! Thank goodness! - -George was happy. He was proud, too. He saw the glances, the nods of -approval. He basked in a kind of sunshine that was new. What an ass he -had been all his life! To have been afraid of women just because he was -Percival Algernon! What he should have done was to have gone forth -boldly, taken what pleasures he found, and laughed with the rest of -them. - -There weren't two other women in all Cairo to compare with these two. -The mother, shapely, elegant, with the dark beauty of a high-class -Spaniard, possessing humor, trenchant comment, keen deduction and -application; worldly, cynical, high-bred. The student of nations might -have tried in vain to place her. She spoke the French of the Parisians, -the Italian of the Florentines, the German of the Hanoverians, and her -English was the envy of Americans and the wonder of the Londoners. The -daughter fell behind her but little, but she was more reserved. The -worldly critic called this good form: no daughter should try to outshine -her widowed mother. - -As Fortune sat beside the young collector that afternoon, she marveled -why they had given him Percival Algernon. Jones was all right, solid -and substantial, but the other two turned it into ridicule. Still, what -was the matter with Percival Algernon? History had given men of these -names mighty fine things to accomplish. Then why ridicule? Was it due to -the perverted angle of vision created by wits and humorists in the comic -weeklies, who were eternally pillorying these unhappy prefixes to -ordinary cognomens? And why this pillorying? She hadn't studied the -subject sufficiently to realize that the business of the humorist is not -so much to amuse as to warn persons against becoming ridiculous. And -Percival Algernon Jones was all of that. It resolved itself into a -matter of values, then. Had his surname been Montmorency, Percival -Algernon would have fitted as a key to its lock. She smiled. No one but -a fond mother would be guilty of such a crime. And if she ever grew to -know him well enough, she was going to ask him all about this mother. - -What interest had her own mother in this harmless young man? Oh, some -day she would burst through this web, this jungle; some day she would -see beyond the second act! What then? she never troubled to ask -herself; time enough when the moment arrived. - -"I had an interesting adventure last night, a most interesting one," -began George, who was no longer the shy, blundering recluse. They were -on the way back to town. - -"Tell it me," said Mrs. Chedsoye. - -He leaned over from his seat beside the chauffeur of the hired -automobile. (Hang the expense on a day like this!) "A fellow brought me -a rug last night, one of the rarest outside the museums. How and where -he got it I'm not fully able to state. But he had been in a violent -struggle somewhere, arms slashed, shins battered. He admitted that he -had gone in where many shapes of death lurked. It was a bit irregular. I -bought the rug, however. Some one else would have snatched it up if I -hadn't. I wanted him to recount the adventure, but he smiled and -refused. I tell you what it is, these eastern ports are great places." - -"How interesting!" Mrs. Chedsoye's color was not up to the mark. "He was -not seriously wounded?" - -"Oh, no. He looks like a tough individual. I mean, a chap strong and -hardy enough to put himself out of pretty bad holes. He needed the -money." - -"Did he give his name?" asked Fortune. - -"Yes; but no doubt it was assumed. Ryanne and he spelt it with an 'ne,' -and humorously explained why he did so." - -"Is he young, old, good-looking, or what?" - -Mrs. Chedsoye eyed her offspring through narrowed lids. - -"I should say that he was about thirty-five, tall, something of an -athlete; and there remains some indications that in the flush of youth -he was handsome. Odd. He reminded me of a young man who was on the -varsity eleven--foot-baller--when I entered my freshman year. I didn't -know him, but I was a great admirer of his from the grand-stand. Horace -Wadsworth was _his_ name." - -Horace Wadsworth. Fortune had the sensation of being astonished at -something she had expected to happen. - -Just before going down to dinner that night, Fortune turned to her -mother, her chin combative in its angle. - -"I gave Mr. Jones a hundred and fifty pounds out of that money you left -in my care. Knowing how forgetful you are, I took the liberty of -attending to the affair myself." - -She expected a storm, but instead her mother viewed her with appraising -eyes. Suddenly she laughed mellowly. Her sense of humor was too -excitable to resist so delectable a situation. - -"You told him, of course, that the money came from me?" demanded Mrs. -Chedsoye, when she could control her voice. - -"Surely, since it did come from you." - -"My dear, my dear, you are to me like the song in _The Mikado_," and she -hummed lightly-- - - "'To make the prisoner pent - Unwillingly represent - A source of innocent merriment, - Of innocent merriment!'" - -"Am I a prisoner, then?" - -"Whatever you like; it can not be said that I ever held you on the -leash," taking a final look into the mirror. - -"What is the meaning of this rug? You and I know who stole it. - -"I have explicitly warned you, my child, never to meddle with affairs -that do not concern you." - -"Indirectly, some of yours do. You are in love with Ryanne, as he calls -himself." - -"My dear, you do not usually stoop to such vulgarity. And are you -certain that he has any other name?" - -"If I were I should not tell you." - -"Ah!" - -"A man will tell the woman he loves many things he will not tell the -woman he admires." - -"As wise as the serpent," bantered the mother; but she looked again into -the mirror to see if her color was still what it should be. "And whom -does he admire?" the Mona Lisa smile hovering at the corners of her -lips. - -"You," evenly. - -Mrs. Chedsoye thought for a moment, thought deeply and with new insight. -It was no longer a child but a woman, and mayhap she had played upon the -taut strings of the young heart once too often. Still, she was unafraid. - -"And whom does he love?" - -"Me. Shall I get you the rouge, mother?" - -Still with that unchanging smile, the woman received the stab. "My -daughter," as if speculatively, "you will get on. You haven't been my -pupil all these years for nothing. Let us go down to dinner." - -Fortune, as she silently followed, experienced a sense of disconcertion -rather than of elation. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -MOONLIGHT AND POETRY - - -A ball followed dinner that night, Wednesday. The ample lounging-room -filled up rapidly after coffee: officers in smart uniforms and spurs, -whose principal function in times of peace is to get in everybody's way, -rowel exposed ankles, and demolish lace ruffles, Egyptians and Turks and -sleek Armenians in somber western frock and scarlet eastern fez or -_tarboosh_, women of all colors (meaning, of course, as applied) and -shapes and tastes, the lean and fat, the tall and short, such as _Billy -Taylor_ is said to have kissed in all the ports, and tail-coats of as -many styles as Joseph's had patches. George could distinguish his -compatriots by the fit of the trousers round the instep; the Englishman -had his fitted at the waist and trusted in Providence for the hang of -the rest. This trifling detective work rather pleased George. The women, -however, were all Eves to his eye; liberal expanses of beautiful white -skin, the bare effect being modified by a string of pearls or diamonds -or emeralds, and hair which might or might not have been wholly their -own. He waited restlessly for the reappearance of Mrs. Chedsoye and her -daughter. All was right with the world, except that he was to sail -altogether too soon. His loan had been returned, and he knew that his -former suspicions had been most unworthy. Mrs. Chedsoye had never -received his note. - -Some one was sitting down beside him. It was Ryanne, in evening clothes, -immaculate, blasé, pink-cheeked. There are some men so happily framed -that they can don ready-made suits without calling your attention to the -fact. George saw at once that the adventurer was one of these fortunate -individuals. - -"Makes a rather good picture to look at; eh?" began Ryanne, rolling a -flake-tobacco cigarette. "Dance?" - -"No. Wish I could. You've done quick work," with admiring inspection. -"Not a flaw anywhere. How do you do it?" - -"Thanks. Thanks to you, I might say. I did some tall hustling, though. -Strange, how we love these funeral toggeries. We follow the dance and we -follow the dead, with never a variation in color. The man who invented -the modern evening clothes must have done good business during the day -as chief-mourner." - -"Why don't you send for your luggage?" - -Ryanne caressed his chin. "My luggage is, I believe, in the hands of the -enemy. It is of no great importance. I never carry anything of value, -save my skin. I'm not like the villain in the melodrama; no -incriminating documents, no lost wills, no directions for digging up -pirates' gold." - -"I suppose you'll soon be off for America?" George asked indifferently. - -"I suppose so. By the way, I saw you at the game to-day." - -"No! Where were you?" - -"Top row. I am going to ask a favor of you. It may sound rather odd to -your ears, but I know those two ladies rather well. I kept out of the -way till I could find some clothes. The favor I ask is that you will not -tell them anything regarding the circumstances of our meeting. I am -known to them as a globe-trotter and a collector." - -"That's too bad," said George contritely. "But I have already told -them." - -"The devil you have!" Ryanne dropped his cigarette into the ash-tray. -"If I remember rightly, you asked me to say nothing." - -"I know," said George, visibly embarrassed. "I forgot." - -"Well, the fat is in the fire. I dare say that I can get round it. It -was risky. Women like to talk. I expect every hour to hear of some one -arriving from Bagdad." - -"There's no boat from that direction till next week," informed George, -who was a stickler on time-tables. - -"There are other ways of getting into Egypt. Know anything about -racing-camels?" - -"You don't believe...?" - -"My friend I believe in all things that haven't been proved impossible. -You've been knocking about here long enough to know something of the -tenacity of the Arab and the East Indian. Given a just cause, an idol's -eye or a holy carpet, and they'll follow you round the world ten times, -if need be. I never worry needlessly, but I lay out before me all the -points in the game. There is one man in Bagdad who will never cease to -think of me. This fellow is an Arab, Mahomed-El-Gebel by name, the real -article, proud and savage, into whose keeping the Holy Yhiordes was -given; Mahomed-El-Gebel, the Pasha's right-hand, a sheik in his own -right." - -"But you haven't got the rug now." - -"No, Mr. Jones, I haven't; but on the other hand, you have. So, here we -are together. When he gets through with me, your turn." - -George laughed. Ryanne grew thoughtful over this sign. Percival Algernon -did not seem exactly worried. - -"Aren't you a little afraid?" - -"I? Why should I be?" inquired George innocently. "Certainly, whatever -your Arab friend's arguments may be, moral or physical, I'm going to -keep that Yhiordes." - -Was he bluffing? Ryanne wondered. Did he really have nerve? Well, -within forty-eight hours there would come a test. - -"Say, do you know, I rather wish you'd been with me on that trip--that -is, if you like a rough game." Ryanne said this in all sincerity. - -"I have never been in a rough game, as you call it; but I've often had a -strong desire to be, just to find out for myself what sort of a duffer I -am." - -Ryanne had met this sort of man before; the fellow who wanted to know -what stuff he was made of, and was ready to risk his hide to find out. -His experience had taught him to expect nothing of the man who knew just -what he was going to do in a crisis. - -"Did you ever know, Mr. Jones," said Ryanne, his eyes humorous, "that -there is an organization in this world of ours, a company that offers a -try-out to men of your kidney?" - -"What's that? What do you mean?" - -"What I say. There is an established concern which will, upon -application for a liberal purchase of stock, arrange any kind of -adventure you wish." - -"What?" George drew in his legs and sat up. "What sort of a jolly is -this?" - -"You put your finger upon the one great obstacle. No one will believe -that such a concern exists. Yet it is a fact. And why not?" - -"Because it wouldn't be real; it would be going to the moon _à la_ Coney -Island." - -"Wrong, absolutely wrong. If I told you that I am a stock-holder in this -company, and that the adventure of the Yhiordes rug was arranged for my -special benefit, what would you say?" - -"Say?" George turned a serious countenance toward the adventurer. "Why, -the whole thing is absurd on the face of it. As a joke, it might go; but -as a genuine affair, utterly impossible." - -"No," quietly. "I admit that it sounds absurd, yes; but ten years ago -they'd have locked up, as insane, a man who said that he could fly. But -think of last summer at Paris, at Rheims, at Frankfort; the Continental -air was full of flying-machines. Bah! It's pretty difficult to impress -the average mind with something new. Why shouldn't we cater to the -poetic, the romantic side of man? We've concerns for everything else. -The fact is, mediocrity is always standing behind the corner with -brickbats for the initiative. Believe me or not, Mr. Jones, but this -company exists. The proof is that you have the rug and I have the -scars." - -"But in these prosaic times!" murmured George, still skeptical. - -"Prosaic times!" sniffed Ryanne. "There's one of your brickbats. They -swung it at the head of the first printer. Prosaic times! My friend, -this is the most romantic and bewildering age humanity has yet seen. -There's more romance and adventure going about on wheels and -steel-bottoms than ever there was in the days of Drake and the -Spanish galleons. There's an adventure lurking round the nearest -corner--romance, too. What this organization does is to direct you; -after that you have to shift for yourself. But, like a first-rate -physical instructor, they never map out more than a man can do. They -gave me the rug. Your bones, on such a quest, would have been bleaching -upon the banks of the Tigris." - -"What the deuce is this company called?" George was enjoying the -conversation immensely. - -"The United Romance and Adventure Company, Ltd., of London, Paris, and -New York." - -"Have you any of the company's paper with you?" George repressed his -laughter because Ryanne's face was serious enough. - -"Unfortunately, no. But if you will give me your banker's address I'll -be pleased to forward you the prospectus." - -"Knauth, Nachod and Kühne. I am shortly leaving for home. Better send it -to New York. I say, suppose a chap buys an adventure that is not up to -the mark; can he return it or exchange it for another?" - -"No. It's all chance, you know. The rules of the game are steel-bound. -We find you an adventure; it's up to you to make good." - -"But, once more, suppose a chap gets a little too rough a game, and -doesn't turn up for his dividends; what then?" - -"In that event," answered Ryanne sadly, "the stock reverts to the -general fund." - -George lay back in his chair and let go his laughter. "You are mighty -good company, Mr. Ryanne." - -"Well, well; we'll say nothing more about it. But a moment gone you -spoke as if you were game for an exploit." - -"I still am. But if I knew the adventure was prearranged, as you say, -and I was up against a wall, there would be the inclination to cable the -firm for more instructions." - -Ryanne himself laughed this time. "That's a good idea. I don't believe -the company ever thought of such a contingency. But I repeat, our -business is to give you the kick-off. After that you have to fight for -your own downs." - -"The stock isn't listed?" again laughing. - -"Scarcely. One man tells another, as I tell you, and so on." - -"You send me the prospectus. I'm rather curious to have a look at it." - -"I certainly shall do so," replied Ryanne, with gravity unassumed. "Ah! -Here come Mrs. Chedsoye and her daughter. If you don't mind, I'll make -myself scarce. I do not care to see them just now, after your having -told them about the stolen Yhiordes." - -"I'm sorry," said George, rising eagerly. - -"It's all in the game," gallantly. - -George saw him gracefully manoeuver his way round the crush toward the -stairs leading to the bar. Really, he would like to know more about -this amiable free-lance. As the old fellows used to say, he little -dreamed that destiny, one of those things from Pandora's box, was -preparing a deeper and more intimate acquaintance. - -"And what has been amusing you, Mr. Jones?" asked Mrs. Chedsoye. "I saw -you laughing." - -"I was talking with the rug chap. He's a droll fellow. He said that he -had met you somewhere, but concluded not to renew the acquaintance, -since I told him that his adventure in part was known to you." - -"That is foolish. I rather enjoy meeting men of his stamp. Don't you, -Fortune?" - -"Sometimes," with a dry little smile. "I believe we have met him, -mother. There was something familiar about his head. Of course, we saw -him only from a distance." - -"I do not think there is any real harm in him," said George. "What made -me laugh was a singular proposition he set before me. He said he owned -stock in a concern called 'The United Romance and Adventure Company'; -and that for a specified sum of money, one could have any adventure one -pleased." - -"Did you ever hear of such a thing?" cried the mother merrily. Fortune -searched her face keenly. "The United Romance and Adventure Company! He -must have been joking. What did you say his name is?" - -"Ryanne. Joking is my idea exactly," George agreed. "The scheme is to -plunge the stock-holder into a real live adventure, and then let him -pull himself out the best way he can. Sounds good. He added that this -rug business was an instance of the success of the concern. There goes -the music. Do you dance, Miss Chedsoye?" - -"A little." Fortune was preoccupied. She was wondering what lay behind -Mr. Ryanne's amiable jest. - -"Go along, both of you," said Mrs. Chedsoye. "I am too old to dance. I -prefer watching people." She sat down and arranged herself comfortably. -She was always arranging herself comfortably; it was one of the secrets -of her perennial youth. She was very lovely, but George had eyes for the -daughter only. Mrs. Chedsoye saw this, but was not in the least -chagrined. - -"It is so many years since I tripped the light fantastic toe," George -confessed, reluctantly and nervously, now that he had bravely committed -himself. "It is quite possible that the accent will be primarily upon -the trip." - -"Perhaps, then," replied the girl, who truthfully was out of tune, -"perhaps I had better get my wraps and we'll go outside. The night is -glorious." - -She couldn't have suggested anything more to his liking. And so, after a -little hurrying about, the two young people went outside and began to -promenade slowly up and down the mole. Their conversation was desultory. -George had dropped back into his shell and the girl was not equal to the -task of drawing him out. Once he stumbled over a sleeping beggar, and -would have fallen had she not caught him by the arm. - -"Thanks. I'm clumsy." - -"It's rather difficult to see them in the moonlight; their rags match -the pavements." - -The Egyptian night, that sapphirine darkness which the flexible -imagination peoples with lovely and terrible shades, or floods with -mystery and romance and wonder, lay softly upon this strip of verdure -aslant the desert's face, the Valley of the Nile. The moon, round, -brilliant, strangely near, suffused the scarred old visage of the world -with phantom silver; the stones of the parapet glowed dully, the -pavement glistened whitely, all things it touched with gentleness, -lavishing beauty upon beauty, mellowing ugliness or effacing it. The -deep blue Nile, beribboned with the glancing lights from the silent -feluccas, curling musically along the sides of the frost-like dahabeahs -and steamers, rolled on to the sea; and the blue-white arc-lamps, -spanning the Great Nile Bridge, took the semblance of a pearl necklace. -From time to time a caravan trooped across the bridge into Cairo. The -high and low weird notes of the tom-toms, the wheezing protests of the -camels, the raucous defiance of the donkeys, the occasional thin music -of reeds, were sounds that crossed and recrossed one another, anciently. - -"Do you care for poetry, Mr. Jones?" - -"I? I used to write it." - -"And you aren't afraid to admit it?" - -"Well, I shouldn't confess the deed to every one," he answered frankly. -"We all write poetry at one time or another; but it's generally not -constitutional, and we recover." - -"I do not see why any one should be ashamed of writing poetry." - -"Ah, but there is poetry and poetry. My kind and Byron's is born of -kindred souls; but he was an active genius, whereas, I wasn't even a -passive one. In all great poets I find my own rejected thoughts, as -Emerson says; and that's enough for my slender needs. Poets are rather -uncomfortable chaps to have round. They are capricious, irritable, -temperamental, selfish, and usually demand all the attention." - -The little vocal stream dried up again, and once more they listened to -the magic sounds of the night. She stopped abruptly to look over the -parapet, and his shoulder met hers; after that the world to him was -never going to be the same again. - -Moonlight and poetry; not the safest channels to sail uncharted. The -girl was lonely, and George was lonely, too. His longing had now assumed -a definite form; hers moved from this to that, still indefinitely. The -quickness with which this definition had come to George rather startled -him. His first sight of Fortune Chedsoye had been but yesterday; yet, -here he was, not desperately but consciously in love with her. The -situation bore against all precepts; it ripped up his preconceived ideas -of romance as a gale at sea shreds a canvas. He felt a bit panicky. He -had always planned a courtship of a year or so, meetings, separations, -and remeetings, pleasurable expectations, little junkets to theatres and -country places; in brief, to witness the rose grow and unfold. Somewhere -he had read or heard that courtship was the plummet which sounded the -depths of compatibility. He knew nothing of Fortune Chedsoye, save that -she was beautiful to his eyes, and that she was as different from the -ordinary run of girls as yonder moon was from the stars. Here his -knowledge ended. But instinct went on, appraising and delving and -winnowing, and instinct told him what knowledge could not, that she was -all his heart desired. - -When a man finally decides that he is in love, his troubles begin, the -imaginary ones. Is he worthy? Can he always provide for her? Is it -possible for such a marvelous creature to love an insignificant chap -like himself? And that worst of mental poisons, is she in love with any -one else? What to do to win her? The feats of Hercules, of Perseus, of -Jason: what mad piece of heroism can he lay his hand to that he may wake -the slumbering fires, and having roused them, continue to feed them? - -Manhood, meaning that decade between thirty and forty, looks upon this -phase, abashed. After all, it wasn't so terrible; there were vaster -emotions, vaster achievements in life to which in comparison love was as -a candle held to the sun. - -Again she stopped, leaning over the parapet and staring down at the -water swirling past the stone embankment. He did likewise, resting upon -his folded arms. Suddenly his tongue became alive; and quietly, without -hesitancy or embarrassment, he began to tell her of his school life, his -life at home. And the manner in which he spoke of his mother warmed her; -and she was strangely and wonderingly attracted. - -"Of course, the mother meant the best in the world when she gave me -Percival Algernon; and because she meant the best, I have rarely tried -to hide them. What was good enough for her to give was good enough for -me to keep. It is simply that I have been foolish about it, -supersensitive. I should have laughed and accepted the thing as a joke; -instead, I made the fatal move of trying to run away and hide. But, -taking the name in full," lightly, "it sounds as incongruous as playing -_Traumerei_ on a steam-piano." - -He expected her to laugh, but her heart was too full of the old ache. -This young man, kindly, gentle, intelligent, if shy, was a love-child. -And she? An offspring, the loneliest of the lonely, the child that -wasn't wanted. Many a time she had thought of flinging all to the winds, -of running away and hiding where they never should find her, of working -with her own hands for her bread and butter. Little they'd have cared. -But always the rebel spirit died within her as she stepped outside the -villa gates. To leave behind for unknown privations certain assured -comforts, things of which she was fond, things to which she was used, -she couldn't do it, she just couldn't. Morally and physically she was a -little coward. - -"Let us go in," she said sharply. Another moment, and she would have -been in tears. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -RYANNE TABLES HIS CARDS - - -During this time Mrs. Chedsoye, the Major, Messrs. Ryanne and Wallace, -officers and directors in the United Romance and Adventure Company, -Ltd., sat in the Major's room, round the boudoir-stand which had -temporarily been given the dignity of a table. The scene would not have -been without interest either to the speculative physiognomist or to the -dramatist. To each it would have represented one of those astonishing -moments when the soul of a person comes out into the open, as one might -express it, incautiously, to be revealed in the expressions of the eyes -and the mouth. These four persons were about going forward upon a -singularly desperate and unusual enterprise. From now on they were no -longer to fence with one another, to shift from this topic to that, -with the indirect manoeuvers of a house-cat intent upon the quest of -the Friday mackerel. The woman's face was alive with eagerness; the -oldest man looked from one to the other with earnest calculation; -Wallace no longer hid his cupidity; Ryanne's immobility of countenance -was in itself a tacit admission to the burning of all his bridges that -he might become a part of this conclave. - -"Smuggling," said the Major, with prudent lowering of voice, evidently -continuing some previous debate, "smuggling is a fine art, a keen -sporting proposition; and the consequences of discovery are never very -serious. What's a fine of a thousand dollars against the profits of many -successful excursions into the port of New York? Nothing, comparatively. -For several years, now, we have carried on this business with the utmost -adroitness. Never have we drawn serious attention. We have made two or -three blunders, but the suspicions of the secret-service were put to -sleep upon each occasion. We have prospered. Here is a gem, let us say, -worth on this side a thousand; over there we sell it for enough to give -us a clean profit of three or four hundred. Forty per cent. upon our -investment. That ought to be enough for any reasonable person. Am I -right?" - -Mrs. Chedsoye alone was unresponsive to this appeal. - -"I continue, then. We are making enough to lay by something for our old -age. And that's the only goal which never loses its luster. But this -affair!" - -"Talk, talk," said Mrs. Chedsoye impatiently. - -"My dear Kate, allow me to relieve my mind." - -"You have done so till the topic is threadbare. It is rather late in the -day to go over the ground again. Time is everything just now." - -"Admitted. But this affair, Kate, is big; big with dangers, big with -pitfalls; there is a hidden menace in every step of it. Mayhap death; -who knows? The older I grow, the more I cling to material comforts, to -enterprises of small dangers. However, as you infer, there's no going -back now." - -"No," assented Ryanne, his mouth hard; "not if I have to proceed alone." - -She smiled at him. "You talk of danger," speaking to the Major. "What -danger can there be?" - -"The unforeseen danger, the danger of which we know nothing, and -therefore are unable to prepare for it. You do not see it, my dear, but -it is there, nevertheless." - -Wallace nodded approvingly. Ryanne shrugged. - -"Failure is practically impossible. And I want excitement; I crave it as -you men crave your tobacco." - -"And there we are, Kate. It really isn't the gold; it's the excitement -of getting it and coming away unscathed. If I could only get you to look -at all sides of the affair! It's the Rubicon." - -"I accept it as such. I am tired of petty things. I repeat, failure is -not possible. Have I not thought it out, detail by detail, mapped out -each line, anticipated dangers by eliminating them?" - -"All but that one danger of which we know nothing. You're a great woman, -Kate. You have, as you say, made ninety-nine dangers out of a hundred -impossible. Let us keep an eye out for that hundredth. Our photographs -have yet to grace the rogues' gallery." - -"With one exception." Ryanne's laughter was sardonic. - -"Whose?" shot the Major. - -"Mine. A round and youthful phiz, a silky young mustache. But rest -easy; there's no likeness between that and the original one I wear now." - -"You never told us...." began Mrs. Chedsoye. - -"There was never any need till now. Eight years ago. Certain powers that -be worked toward my escape. But I was never to return. You will -recollect that I have always remained this side. Enough. What I did does -not matter. I will say this much: my crime was in being found out. One -venture into New York and out to sea again; they will not have a chance. -I doubt if any could recall the circumstances of my meteoric career. You -will observe that I am keyed for anything. Let us get to work. It -doesn't matter, anyhow." - -"You did not...." Mrs. Chedsoye hesitated. - -"Blood?" reading her thought. "No, Gioconda; my hands are guiltless, at -least they were till this Bagdad affair; and I am not sure there. I was -a trusted clerk; I gambled; I took money that did not belong to me. And -here I am, room number 208." - -"It doesn't matter. Come, Kate; don't stare at Hoddy as if he were a new -species." The Major smoothed the ends of his mustache. "This confession -will be good for his soul." - -"Yes, Gioconda; I feel easier now. I am heart and soul in this affair. I -need excitement, too. Lord, yes. When I went to Bagdad, I had no idea -that I should ever lay eyes upon that rug. But I did. And there's the -emeralds, too, Major." - -The Major rubbed his hands pleasurably. "Yes, yes; the emeralds; I had -not forgotten them. One hundred lovely green stones, worth not a penny -under thirty thousand. A fine collection. But another idea has taken -possession of this teeming brain of mine. Have you noticed how this -fellow Jones hovers about Fortune? He's worth a million, if he's worth a -cent. I am sure, in pure gratitude, she would see to it that her loved -ones were well taken care of in their old age." - -"I am going to marry Fortune myself," said Ryanne blandly. - -"You?" The Major was nonplussed. - -Wallace shuffled his feet uneasily. This blond companion of his was -always showing kinks in his nature, kinks that rarely ever straightened -out. - -"Yes. And why not? What is she to either you or her mother? Nothing. -Affection you have never given her, being unable. It surprises you; but, -nevertheless, I love her, and I am going to marry her." - -"Really?" said Mrs. Chedsoye. - -"Even so." - -"You are a fool, Horace!" with rising fury. So then, the child had not -jibed her in a moment of pique? - -"Men in love generally are fools. I've never spoken before, because you -never absolutely needed me till now. There's my cards, pat." - -Mrs. Chedsoye's fury deepened, but not visibly. "You are welcome to her, -if she will have you." - -"Yes," supplemented the Major; "if she will have you, my friend, take -her, and our benedictions." - -Ryanne's shoulders stirred suggestively. - -"Of course, I expect to have the final word to say on the subject. She -is my daughter," said Mrs. Chedsoye. - -"A trifling accident, my dear Gioconda," smiled Ryanne; "merely that." - -"Just a little oil, just a little oil," the Major pleaded anxiously. -"Dash it all, this is no time for a row of this silly order. But it's -always the way," irritably. "A big enterprise, demanding a single -purpose, and a trifle like this to upset it all!" - -"I am ready for business at any moment." - -"And you, Kate?" - -"We'll say no more about it till the affair is over. After that...." - -"Those who live will see, eh?" Ryanne rolled a cigarette. - -"To business, then. In the first place, Mr. Jones must not reach the -_Ludwig_!" - -"He will not." Ryanne spoke with quiet assurance. - -"He will not even see that boat," added Wallace, glad to hear the sound -of his voice again. - -"Good. But, mind, no rough work." - -"Leave it all to me," said Ryanne. "The United Romance and Adventure -Company will give him an adventure on approval, as it were." - -"To you, then. The report from New York reads encouragingly. Our friends -there are busy. They are merely waiting for us. From now on Percival -Algernon must receive no more mail, telegrams or cables." - -"I'll take care of that also." Ryanne looked at Mrs. Chedsoye musingly. - -"His real-estate agent will wire him, possibly to-morrow." - -"In that event, he will receive a cable signifying that the transaction -is perfectly correct." - -"He may also inquire as to what to do with the valuables in the -wall-safe." - -"He will be instructed to touch nothing, as the people who will occupy -the house are old friends." Ryanne smoked calmly. - -"Wallace, you will return to New York at once." - -"I thought I was wanted here?" - -"No longer." - -"All right; I'm off. I'll sail on the _Prince Ludwig_, state-room 118. -I'll have my joke by the way." - -"You will do nothing of the kind. You will have a state-room by -yourself," said Mrs. Chedsoye crisply. "And no wine, no cards. If you -fail, I'll break you...." - -"As we would a churchwarden's pipe, Wallace, my lad." Ryanne gripped his -companion by the shoulder, and there was enough pressure in the grip to -cause the recipient to wince. - -"Well, well; I'll lay a straight course." Wallace slid his shoulder from -under Ryanne's hand. - -"To you, then, Hoddy, the business of quarantining our friend Percival. -Don't hurt him; simply detain him. You must realize the importance of -this. Have you your plans?" - -"I'll perfect them to-morrow. I shall find a way, never fear." - -"Does the rug come in anywhere?" The Major was curious. It sometimes -seemed to him that Ryanne did not always lay his cards face up upon the -table. - -"It will play its part. Besides, I am rather inclined to the idea of -taking it back. It may be the old wishing-carpet. In that case, it will -come in handy. Who knows?" - -"How much is it worth?" - -"Ah, Major, Percival himself could not say exactly. He gave me a -thousand pounds for it." - -"A thousand pounds!" murmured Wallace. - -The Major struck his hands lightly together. Whether in applause or -wonder he alone knew. - -"And it was worth every shilling of it, too. I'll tell you the story -some day. There are a dozen ways of suppressing Percival, but I must -have something appealing to my artistic side." - -"You have never told us your real name, Horace," Mrs. Chedsoye bent -toward him. - -He laughed. "I must have something to confess to you in the future, dear -Gioconda." - -"Well, the meeting adjourns, _sine die_." - -"What are you going to do with Fortune?" demanded Ryanne. - -"Send her back to Mentone." - -"What the deuce did you bring her here for, knowing what was in the -wind?" - -"She expressed a desire to see Cairo again," answered Mrs. Chedsoye. - -"We never deny her anything." The Major rose and yawned suggestively. - -In the corridor, Ryanne whispered softly: "Why not, Gioconda?" - -"She shall never marry a man of your stamp," coldly. - -"Charming mother! How tenderly you have cherished her!" - -"Horace," calmly enough, "is it wise to anger me?" - -"It may not be wise, but I have never seen you in a rage. You would be -magnificent." - -"Cease this foolery," patiently. "I am in no mood for it to-night. As an -associate in this equivocal business, you do very well; you are -necessary. But do not presume too much upon that. For all that I may not -have been what a mother should be, I still have some self-respect. So -long as I have any power over her, Fortune shall never marry a man so -far down in the social scale as yourself." - -"Social scale? Gioconda, how you hurt me!" mockingly. "I should really -like to know what your idea of that invincible barrier is. Is it because -my face is in the rogues' gallery? Surely, you would not be cruel!" - -"She is far above us all, my friend," continuing unruffled. "Sometimes I -stand in absolute awe of her." - -"A marvel! If my recollection is not at fault, many a man has entered -the Villa Fanny, with a view to courtship, men beside whom I am as -Roland to the lowest Saracen. You never objected to them." - -"They had money and position." - -"Magic talisman! And if I had money and position?" - -"My objections would be no less strong." - -"Your code puzzles me. You would welcome as a son-in-law a man who stole -openly the widow's mite, while I, who harass none but the predatory -rich, must dwell in the outland? Rank injustice!" - -"You couldn't take care of her." - -"Yes, I could. With but little effort I could make these two hands as -honest as the day is long." - -"I have my doubts," smiling a little. - -"Suppose, for the sake of an argument, suppose Fortune accepted me?" - -Mrs. Chedsoye's good humor returned. She knew her daughter tolerably -well; the child had a horror of men. "Poor Horace! Do you build upon -that?" - -"Less, perhaps, than upon my own bright invention. My suit, then, to be -brief, is rejected?" - -"Emphatically. I have spoken." - -"Oh, well; the feminine prerogative shall be mine, the last word. Good -night; _dormi bene_!" He bowed grandly and turned toward his own room. - -He possessed that kind of mockery which was the despair of those at whom -it was directed. They never knew whether his mood was one of harmless -fun or of deadly intent. And rather than mistake the one quality for the -other, they generally pretended to ignore. Mrs. Chedsoye, who had a -similar talent, was one of the few who felt along the wall as one does -in the dark, instinctively. To-night she recognized that there was no -harmless fun but a real desperateness behind the mask; and she had held -in her temper with a firm hand. This was not the hour for a clash. She -shivered a little; and for the first time in the six or seven years she -had known him, she faced a fear of him. His great strength, his reckless -courage, his subtle way of mastering men by appearing to be mastered by -them, held her in the thrall of a peculiar fascination which, in quiet -periods, she looked upon as something deeper. Marriage was not to her an -ideal state, nor was there any man, living or dead, who had appealed to -the physical side of her. But he was in the one sex what she was in the -other; and while she herself would never have married him, she raged -inwardly at the possibility of his wanting another woman. - -To her the social fabric which holds humanity together was merely a -convenience; the moral significance touched neither her heart nor her -mind. In her the primordial craving for ease, for material comforts, -pretty trinkets and gowns was strongest developed. It was as if this -sense had been handed down to her, untouched by contact with -progression, from the remote ages, that time between the fall of Roman -civilization and where modern civilization began. In short, a beautiful -barbarian, whose intellect alone had advanced. - -Fortune was asleep. The mother went over to the bed and gently shook the -slim, round arm which lay upon the coverlet. The child's nature lay -revealed as she opened her eyes and smiled. It did not matter that the -smile instantly changed to a frowning inquiry. The mother spoke truly -when she said that there were times when she stood in awe of this, her -flesh and blood. - -"My child, I wish to ask you a question, and for your own good answer -truthfully. Do you love Horace?" - -Fortune sat up and rubbed her eyes. "No." Had her wits been less -scattered she might have paltered. - -The syllable had a finality to it that reassured the mother more than a -thousand protestations would have done. - -"Good night," she said. - -Fortune lay down again and drew the coverlet up to her chin. With her -eyes shut she waited, but in vain. Her mother disrobed and sought her -own bed. - -Ryanne was intensely dissatisfied with himself. For once his desperate -mood had carried him too far. He had made too many confessions, had -antagonized a woman who was every bit as clever and ingenious as -himself. The enterprise toward which they were moving held him simply -because it was an exploit that enticed wholly his twisted outlook upon -life. There was a forbidding humor in the whole affair, too, which he -alone saw. The possible rewards were to him of secondary consideration. -It was the fun of the thing. It was the fun of the thing that had put -him squarely upon the wide, short road to perdition, which had made him -first a spendthrift, then a thief. The fun of the thing: sinister -phrase! A thousand times had he longed to go back, for he wasn't all -bad; but door after door had shut behind him; and now the single -purpose was to get to the end of the road by the shortest route. - -He did not deceive himself. His desperate mood was the result of an -infernal rage against himself, a rage against the weakness of his heart. -Fortune Chedsoye. Why had she not crossed his path at that time when he -might have been saved? And yet, would she have saved him? God alone -knew. - -He heard Jones stirring in his room next door. Presently all became -still. To sleep like that! He shrugged, threw off his coat, swept the -cover from the stand, found a pack of cards, and played solitaire till -the first pallor of dawn announced the new day. - -Reclining snugly against the parapet, wrapped in his tattered arbiyeh, -or cloak, his head pillowed upon his lean arm, motionless with that -pretended sleep of the watcher, Mahomed-El-Gebel kept his vigil. Miles -upon miles he had come, across three bleak, cold, blinding deserts, on -camels, in trains, on camels again, night and day, day and night, across -the soundless, yellow plains. Allah was good to the true believer. The -night was chill, but certain fires warmed his blood. All day long he -had followed the accursed, lying giaour, but never once had he wandered -into the native quarters of the city. Patience! What was a day, a week, -a year? Grains of sand. He could wait. _Inshalla!_ - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE PURLOINED CABLE - - -George, having made his bargain with conscience relative to the Yhiordes -rug, slept the sleep of the untroubled, of the just, of the man who had -nothing in particular to get up for. In fact, after having drunk his -breakfast cocoa and eaten his buttered toast, he evinced his -satisfaction by turning his face away from the attracting morning light -and passing off into sleep again. And thereby hangs this tale. - -So much depended upon his getting his mail as it came in that morning, -that Fate herself must have resisted sturdily the desire to shake him by -the shoulder. Perhaps she would have done so but for the serenity of his -pose and the infantile smile that lingered for a while round his lips. -Fate, as with most of us, has her sentimental lapses. - -The man next door, having no conscience to speak of (indeed, he had -derailed her while passing his twentieth meridian!), was up betimes. He -had turned in at four; at six he was strolling about the deserted -lounging-room, watching the entrances. It is inconceivable how easily -mail may be purloined in a large hotel. There are as many ways as points -to the wind. Ryanne chose the simplest. He waited for the mail-bag to be -emptied upon the head-porter's counter. Nonchalantly, but deftly, while -the porter looked on, the adventurer ran through the bulk. He found -three letters and a cable, the latter having been received by George's -bankers the day before and mailed directly to the hotel. The porter had -no suspicion that a bold theft was being committed under his very eyes. -Moreover, circumstances prevented his ever learning of it. Ryanne -stuffed the spoils into a pocket. - -"If any one asks for me," he said, "say that I shall be at my banker's, -the Anglo-Egyptian Bank, at ten o'clock." - -"Yes, sir," replied the porter, as he began to sort the rest of the -mail, not forgetting to peruse the postals. - -Ryanne went out into the street, walking rapidly into town. -Mahomed-El-Gebel shook the folds of his cloak and followed. The -adventurer did not slacken his gait till he reached Shepheard's Hotel. -Upon the steps he paused. Some English troops were marching past, on the -way to the railway station; the usual number of natives were patrolling -the sidewalks, dangling strings of imitation scarabs; a caravan of -pack-camels, laden with cotton, shuffled by haughtily; a blind beggar -sat on the curb in front, munching a piece of sugar-cane. Ryanne, -assured that no one he knew was about, proceeded into the writing-room, -wholly deserted at this early hour. - -He sat down at a desk and opened the cable. It contained exactly what he -expected. It was a call for advice in regard to the rental of Mr. George -P. A. Jones's mansion in New York and the temporary disposing of the -loose valuables. Ryanne read it over a dozen times, with puckered brow, -and finally balled it fiercely in his fist. Fool! He could not, at that -moment, remember the most essential point in the game, the name and -office of the agent to whom he must this very morning send reply. -Hurriedly he fished out the letters; one chance in a thousand. He swore, -but in relief. In the corner of one of the letters he saw that for some -unknown reason the gods were still with him. Reynolds and Reynolds, -estates, Broad Street; he remembered. He wrote out a reply on a piece of -hotel paper, intending to copy it off at the cable-office. This reply -covered the ground convincingly. "Renting for two months. Old friends. -Leave things as they are. P. A." The initials were a little stroke. From -some source Ryanne had picked up the fact that Jones's business -correspondence was conducted over those two initials. He tore up the -cable into small illegible squares and dropped some into one basket and -some into another. Next, he readdressed George's mail to Leipzig; -another stroke, meaning a delay of two or three months; from the head -office of his banker's there to Paris, Paris to Naples, Naples to New -York. That Ryanne did not open these letters was in nowise due to moral -suasion; whatever they contained could be of no vital importance to him. - -"Now, Horace, we shall bend the crook of our elbow in the bar-room. The -reaction warrants a stimulant." - -An hour later the whole affair was nicely off his hands. The cable had -cost him three sovereigns. But what was that? _Niente_, _rien_; nothing; -a mere bagatelle. For the first time in weeks a sense of security -invaded his being. - -It was by now nine o'clock; and Percival Algernon still reposed upon his -bed of ease. Let him sleep. Many days were to pass ere he would again -know the comfort of linen sheets, the luxury of down under his ear. - -What to do? mused the rogue. On the morrow Mr. Jones would leave for -Port Saïd. Ryanne shook his head and with his cane beat a light tattoo -against the side of his shin. Abduction was rather out of his sphere of -action. And yet, the suppression of Percival was by all odds the most -important move to be made. He had volunteered this service and -accomplish it he must, in face of all obstacles, or poof! went the whole -droll fabric. For to him it was droll, and never it rose in his mind -that he did not chuckle saturninely. It was a kind of nightmare where -one hung in mid-air, one's toes just beyond the flaming dragon's jaws. -The rewards would be enormous, but these he would gladly surrender for -the supreme satisfaction of turning the poisoned arrow in the heart of -that canting hypocrite, that smug church-deacon, the sanctimonious, the -sleek, the well-fed first-born. And poor Percival Algernon, for no blame -of his own, must be taken by the scruff of his neck and thrust bodily -into this tangled web of scheme and under-scheme. It was infinitely -humorous. - -He had had a vague plan regarding Mahomed, guardian of the Holy -Yhiordes, but it was not possible for him to be in Cairo at this early -date. That he would eventually appear Ryanne never doubted. He knew the -Oriental mind. Mahomed-El-Gebel would cross every barrier less effective -than death. It was a serious matter to the Moslem. If he returned to the -palace at Bagdad, minus the rug, it would mean free transportation to -the Arabian Gulf, bereft of the most important part of his excellent -anatomy, his head. Some day, if he lived, Ryanne intended telling the -exploit to some clever chap who wrote; it would look rather well in -print. - -To turn Mahomed against Percival as being the instigator would be an -adroit bit of work; and it would rid him of both of them. Gioconda said -that she wanted no rough work. How like a woman! Here was a man's game, -a desperate one; and Gioconda, not forgetting that it was her -inspiration, wanted it handled with gloves! It was bare-hand work, and -the sooner she was made to realize this, the better. It was no time for -tuning fiddles. - -Mahomed out of it, there was a certain English-Bar in the Quarter -Rosetti, a place of dubious repute. Many derelicts drifted there in -search of employment still more dubious. Dregs, scum; the bottom and the -top of the kettle; outcasts, whose hand and animus were directed against -society; black and brown and white men; not soldiers of fortune, like -Ryanne, but their camp-followers. In short, it was there (and Ryanne -still felt a dull shame of it) that Wallace, carrying the final -instructions of the enterprise, had found him, sleeping off the effects -of a shabby rout of the night before. It was there also that he had -heard of the history and the worth of the Yhiordes rug and the -possibility of its theft. He laughed. To have gone upon an adventure -like that, with nothing but the fumes of wine in his head! - -For a few pieces of gold he might enroll under his shady banner three or -four shining lights who would undertake the disposal of Percival. Not -that he wished the young man any harm--no; but business was business, -and in some way or another he must be made to vanish from the sight and -presence of men for at least two months. - -As for Major Callahan's unforeseen danger, the devil could look out for -that. - -Ryanne consulted his watch, a cheap but trustworthy article, costing a -dollar, not to be considered as an available asset. He would give it -away later in the day; for he had decided that while he was in funds -there would be wisdom in the purchase of a fine gold _Longines_. A good -watch, as every one knows, is always as easily converted into cash as a -London bank-note, providing, of course, one is lucky enough to possess -either. Many watches had he left behind, in this place or in that; and -often he had exchanged the ticket for a small bottle with a green neck. -Wherever fortune had gone against him heavily at cards, there he might -find his latest watch. Besides getting a new time-piece, he was -strongly inclined to leave the bulk of his little fortune in the -hotel-safe. One never could tell. - -And another good idea, he mused, as he swung the time-piece into his -vest-pocket, would be to add the splendor of a small white stone to his -modest scarf. There is only one well-defined precept among the sporting -fraternity: when flush, buy jewelry. Not to the cause of vanity, not at -all; but precious stones and gold watches constitute a kind of -reserve-fund against the evil day. When one has money in the pocket the -hand is quick and eager to find it. But jewelry is protected by a -certain quality of caution; it is not too readily passed over bars and -gaming-tables. While the pawnbroker stands between the passion and the -green-baize, there's food for thought. - -Having settled these questions to his satisfaction, there remained but -one other, how to spend his time. It would be useless to seek the -English-Bar before noon. Might as well ramble through the native town -and the bazaars. He might pick up some little curio to give to Fortune. -So he beckoned to an idle driver, climbed into the carriage, and was -driven off as if empires hung upon minutes. - -Ryanne never wearied of the bazaars in Cairo. They were to him no less -enchanting than the circus-parades of his youth. In certain ways, they -were not to be compared with those in Constantinople and Smyrna; but, on -the other hand, there was more light, more charm, more color. Perhaps -the magic nearness of the desert had something to do with it, the -rainless skies, the ever-recurring suggestions of antiquity. His lively -observation, his sense of the picturesque and the humorous, always close -to the surface, gave him that singular impetus which makes man a -prowler. This gift had made possible his success in old Bagdad. Some -years before he had prowled through the narrow city streets, had noted -the windings, the blind-alleys, and had never forgotten. Faces and -localities were written indelibly upon his memory. - -One rode to the bazaars, but walked through them or mounted donkeys. -Ryanne preferred his own legs. So did Mahomed. Once, so close did he -come that he could have put his two brown hands round the infidel's -throat. But, patience. Did not the Koran teach patience among the -higher laws? Patience. He could not, madly as he had dreamed, throttle -the white liar here in the bazaars. That would not bring the Holy -Yhiordes to his hands. He must wait. He must plan to lure the man out at -night, then to hurry him into the desert. Out into the desert, where no -man might be his master. Oh, the Holy Yhiordes should be his again; it -was written. - -The cries, the shouts, the tower of Babel reclaimed; the intermingling -of the races of the world: the Englishman, the American, the German, the -Italian, the Frenchman, the Greek, the Levantine, the purple-black -Ethiopian, the bronze Nubian; the veiled women, the naked children; all -the color-tones known to art, but predominating, that marvelous faded -tint of blue, the Cairene blue, in the heavens, in the waters, in the -dyes. - -"Make way, O my mother!" bawled a donkey-boy to the old crone peddling -matches. - -"Backsheesh! Backsheesh!" in the eight tones of the human voice. From -the beggar, his brother, his uncle, his grandfather, his children and -his children's children. "Backsheesh, backsheesh!" - -"To the right!" was shrilled into Ryanne's ear; and he dodged. A troop -of donkeys passed, laden with tourists, unhappy, fretful, -self-conscious. A water-carrier brushed against him, and he whiffed the -fresh dampness of the bulging goat-skin. A woman, the long, black -head-veil streaming out behind in the clutch of the monkey-like hand of -a toddling child, carried a terra-cotta water-jar upon her head. The -grace with which she moved, the abruptness of the color-changes, caught -Ryanne's roving eye and filled it with pleasure. - -Dust rose and subsided, eddied and settled; beggars blind and one-eyed -squatted in it, children tossed it in play, and beasts of burden -shuffled through it. - -The roar in front of the shops, the pressing and crowding of customers, -the high cries of the merchants; the gurgle of the water-pipes, the -pleasant fumes of coffee, the hardy loafers lolling before the khans or -caravansaries; a veiled face at a lattice-window; the violet shadows in -a doorway; the sunshine upon the soaring mosques; a true believer, -rocking and mumbling over his tattered Koran; gold and silver and -jewels; amber and copper and brass; embroideries and rugs and carpets; -and the pest of fleas, the plague of flies, the insidious smells. - -Rarely one saw the true son of the desert, the Bedouin. He disdained -streets and walls, and only necessity brought him here among the -polyglot and the polygon. - -Ryanne found himself inspecting "the largest emerald in the world, worth -twelve thousand pounds," which looked more like a fine hexagonal of onyx -than a gem. It was one of the curiosities of the bazaars, however, and -tourists were generally round it in force. To his experienced eye it was -no more than a fine specimen of emerald quartz, worth what any fool of a -collector was willing to pay for it. From this bazaar he passed on into -the next, and there he saw Fortune. - -And as Mahomed, always close at hand, saw the hard lines in Ryanne's -face soften, the cynical smile become tender, he believed he saw his way -to strike. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE BITTER FRUIT - - -Fortune had a hearty contempt for persons who ate their breakfast in -bed. For her the glory of the day was the fresh fairness of the morning, -when every one's step was buoyant, and all life stirred energetically. -There was cheer and hope everywhere; men faced their labors with clear -eye and feared nothing; women sang at their work. It was only at the -close of day that despair and defeat stalked the highways. So she was up -with the sun, whether in her own garden or in these odd and mystical -cities. Thus she saw the native as he was, not as he later in the day -pretended to be, for the benefit of the Feringhi about to be stretched -upon the sacrificial stone. She saw, with gladness, the honey-bee -thirling the rose, the plowman's share baring the soil: the morning, -the morning, the two or three hours that were all, all her own. Her -mother was always irritable and petulant in the morning, and her uncle -never developed the gift of speech till after luncheon. - -She had the same love of prowling that lured Ryanne from the beaten -paths. She was not inquisitive but curious, and that ready disarming -smile of hers opened many a portal. - -She was balancing upon her gloved palm, thoughtfully, a Soudanese -head-trinket, a pendant of twisted gold-wires, flawed emeralds and -second pearls, really exquisite and not generally to be found outside -the expensive shops in the European quarters, and there infrequently. -The merchant wanted twenty pounds for it. Fortune shook her head, -regretfully. It was far beyond her means. She sighed. Only once in a -great while she saw something for which her whole heart cried out. This -pendant was one of these. - -"I will give you five pounds for it. That is all I have with me." - -"Salaam, madame," said the jeweler, reaching for the pendant. - -"If you will send it to the Hotel Semiramis this afternoon...." But she -faltered at the sight of the merchant's incredulous smile. - -"I'll give you ten for it; not a piastre more. I can get one like it in -the Shâriâ Kâmel for that amount." - -Both Fortune and the merchant turned. - -"You, Horace?" - -"Yes, my child. And what are you doing here alone, without a dragoman?" - -"Oh, I have been through here alone many times. I'm not afraid. Isn't it -beautiful? He wants twenty pounds for it, and I can not afford that." - -She had not seen him in many weeks, yet she accepted his sudden -appearance without question or surprise. She was used to his turning up -at unexpected moments. Of course, she had known that he was in Cairo: -where her mother and uncle were this secretive man was generally within -calling. There had been a time when she had eagerly plied him with -questions, but he had always erected barriers of evasion, and finally -she ceased her importunities, for she concluded that her questions were -such. No matter to whom she turned, there was no one to answer her -questions, questions born of doubt and fear. - -"Ten pounds," repeated Ryanne, a hand in his pocket. - -[Illustration] - -The merchant laughed. Here were a young man and his sweetheart. His -experience had taught him, and not unwisely, that love is an easy -victim, too proud to haggle, too generous to bargain sharply. "Twenty," -he reiterated. - -"Salaam!" said Ryanne. "Good day!" He drew the somewhat resisting hand -of Fortune under his arm and made for the door. "Sh!" he whispered. -"Leave it to me." They gained the street. - -The merchant was dazed. He had misjudged what he now recognized as an -old hand. The two were turning up another street when he ran out, -shouting to them and waving the pendant. Ryanne laughed. - -"Ten pounds. I am a poor man, effendi, and I need the money. Ten pounds. -I am giving it away." The merchant's eyes filled with tears, a trick -left to him from out the ruins of his youth, that ready service to -forestall the merited rod. - -Ryanne counted out ten sovereigns and put the pendant in Fortune's -hand. And the pleasure in his heart was such as he had not known in many -days. The merchant wisely hurried back to his shop. - -"But...." she began protestingly. - -"Tut, tut! I have known you since you wore short dresses and -tam-o'-shanters." - -"I really can not accept it as a gift. Let me borrow the ten pounds." - -"And why can't you accept this little gift from me?" - -She had no ready answer. She gazed steadily at the dull pearls and the -flaky emeralds. She could not ask him where he had got those sovereigns. -She could not possibly be so cruel. She could not dissemble in words -like her mother. That gold she knew to be a part of a dishonest bargain -whose forestep had been a theft--more, a sacrilege. Her honesty was like -pure gold, unalloyed, unmixed with sophistic subterfuges. That the young -man who had purchased the rug might be mildly peccable had not yet -occurred to her. - -"Why not, Fortune?" Ryanne was very earnest, and there was a pinch at -his heart. - -"Because...." - -"Don't you like me, just a little?" - -"Why, I do like you, Horace. But I do not like any man well enough to -accept expensive gifts from him. I do not wish to hurt you, but it is -impossible. The only concession I'll make is to borrow the money." - -"Well, then, let it go at that." He was too wise to press her. - -"And can you afford to throw away ten pounds?" with assumed lightness. -"My one permanent impression of you is the young man who was always -forced to borrow car-fare whenever he returned from Monte Carlo." - -"A fool and his money. But I'm a rich man now," he volunteered. And -briefly he sketched the exploit of the Yhiordes rug. - -"It was very brave of you. But has it ever occurred to you that it -wasn't honest?" - -"Honest?" frankly astonished that she should question the ethics. "Oh, I -say, Fortune; you don't call it dishonest to get the best of a pagan! -Aren't they always getting the best of us?" - -"If you had bargained with him and beaten him down, it would have been -different. But, Horace, you stole it; you admit that you did." - -"I took my life in my hands. I think that evened up things." - -"No. And you sold it to Mr. Jones?" - -"Yes, and Mr. Jones was only too glad to buy it. I told him the facts. -He wasn't particularly eager to bring up the ethics of the case. Why, -child, what the deuce is a Turk? I shouldn't cry out if some one stole -my Bible." - -"Good gracious! do you carry one?" - -"Well, there's always one on the room-stand in the hotels I patronize." - -"I suppose it all depends upon how we look at things." - -"That's it. A different pair of spectacles for every pair of eyes." - -If only he weren't in love with her! thought the girl. He would then be -an amusing comrade. But whenever he met her he quietly pressed his suit. -He had never spoken openly of love, for which she was grateful, but his -attentions, his little kindnesses, his unobtrusive protection when those -other men were at the villa, made the reading between the lines no -difficult matter. - -"What shall you do if this Mahomed you speak of comes?" - -"Turn him loose upon our friend Jones," with a laugh. - -"And what will he do to him?" - -"Carry him off to Bagdad and chop off his head," Ryanne jested. - -"Tell me, is there any possibility of Mr. Jones coming to harm?" - -"Can't say." Her concern for Percival annoyed him. - -"Is it fair, when he paid you generously?" - -He did not look into the grave eyes. They were the only pair that ever -disconcerted him. "My dear Fortune, it's a question which is the more -valuable to me, my skin or Percival's." - -"It isn't fair." - -"From my point of view it's fair enough. I warned him; I told him the -necessary facts, the eventual dangers. He accepted them all with the -Yhiordes. I see nothing unfair in the deal, since I risked my own life -in the first place." - -"And why must you do these desperate things?" - -"Oh, I love excitement. My one idea in life is to avoid the humdrum." - -"Is it necessary to risk your life for these excitements? Is your life -nothing more to you than something to experiment with?" - -"Truth, sometimes I don't know, Fortune. Sometimes I don't care. When -one has gambled for big stakes, it is hard to play again for penny -points." - -"A strong, healthy man like you ought not to court death." - -"I do not seek it. My only temptation is to see how near I can get to -the Man in the Shroud, as some poet calls it, without being touched. -I'll make you my confessor. You see, it is like this. A number of -wearied men recently formed a company whereby monotony became an -obsolete word in our vocabulary. You must not think I'm jesting; I'm -serious enough. This company ferrets out adventures and romances and -sells them to men of spirit. I became a member, and the trip to Bagdad -is the result. One never has to share with the company. The rewards are -all yours. All one has to do is to pay a lump sum down for the adventure -furnished. You work out the end yourself, unhindered and unassisted." - -"Are you really serious?" - -"Never more so. Now, Percival Algernon has always been wanting an -adventure, but the practical side of him has made him hold aloof. I told -him about this concern, and he refuses to believe in it. So I am going -to undertake to prove it to him. This is confidential. You will say -nothing, I know." - -"He will come to no harm physically?" - -"Lord, no! It will be mild and innocuous. Of course, if any one told him -that an adventure was toward for his especial benefit, it would spoil -all. I can rely upon your silence?" - -She was silent. He witnessed her indecision with distrust. Perhaps he -had said too much. - -"Won't you promise? Haven't I always been kind to you, Fortune, times -when you most needed kindness?" - -"I promise to say nothing. But if any harm comes to that young man, -either in jest or in earnest, I will never speak to you again." - -"I see that, after getting Percival Algernon into an adventure, I've got -to cicerone him safely out of it. Well, I accept the responsibility." -Some days later he was going to recall this assurance. - -"Sometimes I wonder...." pensively. - -"Wonder about what?" - -"What manner of man you are." - -"I should have been a great deal better man had I met you ten years -ago." - -"What? When I was eleven?" with a levity intended to steer him away from -this channel. - -"You know what I mean," he answered, moody and dejected. - -She opened her purse and dropped the pendant into it, but did not speak. - -"Ten years ago," abstractedly. "What a lot of things may happen in ten -years! Deaths, births, marriages," he went on; "the snuffing out of -kingdoms and republics; wars, panics, famine; honor to some and dishonor -to others. It kind of makes a fellow grind his teeth, little girl; it -kind of makes him shut his fists and long to run amuck." - -"Why should a strong, intelligent man, such as you are, think like that? -You are resourceful and unafraid. Why should you talk like that? You are -young, too. Why?" - -He stopped and looked full into her eyes. "Do you really wish to know?" - -"Had I better?" with a wisdom beyond her years. - -"No, you had better not. I'm not a good man, Fortune, as criterions go. -I've slipped here and there; I've gambled and drunk and squandered my -time. Why, in my youth I was as model a boy as ever was Percival. Where -the divarication took place I can't say. There's always two forks in the -road, Fortune, and many of us take the wrong one. It's easier going. -Fine excuse; eh? Some persons would call me a scoundrel, a black-leg; in -some ways, yes. But in the days to come I want you always to remember -the two untarnished spots upon my shield of honor: I have never cheated -a man at cards nor run away with his wife. The devil must give me these -merits, however painful it may be to him. Ten years ago, only a decade; -good Lord! it's like a hundred years ago, sometimes." - -Fortune breathed with difficulty. Never before had he taken her into his -confidence to such extent. She essayed to speak; the old terror seemed -fairly to smother her. It was not what he had told her, but what she -wished to but dared not ask. She was like Bluebeard's wife, only she had -not the moral courage to open the door of the grisly closet.... Her -mother, her uncle; what of them, ah, what of them? The crooked street -vanished; the roar dwindled away; she was alone, all, all alone. - -"I suppose I ought not to have told you," he said troubled at the misery -he saw gathered in her eyes and vaguely conscious of what had written it -there. "Your mother and uncle have been very kind to me. They know less -of me than you do. I have been to them a kind of errand-boy; a -happy-go-lucky fellow, who cheered them when they had the doldrums." -With forced cheerfulness he again took her hand and snuggled it under -his arm, giving it a friendly, reassuring pat. "I'll not speak to you of -love, child, but a hair of your head is more precious to me than all -Midas' gold. Whenever I've thought of you, I've tried to be good. -Honestly." - -"And can't you go back to the beginning and start anew?" tremulously. - -"Can any one go back? The moving finger writes. An hour is a terrible -thing when you look to see what can happen in it. But, come; sermons! -I'd far rather see you smile. Won't you?" - -She tried to, but to him it was sadder than her tears would have been. - -For an hour they walked through the dim and musty streets. He exerted -himself to amuse her and fairly succeeded. But never did the -unaccountable fear, that presage of misfortune, sleep in her heart. And -at last, when he took her to her carriage and bade her good-by till -dinner, a half-formed idea began to grow in her brain: to save Mr. Jones -without betraying Ryanne. - -The latter's carriage was at the other end of the bazaars; so he strode -sullenly through the press, rudely elbowing those who got in his way. An -occasional curse was flung after him; but his height, his breadth of -shoulder, his lowering face, precluded anything more active. The Moslems -had a deal of faith in the efficacy of curses; so the jostled ones -rested upon the promise of these, satisfied that directly, or in the -near future, Allah would blast the unbelieving dog in his tracks. - -What cleverness the mother and scallawag of an uncle had shown to have -kept the child in ignorance all these years! That she saw darkly, as -through a fog, he was perfectly sure. Sooner or later the storm would -burst upon her innocent head, and then God alone knew what would become -of her. Oh, damn the selfish, sordid world! At that instant a great -longing rolled over him to cut loose from all these evil webs, to begin -anew somewhere, even if that somewhere were but a wilderness, a clearing -in a forest. - -This moment flashed and was gone. Next, he reviewed with chagrin and -irritation the folly of his ultimatum of the preceding night. He had had -not the slightest semblance of a plan in his head. Sifted down, he saw -only his savage and senseless humor and the desire to stir up discord. -Gioconda was right. Fortune was above them all, in feeling, in instinct, -in loyalty. What right had he, roisterer by night that he was, -predaceous outlaw, what right had he to look upon Fortune as his own? -Harm her! He would have lopped off his right hand first. - -Well, he had but little time, and Percival Algernon called for prompt -action. The young fool was smitten with Fortune. Any one could see that. -As he shouldered his pathway to the carriage, his eyes seeing but not -visualizing objects, three brown men glided in between him and the -carriage-step. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -MAHOMED LAUGHS - - -The drawing back of Ryanne's powerful arm was produced by the stimulus -of self-preservation; but almost instantly thought dominated impulse, -and all indications of belligerency disappeared. The arm sank, relaxed. -It was not possible nor politic that Mahomed-El-Gebel meant to take -reprisal in this congested quarter. It would have gained him no -advantage whatever. And Ryanne's perception of the exact situation -enabled him to smile with the cool effrontery of a man inured to sudden -dangers. - -"Well, well! So you have found your way to Cairo, Mahomed?" - -"Yes, effendi," returned Mahomed, with a smile that answered Ryanne's in -thought and expression, the only perceivable difference being in the -accentuated whiteness of his fine teeth. "Yes, I have found you." - -"And you have been looking for me?" - -"Surely." - -Ryanne, with an airy gesture, signified that he wished to enter his -carriage. Mahomed, with a movement equally light, implied his -determination to stand his ground. - -"In a moment, effendi," he said smoothly. - -Mahomed spoke English more or less fluently. His career of forty-odd -years had been most colorful. Once a young sheik of the desert, of ample -following, a series of tribal wars left him unattached, a wanderer -without tent, village, or onion-patch. He had first appeared in Cairo. -Here he had of necessity picked up a few words of English; and from a -laborer in the cotton fields he was eventually graduated to the envied -position of dragoman or guide. He tired of this, being nomadic by -instinct and inclination. He tried his hand at rugs in Smyrna, failed, -and found himself stranded in Constantinople. He drifted, became a -stevedore, a hotel porter, burying his pride till that moment when he -could, in dignity and security, resurrect it. Fortune, hanging fire, -relented upon his appointment as _cavass_ or messenger to the British -Consulate. After a time, he became what he considered prosperous; and -like all fanatic pagans of his faith, proposed to reconstruct his -religious life by a pilgrimage to Holy Mecca. While there, he had -performed a considerable service in behalf of the future Pasha of -Bagdad, who thereafter gave him a place in his retinue. - -Mahomed was not only proud but wise; and a series of events, sequences -of his own shrewdness, pushed him forward till he became in deed, if not -in fact, the Pasha's right-hand man in Bagdad. That quaint city, removed -as it is from the ordinary highways of the Orient, is still to most of -us an echo remote and mysterious; and the present Pasha enjoys great -privileges, over property, over life and death; and it is not enlarging -upon fact to say that when he deems it necessary to lop off a head, he -does so, without consulting his master in Constantinople. It is all in -the business of a day. Next to his celebrated pearls and rose-diamonds, -the Pasha held as his most precious treasure, the Holy Yhiordes. And for -its loss Mahomed knew that his own head rested but insecurely upon his -lean neck. That his star was still in ascendancy he believed. The Pasha -would not be in Bagdad for many weeks. The revolution in Constantinople, -the success of the Young Turk party, made the Pasha's future incumbency -a matter of conjecture. While he pulled those wires familiar to the -politician, Mahomed set out bravely to recover the stolen rug. He was -prepared to proceed to any length to regain it, even to the horrible (to -his Oriental mind) necessity of buying it. He retained his travel-worn -garments circumspectly, for none would believe that his burnouse was -well lined with English bank-notes. - -"Well?" said Ryanne, whirling his cane. He was by no means at ease. -There was going to be trouble somewhere along the road. - -"I have come for the Yhiordes, effendi." - -"The rug? That's too bad. I haven't it." - -"Who has?" One fear beset Mahomed's heart: this dog, whom he called -effendi, might have sold it, since that must have been the ultimate -purpose of the theft. And if he had sold it to one who had left -Egypt.... Mahomed's neck grew cold. "Who has it, effendi? Is the man -still in Cairo?" - -"Yes. If you and your two friends will come with me to the English-Bar, -I'll explain many things to you," assured Ryanne, beginning, as he -believed, to see his way forward. "Don't be afraid. I'm not setting any -trap for you. I'll tell you truthfully that I didn't expect to see you -so soon. If you'll come along I'll do the best I can to straighten out -the matter. What do you say?" - -Mahomed eyed him with keen distrust. This white man was as strong in -cunning as he was in flesh. He had had practical demonstrations. Still, -whatever road led to the recovery of the rug must needs be traveled. His -arm, though it still reposed in a sling, was not totally helpless. It -stood three to one, then. He spoke briefly to his companions, over whom -he seemed to have some authority. These two inventoried the smooth-faced -Feringhi. One replied. Mahomed approved. Three to one, and in these -streets many to call upon, in case of open hostilities. The English-Bar -Mahomed knew tolerably well. He had known it in the lawless and reveling -eighties. It would certainly be neutral ground, since the proprietor was -a Greek. With a dignified sweep of his hand, he signed for Ryanne to -get into the carriage. Ryanne did so, relieved. He was certain that he -could bring Mahomed round to a reasonable view of the affair. He was -even willing to give him a little money. The three Arabs climbed in -beside him, and the journey to the hostelry was made without talk. -Ryanne pretended to be vastly interested in the turmoil through which -the carriage rolled, now swiftly, now hesitant, now at a standstill, and -again tortuously. Once Mahomed felt beneath his burnouse for his money; -and once Ryanne, in the pretense of seeking a cigar, felt for his. They -were rather upon even terms in the adjudication of each other's -character. - -The English-Bar was not the most inviting place. Sober, Ryanne had never -darkened its doors. The odor of garlic prevailed over the lesser smells -of bad cooking. It was lighted only from the street, by two windows and -a door that swung open all the days in the year. The windows were -generally half obscured by bills announcing boxing-matches, -wrestling-bouts and the lithographs of cheap theaters. The walls were -decorated in a manner to please the inherent Anglo-Saxon taste for -strong men, fast horses, and pink-tighted Venuses. A few iron-topped -tables littered both room and sidewalk, and here were men of a dozen -nationalities, sipping coffee, drinking beer, or solemnly watching the -water-bubbles in their _sheeshas_, or pipes. - -A curious phase of this class of under-world is that no one is curious. -Strangers are never questioned except when they invite attention, which -they seldom do. So, when Ryanne and his quasi-companions entered, there -wasn't the slightest agitation. A blowsy barmaid stood behind the bar, -polishing the copper spigots. Ryanne threw her a greeting, to which she -responded with a smirk that once upon a time had been a smile. He, being -master of ceremonies, selected a table in the corner. The four sat down, -and Ryanne plunged intrepidly into the business under hand. To make a -tool of Mahomed, if not an ally, toward this he directed his effort. -Half a dozen times, Mahomed dropped a word in Arabic to the other two, -who understood little or no English. - -"So, you see, Mahomed, that's the way the matter stands. I'm not so much -to blame as you think. Here this man Jones has me in a vise. If I do not -get this bit of carpet, off I go, into the dark, into nothing, beaten. -I handled you roughly, I know. But could I help it? It was my throat or -yours. You're no chicken. You and that other chap made things exciting." - -Mahomed accepted this compliment to his prowess in silence. Indeed, he -gazed dreamily over Ryanne's head. The other fellow wouldn't trouble any -one again. To Mahomed it had not been the battle, man to man; it had -been the guile and trickery leading up to it. He had been bested at his -own game, duplicity, and that irked him. Death, he, as his kind, looked -upon with Oriental passivity. Ah, well! The game was to have a second -inning, and he proposed to play it in strictly Oriental ways. - -"How much did he give you for it?" - -The expression upon Ryanne's face would have deceived any one but -Mahomed. "Give for it!" indignantly. "Why, that's the whole trouble. All -my trouble, all the hard work, and not a piaster, not a piaster! Can't -you understand, I _had_ to do it?" - -"Is he going to sell it?" - -"Sell it? Not he! He's a collector, and crazy over the thing." - -Mahomed nodded. He knew something of the habits of collectors. "Is he -still in Cairo, and where may he be found?" - -Ryanne began to believe that the game was going along famously; Mahomed -was sure of it. - -"He is George P. A. Jones, of Mortimer & Jones, rich rug dealers of New -York. Money no object." - -Though his face did not show it, Mahomed was singularly depressed by -this news. If this man Jones had money, of what use was his little -packet of notes? - -"I must have that rug, effendi. There are two reasons why: it is holy, -and the loss of it means my head." - -"Good riddance!" thought Ryanne, a sympathetic look upon his face. - -"What have you to suggest in the way of a plan?" asked Mahomed. - -Ryanne felt a tingle of jubilation. He saw nothing but plain-sailing -into port. But Mahomed had arranged to guide his craft into the -whirlpool. Unto himself he kept up a ceaseless reiteration -of--"Patience, patience, patience!" - -Said Ryanne: "You do not care how you get the rug, so long as you do get -it?" - -"No, effendi." Mahomed smiled. - -"A little rough work wouldn't disturb you?" - -"No, it would not." - -"Well, then, listen to me. Suppose you arrange to take my friend Jones -into the desert for a little trip. Be his dragoman for a while. In fact, -kidnap him, abduct him, steal him. You can hold him in ransom for the -rug and a nice little sum of money besides." - -"Can they do such things these days in Cairo?" - -"Why not?" - -"Truly, why not?" Mahomed sat thoughtfully studying the outrageous -prints on the cracked walls. Had he dared he would have laughed. And he -had thought this dog cunning beyond all his kind! "I agree. But the -arrangements I must leave to you. Bring him here at nine o'clock -to-night," he continued, leaning across the table impressively, "and I -will give you one hundred pounds English." - -Ryanne quickly assumed the expression needed to meet such splendid news. -"I say, Mahomed, that is pretty square, after what has passed between -us." - -"It is nothing," gallantly. - -If Ryanne laughed in his sleeve, Mahomed certainly found ample room in -his for such silent and figurative cachinnations. He knew very well that -Ryanne had received a goodly sum for his adventure. No man took his life -in his hand to cancel an obligation which was not based upon -disinterested friendship; and already the man had disavowed any such -quality. Also, he had not been a seller of rugs himself, or guardian of -the Yhiordes all these years, without having had some contact with -collectors. Why, if there was one person dear at this moment to -Mahomed-El-Gebel's heart, it was this man sitting opposite. And he -wanted him far more eagerly than the rug; only, the rug must be -regained, for its loss was a passport into paradise; and he wasn't quite -prepared to be received by the houris. - -"Mr. Jones, then, shall be here promptly at nine," declared Ryanne, -beckoning the barmaid. "What will you have?" - -Mahomed shook his head. His two companions, gathering the significance -of the gesture, likewise declined. - -"A smoke, then?" - -A smiling negative. - -"Beware of the Greek bearing gifts," laughed Ryanne. "All right. You -won't mind if I have a beer to the success of the venture?" - -"No, effendi." - -Ryanne drank the lukewarm beverage, while Mahomed toyed with his -turquoise ring, that sacred badge of an honorable pilgrimage to Holy -Mecca. - -"The young lady, effendi; she was very pretty. Your sister?" casually -inquired Mahomed. - -"Oh, no. She is a young lady I met at the hotel the other day." - -The liar! thought the Moslem, as he recalled the light in Ryanne's eyes -and the tenderness of his smiles. Apparently, however, Mahomed lost -interest directly. "At nine o'clock to-night, then, this collector will -arrive to become my guest?" - -"By hook or crook," was the answer. "I'll have him here. Cash upon -delivery, as they say." - -"Cash upon delivery," Mahomed repeated, the phrase being familiar to his -tongue. - -"Frankly, I want this man out of the way for a while." - -"Ah!" - -"Yes. I want a little revenge for the way he has treated me." - -"So it is revenge?" softly. Traitorous to both sides. - -"And when I get him here?" - -"Leave the rest to me." - -"Good. I'm off, then. Take him to Bagdad. It will be an experience for -him. But when you get him there, keep an eye out for the Shah Abbas in -the Pasha's work-room." - -The affair had gone so smoothly that Ryanne's usual keenness fell below -the mark; fatuity was the word. There had been so many twists to the -morning that his abiding distrust of every one became, for the time -being, edgeless. The trick of purloining the cable had keyed him high; -the subsequent meeting of Fortune had depressed him. And besides, he was -too anxious to be rid of Jones to consider the possibilities of -Mahomed's state of mind. - -He got up, paid his score, turned a jest for the amusement of the -barmaid, and went out to his carriage. His deduction still fallow, he -rode away. Lord! how easy it had been. Not a hitch anywhere. And here, -for days, he had imagined all sorts of things, and his dreams, a jumble -of dungeons, of tortures. He understood. The old rascal's own head hung -in the balance. That's what saved him. To Mahomed the rug was the -paramount feature; revenge (and he knew that Mahomed was longing madly, -fiercely for it) must wait. And when Mahomed turned his attention to -this phase, why, he, Ryanne, would be at the other side of the Atlantic. -It was very hard not to drop off at Shepheard's and confide the whole -droll conspiracy to a bottle with a green and gilded neck. But, no; he -had had no sleep the night before; wine and want of rest would leave him -witless when the time came to see that Percival was safely stowed away. -A fine joke, a monstrous fine joke! By-by, Percival, old chap; pleasant -journey. The United Romance and Adventure Company gives you this little -romance upon approval. If you do not like it, return it ... if you can! - -Mahomed sat perfectly still in his chair. His two companions watched him -carefully. The mask had fallen, and their master's face was not pleasant -to see. Suddenly he laughed. The barmaid stopped at her work. She had -somewhere heard laughter like that. It gave her a shiver. Where had she -heard it? Yes, that was it. A man who had played the devil in an opera -called _Fawst_ or something like that. Would she ever see dear old foggy -London again? With a vain sigh she went on rinsing the glasses and -coffee-cups. - - * * * * * - -When George rolled out of bed it was eleven. He bathed and dressed, -absolutely content, regretless of the morning hours he had wasted. Truth -to tell, he hadn't enjoyed sleep so thoroughly in weeks. He set to work, -ridding the room of its clutter of books and clothes and what-nots. -Might as well get the bulk of his packing out of the way while he -thought of it. - -Why had he been in such a dreadful hurry to pull out? Cairo was just now -the most delightful place he knew of. To leave behind the blue skies and -warm sunshine, and to face instead the biting winds and northern snows, -rather dispirited him. He paused, a pair of trousers dangling from his -hand. Pshaw! Why not admit it frankly and honestly? Wherever Fortune -Chedsoye was or might be, there was the delectable country. He hadn't -thought to ask her when she was to leave, nor whither she was to go. The -abruptness with which she had left him the night before puzzled rather -than disturbed him. Oh, well; this old planet was neither so deep nor so -round as it had once been. What with steamships and railroads, the -so-called four ends were drawn closely together. He would ask her -casually, as if it did not particularly matter. In Naples it would be an -easy matter to change his booking to New York. From Naples to Mentone -was only a question of a few hours. - -"It doesn't seem possible, George, old boy, does it? But it's true; and -there's no use trying to fool yourself that it isn't. Fortune Chedsoye; -it will be a shame to add Jones to it; but I'm going to try." - -He pressed down the last book, the last collar, the last pair of shoes, -and sat upon the lid of the trunk. He growled a little. The lock was -always bothering him. It was wonderful how many things a chap could take -out of a trunk and how plagued few he could put back. It did not seem to -relieve the pressure if he added a steamer-trunk here or a suit-case -there; there was always just so much there wasn't any room for. Truly, -it needed a woman's hand to pack a trunk. However his mother in the old -school-days had got all his belongings into one trunk was still an -unsolved mystery. - -Stubborn as the lock was, perseverance overcame it. George then, as a -slight diversion, spread the ancient Yhiordes over the trunk and stared -at it in pleasurable contemplation. What a beauty it was! What exquisite -blue, what soft reds, what minute patterns! And this treasure was his. -He leaned down upon it with his two hands. A color stole into his -cheeks. It had its source in an old confusion: school-boys jeering a -mate seen walking home from school with a girl. It was all rot, he -perfectly knew, this wishing business; and yet he flung into the -sun-warmed, sun-gilded space an ardent wish, sent it speeding round the -world from east to west. Fast as heat, fast as light it traveled, for no -sooner had it sprung from his mind than it entered the window of a room -across the corridor. Whether the window was open or shut was of no -importance whatever. Such wishes penetrated and went through all -obstacles. And this one touched Fortune's eyes, her hair, her lips; it -caressed her in a thousand happy ways. But, alas! such wishes are -without temporal power. - -Fortune never knew. She sat in a chair, her fingers locked tensely, her -eyes large and set in gaze, her lips compressed, her whole attitude one -of impotent despair. - -George did not see her at lunch, and consequently did not enjoy the -hour. Was she ill? Had she gone away? Would she return before he -started? He greeted the Major as one greets a long-lost friend; and by -gradations George considered clever indeed, brought the conversation -down to Fortune. No, the Major did not know where she was. She had gone -early to the bazaars. Doubtless she was lunching alone somewhere. She -had the trick of losing herself at times. Mrs. Chedsoye was visiting -friends at Shepheard's. When did Mr. Jones leave for America? What! on -the morrow? The Major shook his head regretfully. There was no place -like Cairo for Christmas. - -George called a carriage, drove about the principal streets and shopping -districts, and used his eyes diligently; but it was love's labor lost. -Not even when he returned at tea-time did he see her. Why hadn't he -known and got up? He could have shown her the bazaars; and there wasn't -a dragoman in Cairo more familiar with them than he. A wasted day, -totally wasted. He hung about the lounging-room till it was time to go -up and dress for dinner. To-night (as if the gods had turned George's -future affairs over to the care of Momus) he dressed as if he were going -to the opera: swallow-tail, white vest, high collar and white-lawn -cravat, opera-Fedora, and thin-soled pumps; all those habiliments and -demi-habiliments supposed to make the man. When he reached what he -thought to be the glass of fashion and the mold of form, he turned for -the first time toward his trunk. He did not rub his eyes; it wasn't at -all necessary; one thing he saw, or rather did not see, was established -beyond a doubt, as plainly definite as two and two are four. The ancient -Yhiordes had taken upon itself one of the potentialities of its fabulous -prototype, that of invisibility: it was gone. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -EPISODIC - - -Fortune had immediately returned from the bazaars. And a kind of torpor -blanketed her mind, usually so fertile and active. For a time the -process of the evolution of thought was denied her; she tried to think, -but there was an appalling lack of continuity, of broken threads. It was -like one of those circumferential railways: she traveled, but did not -get anywhere. Ryanne had told her too much for his own sake, but too -little for hers. She sat back in the carriage, inert and listless, and -indeterminedly likened her condition to driftwood in the ebb and flow of -beach-waves. The color and commotion of the streets were no longer -absorbed; it was as if she were riding through emptiness, through the -unreality of a dream. She was oppressed and stifled, too; harbinger of -storms. - -Mechanically she dismissed the carriage at the hotel, mechanically she -went to her room, and in this semiconscious mood sat down in a chair, -and there George's wish found her, futilely. Oh, there was one thing -clear, clear as the sky outside. All was not right; something was wrong; -and this wrong upon one side concerned her mother, her uncle and Ryanne, -and upon the other side, Mr. Jones. Think and think as she might, her -endeavors gave her no single illumination. Four blind walls surrounded -her. The United Romance and Adventure Company--there could not possibly -be such a thing in existence; it was a jest of Ryanne's to cover up -something far more serious. - -She pressed her eyes with a hand. They ached dully, the dull pain of -bewilderment, which these days recurred with frequency. A sense of time -was lacking; for luncheon hour came and passed without her being -definitely aware of it. This in itself was a puzzle. A jaunt, such as -she had taken that morning, always keened the edge of her appetite; and -yet, there was no craving whatever. - -Where was her mother? If she would only come now, the cumulative doubts -of all these months should be put into speech. They had treated her as -one would treat a child; it was neither just nor reasonable. If not as a -child, but as one they dared not trust, then they were afraid of her. -But why? She pressed her hands together, impotently. Ryanne, clever as -he was, had made a slip or two which he had sought to cover up with a -jest. Why should he confess himself to be a rogue unless his tongue had -got the better of his discretion? If he was a rogue, why should her -mother and her uncle make use of him, if not for roguery's sake? They -were fools, fools! If they had but seen and understood her as she was, -she would have gone to the bitter end with them, loyally, with sealed -lips. But no; they had chosen not to see; and in this had morally -betrayed her. Ah, it rankled, and the injustice of it grew from pain to -fury. At that moment, had she known anything, she certainly would have -denounced them. Of what use was loyalty, since none of them sought it in -her? - -The Major was wiser than he knew when he spoke of the hundredth danger, -the danger unforeseen, the danger against which they could make no -preparation. And he would have been first to sense the irony of it -could he have seen where this danger lay. - -Why should they wish the pleasant young man out of the way? Why should -Ryanne wish to inveigle him into the hands of this man Mahomed? Was it -merely self-preservation, or something deeper, more sinister? Think! Why -couldn't she think of something? It was only a little pleasure trip to -Cairo, they had told her, and when she had asked to go along, they -seemed willing enough. But they had come to this hotel, when formerly -they had always put up at Shepheard's. And here again the question, why? -Was it because Mr. Jones was staying here? She liked him, what little -she had seen of him. He was out of an altogether different world than -that to which she was accustomed. He was neither insanely mad over cards -nor a social idler. He was a young man with a real interest in life, a -worker, notwithstanding that he was reputed to be independently rich. -And her mother had once borrowed money of him, never intending to pay it -back. The shame of it! And why should she approach him the very first -day and recall the incident, if not with the ulterior purpose of using -him further? As a ball strikes a wall only to rebound to the thrower, -so it was with all these questions. There was never any answer. - -Tired out, mentally and physically, she laid her head upon the cool top -of the stand. And in this position her mother, who had returned to dress -for tea, found her. Believing Fortune to be asleep, Mrs. Chedsoye -dropped a hand upon her shoulder. - -Fortune raised her head. - -"Why, child, what is the matter?" the mother asked. The face she saw was -not tear-stained; it was as cold and passionless as that by which -sculptors represent their interpretations of Justice. - -"Matter?" Fortune spoke, in a tone that did not reassure the other. "In -the first place I have only one real question to ask. It depends upon -how you answer it. Am I really your daughter?" - -"Really my daughter?" Mrs. Chedsoye stepped back, genuinely astonished. -"Really my daughter? The child is mad!" as if addressing an imaginary -third person. "What makes you ask such a silly question?" She was in a -hurry to change her dress, but the new attitude of this child of hers -warranted some patience. - -"That is no answer," said Fortune, with the unmoved deliberation of a -prosecuting attorney. - -"Certainly you are my daughter." - -"Good. If you had denied it, I should have held my peace; but since you -admit that I am of your flesh and blood, I am going to force you to -recognize that in such a capacity I have some rights. I did not ask to -come into this world; but insomuch as I am here, I propose to become an -individual, not a thing to be given bread and butter upon sufferance. I -have been talking with Horace. I met him in the bazaars this morning. He -said some things which you must answer." - -"Horace? And what has he said, pray tell?" Her expression was flippant, -but a certain inquietude penetrated her heart and accelerated its -beating. What had the love-lorn fool said to the child? - -"He said that he was not a good man, and that you tolerated him because -he ran errands for you. What kind of errands?" - -Mrs. Chedsoye did not know whether to laugh or take the child by the -shoulders and shake her soundly. "He was laughing when he said that. -Errands? One would scarcely call it that." - -"Why did you renew the acquaintance with Mr. Jones, when you knew that -you never intended paying back that loan?" - -Here was a question, Mrs. Chedsoye realized, from the look of the child, -that would not bear evasion. - -"What makes you think I never intended to repay him?" - -Fortune laughed. It did not sound grateful in the mother's ears. - -"Mother, this is a crisis; it can not be met by counter-questions nor by -flippancy. You know that you did not intend to pay him. What I demand to -know is, why you spoke to him again, so affably, why you seemed so eager -to enter into his good graces once more. Answer that." - -Her mother pondered. For once she was really at a loss. The -unexpectedness of this phase caught her off her balance. She saw one -thing vividly, regretfully: she had missed a valuable point in the game -by not adjusting her play to the growth of the child, who had, with that -phenomenal suddenness which still baffles the psychologists, stepped out -of girlhood into womanhood, all in a day. What a fool she had been not -to have left the child at Mentone! - -"I am waiting," said Fortune. "There are more questions; but I want this -one answered first." - -"This is pure insolence!" - -"Insolence of a kind, yes." - -"And I refuse to answer. I have some authority still." - -"Not so much, mother, as you had yesterday. You refuse to explain?" - -"Absolutely!" - -"Then I shall judge you without mercy." Fortune rose, her eyes blazing -passionately. She caught her mother by the wrist, and she was the -stronger of the two. "Can't you understand? I am no longer a child, I am -a woman. I do not ask, I demand!" She drew the older woman toward her, -eye to eye. "You palter, you always palter; palter and evade. You do not -know what frankness and truth are. Is this continual evasion calculated -to still my distrust? Yes, I distrust you, you, my mother. You have made -the mistake of leaving me alone too much. I have always distrusted you, -but I never knew why." - -Mrs. Chedsoye tugged, but ineffectually. "Let go!" - -"Not till I have done. Out of the patchwork, squares have been formed. -What of the men who used to come to the villa and play cards with Uncle -George, the men who went away and never came back? What of your long -disappearances of which I knew nothing except that one day you vanished -and upon another you came back? Did you think that I was a fool, that I -had no time to wonder over these things? You have never tried to make a -friend of me; you have always done your best to antagonize me. Did you -hate my father so much that, when his death put him out of range, you -had to concentrate it upon me? My father!" Fortune roughly flung aside -the arm. "Who knows about him, who he was, what he was, what he looked -like? As a child, I used to ask you, but never would you speak. All I -know about him nurse told me. This much has always burned in my mind: -you married him for wealth that he did not have. What do you mean by -this simple young man across the corridor?" - -Mrs. Chedsoye was pale, and the artistic touch of rouge upon her cheeks -did not disguise the pallor. The true evidence lay in the whiteness of -her nose. Never in her varied life had she felt more helpless, more -impotent. To be wild with rage, and yet to be powerless! That alertness -of mind, that mental buoyancy, which had always given her the power to -return a volley in kind, had deserted her. Moreover, she was distinctly -alarmed. This little fool, with a turn of her hand, might send tottering -into ruins the skilful planning of months. - -"Are you in love with him?" aiming to gain time to regather her -scattered thoughts. - -"Love?" bitterly. "I am in a fine mood to love any one. My question, my -question," vehemently; "my question!" - -"I refuse absolutely to answer you!" Anger was first to reorganize its -forces; and Mrs. Chedsoye felt the heat of it run through her veins. -But, oddly enough, it was anger directed less toward the child than -toward her own palpable folly and oversight. - -"Then I shall leave you. I will go out into the world and earn my own -bread and butter. Ah," a little brokenly, "if you had but given me a -little kindness, you do not know how loyal I should have been to you! -But no; I am and always have been the child that wasn't wanted." - -The despair in the gesture that followed these words stirred the -mother's calloused heart, moved it strangely, mysteriously. "My child!" -she said impulsively, holding out her hands. - -"No." Fortune drew back. "It is too late." - -"Have it so. But you speak of going out into the world to earn your -bread and butter. What do you know about the world? What could you do? -You have never done anything but read romantic novels and moon about in -the flower-garden. Foolish chit! Harm Mr. Jones? Why? For what purpose? -I have no more interest in him than if he were one of those mummies over -in the museum. And I certainly meant to repay him. I should have done so -if you hadn't taken the task upon your own broad shoulders. I am in a -hurry. I am going out to Mena House to tea. I've let Celeste off for the -day; so please unhook my waist and do not bother your head about Mr. -Jones." She turned her back upon her daughter, quite confident that she -had for the time suppressed the incipient rebellion. She heard Fortune -crossing the room. "What are you doing?" petulantly. - -"I am ringing for the hall-maid." And Fortune resumed her chair, picked -up her Baedeker, and became apparently absorbed over the map of Assuan. - -Again wrath mounted to the mother's head. She could combat anger, tears, -protestations; but this indifference, studied and unfilial, left her -weaponless; and she was too wise to unbridle her tongue, much as she -longed to do so. She was beaten. Not an agreeable sensation to one who -counted only her victories. - -"Fortune, later you will be sorry for this spirit," she said, when she -felt the tremor of wrath no longer in her throat. - -Fortune turned a page, and jotted down some notes with a pencil. Sad as -she was at heart, tragic as she knew the result of this outbreak to be, -she could hardly repress a smile at the thought of her mother's -discomfiture. - -And so the chasm widened, and went on widening till the end of time. - -Mrs. Chedsoye was glad that the hall-maid knocked and came in just then. -It at least saved her the ignominy of a retreat. She dressed, however, -with the same deliberate care that she had always used. Nothing ever -deranged her sense of proportion relative to her toilet, nothing ever -made her forget its importance. - -"Good-by, dear," she said. "I shall be in at dinner." If the maid had -any suspicion that there had been a quarrel, she should at least be -impressed with the fact that she, Mrs. Chedsoye, was not to blame for -it. - -Fortune nibbled the end of her pencil. - -The door closed behind her mother and the maid. She waited for a time. -Then she sprang to the window and stood there. She saw her mother driven -off. She was dressed in pearl-grey, with a Reynolds' hat of grey velour -and sweeping plumes: as handsome and distinguished a woman as could be -found that day in all Cairo. The watcher threw her Baedeker, her -note-book, and her pencil violently into a corner. It had come to her at -last, this thing she had been striving for since noon. She did not care -what the risks were; the storm was too high in her heart to listen to -the voice of caution. She would do it; for she judged it the one thing, -in justice to her own blood, she must accomplish. She straightway -dressed for the street; and if she did not give the same care as her -mother to the vital function, she produced an effect that merited -comparison. - -She loitered before the porter's bureau till she saw him busily engaged -in answering questions of some women tourists. Then, with a slight but -friendly nod, she stepped into the bureau and stopped before the -key-rack. She hung up her key, but took it down again, as if she had -changed her mind. At least, this was the porter's impression as he bowed -to her in the midst of the verbal bombardment. Fortune went up-stairs. -Ten or fifteen minutes elapsed, when she returned, hung up the key, and -walked briskly toward the side-entrance at the very moment George, in -his fruitless search of her, pushed through the revolving doors in -front. And all the time she was wondering how it was that her knees did -not give under. It was terrible. She balanced between laughter and -tears, hysterically. - -She had gone scarcely a hundred yards when she was accosted by a tall -Arab whom she indistinctly recollected having seen before; where, she -could not definitely imagine. It was the ragged green turban that -cleared away her puzzlement. The Arab was the supposed beggar over whom -Percival (how easily she had fallen into the habit of calling him that!) -had stumbled. He stood so tall and straight that she knew he wasn't -going to beg; so naturally she stopped. Without a word, without even a -look that expressed anything, he slipped a note into her hand, bowed -with Oriental gravity, and stepped aside for her to proceed. She read -the note hastily as she continued her way. Horace? Why should he wish to -meet her that evening, at the southeast corner of the Shâri'a -Mahomoud-El-Fäläki, a step or so from the British Consulate's? And she -mustn't come in a carriage nor tell any one where she was going? Why all -such childish mystery? He could see her far more conveniently in the -lounging-room of the hotel. She tore the note into scraps and flung them -upon the air. She was afraid. She was almost certain why he wished to -meet her where neither her mother's nor her uncle's eyes would be within -range. Should she meet him? Deeper than this, dared she? Why had she -come to Cairo, when at Mentone she had known peace, such peace as -destiny was generous enough to dole out to her? And now, out of this -tolerable peace, a thousand hands were reaching to rend her heart, to -wring it. She decided quickly. Since she had come this far, to go on to -the end would add but little to her burden. Better to know all too soon -than too late. - -That the note had not been directed to her and that she was totally -unfamiliar with Ryanne's handwriting, escaped her. She had too many -other things upon her mind to see all things clearly, especially such -trifles. She finished her walk, returning by the way she had gone, gave -the key to the lift-boy, and in her room dropped down upon the bed, -dry-eyed and weary. The most eventful day she had ever known. - -And all the while George sat by the window and watched, and at length -fell into a frame of mind that was irritable, irascible and -self-condemnatory. And when he found that his precious Yhiordes was -gone, his condition was the essence of all disagreeable emotions. It was -beyond him how any one could have stolen it. He never failed to lock -his door and leave the key with the porter. And surely, only a man with -wings could have gained entrance by the window. Being a thorough -business man among other accomplishments, he reported his loss at once -to the management; and the management set about the matter with -celerity. At half after seven every maid and servant in the hotel had -been questioned and examined, without the least noticeable result. The -rug was nowhere to be found. George felt the loss keenly. He was not so -rich that he could afford to lose both the rug and the thousand pounds -he had paid for it. His first thought had been of Ryanne; but it was -proved that Ryanne had not been in the hotel since morning; at least, no -one had seen him. - -George gloomed about. A beastly day, all told; everything had gone -wrong, and all because he had overslept. At dinner something was wrong -with the soup; the fish was greasy; the roast was dry and stringy; the -wine, full of pieces of cork. Out into the lounging-room again; and then -the porter hurried over to him with a note from Ryanne. It stated -briefly that it was vitally important for Mr. Jones to meet him at nine -o'clock at the English-Bar in the Quarter Rosetti. Any driver would -show him the way. Mahomed-El-Gebel, the guardian of the Holy Yhiordes, -had turned up, and the band was beginning to play. Would Mr. Jones like -a little fun by the wayside? - -"I'm his man," said George. "But how the devil did this Mahomed ever get -into my room?" - -Had Fortune dined down-stairs instead of alone in her room, events might -have turned out differently. Ryanne had really written to George, but -not to Fortune. - -Mahomed, fatalist that he was, had thrown everything upon the whirling -scales of chance, and waited. Later, he may have congratulated himself -upon his good luck. But it wasn't luck; it was the will of Allah that -he, Mahomed, should contribute his slender share in working out the -destinies of two young people. - -George was in the proper mood for an adventure. He went so far as to -admit to himself that he would have liked nothing better than a -fisticuff. The one mistake he made in his calculations was dress. Men -didn't generally go a-venturing in such finical attire. They wore -bowlers and sack-coats and carried heavy walking-sticks. The only -weapons George had were his two hands, now adorned with snug-fitting -opera-gloves. - -He saw Mrs. Chedsoye, spoke to her, inquired about Fortune, and was -informed that she had dined in her room. A case of doldrums, Mrs. -Chedsoye believed. - -"I'm in a peck of trouble," said George, craving a little sympathy. - -"In what way?" - -"That rug I told you about is gone." - -"What? Stolen?" - -"Yes. Vanished into thin air." - -"That's too bad. Of course, the police will eventually find it for you." - -"I'm afraid that's exactly the trouble. I really daren't put the case in -the hands of the police." - -"Oh, I see." Mrs. Chedsoye looked profoundly sorry. - -"And here I am, due for Port Saïd to-morrow." - -"That's the kind that bowls you over," said the Major. "If there is -anything I can do after you are gone...." - -"Oh, I shouldn't think of bothering you. Thanks, though." - -"You must have lost your key," suggested Mrs. Chedsoye. - -"No. It's been hanging up in the porter's bureau all day." - -"Well, I hope you find the rug," said the Major, with a sly glance at -his sister. - -"Thanks. I must be off. The chap I bought it of says that the official -guardian from Bagdad has arrived, and that there's likely to be some -sport. I'm to meet him at a place called the English-Bar." - -"The English-Bar?" The Major shook his head. "A low place, if I -remember." - -"And you are going dressed like that?" asked Mrs. Chedsoye. - -"Haven't time to change." He excused himself and went in search of a -carriage. - -"The play begins, Kate," whispered the Major. "This Hoddy of ours is a -wonderful chap." - -"Poor fellow!" - -"What; Hoddy?" - -"No; Percival. He'll be very uncomfortable in patent-leather pumps." - -The Major laughed light-heartedly. "I suppose we might telegraph for -reservation on the _Ludwig_." - -"I shall pack at once. Fortune can find her way to Mentone from Naples. -I am beginning to worry about that girl. She has a temper; and she is -beginning to have some ideas." - -"Marry her, marry her! How much longer must I preach that sermon? She's -growing handsomer every day, too. Watch your laurels, Kate." - -Mrs. Chedsoye inspected her rings. - -Meanwhile, George directed his driver to go post-haste to the -English-Bar. That he found it more or less of a dive in nowise alarmed -him. He had been in places of more frightful aspect. As Ryanne had -written him to make inquiries of the barmaid relative to finding him, he -did so. She jerked her head toward the door at the rear. George went -boldly to it, opened it, and stepped inside. - -And vanished from the haunts of men. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE CARAVAN IN THE DESERT - - -Yes, George vanished from the haunts of men, as completely as if the -Great Roc had dropped him into the Valley of Diamonds and left him -there; and as nobody knows just where the Valley of Diamonds is, George -was very well lost. Still, there was, at the end of a most unique -experience, a recompense far beyond its value. But, of course, George, -being without the gift of clairvoyance, saw nothing save the immediate -and imminent circumstances: a door that banged behind him, portentously; -a sack, a cloak, a burnouse, or whatever it was, flung about his head, -and smelling evilly. - -George hit out valiantly, and a merry scuffle ensued. The room was -small; at least, George thought it was, for in the space of one minute -he thumped against the four sides of it. He could see nothing and he -couldn't breathe very well; but in spite of these inconveniences he put -up three rounds that would have made some stir among the middle-weights. -In the phraseology of the fancy, he had a good punch. All the -disappointments of the day seemed to become so many pounds of steam in -his shoulder; and he was aware of a kind of barbaric joy whenever he hit -some one. All the circumspection of years, all of the gentle blood of -his peaceful forebears, gave way to the strain which still lurks in the -blood of civilized humanity, even in the veins of poets and parsons. He -fought with all the tactics of a sailor in a bar-room, not overnicely. - -[Illustration] - -A table toppled over with a smashing noise. George and his assailants -fell in a heap beside it. Thwack! Bang! George struggled to his feet and -tugged at the stifling envelope. Some one jumped upon his back, Old Man -of the Sea style. A savage elbow-jab disposed of this incubus. And then -the racket began all over again. George never paused mentally to wonder -what all this rumpus was about; time enough to make inquiries after the -scrimmage. Intrepidly, as Hereward the Wake, as Bussy d'Ambois, as -Porthos in the cave of Loch-Maria, George fought. He wasn't a trained -athlete; he hadn't any science; he was simply ordinarily tough and -active and clean-lived; and the injustice of an unprovoked assault added -to physical prowess a full measure of nervous energy. It was -quasi-Homeric: a modern young gentleman in evening dress holding off for -several minutes five sleek, sinewy, unhampered Arabs. But the days of -the gods were no more; and no quick-witted goddess cast a veil across -the eyes of the Arabs. No; George had to shift for himself. Suddenly -there came a general rush from the center of the room into one of the -right-angular corners. The subsequent snarl of legs and arms was not -unlike that seen upon the foot-ball field. George was the man with the -ball. And then to George came merciful darkness. The conjunction, as in -astronomy, of two planets in the same degree of the Zodiac--meaning -George's head and the stucco-wall--gave the Arabs complete mastery of -the field of battle. - -From the opposite side of the room came the voice of the referee: -"Curses of Allah upon these white dogs! How they fight!" And Mahomed -peered down into the corner. - -One by one the Arabs got up, each examining his honorable wounds. George -alone remained unmoved, quiet and disinterested, under the folds of the -tattered burnouse. - -"Is he dead?" demanded Mahomed. - -"No, my father. His head hit the wall." - -"Hasten, then. Bind his feet and hands and cover his eyes and mouth. We -have but little time." - -There was a long way yet to go, and Mahomed was too wise and cautious to -congratulate himself at this early stage. George was thereupon trussed -up like a Christmas fowl ready for the oven. They wrapped him up in the -burnouse and carried him out to the closed carriage in waiting. No one -in the street seemed curious. No one in the English-Bar deemed it -necessary to be. Whatever happened in this resort had long been written -in the book of fate. Had a white man approached to inquire what was -going on, Mahomed would have gravely whispered that it was a case of -plague they were hurrying away to prevent interference by the English -authorities. - -Once George was snug inside the carriage, it was driven off at a run -toward the tombs of the caliphs. As the roads were not the levelest, the -vehicle went most of the way upon two wheels. Mahomed sat beside his -victim, watchful and attentive. His intention was to take him no farther -than the outskirts of the city, force him to send back to the hotel a -duly credited messenger for the rug, after which he would turn George -adrift, with the reasonable assurance that the young man would find some -one to guide him back to the hotel. After a while he observed that -George had recovered and was grimly fighting the imprisoning ropes. - -"You will need your strength," interposed Mahomed gently. "If I take the -cloth from your mouth, will you promise not to cry out?" There was an -affirmative nod, and Mahomed untied the bandage. "Listen. I mean you no -harm. If you will send to the hotel for the Holy Yhiordes, you will be -liberated the moment it is put into my hands." - -"Go to the deuce!" snapped George, still dizzy. The fighting mood -hadn't evaporated, by any means. "You know where it is better than I." -So this was Mahomed? - -"Fool!" cried the other, shaking George roughly. - -"Easy there! I had the rug, but it was stolen this afternoon." He was -very weak and tired. "And if I had it, I shouldn't give it to you," with -renewed truculence; "and you may put that in your water-pipe and smoke -it." - -Mahomed, no longer pacific, struck George violently upon the mouth. He, -on his part, was unknightly enough to attempt to sink his teeth in the -brutal hand. Queer fancies flit through a man's head in times like this; -for the ineffectuality of his bite reminded him of Hallowe'ens and the -tubs with the bobbing apples. One thing was certain: he would kill this -pagan the very first opportunity. Rather a startling metamorphosis in -the character of a man whose life had been passed in the peacefulest -environments. And to kill him without the least compunction, too. To -strike a man who couldn't help himself! - -"Hey there!" he yelled. "Help for a white man!" After such treatment he -considered it anything but dishonorable to break his parole. And where -was Ryanne? "Help!" - -Mahomed swung his arm round George's neck, and the third cry began with -a gurgle and ended with a sigh. Deftly, the Arab rebandaged the -prisoner's mouth. So be it. He had had his chance for freedom; now he -should drink to the bottom of the bitter cup, along with the others. He -had had no real enmity against George; he was simply one of the pawns in -the game he was playing. But now he saw that there was danger in -liberating him. The other! Mahomed caressed his wiry beard. To subject -him to the utmost mental agony; to break him physically, too; to pay him -back pound for pence; to bruise, to hurt, to rack him, that was all -Mahomed desired. - -George made no further effort to free himself, nor apparently to bestir -himself about the future. Somewhere in the fight, presumably as he fell -against the table, he had received a crushing blow in the small ribs; -and when Mahomed threw him back, he fainted for the second time in his -life. He reclined limply in the corner of the carriage, the bosom of his -shirt bulging open; for the thrifty Arabs had purloined the -pearl-studs, the gold collar-buttons, and the sapphire cuff-links. And -consciousness returned only when they lifted him out and dropped him -inconsiderately into the thick dust of the road. He stirred again at his -bonds, but presently lay still. The pain in his side hurt keenly, and he -wasn't sure that the rib was whole. What time had passed since his -entrance to the English-Bar was beyond his reckoning, but he knew that -it was yet in the dark of night, as no light whatever penetrated the -cloth over his eyes. That he was somewhere outside the city he was -assured by the tang of the winter wind. He heard low voices--Arabic; and -while he possessed a smattering of the tongue, his head ached too -sharply for him to sense a word. Later, a camel coughed. Camels? And -where were they taking him upon a camel? Bagdad? Impossible: there were -too many white men following the known camel-ways. He groaned a little, -but the sound did not reach the ears of his captors. To ride a camel -under ordinary conditions was a painful affair; but to straddle the -ungainly brute, dressed as he was, in a swallow-tail and paper-thin -pumps, did not promote any pleasurable thoughts. They would in all -truth kill him before they got through. Hang the rug! And doubly hang -the man who had sold it to him! - -His whilom friend, conscience, came back and gibbered at him. Once she -had said: "Don't do it!" and now she was saying quite humanly: "I told -you so!" Hadn't she warned him? Hadn't she swung her red lantern under -his very nose? Well, she hoped he was satisfied. His reply to this brief -jeremiad was that if ever he got his hands upon the rug again, he would -hang on till the crack of doom, and conscience herself could go hang. -Mere perverseness, probably. And where was it, since he was now certain -that Mahomed had it not? It was Ryanne; Ryanne, smooth and plausible of -tongue. Not being satisfied with a thousand pounds, he had stolen it -again to mulct some other simple, trustful person. George, usually so -unsuspicious, was now quite willing to believe anything of anybody. - -He felt himself being lifted to his feet. The rope round his ankles was -thrown off. His feet stung under the renewed flow of blood. He waited -for them to liberate his hands, but the galling rope was not disturbed. -It was evident that the natives still entertained some respect for his -fighting ability. Next, they boosted him, flung a leg here and a leg -there; then came a lurch forward, a lurch backward, the recurrence of -the pain in his side, and he knew that he was upon the back of a camel, -desert-bound. There were stirrups, and as life began to spread vigor -once more through his legs, he found the steel. The straps were too -short, and in time the upper turn of the steel chafed his insteps. He -eased himself by riding sidewise, the proper way to ride a camel, but -with constant straining to keep his balance without the use of his -hands. Fortunately, they were not traveling very fast, otherwise, what -with the stabbing pains in his side, produced by the unvarying dog-trot, -he must have fallen. He was miserable, yet defiant; tears of anger and -pain filled his eyes and burned down his cheeks in spite of the cloth. - -And he, poor fool, had always been longing for an adventure, a taste of -life outside the peaceful harbor wherein he had sailed his cat-boat! -Well, here he was, in the deep-sea water; and he read himself so truly -that he knew the adventure he had longed for had been the cut-and-dried -affairs of story-tellers, in which only the villains were seriously -discommoded, and everything ended happily. A dashing hero he was, to be -sure! Why hadn't he changed his clothes? Was there ever such an ass? -Ryanne had told him that there was likely to be sport; and yet he had -left the hotel as one dressed for the opera. Ass! And to-morrow the -_Ludwig_ would sail without him. - -The wind blew cold against his chest, and the fact that he could neither -see, nor use his tongue to moisten his bruised lips, added to the -discomforts. Back and forth he swayed and rocked. The pain in his side -was gradually minimized by the torture bearing upon his ankles, his -knees, across his shoulders. Finally, when in dull despair he was about -to give up and slide off, indifferent whether the camels following -trampled him or not, a halt was called. It steadied him. Some one -reached up and untied the thong that strangled the life in his hands. -Forward again. This was a trifle better. He could now ease himself with -his hands. No one interfered with him when he tore off the bandages over -his eyes and mouth. The camels were now urged to a swifter pace. - -Egyptian night, well called, he thought. He could discern nothing but -phantom-like grey silhouettes that bobbed up and down after the fashion -of corks upon water. Before him and behind him; how many camels made up -the caravan he could not tell. He could hear the faint slip-slip as the -beasts shuffled forward in the fine and heavy sand. They were well out -into the desert, but what desert was as yet a mystery. He had forgotten -to keep the points of the compass in his mind. And to pick out his -bearings by any particular star was to him no more simple than -translating Chinese. - -Far, far away behind he saw a luminous pallor in the sky, the reflected -lights of Cairo. And only a few hours ago he had complained to the -head-waiter because of the bits of cork floating in his glass of wine. -Ah, for the dregs of that bottle now; warmth, revival, new courage!... -Curse the luck! There went one of his pumps. He called out. The man -riding in front and leading George's camel merely gave a yank at the -rope. The camel responded with a cough and a quickened gait. - -Presently George became aware of a singular fact: that he could see out -of one eye better than the other; and that the semi-useless orb shot -out little stars with every beat of his heart. One of his ears, too, -began to throb and burn. He felt of it. It was less like an ear than a -mushroom. It had been a rattling good mix-up, anyhow; and he accepted -the knowledge rather proudly that the George Percival Algernon, who but -lately had entered the English-Bar sprucely and had made his exit in a -kind of negligible attire, had left behind one character and brought -away another. Never again was he going to be afraid of anything; never -again was he going to be shy: the tame tiger, as it were, had had his -first taste of blood. - -Dawn, dawn; if only the horizon would brighten up a little so that he -could get his bearings. By now they were at least fifteen or twenty -miles from Cairo; but in what direction? - -Hour after hour went by; over this huge grey roll of sand, down into -that cup-like valley; soundless save when the camels protested or his -stirrup clinked against a buckle; all with the somber aspect of a scene -from Dante. Several black spots, moving in circles far above, once -attracted George; and he knew them to be kites, which will follow a -caravan into the desert even as a gull will follow a ship out to sea. -Later, a torpid indifference took possession of him, and the sense of -pain grew less under the encroaching numbness. - -And when at last the splendor of the dawn upon the desert flashed like a -sword-blade along the sky in the east, grew and widened, George -comprehended one thing clearly, that they were in the Arabian desert, -out of the main traveled paths, in the middle of nowhere. - -His sense of beauty did not respond to the marvel of the transformation. -The dark grey of the sand-hills that became violet at their bases, to -fade away upward into little pinnacles of shimmering gold; the drab, -formless, scattered boulders, now assuming clear-cut shapes, transfused -with ruby and sapphire glowing; the sun itself that presently lifted its -rosal warming circle above the stepping-off place--George saw but noted -not. The physical picture was overshadowed by the one he drew in his -mind: the good ship _Ludwig_, boring her way out into the sea. - -The sun was free from the desert's rim when the leading camel was -halted. A confusion ensued; the camels following stupidly into one -another, in a kind of panic. Out of the silence came a babble of -voices, a grunting, a clatter of pack-baskets and saddle-bags. George, -as his camel kneeled, slid off involuntarily and tumbled against a small -hillock, and lay there, without any distinct sense of what was going on -round him. The sand, fine and mutable, formed a couch comfortingly under -his aching body; and he fell asleep, exhausted. Already the impalpable -dust, which had risen and followed the caravan all through the night, -had powdered his clothes, and his face was stained and streaked. His -head lay in the sand, his soft Fedora crushed under his shoulders. What -with the bruises visible, the rents in his coat, the open shirt, soiled, -crumpled, collarless, he invited pity; only none came from the busy -Arabs. As he slept, a frown gathered upon his face and remained there. - -When he came back from his troubled dreams, a bowl of rice, thinned by -hot water, was given him. He cleaned the bowl, not because he was -hungry, but because he knew that somewhere along this journey he would -need strength; and the recurring fury against his duress caused him to -fling the empty bowl at the head of the camel-boy who had brought it. -The boy ducked, laughing. George lay down again. Let them cut his throat -if they wanted to; it was all the same to him. Again he slept, and when -he was roughly and forcibly awakened, he sat up with a snarl and looked -about. - -His head was clear now, and he began to take notes. He counted ten, -eleven, twelve camels; a caravan in truth, prepared for a long and -continuous journey. There were three pack-camels, laden with wood, -tents, and such cooking utensils as the frugal Arab had need of. -Certainly Mahomed was a rich man, whether he owned the camels or hired -them for the occasion. Upon one of the beasts they were putting up a -_mahmal_, a canopy used to protect women from the sun while riding. One -Arab, taller, more robust than the others, moved hither and thither -authoritatively. Wound about his _tarboosh_ or fez was a bright green -_cufia_, signifying that the wearer had made the pilgrimage to Holy -Mecca. This individual George assumed to be Mahomed himself. And he -recognized him as the beggar over whom he had stumbled two nights gone. -Pity he hadn't known, and pitched him into the Nile when he had had the -chance. - -Mahomed completed his directions, and walked leisurely toward George, -but his attention was not directed toward him. A short distance away, at -George's left, was a man, stretched out as if in slumber. Over his inert -figure Mahomed watched. He drew back his foot and kicked the sleeping -man soundly, smiling amiably the while; a kick which, had Mahomed's foot -been cased in western leather, must have stove in the sleeper's ribs. -Strange, the victim did not stir. Mahomed shrugged, and returned to the -business of breaking camp. - -George was keenly interested in this man who could accept such a kick -apparently without feeling or resentment. He stood up for a better view. -One glance was sufficient. It was Ryanne, the erstwhile affable Ryanne -of the reversible cuffs: his feet and hands still in bondage, his -clothes torn, his face battered and bruised like a sailor's of a Sunday -morning on shore-leave. The sight of Ryanne brightened him considerably. -Although he was singularly free from the spirit of malevolence, he was, -nevertheless, human enough to subscribe to that unwritten and much -denied creed that the misery of one man reconciles another to his. And -here was company such as misery loved; here was a man worse off than -himself, whose prospects were a thousand times blacker. Poor devil! And -here he was, captive of the man he had wronged and beaten and robbed. As -seen through George's eyes, Ryanne's outlook was not a pleasant thing to -contemplate. But oh! the fight this one must have been! If it had taken -five natives to overcome him, how many had it taken to beat Ryanne into -such a shocking condition? He was genuinely sorry for Ryanne, but in his -soul he was glad to see him. One white man could accomplish nothing in -the face of these odds; but two white men, that was a different matter. -Ryanne, once he got his legs, strong, courageous, resourceful, Ryanne -would get them both out of it somehow.... And if Ryanne hadn't the rug, -who the dickens had? - -The jumble of questions that rose in his mind, seeking answers to the -riddle of the Yhiordes rug, subsided even as they rose. The bundle to -the far side of Ryanne stirred. He had, in his general survey of the -scene, barely set a glance upon it, believing it to be a conglomeration -of saddle-bags (made of wool and cotton) and blankets. It stirred -again. George studied it with a peculiar sense of detachment. A woman; a -woman in what had but recently been a smart Parisian tailor-made -street-dress. The woman, rubbing her eyes, bore herself up painfully to -a sitting posture. She was white. All the blows of the night past were -as nothing in comparison with this invisible one which seemed to strike -at the very source of life. - -Fortune Chedsoye! - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -NOT A CHEERFUL OUTLOOK - - -George, his brain in tumult, a fierce tigerish courage giving fictitious -strength to his body, staggered toward her. It was a mad dream, a mirage -of his own disordered thoughts. Fortune there? It was not believable. -What place had she in this tangled web? He ran his fingers into his -hair, gripped, and pulled. If it was a dream the pain did not waken him; -Fortune sat there still. Through what terrors might she not have passed -the preceding night? Alone in the desert, without any of those -conveniences which are to women as necessary as the air they breathe! He -tried to run, but his feet sank too deeply into the pale sand; he could -only plod. He must touch her or hear her voice; otherwise he stood upon -the brink of madness. There was no doubt in his mind now; he loved her, -loved her as deeply and passionately as any storied knight loved his -lady; loved her without thought of reward, unselfishly, with great and -tender pity, for unconsciously he saw that she, like he, was all alone, -not only here in the desert, but along the highways where men set up -their dwellings. - -Mahomed, having an eye upon all things, though apparently seeing only -that which was under his immediate concern, saw the young man's -intention, and more, read the secret in his face. He was infinitely -amused. There were two of them, so it seemed. Quietly he stepped in -between George and the girl, and his movement freed George's mind of its -bewilderment. Unhesitatingly, he flung himself upon the Arab, striving -to reach the lean, brown throat. Mahomed, strong and unwearied, having -no hand in the actual warfare, thrust George back so vigorously that the -young man lost his balance and fell prone upon the sand. He was so weak -that the fall stunned him. Mahomed stepped forward, doubtless with the -generous impulse to prove that in the matter of kicks he desired to show -no partiality, when a hand caught at his burnouse. He paused and looked -down. It was the girl. - -"Don't! A brave man would not do that." - -Mahomed, moved by some feeling that eluded immediate analysis, turned -about. It was time to be off, if he wished to reach Serapeum the -following night. Pursuit he knew to be out of the question, since who -was there to know that there was anything to pursue? But many miles -intervened between here and his destination. He dared not enter Serapeum -in the daytime. Lying upon the canal-bank as it did, the possibility of -encountering a stray white man confronted him. Every camel-way -frequented by Europeans must of necessity be avoided, every town of any -size skirted, and all the while he must keep parallel with known paths -or become lost himself. Not to become lost himself, that was his real -concern. The caravan was provisioned for months, and he knew Asia-Minor -as well as the lines upon his palms. There were sand-storms, too; but -against these blighting visitations he would match his vigilant eye and -the instinct of his camels. The one way in which these peculiar storms -might distress him lay in the total obliteration of the way-signs, -certain rocks, certain hills, without the guidance of which, like a good -ship bereft of its compass, he might fall away from his course, -notwithstanding that he would always travel toward the sun. - -And there was also the vital question of water; he must never forget -that; he must measure the time between each well, each oasis. So, then, -aside from these dangers with which he felt able to cope, there was one -unforeseen: the chance meeting with a wandering caravan headed by white -men in search of rugs and carpets. These fools were eternally hunting -about the wastes of the world; they were never satisfied unless they -were prowling into countries where they had no business to be, were -always breaking the laws of the caliphs and the Koran. - -The girl was beautiful in her pale, foreign way; beautiful as the star -of the morning, as the first rose of the Persian spring; and he sighed -for the old days that were no more. She would have brought a sultan's -ransom in the markets. But the accursed Feringhi were everywhere, and -these sickly if handsome white women were more to them than their -heart's blood; why, he had never ceased to wonder. But upon this -knowledge he had mapped out his plan of torture in regard to Ryanne. The -idea of selling Fortune had dimly formed in his mind, while his blood -had burned in anger; but today's soberness showed him the futility of -such a procedure. He would have to make the best of a foolish move; for -the girl would eventually prove an encumbrance. At any rate, he would -wring one white man's heart till it beat dry in his breast. That her -health might be ruined, that she might sicken and die, in no manner -aroused his pity. This attribute was destined never to be awakened in -Mahomed's heart. - -The _kisweh_, the _kisweh_, always the Holy Yhiordes; that he must have, -even if he had to forego the pleasure of breaking Ryanne. He was too old -to start life anew; at least, too old to stir ambition. He had wielded -authority too many years to surrender it lightly; he had known too long -his golden-flaked tobacco, his sherbet, his syrupy coffee, the pleasant -loafing in the bazaars with his merchant friends. To return to the -palace, to confess to the Pasha that his carelessness had lost him the -rug, would result either in death or banishment; and so far as he was -concerned he had no choice, the one was as bad as the other. So, if the -young fool who had bought the rug of Ryanne told the truth when he -declared that it had been stolen again, then Ryanne knew where it was; -and he could be made to tell; he, Mahomed, would attend to that. And -when Ryanne confessed, the girl and the other would be conveyed to the -nearest telegraph-post. That they might at once report the abduction to -the English authorities did not worry Mahomed. Not the fleetest -racing-camel could find him, and behind the walls of the palace of -Bagdad, only Allah could touch him. He had figured it all out closely; -and he was an admirable strategist in his way. Revenge upon Ryanne for -the dishonor and humiliation, and the return of the rug; there was -nothing more beyond that. - -Before George had the opportunity of speaking to Fortune, he was raised -from the sand and bodily lifted upon his camel; and by way of passing -pleasantry, his hat was jammed down over his eyes. He swore as he pulled -up the brim. Swearing was another accomplishment added to the list of -transformations. He had a deal to learn yet, but in his present mood he -was likely to proceed famously. He readjusted the hat in time to see -Ryanne unceremoniously dumped into one of the yawning pack-baskets, his -arms and legs hanging out, his head lolling against his shoulder, -exactly like a marionette, cast aside for the time being. A man of -ordinary stamina would have died under such treatment. But Ryanne -possessed an extraordinary constitution, against which years of -periodical dissipation had as yet made no permanent inroads. Moreover, -he never forgot to keep his chin up and his waist-line down. They put -him into the pack-basket because there was no alternative, being as he -was incapable of sitting upon a camel's back. - -Next, George saw Fortune, unresisting, placed upon the camel, under -canopy. At least, she would know a little comfort against the day's long -ride. His heart ached to see her. He called out bravely to her to be of -good cheer. She turned and smiled; and he saw only the smile, not the -swift, decisive battle against the onset of tears: she smiled, and he -was too far away to see the swimming eyes. - -A bawling of voices, a snapping of the _kurbash_ upon the flanks of the -camels, and the caravan was once more under way. George looked at his -watch, which fortunately had been overlooked by the thieving natives, -and found it still ticking away briskly. It was after nine. It was a -comfort to learn that the watch had not been injured. Most men are -methodical in the matter of time, no matter how desultory they may be in -other things. There is a peculiar restfulness in knowing what the hour -is, whether it passes quickly or whether it drags. - -Further investigation revealed that his letter of credit was undisturbed -and that he was the proud possessor of six damaged cigars and a box of -cigarettes. Instantly the thought of being days without tobacco smote -him almost poignantly. He was an inveterate smoker, and the fact that -the supply was so pitiably small gave unusual zest to his craving. He -now longed for the tang of the weed upon his lips, but he held out -manfully. He would not touch a cigar or cigarette till nightfall, and -then he made up his mind to smoke half of either. The touch, selfish and -calculating, of the miser stole over him. If Ryanne was without the -soother, so much the worse for him. The six cigars he would not share -with the Archangel Michael, supposing that gentleman came down for a -smoke. - -Forward, always forward, winding in and out of the valleys, trailing -over the hills, never faster, never slower. Noon came, and the -brilliance of afternoon dimmed and faded into the short twilight. Were -they never going to stop? One hill more, and George, to his infinite -delight, saw a cluster of date-palms ahead, a mile or so; and he knew -that this was to be the haven for the ship of the desert. The caravan -came to it under the dim light of the few stars that had not yet -attained their refulgence. Under the palms were a few deserted -mud-houses, huddled dejectedly together, like outcasts seeking the -nearness rather than the companionship of their co-unfortunates. Men had -dwelt here once upon a time, but the plague had doubtless counted them -out, one by one. They made camp near the well, which still contained -water. - -Prayers. A wailing chanted forth toward Mecca. "God is great. There is -no God but God." - -George had witnessed prayers so often that he no longer gave attention -to the muezzin calling at eventide from a minaret. But out here, in the -blank wilderness, it caught him again, caught him as it had never done -before. A shiver stirred the hair at the base of his neck. The lean -bodies, one not distinguishable from the other now, kneeling, standing, -sweeping the arms, touching the forehead upon the rug, for even the -lowest camel-boy had his prayer-rug, ceaselessly intoning the set -phrases--George felt shame grow in his heart. Was he as loyal to his God -as these were to theirs? - -A good fire was started, and the funereal aspect of the oasis became -quick and cheerful. A little distance from the blaze, George saw Fortune -bending over the inanimate Ryanne. She was bathing his face with a wet -handkerchief. After a time Ryanne turned over and flung his arms limply -across his face. It was the first sign of life he had exhibited since -the start. Fortune gently pulled aside his arms and continued her tender -mercies. - -"Can I help?" asked George. - -"You might rub his wrists," she answered. - -It seemed odd to him that they should begin in such a matter-of-fact -way. It would be only when they had fully adjusted themselves to the -situation that questions would put forth for answers. He knelt down at -the other side of Ryanne and massaged his wrists and arms. Once he -paused, catching his breath. - -"What is it?" she asked. - -"A rib seems to bother me. It'll be all right to-morrow." He went on -with his manipulations. - -"Is he badly hurt?" - -"I can't say." - -His knowledge of anatomy was not wide; still, Ryanne's arms and legs -worked satisfactorily. The trouble was either in his head or back of his -ribs. He put his arm under Ryanne's shoulder and raised him. Ryanne -mumbled some words. George bent down to catch them. "Hit 'em up in this -half, boys; we've got them going. Hell! Get off my head, you farmer!... -Two cards, please." His face puckered into what was intended for a -smile. George laid him back gently. Foot-ball and poker: what had this -man not known or seen in life? Some one came between the two men and the -fire, casting a long shadow athwart them. George looked up and saw -Mahomed standing close by. His arms were folded and his face grimly -inscrutable. - -"Have you any blankets?" asked George coolly. - -Mahomed gave an order. A blanket and two saddle-bags were thrown down -beside the unconscious man. George made a pillow of the bags and laid -the blanket over Ryanne. - -"Why do you waste your time over him?" asked Mahomed curiously. - -"I would not let a dog die this way," he retorted. - -"He would have let you die," replied Mahomed, turning upon his heel. - -George stared thoughtfully at his whilom accomplice. What did the old -villain insinuate? - -"Can I do anything to make you more comfortable?" speaking to Fortune. - -"I'm all right. I was chilled a little while ago, but the fire has done -away with that. Thank you." - -"You must eat when they bring you food." - -"I'll try to," smiling bravely. - -To take her in his arms, then and there, to appease their hunger and his -heart's! - -Self-consciously, her hand stole to her hair. A color came into her -cheeks. How frightful she must look! Neither hair-pin nor comb was left. -She threw the strands across her shoulder and plucked the snarls and -tangles apart, then braided the whole. He watched her, fascinated. He -had never seen a woman do this before. It was almost a sacrilege for him -to be so near her at such a moment. Afterward she drew her blanket over -her shoulders. - -"You've got lots of pluck." - -"Have I?" - -"Yes. You haven't asked a question yet." - -"Would it help any?" - -"No, I don't suppose it would. I've an idea that we're all on the way to -the home of Haroun-al-Rashid." - -"Bagdad," musingly. - -"It's the rug. But I do not understand you in the picture." - -"No more do I." - -With a consideration that spoke well of his understanding, he did not -speak to her again till food was passed. Later, when the full terror of -the affair took hold of her, she would be dreadfully lonely and would -need to see him near, to hear his voice. He forced some of the hot soup -down Ryanne's throat, and was glad to note that he responded a little. -After that he limped about the strange camp, but was careful to get in -no one's way. Slyly he took note of this face and that, and his -satisfaction grew as he counted the aftermath of the war. And it had -taken five of them, and even then the result had been in doubt up to -that moment when his head had gone bang against the stucco. He took a -melancholy pride in his swollen ear and half-shut eye. He had always -been doubtful regarding his courage; and now he knew that George -Percival Algernon Jones was as good a name as Bayard. - -The camel-boys (they are called boys all the way from ten years up to -forty), having hobbled the beasts, were portioning each a small bundle -of tibbin or chopped straw in addition to what they might find by -grazing. Funny brutes, thought George, as he walked among the kneeling -animals: to go five days without food or water, to travel continuously -from twenty-five to eighty miles the day! Others were busy with the -pack-baskets. A tent, presumably Mahomed's, was being erected upon a -clayey piece of ground in between the palms. No one entered the huts, -even out of curiosity; so George was certain that the desertion had been -brought about by one plague or another. A smaller tent was put up -later, and he was grateful at the sight of it. It meant a little privacy -for the poor girl. Great God, how helpless he was, how helpless they all -were! - -An incessant chatter, occasionally interspersed with a laugh, went on. -The Arab, unlike the East Indian, is not ordinarily surly; and these -seemed to be good-natured enough. They eyed George without malice. The -war of the night before had been all in a day's work, for which they had -been liberally paid. While he had spent much time in the Orient and had -ridden camels, a real caravan, prepared for weeks of travel, was a -distinct novelty; and so he viewed all with interest, knowing perfectly -well that within a few days he would look upon these activities with a -dull, hopeless anger. He went back to the girl and sat down beside her. - -"Have you any idea why you are here?" - -"No; unless he saw me in the bazaars with Horace, and thought to torture -him by bringing me along." - -Horace! A chill that was not of the night ran over his shoulders. So she -called the adventurer by his given name? And how might her presence -torture Ryanne? George felt weak in that bitter moment. Ay, how might -not her presence torture _him_ also? He had never, for the briefest -space, thought of Ryanne and Fortune at the same time. She spoke, -apathetically it was true, as if she had known him all her life. The -wisest thing he could do was to bring Ryanne to a condition where he -could explain some parts of the enigma and be of some use. Horace! - -"I'm going to have another try at him," he said. - -She nodded, but without any particular enthusiasm. - -George worked over Ryanne for the better part of an hour, and finally -the battered man moved. He made an effort to speak, but this time no -sound issued from his lips. At the end of the hour he opened his eyes -and smiled. It was more like the grin George had once seen upon the face -of a boxer who had returned to the contest after having been floored -half a dozen times. - -"Can you hear me?" asked George. - -Ryanne stared into his face. "Yes," thickly. "Where are we?" - -"In the desert." - -"Which one?" - -"Arabian." - -Ryanne tried to sit up alone. - -"Better not try to move. They banged you up at a great rate. Best thing -you can do is to go to sleep. You'll be all right in the morning." - -Ryanne sank back, and George bundled him up snugly. Poor devil! - -"He'll pull himself together in the morning," he said to Fortune. "I did -not know that you knew him well." - -"I have known him for eight or nine years. He used to visit my uncle at -our villa in Mentone." She smiled. "You look very odd." - -"No odder than I feel," with an ineffectual attempt to bring together -the ends of his collar-band. "I must be a sight. I was in too much of a -hurry to get here. Did you eat the soup and fish?" - -"The soup, yes; but I'm afraid that it will be some time before I can -find the dried fish palatable. I hope my courage will not fail me," she -added, the first sign of anxiety she had yet shown. She was very lonely, -very tired, very sad. - -It is quite possible that Mahomed, coming over, spoiled a pretty scene; -for George had some very brave words upon the tip of his tongue. - -"Come," said Mahomed to Fortune. "You will sleep in the little tent. No -one will disturb you." - -"Good night, Mr. Jones. Don't worry; I am not afraid." - -George was alone. He produced one of his precious cigars and lighted it. -Then he drew over his feet one of the empty saddle-bags, wrapped his -blanket round him, and sat smoking and thinking till the heat of the -fire, replenished from time to time, filled him with a comfortable -drowsiness; and the cigar, still smoking, slipped from his nerveless -fingers, as he lay back upon the hard clay and slept. Romance is the -greatest thing in the world; but for all that, a man must eat and a man -must sleep. - -The cold dew of dawn was the tonic that recalled him from the land of -grotesque dreams. He sat up and rubbed his face briskly with his hands, -drying it upon the sleeve of his coat, as hasty and as satisfying a -toilet as he had ever made. There was no activity in camp; evidently -they were not going to start early. The cook alone was busy. The fire -was crackling, the kettle was steaming, and a pot of pleasant-smelling -coffee leaned rakishly against the hot ashes. The flap to Fortune's tent -was still closed. And there was Ryanne, sitting with his knees drawn up -under his chin, his hands clasped about his shins, and glowering at no -visible thing. - -"Hello!" cried George. "Found yourself, eh?" - -Ryanne eyed him without emotion. - -"When and how did they get you?" George inquired. - -"About three hours before they got you. Something in a glass of wine. -Dope. I'd have cleaned them up but for that." - -"How do you feel?" - -"Damned bad, Percival." - -"Any bones broken?" - -"No; I'm just knocked about; sore spot in my side; kicked, maybe. But it -isn't that." - -George didn't ask what "that" was. "Where do you think he's taking us?" - -"Bagdad, if we don't die upon the way." - -"I don't think he'll kill us. It wouldn't be worth his while." - -"You did not give him the rug?" - -"Not I!" - -"It comes hard, Jones, I know, but your giving it up will save us both -many bad days. He asked you for it?" - -"He did." - -"Then why the devil didn't you give it to him? What's a thousand pounds -against this muddle?" - -"For the simple reason I didn't have it to give up." - -"What's that?" - -"When I went up to my room, night before last, some one had been there -ahead of me. And at first I had given you the credit," said George, with -admirable frankness. - -"Gone!" There was no mistaking the dismay in Ryanne's voice. - -"Absolutely." - -"Well, I be damn!" Ryanne threw aside the blanket and got up. It was a -painful moment, and he swayed a little. "If Mahomed hasn't it, and I -haven't it, and you haven't it, who the devil has, then?" - -George shook his head. - -"Jones, we are in for it. If that cursed rug is Mahomed's salvation, it -is no less ours. If we ever reach the palace of Bagdad and that rug is -not forthcoming, we'll never see the outside of the walls again." - -"Nonsense! There's an American consul at Bagdad." - -"And Mahomed will notify him of our arrival!" bitterly. - -"Isn't there some way we two might get at Mahomed?" - -"Perhaps; but it will take time. Don't bank upon money. Mahomed wants -his head. If the rug...." But Ryanne stopped. He looked beyond George, -his face full of terror. George turned to see what had produced this -effect. Fortune was coming out of her tent. "Fortune? My God!" Ryanne's -legs gave under and he sank, his face in his hands. "I see it all now! -Fool, fool! He's going to get me, Jones; he's going to get me through -her!" - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -MAHOMED OFFERS FREEDOM - - -Fortune had slept, but only after hours of watchful terror. The -slightest sound outside the tent sent a scream into her throat, but she -succeeded each time in stifling it. Once the evil laughter of a hyena -came over the dead and silent sands, and she put her hands over her -ears, shivering. Alone! She laid her head upon the wadded saddle-bags -and wept silently, and every sob tore at her heart. She must keep up the -farce of being brave when she knew that she wasn't. The men must not be -discouraged. Her deportment would characterize theirs; any sign of -weakness upon her side would correspondingly depress them the more. She -prayed to God to give her the strength to hold out. She was afraid of -Mahomed; she was afraid of his grim smile, afraid of his mocking eyes; -she could not sponge out the scene wherein he had so gratuitously kicked -Horace in the side. Horace! No, she did not believe that she would ever -forgive him for this web which he had spun and fallen into himself. Two -things she must hide for the sake of them all: her fear of Mahomed and -her knowledge of Ryanne's trickery. - -What part in this tragedy had the Arab assigned her? Her fingers twined -and untwined, and she rocked and rocked, bit her lips, lay down, sat up -and rocked again. But for the exhaustion, but for the insistent call of -nature, she would never have closed her eyes that night. - -And her mother! What would her mother believe, after the scene that had -taken place between them? What could she believe, save that her daughter -had fulfilled her threat, and run away? And upon this not unreasonable -supposition her mother would make no attempt to find out what had become -of her. Perhaps she would be glad, glad to be rid of her and her -questions. Alone! Well, she had always been alone. - -The only ray of sunshine in all was the presence of Jones. She felt, -subtly, that he would not only stand between her and Mahomed, but also -between her and Ryanne. - - * * * * * - -"Hush!" whispered George. "Don't let her see you like this. She mustn't -know." - -"You don't understand," replied Ryanne miserably. - -"I believe I do." George's heart was heavy. This man was in love with -her, too. - -Ryanne struck the tears from his eyes and turned aside his head. He was -sick in soul and body. To have walked blindly into a trap like this, of -his own making, too! Fool! What had possessed him, usually so keen, to -trust the copper-hided devil? All for the sake of one glass of wine! -With an effort entailing no meager pain in his side, he stilled the -strangling hiccoughs, swung round and tried to smile reassuringly at the -girl. - -"You are better?" she asked. - -There was in the tone of that question an answer to all his dreams. One -night's work had given him his ticket to the land of those weighed and -found wanting. She knew; how much he did not care; enough to read his -guilt. - -It appeared to George that she was accepting the situation with a -philosophy deeper than either his or Ryanne's. Not a whimper, not a -plaint, not a protest so far had she made. She was a Roland in -petticoats. - -"Oh, I'm bashed up a bit," said Ryanne. "I'll get my legs in a day or -so. Fortune, will you answer one question?" - -"As many as you like." - -"How did you get here?" - -"Don't you know?" - -George wasn't certain, but the girl's voice was cold and accusing. - -"I?" - -"Yes. Wasn't it the note that you wrote to me?" - -Ryanne took his head in his hands, wearily. "I wrote you no note, -Fortune; I have never written you a note of any kind. You do not know my -handwriting from Adam's. In God's name, why didn't you ask your mother -or your uncle? They would have recognized the forgery at once. Who gave -it to you?" - -"Mahomed himself." - -"Damn him!" Ryanne grew strong under the passing fit of rage. "No, don't -tell me to be silent. I don't care about myself. I'm the kind of a man -who pulls through, generally. But this takes the spine out of me. I'm to -blame; it's all my fault." - -"Say no more about it." She believed him. She really hadn't thought him -capable of such baseness, though at the time of her abduction she had -been inclined to accuse him. That he was here, a prisoner like herself, -was conclusive evidence, so far as she was concerned, of his innocence. -But she knew him to be responsible for the presence of Jones; knew him -to be culpable of treachery of the meanest order; knew him to be lacking -in generosity and magnanimity toward a man who was practically his -benefactor. "What does Mahomed want?" - -"The bally rug, Fortune. And Jones here, who had it, says that it is -gone." - -"Vanished, magic-carpet-wise," supplemented George. - -"And Jones would have given it up." - -"And a thousand like it, if we could have bought you out of this." - -"Jones and I could have managed to get along." - -"We shouldn't have mattered." - -"And would you have returned to Mr. Jones his thousand pounds?" - -"Yes, and everything else I have," quite honestly. - -"Don't worry any more about the rug, then. I know where it is." - -"You?" cried the two men. - -"Yes. I stole it. I did so, thinking to avert this very hour; to save -you from harm," to George, "and you from doing a contemptible thing," to -Ryanne. "It is in my room, done up in the big steamer-roll. And now I am -glad that I stole it." - -Ryanne laughed weakly. - -Said George soberly: "What contemptible thing?" He recollected Mahomed's -words in regard to Ryanne as the latter lay insensible in the sand. - -Ryanne, quick to seize the opportunity of solving, to his own advantage, -the puzzle for George, and at the same time guiding Fortune away from a -topic, the danger of which she knew nothing, raised a hand. "I bribed -Mahomed to kidnap you, Jones. Don't be impatient. You laughed at me when -I laid before you the prospectus of the United Romance and Adventure -Company. I wished to prove to you that the concern existed. And so here -is your adventure upon approval. I thought, of course, you still had the -rug. Mahomed was to carry you into the desert for a week, and by that -time you would have surrendered the rug, returned to Cairo, the hero of -a full-fledged adventure. Lord! what a mess of it I've made. I forgot, -next to his bally rug, Mahomed loved me." - -The hitherto credulous George had of late begun to look into facts -instead of dreams. He did not believe a word of this amazing confession, -despite the additional testimony of Fortune, relative to Ryanne's -statements made to her in the bazaars. - -"The biter bitten," was George's sole comment. - -Ryanne breathed easier. - -"Why not tell Mahomed at once, and have him send a courier back for the -rug?" suggested Fortune. - -"By Jove, that clears up everything. We'll do it immediately." George -felt better than he had at any stage of the adventure. Here was a -simple way out of the difficulty. - -"Softly," said Ryanne. "Let us come down to the lean facts. If that rug -is in your room, Fortune, your mother has discovered it long before now. -She will turn it over to your estimable uncle. None of us will ever see -it again, I'm thinking. The Major knows that Jones gave me a thousand -pounds for it." Struck by a sense of impending disaster, Ryanne began to -fumble in his pockets. Gone! Every shilling of it gone! "He's got that, -too; Mahomed; the cash you gave me, Jones. Wait a moment; don't speak; -things are whirling about some. Over nine hundred pounds; every shilling -of it. We mustn't let him know that I've missed it. I've got to play -weak in order to grow strong.... But they will at least start up a row -as to your whereabouts, Fortune." - -"No," thoughtfully; "no, I do not think they will." - -The undercurrent was too deep for George. He couldn't see very clearly -just then. The United Romance and Adventure Company; was that all? Was -there not something sinister behind that name, concerning him? He -looked patiently from the girl to the adventurer. - -Ryanne stared at the yellow desert beyond. His brain was clearing -rapidly under the stimulus of thought. He himself did not believe that -they would send out search-parties either for him or for Fortune. He -could not fathom what had given Fortune her belief; but he realized that -his own was based upon the recollection of that savage mood when he had -thrown down the gauntlet. Now they would accept it. He had run away with -Fortune as he had boldly threatened to do. The mother and her precious -brother would proceed at once to New York without him. He had made a -fine muddle of it all. But for a glass of wine and a grain too much of -confidence, he had not been here this day. - -Mahomed, himself astir by this time, came over to the group, leisurely. -The three looked like conspirators to his suspicious eye, but unlike -conspirators they made no effort to separate because he approached. He -understood: as yet they were not afraid of him. That was one of the -reasons he hated white men; they could seldom be forced to show fear, -even when they possessed it. Well, these three should know what fear -was before they saw the last of him. He carried a _kurbash_, a cow-hide -whip, which he twirled idly, even suggestively. First, he came to -George. - -"If you have the Yhiordes, there is still a chance for you. Cairo is but -fifty miles away. Bagdad is several hundred." He drew the whip -caressingly through his fingers. - -"I do not lie," replied George, a truculent sparkle in his eyes. "I told -you that I had it not. It was the truth." - -A ripple of anxiety passed over Mahomed's face. "And you?" turning upon -Ryanne, with suppressed savageness. How he longed to lay the lash upon -the dog! - -"Don't look at me," answered Ryanne waspishly. "If I had it I should not -be here." Ah, for a bit of his old strength! He would have strangled -Mahomed then and there. But the drug and the beating had weakened him -terribly. - -"If I give you the rug," interposed Fortune, "will you promise freedom -to us all?" - -Mahomed stepped back, nonplussed. He hadn't expected any information -from this quarter. - -"I have the rug," declared Fortune calmly, though she could scarcely -hear her own voice, her heart beat so furiously. - -"You have it?" Mahomed was confused. Here was a turn in the road upon -which he had set no calculation. All three of them! - -"Yes. And upon condition that you liberate us all, I will put it into -your hands. But it must be my writing this time." - -A white man would have blushed under the reproach in her look. Mahomed -smiled amiably, pleased over his cleverness. "Where is the _kisweh_?" - -"The _kisweh_?" - -"The Holy Yhiordes. Where is it?" - -"That I refuse to tell you. Your word of honor first, to bind the -bargain." - -Ryanne laughed. It acted upon Mahomed like a goad. He raised the whip, -and had Ryanne's gaze swerved the part of an inch, the blow would have -fallen. - -"You laugh?" snarled Mahomed. - -"Why, yes. A bargain with your honor makes me laugh." - -"And _your_ honor?" returned Mahomed fiercely. He wondered why he held -his hand. "I have matched trickery against trickery. My honor has not -been called. I fed you, I gave you drink; in return you lied to me, -dishonored me in the eyes of my friends, and one of them you killed." - -"It was my life or his," exclaimed Ryanne, not relishing the recital of -this phase. "It was my life or his; and he was upon my back." - -Fortune shuddered. Presently she laid her hand upon Mahomed's arm. -"Would you take my word of honor?" - -Mahomed sought her eyes. "Yes. I read truth in your eyes. Bring me the -rug, and my word of honor to you, you shall go free." - -"But my friends?" - -"One of them." Mahomed laughed unpleasantly. It was an excellent idea. -"One of them shall go free with you. It will be for you to choose which. -Now, you dog, laugh, laugh!" and the tongue of the _kurbash_ bit the -dust within an inch of Ryanne's feet. - -"What shall I do?" asked Fortune miserably. - -"Accept," urged Ryanne. "If you are afraid to choose one or the other -of us, Jones and I will spin a coin." - -"I agree," said George, very unhappy. - -"Have you any paper, Jones?" - -George searched. He found the dance-card to the ball at the hotel. In -another pocket he discovered the little pencil that went with it. - -"You write," said Mahomed to Fortune. - -"I intend to." Fortune took the card and pencil and wrote as follows: - - "MOTHER: - - "Horace, Mr. Jones and I are prisoners of the man who owned the - rug, which you will find in the large steamer-roll. Give it to the - courier who brings this card. And under no circumstances set spies - upon his track." In French she added: "We are bound for Bagdad. In - case Mahomed receives the rug and we are not liberated, wire the - embassy at Constantinople and the consulate at Bagdad. - - "FORTUNE." - -She gave it to Mahomed. - -"Read it out loud," he commanded. While he spoke English fluently, he -could neither read nor write it in any serviceable degree. The note he -had given to Fortune had been written by a friend of his in the bazaars -who had upon a time lived in New York. Fortune read slowly, slightly -flushing as she evaded the French script. - -"That will do," Mahomed agreed. - -He shouted for one of his boys, bade him saddle the _hagin_ or -racing-camel, which of all those twelve, alone was his, and be off to -Cairo. The boy dipped his bowl into the kettle, ate greedily, saddled -the camel, and five minutes later was speeding back toward Cairo at a -gait that would bring him there late that night. - -Fortune and George and Ryanne watched him till he disappeared below a -dip and was gone from view. In the minds of the three watchers the same -question rose: would he be too late? George was cheerful enough -thereafter, but his cheerfulness was not of the infectious kind. - -At noon the caravan was once more upon its way. Ryanne was able to ride. -The fumes of whatever drug had been administered to him had finally -evaporated, and he felt only bruised, old, disheartened. An evil day for -him when he had set forth for Bagdad in quest of the rug. He was -confident that there would be no rug awaiting the courier, and what -would be Mahomed's procedure when the boy returned empty-handed was not -difficult to imagine. Mahomed was right; so far honor had not entered -into the contest. According to his lights, the Arab was only paying coin -for coin. But for the girl, Ryanne would have accepted the situation -with a shrug, to await that moment when Mahomed, eased by the sense of -security, would naturally relax vigilance. The presence of Fortune -changed the whole face of the affair. Mahomed could have his eyes and -heart if he would but spare her. He must be patient; he must accept -insults, even physical violence, but some day he and Mahomed would play -the final round. - -His past, his foolish, futile past: all the follies, all the petty -crimes, all the low dissipations in which he had indulged, seemed -trooping about his camel, mocking and gibbering at him. Why hadn't he -lived clean like Jones there? Why hadn't he fought temptation as he had -fought men? Environment was no excuse; bringing-up offered no -palliation; he had gone wrong simply because his inclinations had been -wrong. On the other hand, no one had ever tried to help him back to a -decent living. His mother had died during his childhood, and her -influence had left no impression. His father had been a money-maker, -consumed by the pleasure of building up pyramids of gold. He had never -reasoned with his youngest-born; he had paid his bills without protest -or reproach; it was so much a month to be written down in the expense -account. And the first-born had been his natural enemy since the days of -the nursery. Still, he could not acquit himself; his own arraignment was -as keen as any judge could have made. Strong as he was physically, -brilliant as he was mentally, there was a mortal weakness in his blood; -and search as he might the history of his ancestors, their lives shed no -light upon his own. - -In stating that his face had been granted that dubious honor and concern -of the perpetrators of the rogues' gallery, he had merely given rein to -a seizure of soul-bitterness. But there was truth enough in the -statement that he had been short in his accounts many thousands at his -father's bank; gambling debts; and in making no effort to replace the -loss, he was soon found out by his brother, who seemed only too glad to -dishonor him. He was given his choice: to sign over his million, due -him a year later (for at this time the father was dead), or go to -prison. The scandal of the affair had no weight with his brother; he -wanted the younger out of the way. Like the hot-headed fool he was, he -had signed away his inheritance, taken a paltry thousand and left -America, facing imprisonment if he returned. That was the kind of a -brother he had. Once he had burned his bridges, there came to him a -dozen ways by which he could have extricated himself. But once a fool, -always a fool! - -Disinherited, outcast, living by his wits, ingenious enough; the finer -senses callousing under the contact with his inferiors; a gambler, a -hard drinker periodically; all in all, a fine portrait for any gallery -given over to rogues. And he hadn't worried much over the moral problem -confronting him, that the way of the transgressor is hard. It was only -when love rent the veil of his fatuity that he saw himself as he really -was. - -Love! He gazed ahead at Fortune under the _mahmal_. That a guileless -young girl as she was should enchain him! That the sight of her should -always send a longing into his soul to go back and begin over! His jaws -hardened. Why not? Why not try to recover some of the crumbs of the fine -things he had thrown away? At least enough to permit him to go again -among his fellows without constantly looking behind to note if he were -followed? By the Lord Harry! once he was out of this web of his own -weaving, he _would_ live straight; he swore that every dollar hereafter -put in his pocket should be an honest one. Fortune could never be his -wife. He came to this fact without any roundabout or devious byways. In -the first place, he knew that he had not touched her; she had only been -friendly; and now even her friendship hung by a thread. All right. The -love he bore her was going to be his salvation just the same; and at -this moment he was deadly in earnest. - -It was after nine when they were ferried across the two canals, the -fresh-water and the salt, several miles below Serapeum. The three weary -captives saw a great liner slip past slowly and majestically upon its -way to the Far East. She radiated with light and cheer and comfort; and -all could hear faintly the pulsations of her engines. So near and yet so -far; a cup of water to Tantalus! At midnight they made camp. There were -no palms this time; simply a well in the center of a jumble of huge -boulders. The tents were pitched to the southwest, for now the wind -blew, biting from the land of northern snows; and a fire was a welcome -thing. This was Arabia; Africa had been left behind. Here they awaited -the return of the courier, who arrived two days later, dead tired. The -persons to whom the card had been sent had sailed for Naples with the -steamer _Ludwig_. Mahomed turned upon the three miserables. - -"I have you three, then; and by the beard of the Prophet, you shall pay, -you shall pay! You have robbed and beaten and dishonored me; and you -shall pay!" - -"Am I guilty of any wrong toward you?" faltered the girl. Her mother had -gone. She had hoped against hope. - -"No," cried Mahomed. He laughed. "You are free to return to Cairo ... -alone! Free to take your choice of these two men to accompany you. Free, -free as the air.... Well, why do you hesitate?" - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -FORTUNE'S RIDDLE SOLVED - - -Fortune, without deigning to reply, walked slowly and proudly to her -tent, and disappeared within. She looked neither at Ryanne nor at -George. She knew that George, his soul filled with that unlucky quixotic -sense of chivalry which had made him so easy a victim to her mother, -would not accept his liberty at the price of Ryanne's, Ryanne, to whom -he owed nothing, not even mercy. And if she had had to ask one of the -two, George would have been the natural selection, for she trusted him -implicitly. Perhaps there still lingered in her mind a recollection of -how charmingly he had spoken of his mother. - -She could have set out for Cairo alone: even as she could have grown a -pair of wings and sailed through the air! The fate that walked behind -her was malevolent, cruel, unjust. She had wronged no one, in thought or -deed. She had put out her hand confidently to the world, to be laughed -at, distrusted, or ignored. Was it possible that a little more than a -month ago she wandered, if not happy, in the sense she desired, at least -in a peaceful state of mind, among her camelias and roses at Mentone? -Her world had been, in this short time, remolded, reconstructed; where -once had bloomed a garden, now yawned a chasm: and the psychological -earthquake had left her dizzy. That Mahomed, now wrought to a kind of -Berserk rage, might begin reprisals at once, did not alarm her; indeed, -her feeling was rather of dull, aching indifference. Nothing mattered -now. - -But Ryanne and George were keenly alive to the danger, and both agreed -that Fortune must go no farther. - -Ryanne, under his bitter raillery and seeming scorn for sacred things, -possessed a latent magnanimity, and it now pushed up through the false -layers. "Jones, it's my funeral. Go tell her. You two can find the way -back to the canal, and once there you will have no trouble. Don't -bother your head about me." - -"But what will you do?" - -"Take my medicine," grimly. - -"Ryanne, you are offering the cowardly part to me!" - -"You fool, it's the girl. What do you and I care about the rest of it? -You're as brave as a lion. When you put up your fists the other night, -you solved that puzzle for yourself. For God's sake, do it while I have -the courage to let you! Don't you understand? I love that girl better -than my heart's blood, and Mahomed can have it drop by drop. Go and go -quickly! He will give you food and water." - -"You go. She knows you better than me." - -"But will she trust me as she will you? Percival, old top, Mahomed will -never let me go till he's taken his pound of flesh. Fortune!" Ryanne -called. "Fortune, we want you!" - -She appeared at the flap of the tent. - -"Jones here will go back with you. Go, both of you, before Mahomed -changes his mind." - -"Miss Chedsoye, he is wrong. He's the one to go. He was hurt worse than -I was. Pride doesn't matter at a time like this. You two go," -desperately. - -Fortune shook her head. "All or none of us; all or none of us," she -repeated. - -And Mahomed, having witnessed and overheard the scene, laughed, a -laughter identical to that which had struck the barmaid's ears -sinisterly. He had not studied his white man without gathering some -insight into his character. Neither of these men was a poltroon. And -when he had made the offer, he knew that the conditions would erect a -barrier over which none of them would pass voluntarily. So much for -pride as the Christian dogs knew it. Pride is a fine buckler; none knew -that better than Mahomed himself; but a wise man does not wear it at all -times. - -"What is it to be?" he demanded of Fortune. - -"What shall I say to him?" - -"Whatever you will." Ryanne was tired. He saw that argument would be of -no use. - -"All or none of us." And Fortune looked at Mahomed with all the pride of -her race. "It is not because you wish me to be free; it is because you -wish to see one of my companions made base in my eyes. I will not have -it!" - -"The will of Allah!" He could not repress the fire of admiration in his -own eyes as they took in her beauty, the erect, slender figure, the -scorn upon her face, and the fearlessness in her great, dark eyes. Such -a woman might have graced the palace of the Great Caliph. He had had in -mind many little cruelties to practice upon her, that he might see the -men writhe, impotent and helpless to aid her. But in this tense and -dramatic scene, a sense of shame took possession of him; his pagan heart -softened; not from pity, but from that respect which one brave person -gives free-handed to another. - -Mahomed was not a bad man, neither was he a cruel one. He had been -terribly wronged, and his eastern way had but one angle of vision: to -avenge himself, believing that revenge alone could soothe his outraged -pride and reëstablish his honor as he viewed it from within. Had the -courier returned with the Holy Yhiordes, it is not impossible that he -would have liberated them all. But now he dared not; he was not far -enough away. To Bagdad, then, and as swiftly as the exigencies of -desert travel would permit. One beacon of hope burned in his breast. -The Pasha might be deposed, and in that case he could immediately -dispose of his own goods and chattels and seek new pastures. It would -come hard, doubly hard, since he never could regain the position he was -to lose. - -Nine hundred pounds English, and a comfortable fraction over; the -yellow-haired dog would have nothing in the end for his pains. It would -be what the Feringhi called a good joke. - -A week passed. Christmas. And not one of them recalled the day. Perhaps -it was because years had passed since that time when it meant anything -to them. The old year went out a-lagging; neither did they take note of -this. Having left behind civilization, customs and habits were -forgotten. - -Sometimes they rode all day and all night, sometimes but half a day, and -again, when the water was sweet, they rested the day and night. Never a -human being they saw, never a caravan met or crossed them. In this week, -the secret marvels of the desert became theirs. They saw it gleam and -waver and glitter under skies of brass, when the north wind let down and -a breeze came over from the Persian Gulf. They saw it covered with the -most amazing blues and greys and greens. They saw it under the rarest -azure and a stately fleet of billowy clouds; under the dawn, under the -set of sun, under the moon and the stars; and unfailingly the -interminable reaches of sand and rock and scrubby bush, chameleon-like, -readjusted its countenance to each change in the sky. George, who was a -poet without the gift of expression, never ceased to find new charms; -and nothing pleased his fancy more than to see the cloud-shadows scud -away across the sands. Once, toward the latter end of day, Fortune cried -out and pointed. Far away, palely yet distinctly, they saw an ocean -liner. She stood out against the yellowing sky as a magic-lantern -picture stands out upon the screen, and faded similarly. It was the one -and only mirage they saw, or at least noticed. - -[Illustration] - -Once another caravan, composed wholly of Arabs, passed. What hope the -prisoners had was instantly snuffed out. Before the strangers came -within hailing, Mahomed hustled his captives into his tent and swore he -would kill either George or Ryanne if they spoke. He forgot Fortune, -however. As the caravan was passing she screamed. Instantly Mahomed -clapped his hand roughly over her mouth. The sheik of the passing -caravan looked keenly at the tent, smiled grimly and passed on. What was -it to him that a white woman lay in yonder tent? His one emotion was of -envy. After this the prisoners became apathetic. - -Upon the seventh day, they witnessed the desert's terrifying anger. The -air that had been cool, suddenly grew still and hot; the blue above -began to fade, to assume a dusty, copperish color. The camels grew -restless. Quickly there rose out of the horizon saffron clouds, -approaching with incredible swiftness. Little whirlwinds of sand -appeared here and there, rose and died as if for want of air. Mahomed -veered the caravan toward a kind of bluff composed of sand and -precipitous boulders. All the camels were made to kneel. The boys -muffled up their mouths and noses, and Mahomed gave instructions to his -captives. Fortune buried her head in her coat and nestled down beside -her camel, while George and Ryanne used their handkerchiefs. George left -his camel and sought Fortune's side, found her hand and held it tightly. -He scarcely gave thought to what he did. He vaguely meant to encourage -her; and possibly he did. - -The storm broke. The sun became obscured. Pebbles and splinters of rock -sang through the pall of whirling sand. A golden tone enveloped the -little gathering. - -Had there been no natural protection, they must have ridden on, blindly -and desperately, for to have remained still in the open would have been -to await their tombs. It spent its fury in half an hour; and the -clearing air became cold again. The caravan proceeded. The hair of every -one was dimly yellow, their faces and their garments. - -When camp was made that night it found the captives untalkative. The -girl and the two men sat moodily about the fire. Fatigue had dulled -their bodies and hopelessness their minds. The men were ragged now, -unkempt; a stubble of beard covered their faces, gaunt yet burned. -George had lost his remaining pump, and as his stockings were now full -of holes, he had, in the last flicker of personal pride, wound about -them some cast-off cloths he had found. There was not enough water for -ablutions; there was scarcely enough to assuage thirst. - -By and by, Ryanne, without turning his head, spoke to George. "You say -you questioned the courier?" - -"Yes." - -"He says he showed the note to no one?" - -"Yes." - -"And so no one will try to find us? - -"No." - -Ryanne had asked these questions a dozen times and George had always -given the same answers. - -Up and away at dawn, for they must reach the well that night. It was a -terrible day for them all. Even the beasts showed signs of distress. And -the worst of it was, Mahomed was not quite sure of his route. -Fortunately, they found the well. They drank like mad people. - -Ryanne, who had discovered a pack of cards in his pocket, played -patience upon a spot smoothed level with his hand. He became absorbed in -the game; and the boys gathered round him curiously. Whenever he -succeeded in turning out the fifty-two cards, he would smile and rub his -hands together. The boys at length considered him unbalanced mentally, -and in consequence looked upon him as a near-holy man. - -Between Fortune and George, conversation dwindled down to a query and an -answer. - -"Can I do anything for you?" - -"No, thanks; I am getting along nicely." - -To-night she retired early, and George joined Ryanne's audience. - -"It averages about nine cards to the play," he commented. - -Ryanne turned over an ace. Ten or fifteen minutes went by. In the -several attempts he had failed to score the full complement. - -George laughed. - -"What's in your mind?" cried Ryanne peevishly. "If it's anything worth -telling, shoot it out, shoot it out!" - -"I was thinking what I'd do to a club-steak just about now." - -Ryanne stared beyond the fire. "A club-steak. Grilled mushrooms." - -"Sauce Bordelaise. Artichokes." - -"No. Asparagus, vinaigrette." - -"What's the matter with endives?" - -"That's so. Well, asparagus with butter-sauce." - -"Grilled sweets, coffee, Benedictine, and cigars." - -"And a magnum of '1900' to start off with!" Ryanne, with a sudden change -of mood, scooped up the cards and flung them at George's head. "Do you -want us both to become gibbering idiots?" - -George ducked. He and the boys gathered in the fluttering paste-boards. - -"You're right, Percival," Ryanne admitted humbly. "It will not hurt us -to talk out loud, and we are all brooding too much. I am crazy for the -want of tobacco. I'd trade the best dinner ever cooked for a decent -cigar." - -George put a hand reluctantly into his pocket. He brought forth, with -extreme gentleness, a cigar, the wrapper of which was broken in many -places. "I've saved this for days," he said. With his pen-knife he sawed -it delicately into two equal parts, and gave one to Ryanne. - -"You're a good fellow, Jones, and I've turned you a shabby trick. I -shan't forget this bit of tobacco." - -"It's the last we've got. The boys, you know, refuse a pull at the -water-pipe; defiles 'em, they say. Funny beggars! And if they gave us -tobacco, we shouldn't have paper or pipes." - -"I always carry a pipe, but I lost it in the shuffle. I never looked -upon smoking as a bad habit. I suppose it's because I was never caught -before without it. And it is a bad habit, since it knocks up a chap this -way for the lack of it. Where do you get your club-steaks in old N. Y.?" - -And for an hour or more they solemnly discussed the cooking here and -there upon the face of the globe. - -By judicious inquiries, George ascertained that the trip to Bagdad, -barring accidents, would take fully thirty-five days. The daily journeys -proceeded uneventfully. Mahomed maintained a taciturn grimness. If he -aimed at Ryanne at all, it was in trifling annoyances, such as -forgetting to give him his rations unless he asked for them, or walking -over the cards spread out upon the sand. Ryanne carried himself very -well. Had he been alone, he would have broken loose against Mahomed; but -he thought of the others, and restrained himself--some consideration was -due them. - -But into the blood of the two men there crept a petty irritability. -They answered one another sharply, and often did not speak. Fortune -alone seemed mild and gentle. Mahomed, since that night she had braved -him, let her go and come as she pleased, nor once disturbed her. Had she -shown weakness when most she needed courage, Mahomed might not have -altered his plans. Admiration of courage is inherent in all peoples. So, -without appreciating it, that moment had been a precious one, saving -them all much unpleasantness. - -By the twentieth day, the caravan was far into the Arabian desert, and -early in the afternoon, they came upon a beautiful oasis, nestling like -an emerald in a plaque of gold. So many days had passed since the -beloved green of growing things had soothed their inflamed eyes, that -the sight of this haven cheered them all mightily. Once under the shade -of the palms, the trio picked up heart. Fortune sang a little, George -told a funny story, and Ryanne wanted to know if they wouldn't take a -hand at euchre. Indeed, that oasis was the turning-point of the crisis. -Another week upon the dreary, profitless sands, and their spirits would -have gone under completely. - -This oasis was close to the regular camel-way, there being a larger -oasis some twenty-odd miles to the north. But Mahomed felt safe at this -distance, and decided to freshen up the caravan by a two-days' rest. - -George immediately began to show Fortune little attentions. He fixed her -saddle-bags, spread out her blanket, brought her some ripe dates of his -own picking, insisted upon going to the well and drawing the water she -was to drink. And oh! how sweet and cool that water was, after the -gritty flat liquid they had been drinking! Just before sundown, he and -Fortune set out upon a voyage of discovery; and Ryanne paused in his -game of patience to watch them. There was more self-abnegation than -bitterness in his eyes. Why not? If Fortune returned to her mother, -sooner or later the thunderbolt would fall. Far better that she should -fall in love with Jones than to go back to the overhanging shadow. A -smile lifted the corners of his lips, a sad smile. Percival didn't look -the part of a hero. His coat was variously split under the arms and -across the shoulders; his trousers were ragged, and he walked in his -cloth pads like a man who had gout in both feet. A beard covered his -face, and the bare spots were blistered and peeling. But there was youth -in Percival's eyes and youth in his heart, and surely the youth in hers -must some day respond. She would know this young man; she would know -that adversity could not crush him; that the promise of safety could not -make a coward of him; that he was loyal and brave and honest. She would -know in twenty days what it takes the average woman twenty years to -learn, the manner of man who professed to love her. Ryanne left the game -unfinished, stretched himself upon the ground with his face hidden in -the crook of his arms. Oh, the bitter cup, the bitter cup! - -Round the fire that night, the camel-boys got out their tom-toms and -reeds, and the eerie music affected the white people hauntingly and -mysteriously. For thousands of years, the high and low notes of the -drums (hollow earthen-jars or large gourds covered with goat-skin at one -end) and the thin, metallic wail of the reeds had echoed across the -deserts, unchanged. The boys swayed to and fro to the rhythm, gradually -working themselves into an ecstatic frenzy. - -Fortune always remembered that night. Wrapped in her blanket, she had -lain down just outside the circle, and had fallen into a doze. When the -music stopped and the boys left the prisoners to themselves, George and -Ryanne talked. - -"I never forget faces," began George. - -"No? That's a gift." - -"And I have never forgotten yours. I was in doubt at first, but not -now." - -"I never met you till that night at the hotel." - -"That's true. But you are Horace Wadsworth, all the same, the son of the -millionaire-banker, the man I used to admire in the field." - -"You still think I'm that chap?" - -"I am sure of it. The first morning you gave yourself away." - -"What did I say?" anxiously. - -"You mumbled foot-ball phrases." - -"Ah!" Ryanne was vastly relieved. He seemed to be thinking. - -"Do you persist in denying it?" - -"I might deny it, but I shan't. I'm Horace Wadsworth, all right. Fortune -knows something about that chapter, but not all. Strikes you odd, eh?" -continued Ryanne, iron in his voice. "Every opportunity in the world; -and yet, here I am. How much do you know, I wonder?" - -"You took some money from the bank, I think they said." - -"Right-O! Wine, Percival; cards, wine and other things. Advice and -warning went into one ear and out of the other. Always so, eh? You have -heard of my brother, I dare say. Well, he wouldn't lend me two stamps -were I to write for the undertaker to come and collect my remains. -Beautiful history! I've been doing some tall thinking these lonely -nights. Only the straight and narrow way pays. Be good, even if you are -lonesome. When I get back, if I ever do, it's a new leaf for mine. -Neither wine nor cards nor women." - -Silence. The fire no longer blazed; it glowed. - -"Who is Mrs. Chedsoye?" George finally began anew. - -"First, how did you chance to make her acquaintance?" - -"Some years ago, at Monte Carlo." - -"And she borrowed a hundred and fifty pounds of you." - -"Who told you that?" quickly. - -"She did. She paid you back." - -"Yes." - -"And she hadn't intended to. You poor innocent!" - -"Why do you call me that?" - -"To lend money at Monte Carlo to a woman whose name you did not know at -the time! Green, green as a paddy field! I'll tell you who she is, -because you're bound to learn sooner or later. She is one of the most -adroit smugglers of the age; jewels and rare laces. And never once has -the secret-service been able to touch her. Her brother, the Major, -assists her when he isn't fleecing tender lambs at all known games of -chance. He's a card-sharp, one of the best of them. He tried to teach -me, but I never could cheat a man at cards. Never makes any false moves, -but waits for the quarry to offer itself. That poor child has always -been wondering and wondering, but she never succeeded in finding out the -truth. Brother and sister have made a handsome living, and many a time I -have helped them out. There; you have me in the ring, too. But who -cares? The father, so I understand, married Fortune's mother for love; -she married him for his money, and he hadn't any. Drink and despair -despatched him quickly enough. She is a remarkable woman, and if she had -a heart, she would be the greatest of them all. She has as much heart as -this beetle," as he filliped the green iridescent shell into the fire. -"But, after all, she's lucky. It's a bad thing to have a heart, -Percival, a bad thing. Some one is sure to come along and wring it, to -jab it and stab it." - -"The poor little girl!" - -"Percival, I'm no fool. I've been watching you. Go in and win her; and -God bless you both. She's not for me, she's not for me!" - -"But what place have I in all this?" evasively. - -"What do you mean by that?" - -"Why did Mrs. Chedsoye pay me back, when her original intention had been -not to pay me?" - -"You'll find all that written in the book of fate, as Mahomed would say. -More, I can not tell you." - -"Will not?" - -"Well, that phrase expresses it." - -They both heard the sound. Fortune, her face white and drawn, stood -immediately behind them. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -MAHOMED RIDES ALONE - - -It was as if the stillness of the desert itself had encompassed the two -men. In their ears the slither of the brittle palm-leaves against one -another and the crackle of the fire were no longer sounds. They stared -at Fortune with that speechless wonder of men who had come unexpectedly -upon a wraith. What with the faint glow of the fire upon one side of her -and the pallor of moonshine upon the other, she did indeed resemble -man's conception of the spiritual. - -Ryanne was first to pull himself together. - -"Fortune, I am sorry; God knows I am. I'd have cut out my tongue rather -than have hurt you. I thought you were asleep in the tent." - -"Is it true?" - -"Yes." Ryanne looked away. - -"I had not quite expected this: the daughter of a thief." - -"Oh, come now; don't look at it that way. Smuggling is altogether a -different thing," protested Ryanne. (Women were uncertain; here she was, -apparently the least agitated of the three.) "Why, hundreds of men and -women, who regularly go to church, think nothing of beating Uncle Sam -out of a few dollars. Here's Jones, for instance; he would have tried to -smuggle in that rug. Isn't that right, Jones?" - -"Of course!" cried George eagerly, though scarcely knowing what he said. -"I'd have done it." - -"And you wouldn't call Percival a thief," with a forced laugh. "It's -like this, Fortune. Uncle Sam wants altogether too much rake-off. He -doesn't give us a square deal; and so we even up the matter by trying to -beat him. Scruples? Rot!" - -"It is stealing," with quiet conviction. - -"It isn't, either. Listen to me. Suppose I purchase a pearl necklace in -Rome, and pay five-thousand for it. Uncle Sam will boost up the value -more than one-half. And what for? To protect infant industries? Bally -rot! We don't make pearls in the States; our oysters aren't educated up -to it." His flippancy found no response in her. "Well, suppose I get -that necklace through the customs without paying the duty. I make -twenty-five hundred or so. And nobody is hurt. That's all your mother -does." - -"It is stealing," she reiterated. - -How wan she looked! thought George. - -"How can you make that stealing?" Ryanne was provoked. - -"The law puts a duty upon such things; if you do not pay it, you steal. -Oh, Horace, don't waste your time in specious arguments." She made a -gesture, weariness personified. "It is stealing; all the arguments in -the world can not change it into anything else. And how about my uncle -who fleeces the lambs at cards, and how about my mother who knows and -permits it?" - -Ryanne had no plausible argument to offer against these queries. - -"Is not my uncle a thief, and is not my mother an abettor? I do not -know of anything so vile." Her figure grew less erect. To George's eyes, -dimmed by the reflecting misery in hers, she drooped, as a flower -exposed to sudden cold. "I think the thief in the night much honester -than one who cheats at cards. A card-sharp; did you not call it that? -Don't lie, Horace; it will only make me sad." - -"I shan't lie any more, Fortune. All that you believe is true; and I -would to God that it were otherwise. And I've been a partner in many of -their exploits. But not at cards, Fortune; not at cards. I'm not that -kind of a cheat." - -"Thank you. I should have known some time, and perhaps only half a -truth. Now I know all there is to know." She held her hands out before -her and studied them. "I shall never go back." - -"Good Lord! Fortune, you must. You'd be as helpless as a babe. What -could you do without money and comfort?" - -"I can become a clerk in a shop. It will be honest. Bread at Mentone -would choke me;" and she choked a little then as she spoke. - -"My dear Fortune," said Ryanne, calling into life that persuasive -sweetness which upon occasions he could put into his tones, "have you -ever thought how beautiful you are? No, I don't believe you have. Some -ancestor of your father's has been reincarnated in you. You are without -vanity and dishonesty; and I have found that these usually go together. -Well, at Mentone you had a little experience with men. You were under -protection then; protection it was of a sort. If you go out into the -world alone, there will be no protection; and you will find that men are -wolves generally, and that the sport of the chase is a woman. Must I -make it plainer?" - -"I understand," her chin once more resolute. "I shall become a clerk in -a shop. Perhaps I can teach, or become a nurse. Whatever I do, I shall -never go back to Mentone. And all men are not bad. You're not all bad -yourself, Horace; and so far as I am concerned, I believe I might trust -you anywhere." - -"And God knows you could!" genuinely. "But I can't help you. If I had a -sister or a woman relative, I could send you to her. But I have no one -but my brother, and he's a worse scoundrel than I am. I at least work -out in the open. He transacts his villainies behind closed doors." - -George listened, sitting as motionless as a Buddhist idol. Why couldn't -_he_ think of something? Why couldn't _he_ come to the aid of the woman -he loved in this her hour of trial? A fine lover, forsooth! To sit there -like a yokel, stupidly! Could he offer to lend her money? A thousand -times, no! And he could not ask her to marry him; it would not have been -fair to either. She would have misunderstood; she would have seen not -love but pity, and refused him. Neither she nor Ryanne suffered more in -spirit than he did at that moment. - -"Jones, for God's sake, wake up and suggest something! You know lots of -decent people. Can't you think of some one?" - -But for this call George might have continued to grope in darkness. -Instantly he saw a way. He jumped to his feet and seized her by the -hands, boyishly. - -"Fortune, Ryanne is right. I've found a way. Mr. Mortimer, the president -of my firm, is an old man, kindly and lovable. He and his wife are -childless. They'll take you. Why, it's as easy as talking." - -She leaned back against the drawing of his hands. She was afraid that in -his eagerness he was going to take her in his arms. She wondered why, of -a sudden, she had become so weak. Slowly she withdrew her hands from -his. - -"I'll cable the moment we reach port," he said, as if reaching port -under the existing conditions was a thing quite possible. "Will you go -to them? Why, they will give you every care in the world. And they will -love you as ... as you ought to be loved!" - -Ryanne turned away his head. - -Fortune was too deeply absorbed by her misery to note how near George -had come to committing himself. "Thank you, Mr. Jones; thank you. I am -going to the tent. I am tired. And I am not so brave as you think I am." - -"But will you?" - -"I shall tell you when we reach port." And with that she fled to the -tent. - -Ryanne folded his arms and stared at the sand. George sat down and -aimlessly hunted for the stub of the cigar he had dropped; a kind of -reflex action. - -The two men were all alone. The camel-boys were asleep. Mahomed had now -ceased to bother about a guard. - -"I can't see where she gets this ridiculous sense of honesty," said -Ryanne gloomily. - -George leaned over and laid his hand upon Ryanne's knee. "She gets it -the same way I do, Ryanne--from here," touching his heart; "and she is -right." - -"I believe I've missed everything worth while, Percival. Till I met you -I always had a sneaking idea that money made a man evil. The boot seems -to be upon the other foot." - -"Ryanne, you spoke about becoming honest, once you get out of this. Did -you mean it?" - -"I did, and still do." - -"It may be that I can give you a lift. You worked in your father's bank. -You know something about figures. I own two large fruit-farms in -California. What do you say to a hundred and fifty a month to start -with, and begin life over again?" - -Ryanne got up and restlessly paced. Nonchalance had been beaten out of -him; the mercurial humor which had once been so pleasant to excite, -which had once given him foothold in such moments, was gone. He had only -one feeling, a keen, biting, bitter shame. At length he stopped in front -of George, who smiled and looked up expectantly. - -"Jones, when you stick your finger into water and withdraw it, what -happens? Nothing. Well, the man who gives me a benefit is sticking his -finger into water. I'm just as unstable. How many promises have I made -and broken! I mean, promises to myself. I don't know. This moment I -swear to be good, and along comes a pack of cards or a bottle of wine, -and back I slip. Would it be worth while to trust a man so damned weak -as that? Look at me. I am six-foot two, normally a hundred and eighty -pounds, no fat. I am as sound as a cocoanut. There isn't a boxer in the -States I'm afraid of. I can ride, shoot, fence, fight; there isn't a -game I can't take a creditable hand in. So much for that. There's the -other side. Morally, I'm putty. When it's soft you can mold it any -which way; when it's hard, it crumbles. Will you trust a man like that?" - -"Yes. Out there you'll be away from temptation." - -"Perhaps. Well, I accept. And if one day I'm missing, think kindly of -the poor devil of an outcast who wanted to be good and couldn't be. I'm -fagged. I'm going to turn in. Good night." - -He picked up his blanket and saddle-bags and made his bed a dozen yards -away. - -George set his gaze at the fire, now falling in places and showing -incandescent holes. A month ago, in the rut of commonplace, moving round -in the oiled grooves of mediocrity. Bang! like a rocket. Why, never had -those liars in the smoke-rooms recounted anything half so wild and -strange as this adventure. Smugglers, card-sharps, an ancient rug, a -caravan in the desert! He turned his head and looked long and earnestly -at the little tent. Love, too; love that had put into his diffident -heart the thrill and courage of a Bayard. Love! He saw her again as she -stepped down from the carriage; in the dining-room at his side, leaning -over the parapet; ineffably sweet, hauntingly sad. Would she accept the -refuge he had offered? He knew that old Mortimer would take her without -question. Would she accept the shelter of that kindly roof? She must! If -she refused and went her own way into the world, he would lose her for -ever. She must accept! He would plead with all the eloquence of his -soul, for his own happiness, and mayhap hers. He rose, faced the tent, -and, with a gesture not unlike that of the pagan in prayer, registered a -vow that never should she want for protection, never should she want for -the comforts of life. How he was going to keep such a vow was a question -that did not enter his head. Somehow he was going to accomplish the -feat. - -What mattered the ragged beard upon his face, the ragged clothes upon -his body, the tattered cloths upon his feet, the grotesque attitude and -ensemble? The Lord of Life saw into his heart and understood. And who -might say with what joy Pandora gazed upon this her work, knowing as she -did what still remained within her casket? - -From these heights, good occasionally for any man's soul, George came -down abruptly and humanly to the prosaic question of where would he -make his bed that night? To lie down at the north side of the fire meant -a chill in the morning; the south side, the intermittent, acrid breath -of the fire itself; so he threw down his blanket and bags east of the -fire, wrapped himself up, and sank into slumber, light but dreamless. - -What was that? He sat up, alert, straining his ears. How long had he -been asleep? An hour by his watch. What had awakened him? Not a sound -anywhere, yet something had startled him out of his sleep. He glanced -over the camp. That bundle was Ryanne. He waited. Not a movement there. -No sign of life among the camel-boys; and the flaps of the two tents -were closed. Bah! Nerves, probably; and he would have lain down again -had his gaze not roved out toward the desert. Something moved out there, -upon the misty, moonlit space. He shaded his eyes from the fire, now but -a heap of glowing embers. He got up, and shiver after shiver wrinkled -his spine. Oh, no; it could not be a dream; he was awake. It was a -living thing, that long, bobbing camel-train, coming directly toward the -oasis, no doubt attracted by the firelight. Fascinated, incapable of -movement, he watched the approach. Three white dots; and these grew and -grew and at length became ... pith-helmets! Pith-helmets! Who but white -men wore pith-helmets in the desert? White men! The temporary paralysis -left him. Crouching, he ran over to Ryanne and shook him. - -"What...." - -But George smothered the question with his hand. "Hush! For God's sake, -make no noise! Get up and stand guard over Fortune's tent. There's a -caravan outside, and I'm going out to meet it. Ryanne, Ryanne, there's a -white man out there!" - -George ran as fast as he could toward the incoming caravan. He met it -two or three hundred yards away. The broken line of camels bobbed up and -down oddly. - -"Are you white men?" he called. - -"Yes," said a deep, resonant voice. "And stop where you are; there's no -hurry." - -"Thank God!" cried George, at the verge of a breakdown. - -"What the devil.... Flanagan, here's a white man in a dress-suit! God -save us!" The speaker laughed. - -"Yes, a white man; and there's a white woman in the camp back there, a -white woman! Great God, don't you understand? A white woman!" George -clutched the man by the foot desperately. "A white woman!" - -The man kicked George's hand away and slashed at his camel. "Flanagan, -and you, Williams, get your guns in shape. This doesn't look good to me, -twenty miles from the main _gamelieh_. I told you it was odd, that fire. -Lively, now!" - -George ran after them, staggering. Twice he fell headlong. But he -laughed as he got up; and it wasn't exactly human laughter, either. When -he reached camp he saw Mahomed and the three strangers, the latter with -their rifles held menacingly. Fortune stood before the flap of her tent, -bewildered at the turn in their affairs. Behind the leader of the -new-comers was Ryanne, and he was talking rapidly. - -"Well," the leader demanded of Mahomed, "what have you to say for -yourself?" - -"Nothing!" - -"Take care! It wouldn't come hard to put a bullet into your ugly hide. -You can't abduct white women these days, you beggar! Well, what have you -to say?" - -Mahomed folded his arms; his expression was calm and unafraid. But down -in his heart the fires of hell were raging. If only he had brought his -rifle from the tent; even a knife; and one mad moment if he died for it! -And he had been gentle to the girl; he had withheld the lash from the -men; he had not put into action a single plan arranged for their misery -and humiliation! Truly his blood had turned to water, and he was worthy -of death. The white man, always and ever the white man won in the end. -To have come this far, and then to be cheated out of his revenge by -chance! _Kismet!_ There was but one thing left for him to do, and he did -it. He spoke hurriedly to his head-boy. The boy without hesitation -obeyed him. He ran to the racing-camel, applied a kick, flung on the -saddle-bags, stuffed dates and dried fish and two water-bottles into -them, and waited. Mahomed walked over to the animal and mounted. - -"Stop!" The white man leveled his rifle. "Get down from there!" - -Mahomed, as if he had not heard, kicked the camel with his heels. The -beast lurched to its feet resentfully. Mahomed picked up the -guiding-rope which served as a bridle, and struck the camel across the -neck. - -Click! went the hammer of the rifle, and Mahomed was at that moment very -near death. He gave no heed. - -"No, no!" cried Fortune, pushing up the barrel. "Let him go. He was kind -to me, after his fashion." - -Mahomed smiled. He had expected this, and that was why he had gone about -the business unconcernedly. - -"What do you say?" demanded the stranger of Ryanne. - -Ryanne, having no love whatever for Mahomed, shrugged. - -"Humph! And you?" to George. - -"Oh, let him go." - -"All right. Two to one. Off with you, then," to Mahomed. "But wait! What -about these beggars of yours? What are you going to do with them?" - -"They have been paid. They can go back." - -The moment the camel felt the sand under his pads, he struck his gait -eastward. And when the mists and shadows crept in behind him and his -rider, that was the last any of them ever saw of Mahomed-El-Gebel, -keeper of the Holy Yhiordes in the Pasha's palace at Bagdad. - -"Now then," said the leader of the strange caravan, "my name is -Ackermann, and mine is a carpet-caravan, in from Khuzistan, bound for -Smyrna. How may I help you?" - -"Take us as far as Damascus," answered Ryanne. "We can get on from there -well enough." - -"What's your name?" directly. - -"Ryanne." - -"And yours?" - -"Fortune Chedsoye." - -"Next?" - -"Jones." - -The humorous bruskness put a kind of spirit into them all, and they -answered smilingly. - -"Ryanne and Jones are familiar enough, but Chedsoye is a new one. Here, -you!" whirling suddenly upon the boys who were pressing about. He -volleyed some Arabic at them, and they dropped back. "Well, I've heard -some strange yarns myself in my time, but this one beats them all. -Shanghaied from Cairo! Humph! If some one had told me this, anywhere -else but here, I'd have called him a liar. And you, Mr. Ryanne, went -into Bagdad alone and got away with that Yhiordes! It must have been the -devil's own of a job." - -"It was," replied Ryanne laconically. He did not know this man -Ackermann; he had never heard of him; but he recognized a born leader of -men when he saw him. Gray-haired, lean, bearded, sharp of word, quick of -action, rude; he saw in this carpet-hunter the same indomitable -qualities of the ivory-seeker. "You did not stop at Bagdad?" he asked, -after the swift inventory. - -"No. I came direct. I always do," grimly. "Better turn in and sleep; -we'll be on the way at dawn, sharp." - -"Sleep?" Ryanne laughed. - -"Sleep?" echoed George. - -Fortune shook her head. - -"Well, an hour to let the reaction wear away," said Ackermann. "But -you've got to sleep. I'm boss now, and you won't find me an easy one," -with a humorous glance at the girl. - -"We are all very happy to be bossed by you," she said. - -"Twenty days," Ackermann mused. "You're a plucky young woman. No -hysterics?" - -"Not even a sigh of discontent," put in George. "If it hadn't been for -her pluck, we'd have gone to pieces just from worry. Are you Henry -Ackermann, of the Oriental Company in Smyrna?" - -"Yes; why?" - -"I'm George P. A. Jones, of Mortimer & Jones, New York. I've heard of -you; and God bless you for this night's work!" - -"Mortimer & Jones? You don't say! Well, if this doesn't beat the Dutch! -Why, if you're Robert E. Jones's boy, I'll sell you every carpet in the -pack at cost." He laughed; and it was laughter good to hear, dry and -harsh though it was. "Your dad was a fine gentleman, and one of the -best judges of his time. You couldn't fool him a knot. He wrote me when -you came into this world of sin and tribulation. Didn't they call you -Percival Algernon, or something like that?" - -"They did!" And George laughed, too. - -"You're a sight. Any one sick? Got a medicine-chest aboard." - -"No, only banged up and discouraged. I say, Mr. Ackermann, got an extra -pipe or two and some 'baccy?" - -"Flanagan, see what's in the chest." - -Shortly Flanagan returned. He had half a dozen fresh corn-cob pipes and -a thick bag of tobacco. George and Ryanne lighted up, about as near -contentment as two men in their condition could possibly be. - -Said Flanagan to Fortune: "Do you chew?" - -Fortune looked horrified. - -"Oh, I mean gum!" roared Flanagan. - -No, Fortune did not possess that dubious accomplishment. - -"Mighty handy when you're thirsty," Flanagan advised. - -They built up the fire and sat round it cosily. They were all more or -less happy, all except Fortune. So long as she had been a captive of -Mahomed, she had forced the thought from her mind; but now it came back -with a full measure of misery. Never, never would she return to Mentone, -not even for the things that were rightfully hers. Where would she go -and what would she do? She was without money, and the only thing she -possessed of value was the Soudanese trinket Ryanne had forced upon her -that day in the bazaars. She heard the men talking and laughing, but -without sensing. No, she could not accept charity. She must fight out -her battle all alone.... The child of a thief: for never would her clear -mind accept smuggling as other than thieving.... Neither could she -accept pity; and she stole a glance at George, as he blew clouds of -smoke luxuriantly from his mouth and nose, his eyes half closed in -ecstasy. How little it took to comfort a man! - -Ryanne suddenly lowered his pipe and smote his thigh. "Hell!" he -muttered. - -"What's up?" asked George. - -"I want you to look at me, Percival; I want you to take a good look at -this thing I've been carrying round as a head." - -"It looks all right," observed George, puzzled. - -"Empty as a dried cocoanut! I never thought of it till this moment. I -wondered why he was in such a hurry to get out. I've let that -copper-hided devil get away with that nine hundred pounds!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -MRS. CHEDSOYE HAS HER DOUBTS - - -Mrs. Chedsoye retired to her room early that memorable December night. -Her brother could await the return of Horace. She hadn't the least doubt -as to the result; a green young man pitted against a seasoned veteran's -duplicity. She wished Jones no harm physically; in fact, she had put -down the law against it. Still, much depended upon chance. But for all -her confidence of the outcome, a quality of restlessness pervaded her. -She tried to analyze it, ineffectually at first. Perhaps she did not -look deep enough; perhaps she did not care thoroughly to examine the -source of it. Insistently, however, it recurred; and by repeated -assaults it at length conquered her. It was the child. - -Did she possess, after all, a latent sense of motherhood, and was it -stirring to establish itself? She really did not know. Was it not fear -and doubt rather than motherly instinct? She paused in front of the -mirror, but the glass solved only externals. She could not see her soul -there in the reflection; she saw only the abundant gifts of nature, -splendid, double-handed, prodigal. And in contemplating that reflection, -she forgot for a space what she was seeking. But that child! From whom -did she inherit her peculiar ideas of life? From some Puritan ancestor -of her father's; certainly not from her side. She had never bothered her -head about Fortune, save to house and clothe her, till the past -forty-eight hours. And now it was too late to pick up the thread she had -cast aside as not worth considering. To no one is given perfect wisdom; -and she recognized the flaw in hers that had led her to ignore the -mental attitude of the girl. She had not even made a friend of her; a -mistake, a bit of stupidity absolutely foreign to her usual keenness. -The child lacked little of being beautiful, and in three or four years -she would be. Mrs. Chedsoye was without jealousy; she accepted beauty -in all things unreservedly. Possessing as she did an incomparable beauty -of her own, she could well afford to be generous. Perhaps the true cause -of this disturbance lay in the knowledge that there was one thing her -daughter had inherited from her directly, almost identically; indeed, of -this pattern the younger possessed the wider margin of the two: courage. -Mrs. Chedsoye was afraid of nothing except wrinkles, and Fortune was too -young to know this fear. So then, the mother slowly began to comprehend -the spirit which had given life to this singular perturbation. Fortune -had declared that she would run away; and she had the courage to carry -out the threat. - -Resolutely Mrs. Chedsoye rang for her maid Celeste. Thoughts like these -only served to disturb the marble smoothness of her forehead. - -The two began to pack. That is to say, Celeste began; Mrs. Chedsoye -generally took charge of these manoeuvers from the heights, as became -the officer in command. Bending was likely to enlarge the vein in the -neck; and all those beautiful gowns would not be worth a _soldi_ without -the added perfection of her lineless throat and neck. She was getting -along in years, too, a fact which was assuming the proportions of a -cross; and more and more she must husband these lingering (not to say -beguiling) evidences of youthfulness. - -"We might as well get Fortune's things out of the way, too, Celeste." - -"Yes, Madame." - -"And bring my chocolate at half after eight in the morning. It is quite -possible that we shall sail to-morrow night from Port Saïd. If not from -there, from Alexandria. It all depends upon the booking, which can not -be very heavy going west this time of year." - -"As madame knows!" came from the depth of the cavernous trunk. Celeste -was no longer surprised; at least she never evinced this emotion. For -twelve years now she had gone from one end of the globe to the other, -upon the shortest notice. While surprise was lost to her or under such -control as to render it negligible, she still shivered with pleasurable -excitement at the thought of entering a port. Madame was so clever, so -transcendently clever! If she, Celeste, had not been loyal, she might -have retired long ago, and owned a shop of her own in the busy Rue de -Rivoli. But that would have meant a humdrum existence; and besides, she -would have grown fat, which, of the seven horrors confronting woman, so -madame said, was first in number. - -"Be very careful how you handle that blue ball-gown." - -"Oh, Madame!" reproachfully. - -"It is the silver braid. Do not press the rosettes too harshly." - -Celeste looked up. Mrs. Chedsoye answered her inquiring gaze with a thin -smile. - -"You are wonderful, Madame!" - -"And so are you, Celeste, in your way." - -At ten o'clock Mrs. Chedsoye was ready for her pillow. She slept -fitfully; awoke at eleven and again at twelve. After that she knew -nothing more till the maid roused her with the cup of chocolate. She sat -up and sipped slowly. Celeste waited at the bedside with the tray. Her -admiration for her mistress never waned. Mrs. Chedsoye was just as -beautiful in dishabille as in a ball-gown. She drained the cup, and as -she turned to replace it upon the tray, dropped it with a clatter, a -startled cry coming from her lips. - -"Madame?" - -"Fortune's bed!" - -It had not been slept in. The steamer-cloak lay across the counterpane -exactly where Celeste herself had laid it the night before. Mrs. -Chedsoye sprang out of her bed and ran barefoot to the other. Fortune -had not been in the room since dinner-time. - -"Celeste, dress me as quickly as possible. Hurry! Something has happened -to Fortune." - -Never, in all her years of service, could she recollect such a toilet as -madame made that morning. And never before had she shown such concern -over her daughter. It was amazing! - -"The little fool! The little fool!" Mrs. Chedsoye repeatedly murmured as -the nimble fingers of the maid flew over her. "The silly little fool; -and at a time like this!" Not that remorse of any kind stirred Mrs. -Chedsoye's conscience; she was simply extremely annoyed. - -She hastened out into the corridor and knocked at the door of her -brother's room. No answer. She flew down-stairs, and there she saw him -coming in from the street. He greeted her cheerily. - -"It's all right, Kate; plenty of room on the _Ludwig_. We shall take the -afternoon train for Port Saïd. She sails at dawn to-morrow instead of -to-night.... What's up?" suddenly noting his sister's face. - -"Fortune did not return to her room last night." - -"What? Where do you suppose the little fool went, then?" - -They both seemed to look upon Fortune as a little fool. - -"Yesterday she threatened to run away." - -"Run away? Kate, be sensible. How the deuce could she run away? She -hasn't a penny. It takes money to go anywhere over here. She has -probably found some girl friend, and has spent the night with her. We'll -soon find out where she is." The Major wasn't worried. - -"Have you seen Horace?" with discernible anxiety. - -"No. I didn't wait up for him. He's sleeping off a night of it. You know -his failing." - -"Find out if he _is_ in his room. Go to the porter's bureau and inquire -for both him and Jones." - -The Major, perceiving that his sister was genuinely alarmed, rushed over -to the bureau. No, neither Mr. Ryanne nor Mr. Jones had been in the -hotel since yesterday. Would the porter send some one up to the rooms of -those gentlemen to make sure? Certainly. No; there was no one in the -rooms. The Major was now himself perturbed. He went back to Mrs. -Chedsoye. - -"Kate, neither has been in his room since yesterday. If you want my -opinion, it is this: Hoddy has sequestered Jones all right, and is -somewhere in town, sleeping off the effects of a night of it." - -"He has run away with Fortune!" she cried. Her expression was tragic. -She couldn't have told whether it was due to her daughter's -disappearance or to Horace's defection. "Did he not threaten?" - -"Sh! not so loud, Kate." - -"The little simpleton defied me yesterday, and declared she would leave -me." - -"Oho!" The Major fingered his imperial. "That puts a new face to the -subject. But Jones! He has not turned up. We can not move till we find -out what has become of him. I know. I'll jump into a carriage and see if -he got as far as the English-Bar." - -Mrs. Chedsoye did not go up-stairs, but paced the lounging-room, lithe -and pantherish. Frequently she paused, as if examining the patterns in -the huge carpets. She entered the reception-room, came back, wandered -off into the ball-room, stopped to inspect the announcement hanging upon -the bulletin-board, returned to the windows and watched the feluccas -sail past as the great bridge opened; and during all these aimless -occupations but a single thought busied her mind: what could a man like -Horace see in a chit like Fortune? - -It was an hour and a half before the Major put in an appearance. He was -out of breath and temper. - -"Come up to the room." Once there, he sat down and bade her do likewise. -"There's the devil to pay. You heard Hoddy speak of the nigger who -guarded the Holy Yhiordes, and that he wanted to get out of Cairo -before he turned up? Well, he turned up. He fooled Hoddy to the top of -his bent. So far as I could learn, Fortune and Hoddy and Jones are all -in the same boat, kidnapped by this Mahomed, and carried out into the -desert, headed, God knows where! Now, don't get excited. Take it easy. -Luck is with us, for Hoddy left all the diagrams with me. We need him, -but not so much that we can't go on without him. You see, these Arabs -are like the Hindus; touch anything that concerns their religion, and -they'll have your hair off. How Fortune got into it I can't imagine, -unless Mahomed saw her with Hoddy and jumped to the conclusion that they -were lovers. All this Mahomed wants is the rug; and he is going to hold -them till he gets it. No use notifying the police. No one would know -where to find him. None of them will come to actual harm. Anyhow, the -coast is clear. Kate, there's a big thing in front. No nerves. We've got -to go to-day. Time is everything. Our butler and first man cabled this -morning that they had just started in, and that everything was running -like clockwork. We'll get into New York in time for the _coup_. -Remember, I was against the whole business at the start, but now I'm -going to see it off." - -Feverishly Mrs. Chedsoye prepared for the journey. She was irritable to -Celeste, she was unbearable to her brother, who took a seat in a forward -compartment to be rid of her. It was only when they went aboard the -steamer that night that she became reconciled to the inevitable. At any -rate, the presence of Jones would counteract any influence Horace might -have gained over Fortune. That the three of them might suffer unheard-of -miseries never formed thought in her mind. It appealed to her in the -sense of a comedy which annoyed rather than amused her. - -They were greeted effusively by Wallace, he of the bulbous nose; and his -first inquiry was of Ryanne. Briefly the Major told him what had -happened and added his fears. Wallace was greatly cast-down. Hoddy had -so set his heart upon this venture that it was a shame to proceed -without him. He had warned him at the beginning about that infernal -rug; but Hoddy was always set in his daredevil schemes. So long as the -Major had the plans, he supposed that they could turn the trick without -Hoddy's assistance; only, it seemed rather hard for him not to be in the -sport. - -"He told me that nothing would give him greater pleasure than to stick -his fist into the first bag of yellow-boys. There was something -mysterious in the way he used to chuckle over the thing when I first -sprung it on him. He saw a joke somewhere. Let's go into the smoke-room -for a peg. It won't hurt either of us. And that poor little girl! It's a -hell of a world; eh?" - -The Major admitted that it was; but he did not add that Fortune's -welfare or ill-fare was of little or no concern of his. The little -spitfire had always openly despised him. - -They were drinking silently and morosely, when Mrs. Chedsoye, pale and -anxious, appeared in the companionway. She beckoned them to follow her -down to her cabin. Had Fortune arrived? Had Ryanne? She did not answer. -Arriving at her cabin she pushed the two wondering men inside, and -pointed at the floor. A large steamer-roll lay unstrapped, spread out. - -"I only just opened it," she said. "I never thought of looking into it -at Cairo. Here, it looked so bulky that I was curious." - -"Why, it's that damned Yhiordes!" exclaimed the Major wrathfully. "What -the devil is it doing in Fortune's steamer-roll?" - -"That is what I should like to know. If they have been kidnapped in -order to recover the rug, whatever will become of them?" And Mrs. -Chedsoye touched the rug with her foot, absently. She was repeating in -her mind that childish appeal: "You don't know how loyal I should have -been!" - - * * * * * - -They took the first sailing out of Naples. Twelve days later they landed -at the foot of Fourteenth Street. There was some trifling difficulty -over the rug. It had been declared; but as Mrs. Chedsoye and her brother -always declared foreign residence, there was a question as to whether it -was dutiable or not. Being a copy, it was not an original work of art, -therefore not exempt, and so forth and so on. It was finally decided -that Mrs. Chedsoye must pay a duty. The Major paid grumblingly, very -cleverly assuming an irritability well known to the inspectors. The way -the United States Government mulcted her citizens for the benefit of the -few was a scandal of the nations. - -A smooth-faced young man approached them from out the crowd. - -"Is this Major Callahan?" - -"Yes. This must be Mr. Reynolds, the agent?" - -"Yes. Everything is ready for your occupancy. Your butler and first man -have everything ship-shape. I could have turned over to you Mr. -Jones's." - -"Not at all, not at all," said the Major. "They would have been -strangers to us and we to them. Our own servants are best." - -"You must be very good friends of my client?" - -"I have known him for years," said Mrs. Chedsoye sweetly. "It was at his -own suggestion that we take the house over for the month. He really -insisted that we should pay him nothing; but, of course, such an -arrangement could not be thought of. Oh, good-by, Mr. Wallace," -tolerantly. "We hope to see you again some day." - -Wallace, taking up his role once more, tipped his hat and rushed away -for one of his favorite haunts. - -"Bounder!" growled the Major. "Well, well; a ship's deck is always -Liberty-Hall." - -"You have turned your belongings over to an expressman?" asked the -agent. These were charming people; and any doubts he might have -entertained were dissipated. And why should he have any doubts? Jones -was an eccentric young chap, anyhow. An explanatory letter (written by -the Major in Jones's careless hand), backed up by a cable, was enough -authority for any reasonable man. - -"Everything is out of the way," said the Major. - -"Then, if you wish, I can take you right up to the house in my car. Your -butler said that he would have lunch ready when you arrived." - -"Very kind of you. How noisy New York is! You can take our -hand-luggage?" Mrs. Chedsoye would have made St. Anthony uneasy of mind; -Reynolds, young, alive, metaphorically fell at her feet. - -"Plenty of room for it." - -"I am glad of that. You see, Mr. Jones intrusted a fine old rug to us to -bring home for him; and I shouldn't want anything to happen to it." - -The Major looked up at the roof of the dingy shed. He did not care to -have Reynolds note the flicker of admiration in his eyes. The cleverest -woman of them all! The positive touch to the whole daredevil affair! And -he would not have thought of it had he lived to be a thousand. "One -might as well disembark in a stable," he said aloud. "Ah! We are ready -to go, then?" - -They entered the limousine and went off buzzing and zigzagging among the -lumbering trucks. The agent drove the car himself. - -"Where is Jones now?" he asked of the Major, who sat at his left. -"Haven't had a line from him for a month." - -"Just before we sailed," said Mrs. Chedsoye through the window, over the -Major's shoulder, "he went into the desert for a fortnight or so; with a -caravan. He had heard of some fabulous carpet." - -Touch number two. The Major grinned. "Jones is one of the best judges I -have ever met. He was off at a bound. I only hope he will get back -before we leave for California." The Major drew up his collar. It was a -cold, blustery day. - -The agent was delighted. What luck a fellow like Jones had! To wander -all over creation and to meet charming people! And when they invited him -to remain for luncheon, the victory was complete. - -Mrs. Chedsoye strolled in and out of the beautifully appointed rooms. -Never had she seen more excellent taste. Not too much; everything -perfectly placed, one object nicely balanced against another. Here was a -rare bit of Capo di Monte, there a piece of Sèvres or Canton. Some -houses, with their treasures, look like museums, but this one did not. -The owner had not gone mad over one subject; here was a sane and prudent -collector. The great yellow Chinese carpet represented a fortune; she -knew enough about carpets to realize this fact. Ivories, jades, -lapis-lazuli, the precious woods, priceless French and Japanese -tapestries, some fine paintings and bronzes; the rooms were full of -unspoken romance and adventure; echoed with war and tragedy, too. And -Fortune might have married a man like this one. A possibility occurred -to her, and the ghost of a smile moderated the interest in her face. -They might be upon the desert for weeks. Who knew what might not happen -to two such romantic simpletons? - -The butler and the first man (who was also the cook) were impeccable -types of servants; so thought Reynolds. They moved silently and -anticipated each want. Reynolds determined that very afternoon to drop a -line to Jones and compliment him upon his good taste in the selection of -his friends. A subsequent press of office work, however, drove the -determination out of his mind. - -The instant his car carried him out of sight, a strange scene was -enacted. The butler and the first man seized the Major by the arms, and -the three executed a kind of _pas-seul_. Mrs. Chedsoye eyed these -manifestations of joy stonily. - -"Now then, what's been done?" asked the Major, pulling down his cuffs -and shaking the wrinkles from his sleeves. - -"Half done!" cried the butler. - -"Fine! What do you do with the refuse?" - -"Cart it away in an automobile every night, after the gun starts down -the other end of the street." - -"Gun?" The Major did not quite understand. - -"Gun or bull; that's the argot for policeman." - -"Thieves' argot," said Mrs. Chedsoye contemptuously. - -The butler laughed. He knew Gioconda of old. - -"Where's that wall-safe?" the Major wanted to know. - -"Behind that sketch by Detaille." And the butler, strange to say, -pronounced it Det-i. - -"Can you open it?" - -"Tried, but failed. Wallace is the man for that." - -"He'll be along in an hour or so." - -"Where's Ryanne?" - -"Don't know; don't care." The Major sketched the predicament of their -fellow-conspirator. - -The butler whistled, but callously. One more or less didn't matter in -such an enterprise. - -When Wallace arrived he applied his talent and acquired science to the -wall-safe, and finally swung outward the little steel-door. The Major -pushed him aside and thrust a hand into the metaled cavity, drawing out -an exquisite Indian casket of rosewood and mother-of-pearl. He opened -the lid and dipped a hand within. Emeralds, deep and light and shaded, -cut and uncut and engraved, flawed and almost perfect. He raised a -handful and let them tinkle back into the casket. One hundred in all, -beauties, every one of them, and many famous. - -And while he toyed with them, pleased as a child would have been over a -handful of marbles, Mrs. Chedsoye spread out the ancient Yhiordes in the -library. She stood upon the central pattern, musing. Her mood was not -one which she had called into being; not often did she become -retrospective; the past to her was always like a page in a book, once -finished, turned down. Her elbow in one palm, her chin in the other, she -stared without seeing. It was this house, this home, it was each sign of -riches without luxury or ostentation, where money expressed itself by -taste and simplicity; a home such as she had always wanted. And why, -with all her beauty and intellect, why had she not come into possession? -She knew. Love that gives had never been hers; hers had been the love -that receives, self-love. She had bartered her body once for riches and -had been fooled, and she never could do it again.... And the child was -overflowing with the love that gives. She couldn't understand. The child -was the essence of it; and she, her mother, had always laughed at her. - -The flurry of snow outside in the court she saw not. Her fancy re-formed -the pretty garden at Mentone, inclosed by pink-washed walls. Many a -morning from her window she had watched Fortune among the flowers, going -from one to the other, like a bee or a butterfly. She had watched her -grow, too, with that same detachment a machinist feels as he puts -together the invention of another man. Would she ever see her again? Her -shoulders moved ever so little. Probably not. She had blundered -wilfully. She should have waited, thrown the two together, -manoeuvered. And she had permitted this adventure to obsess her! She -might have stood within this house by right of law, motherhood, -marriage. Ryanne was in love with Fortune, and Jones by this time might -be. The desert was a terribly lonely place. - -She wished it might be Jones. And immediately retrospection died away -from her gaze and actualities resumed their functions. The wish was not -without a phase of humor, formed as it was upon this magic carpet; but -it nowise disturbed the gravity of her expression. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE MAN WHO DIDN'T CARE - - -It was the first of February when Ackermann's caravan drew into the -ancient city of Damascus. That part of the caravan deserted by Mahomed -put out for Cairo immediately they struck the regular camel-way. -Fortune, George and Ryanne were in a pitiable condition, heart and body -weary, in rags and tatters. George, now that the haven was assured, -dropped his forced buoyancy, his prattle, his jests. He had done all a -mortal man could do to keep up the spirits of his co-unfortunates; and -he saw that, most of the time, he had wasted his talents. Ryanne, sullen -and morose, often told him to "shut up"; which wasn't exhilarating. And -Fortune viewed his attempts without sensing them and frequently looked -at him without seeing him. - -Now, all this was not particularly comforting to the man who loved her -and was doing what he could to lighten the dreariness of the journey. He -made allowances, however; besides suffering unusual privations, Fortune -had had a frightful mental shock. A girl of her depth of character could -not be expected to rise immediately to the old level. Sometimes, while -gathered about the evening fire, he would look up to find her sad eyes -staring at him, and it mattered not if he stared in return; a kind of -clairvoyance blurred visibilities, for she was generally looking into -her garden at Mentone and wondering when this horrible dream would pass. -Subjects for conversation were exhausted in no time. Dig as he might, -George could find nothing new; and often he recounted the same tale -twice of an evening. Sardonic laughter from Ryanne. - -Ackermann had given them up as hopeless. He was a strong, vain, -domineering man, kindly at heart, however, but impatient. When he told a -story, he demanded the attention of all; so, when Ryanne yawned before -his eyes, and George drew pictures in the sand, and the girl fell -asleep with her head upon her knees, he drew off abruptly and left them -to their own devices. He had crossed and recrossed the silences so often -that he was no longer capable of judging accurately another man's mental -processes. That they had had a strange and numbing experience he readily -understood; but now that they were out of duress and headed for the -coast, he saw no reason why they should not act like human beings. - -They still put up the small tent for Fortune, but the rest of them slept -upon the sand, under the stars. Once, George awoke as the dawn was -gilding the east. Silhouetted against the sky he saw Fortune. She was -standing straight, her hands pressed at her sides, her head tilted -back--a tense attitude. He did not know it, but she was asking God why -these things should be. He threw off his blanket and ran to her. - -"Fortune, you mustn't do that. You will catch cold." - -"I can not sleep," she replied simply. - -He took her by the hand and led her to the tent. "Try," he said. Then he -did something he had never done before to any woman save his mother. He -kissed her hand, turned quickly, and went over to his blanket. She -remained motionless before the tent. The hand fascinated her. From the -hand her gaze traveled to the man settling himself comfortably under his -blanket.... Pity, pity; that was ever to be her portion; pity! - -In Damascus the trio presented themselves at the one decent hotel, and -but for Ackermann's charges upon the manager, it is doubtful if he would -have accepted them as guests; for a more suspicious-looking trio he had -never set eyes upon. (A hotel man weighs a person by the quality of his -clothes.) Moreover, they carried no luggage. Ackermann went sponsor; and -knowing something of the integrity of the rug-hunter, the manager -surrendered. And when George presented his letter of credit at the -Imperial Ottoman Bank, again it was Ackermann who vouched for him. It -had been agreed to say nothing of the character of their adventure. None -of them wanted to be followed by curious eyes. - -With a handful of British gold in his pocket, George faced the future -hopefully. He took his companions in and about town, hunting the shops -for clothing, which after various difficulties they succeeded in -finding. It was ill-fitting and cheap, but it would serve till they -reached either Alexandria or Naples. - -"How are you fixed?" asked Ryanne, gloomily surveying George's shoddy -cotton-wool suit. - -"Cash in hand?" - -"Yes." - -"About four-hundred pounds. At Naples I can cable. Do you want any?" - -"Would you mind advancing me two months' salary?" - -"Ryanne, do you really mean to stick to that proposition?" - -"It's on my mind just now." - -"Well, we'll go back to the bank and I'll draw a hundred pounds for you. -You can pay your own expenses as we go. But what are we going to do in -regard to Fortune?" - -"See that she gets safely back to Mentone." - -"Suppose she will not go there?" - -"It's up to you, Percival; it's all up to you. You're the gay Lochinvar -from the west. I'm not sure--no one ever is regarding a woman--but I -think she'll listen to you. She wouldn't give an ear to a scallawag like -me. This caravan business has put me outside the pale. I've lost caste." - -"You're only desperate and discouraged; you can pull up straight." - -"Much obliged!" - -"You haven't looked at life normally; that's what the matter is." - -"Solon, you're right. There's that poor devil back in Bagdad. I've -killed a man, Percival. It doesn't mix well with my dreams." - -"You said that it was in self-defense." - -"And God knows it was. But if I hadn't gone after that damned rug, he'd -have been alive to-day. Oh, damn it all; let's go back to the hotel and -order that club-steak, or the best imitation they have. I'm going to -have a pint of wine. I'm as dull as a ditch in a paddy-field." - -"A bottle or two will not hurt any of us. We'll ask Ackermann. For God -knows where we'd have been to-day but for him. And let him do all the -yarning. It will please him." - -"And while he gabs, we'll get the best of the steak and the wine!" For -the first time in days Ryanne's laughter had a bit of the erstwhile -rollicking tone. - -The dinner was an event. No delicacy (mostly canned) was overlooked. The -manager, as he heard the guineas jingle in George's pocket, was filled -with shame; not over his original doubts, but relative to his lack of -perception. The tourists who sat at the other tables were scandalized at -the popping of champagne-corks. Sanctimonious faces glared reproof. A -jovial spirit in the Holy Land was an anacronism, not to be tolerated. -And wine! Horrible! Doubtless, when they retired to their native -back-porches, they retold with never-ending horror of having witnessed -such a scene and having heard such laughter upon the sacred soil. - -Even Fortune laughed, though Ryanne's ear, keenest then, detected the -vague note of hysteria. If the meat was tough, the potatoes greasy, the -vegetables flavorless, the wine flat, none of them appeared to be aware -of it. If Ackermann could talk he could also eat; and the clatter of -forks and knives was the theme rather than the variation to the -symphony. - -George felt himself drawn deeper and deeper into those magic waters from -which, as in death, there is no return. She was so lonely, so sad and -forlorn, that there was as much brother as lover in his sympathy. How -patient she had been during all those inconceivable hardships! How brave -and steady; and never a murmur! The single glass of wine had brought the -color back to her cheek and the sparkle into her eye; yet he was sure -that behind this apparent liveliness lay the pitiful desperation of the -helpless. He had not spoken again about old Mortimer. He would wait till -after he had sent a long cable. Then he would speak and show her the -answer, of which he had not a particle of doubt. As matters now stood, -he could not tell her that he loved her; his quixotic sense of chivalry -was too strong to permit this step, urge as his heart might upon it. She -might misinterpret his love as born of pity, and that would be the end -of everything. He was confident now that Ryanne meant nothing to her. -Her lack of enthusiasm, whenever Ryanne spoke to her in these days; the -peculiar horizontality of her lips and brows, whenever Ryanne offered a -trifling courtesy--all pointed to distrust. George felt a guilty -gladness. After all, why shouldn't she distrust Ryanne? - -George concluded that he must acquire patience. She was far too loyal to -run away without first giving him warning. In the event of her refusing -Mortimer's roof and protection, he knew what his plans would be. Some -one else could do the buying for Mortimer & Jones; his business would be -to revolve round this lonely girl, to watch and guard her without her -being aware of it. Of what use were riches if he could not put them to -whatever use he chose? So he would wait near her, to see that she came -and went unmolested, till against that time when she would recognize how -futile her efforts were and how wide and high the wall of the world was. - -That mother of hers! To his mind it was positively unreal that one so -charming and lovely should be at heart strong as the wind and merciless -as the sea. His mother had been everything; hers, worse than none, an -eternal question. What a drama she had moved about in, without -understanding! - -George did not possess that easy and adjustable sophistry which made -Ryanne look upon smuggling as a clever game between two cheats. His -point of view coincided with Fortune's; it was thievery, more or less -condoned, but the ethics covering it were soundly established. He had -come very near being culpable himself. True, he would not have been -guilty of smuggling for profit; but none the less he would have tried to -cheat the government. His sin had found him out; he had now neither the -rug nor his thousand pounds. - -All these cogitations passed through his mind, disjointedly, as the -dinner progressed toward its end. They bade Ackermann good-by and -God-speed, as he was to leave early for Beirut, upon his way to Smyrna. -Fortune went to bed; Ryanne sought the billiard-room and knocked about -the balls; while George asked the manager if he could send a cable from -the hotel. Certainly he could. It took some time to compose the cable to -Mortimer; and it required some gold besides. Mortimer must have a fair -view of the case; and George presented it, requesting a reply to be sent -to Cook's in Naples, where they expected to be within ten days. - -"How much will this be?" - -The porter got out his telegraph-book and studied the rates carefully. - -"Twelve pounds and six, sir." - -The porter greeted each sovereign with a genuflection, the lowest being -the twelfth. George pocketed the receipt and went in search of Ryanne. - -But that gentleman was no longer in the billiard-room. Indeed, he had -gone quietly to the other hotel and written a cable himself, the code of -which was not to be found in any book. For a long time he seemed to be -in doubt, for he folded and refolded his message half a dozen times -before his actions became decisive. He tore it up and threw the scraps -upon the floor and hastened into the street, as if away from temptation. -He walked fast and indirectly, smoking innumerable cigarettes. He was -fighting, and fighting hard, the evil in him against the good, the -chances of the future against the irreclaimable past. At the end of an -hour he returned to the strange hotel. His lips were puffed and -bleeding. He had smoked so many cigarettes and had pulled them so -impatiently from his mouth, that the dry paper had cracked the delicate -skin. - -He rewrote his cable and paid for the sending of it. Then he poked about -the unfamiliar corridors till he found the dingy bar. He sat down before -a peg of whisky, which was followed by many more, each a bit stiffer -than its predecessor. At last, when he had had enough to put a normal -man's head upon the table or to cover his face with the mask of inanity, -Ryanne fell into the old habit of talking aloud. - -"Horace, old top, what's the use? We'd just like to be good if we could; -eh? But they won't let us. We'd grow raving mad in a monastery. We were -honest at the time, but we couldn't stand the monotony of watching green -olives turn purple upon the silvery bough. Nay, nay!" - -He pushed the glass away from him and studied the air-bubbles as they -formed, rose to the surface, and were dissipated. - -"No matter what the game has been, somehow or other, they've bashed us, -and we've lost out." - -He emptied the glass and ordered another. He and the bartender were -alone. - -"After all, love is like money. It's better to live frugally upon the -interest than to squander the capital and go bankrupt. And who cares, -anyhow?" - -He drank once more, dropped a half-sovereign upon the table, and pushed -back his chair. His eyes were bloodshot now, and the brown of his skin -had become a slaty tint; but he walked steadily enough into the -reading-room, where he wrote a short letter. It was not without a -perverted sense of humor, for a smile twisted his lips till he had -sealed the letter and addressed the envelope to George Percival Algernon -Jones. He stuffed it into a pocket and went out whistling _The Heavy -Dragoons_ from the opera _Patience_. - -Before the lighted window of a shop he paused. He swayed a little. From -a pocket of his new coat he pulled out a glove. It was gray and small -and much wrinkled. From time to time he drew it through his fingers, -staring the while at the tawdry trinkets in the shop-window. Finally he -looked down at the token. He became very still. A moment passed; then he -flung the glove into the gutter, and proceeded to his own hotel. He left -the letter with the porter, paid his bill, and went out again into the -dark, chill night. - -He was now what he had been two months ago, the man who didn't care. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -FORTUNE DECIDES - - -George and Fortune were seated at breakfast. It was early morning. At -ten they were to depart for Jaffa, to take the tubby French packet there -to Alexandria. They could just about make it, and any delay meant a week -or ten days longer upon this ragged and inhospitable coast. - -"Ryanne has probably overslept. After breakfast I'll go up and rout him -out. The one thing that really tickles me," George continued, as he -pared the tough rind from the skinny bacon, "is, we shan't have any -luggage. Think of the blessing of traveling without a trunk or a valise -or a steamer-roll!" - -"Without even a comb or a hairbrush!" - -"It's great fun." George broke his toast. - -And Fortune wondered how she should tell him. She was without any toilet -articles. She hadn't even a tooth-brush; and it was quite out of the -question for her to bother him about such trifles, much as she needed -them. She would have to live in the clothes she wore, and trust that the -ship's stewardess might help her out in the absolute necessities. - -Here the head-waiter brought George a letter. The address was enough for -George. No one but Ryanne could have written it. Without excusing -himself, he ripped off the envelope and read the contents. Fortune could -not resist watching him, for she grasped quickly that only Ryanne could -have written a letter here in Damascus. At first the tan upon George's -cheeks darkened--the sudden suffusion of blood; then it became lighter, -and the mouth and eyes and nose became stern. - -"Is it bad news?" - -"It all depends upon how you look at it. For my part, good riddance to -bad rubbish. Here, read it yourself." - -She read: - - "MY DEAR PERCIVAL: - - "After all, I find that I can not reconcile myself to the dullness - of your olive-groves. I shall send the five-hundred to you when I - reach New York. With me it is as it was with the devil. When he - was sick, he vowed he would be a saint; but when he got well, - devil a saint was he. There used to be a rhyme about it, but I - have forgotten that. Anyhow, there you are. I feel that I am - conceding a point in regard to the money. It is contrary to the - laws and by-laws of the United Romance and Adventure Company to - refund. Still, I intend to hold myself to it. - - "With hale affection, - "RYANNE." - -"What do you think of that?" demanded George hotly. "I never did a good -action in my life that wasn't served ill. I'm a soft duffer, if there -ever was one." - -"I shall never be ungrateful for your kindness to me." - -"Oh, hang it! You're different; you're not like any other woman in the -world," he blurted; and immediately was seized with a mild species of -fright. - -Fortune stirred her coffee and delicately scooped up the swirling -circles of foam. - -"Old maids call that money," he said understandingly, eager to cover up -his boldness. "My mother used to tell me that there were lots of wonders -in a tea-cup." - -"Tell me about your mother." - -To him it was a theme never lacking in new expressions. When he spoke of -his mother, it altered the clear and boyish note in his voice; it became -subdued, reverent. He would never be aught than guileless; it was not in -his nature to divine anything save his own impulses. While he thought he -was pleasing her, each tender recollection, each praise, was in fact a -nail added to her crucifixion, self-imposed. However, she never lowered -her eyes, but kept them bravely directed into his. In the midst of one -of his panegyrics he caught sight of his watch which he had placed at -the side of his plate. - -"By Jove! quarter to nine. I've got an errand or two to do, and there's -no need of your running your feet off on my account. I'll be back -quarter after." He dug into his pocket and counted out fifty pounds in -paper and gold. "You keep this till I get back." - -She pushed it aside, half rising from her chair. - -"Fortune, listen. Hereafter I am George, your brother George; and I do -not want you ever to question any action of mine. I am leaving this -money in case some accident befell me. You never can tell." He took her -hand and firmly pressed it down upon the money. "In half an hour, -sister, I'll be back. You did not think that I was going to run away?" - -"No." - -"Do you understand me now?" - -"Yes." - -While he was gone she remained seated at the table. She made little -pyramids of the gold, divided the even dates from the odd, arranged -Maltese crosses and circles and stars.... Pity, pity! Well, why should -she rebel against it? Was it not more than she had had hitherto? What -should she do? She closed her eyes. She would trouble her tired brain no -more about the future till they reached Naples. She would let this one -week drift her how it would. - -George came in under the time-limit of his adventure. He had been upon -the most difficult errand imaginable, at least from a bachelor's point -of view. He carried two hand-bags. One of these he deposited in -Fortune's lap. - -"Shall I open it?" - -"If you wish." - -She noted his embarrassment, and her immediate curiosity was not to be -denied. She slipped the catch and looked inside. There were combs and -brushes, soap and tooth-powder and talc, a manicure-set, a pair of soft -woolen slippers, and.... She glanced up quickly. The faintest rose stole -under her cheeks. It was droll; it was pathetically funny. She would -have given worlds to have seen him making the purchases. - -"You are not offended?" he stammered. - -"Why should I be? I am human; I have slept and lived for days in a -dress, and worn my hair down my back for lack of hair-pins and combs. I -am sure that it is a very nice nightgown." - -Laughter overcame her. He laughed, too; not because the situation -appealed to him as laughable, but because there was something, an -indefinable something, in that laughter of hers that made him -wonderfully happy. - -"Mr. Jones...." - -"George," he interrupted determinedly. - -"Brother George, it was very kind and thoughtful of you. Not one man in -a thousand would have thought of--of ... hair-pins!" More laughter. - -"I didn't think of them; it was the clerk." - -"He...." - -"She." - -"Well, then, she will achieve great things," lightly, though her heart -was full. - -Tactfully he reached over and swept up the money. - -"Shall I ever be able to repay you?" she said. - -"Yes, by letting me be your brother; by not deciding the future till we -land in Naples; by letting me keep in touch with you, whatever your -ultimate decision may be. That isn't much. Will you promise that?" - -"Yes." - -They spoke no more of Ryanne. It was as though he had dropped out of -their lives completely. To a certain extent he had. They were to meet -him once again, however, in the last act of this whimsical drama, which -had drawn them both out of the commonplace and dropped them for a full -spin upon the whirligig of life. - -In due time they arrived at Alexandria. There they found the great -transatlantic liner, homeward bound. - -Ryanne would beat them into New York by ten days. He had picked up a -boat of the P. & O. line at Port Saïd, sailing without stop to -Marseilles. From there to Cherbourg was a trifling journey. - -George knew the captain, and the captain not only knew George, but had -known George's father before him. The young man went to the heart of the -matter at once; and when he had finished his remarkable tale, the -captain lowered his cigar. It had gone out. - -"And all this happened in the year 1909-1910! If any one but you, Mr. -Jones, had told me this, I'd have sent him ashore as a lunatic. You have -reported it?" - -"What good would it do? We are out of it, and that's enough. More, we -do not want any one to know what we've been through. If the newspapers -got hold of it, there would be no living." - -"You leave it to me," said the big-hearted German. "From here to Naples -she shall be as mine own daughter. You have not told me all?" - -"No; only what I had of necessity to tell." - -"Well, you know best I shall do my share to make her feel at home. She -is as pretty as a flower." - -To this George agreed, but not verbally. - -The steamer weighed anchor at six o'clock that evening, with only a -handful of passengers for the trip to Naples. George had wired from -Damascus to Cairo to have his luggage sent on, and he saw it put aboard -himself. Without letting Fortune know, he had also telegraphed the hotel -to forward whatever she had left; but the return wire informed him that -Mrs. Chedsoye had taken everything. - - * * * * * - -They were leaning against the starboard-rail, watching the slowly -converging lights of the harbor. Fortune had borrowed a cloak from her -stewardess and George wore the mufti of the first-officer. The captain -had offered his, but George had declined. He would have been lost in its -ample folds. - -"I can not understand why they made no effort to find you," he mused. -"It doesn't seem quite human." - -"Don't you understand? It is simple. My mother believes that Horace and -I ran away together. If not that, I ran away myself, as I that day -threatened to do. In either case, she saw nothing could be done in -trying to find out where I had gone. Perhaps she knows exactly what did -happen. Doubtless she has sent on my things to Mentone, which, of -course, I shall never see again. No, no! I can not go back there. I have -known the misery of suspense long enough." She lowered her head to the -rail. - -He came quite near to her. His arms went out toward her, only to drop -down. He must wait. It was very hard. But nothing prevented his putting -forth a hand to press hers reassuringly, and saying: "Don't do that, -Fortune. It makes my heart ache to see a woman cry." - -"I am not crying," came in muffled tones. "I am only sad, and tired, -tired." - -"Everything will come out all right in the end," he encouraged. "Of -course you are tired. What woman wouldn't be, having gone through what -you have? Here; let's sit in the steamer-chairs till the bugle blows for -dinner. I'm a bit fagged out myself." - -They lay back in the chairs, and no longer cared to talk. The lights -twinkled, but fainter and fainter, till at last only the pale line -between the sky and the sea remained. She turned her head and looked -sharply at him. He was sound asleep. "Poor boy!" she murmured softly. -"How careworn!" There was something grotesque in the mask of desert tan -and shaven skin. How patient he had been through it all, and how kind -and gentle to her! She remembered now of seeing him that night in Cairo, -and of remarking how young and fresh he seemed in comparison to the men -she knew and had met. And she must leave him, to go into the world and -fight her own battles. If God had but given to her a brother like this! -But brother he never could be, no, not even in the pleasant sense of -adoption. She did not want pity.... To think of his getting those things -for her in Damascus!... Pity suggested that she was weak and helpless, -whereas she knew that she was both patient and strong.... What did she -want? She glanced up and down the deck. It was totally deserted save for -them. Then, "clad in the beauty of a thousand stars," she leaned over -and down and brushed his hand with her lips. - -And George slept on. Only the blare of the bugle brought him back to -mundane affairs. He was hungry, and he announced the fact with gusto. -They would dine well that night. The captain placed Fortune at his right -and George at his left, and broached a bottle of fine old -Johannisberger. And the three of them had coffee in the smoke-room. If -the other passengers had any curiosity, they did not manifest it openly. - -Upon finding that they had no real need of staying over in Naples, the -captain urged that they take the return voyage with him. He saw more -than either of the young people, with those blue Teutonic eyes of his. -George promised to let him know within a dozen hours of the sailing. -Certainly Fortune would decide one way or the other within that time. - -Both had seen the Vesuvian bay many times, with never-failing love and -interest. They sailed across the bay in the bright clearness of the -morning. - -"You are going back with me," George announced in a tone which inferred -that nothing more was to be said upon the subject. But, for all his -confidence, there was a great and heavy fear upon his heart as he asked -for mail at the little inclosure at Cook's, in the Galleria Vittoria. -There was a cable; nothing more. - -"Now, Fortune...." - -"Have I ever given you permission to call me by that name?" - -"Why...." - -"Have I?" - -"No." - -"Then I give you that permission now." - -"What do you frighten a man like that for?" he cried. "What I was going -to say...." - -"Fortune." - -"What I was going to say, Fortune, was this: here is the cable from -Mortimer. I'm not going to open it till after dinner to-night. We'll go -up to the Bertolini to dine. You'll stay there for the night, while I -put up at the Bristol, which is only a little ways up the Corso. I'm not -going to ask you a question till coffee. Then we'll thrash out the -subject till there isn't a grain left." - -She made no protest. Secretly she was pleased to be bullied like this. -It proved that among all these swarming peoples there was one interested -in her welfare. But she knew in her heart what she was going to say when -the proper time came. She did not wish to spoil his dinner. She was also -going to put her courage to its supreme test: borrow a hundred pounds, -and bravely promise to pay him back. If she failed to pay it, it would -be because she was dead! For she could not survive a comparison between -herself and her mother. Here in Naples she might find something, an -opportunity. She spoke French and Italian fluently; and in this crowded -season of the year it would not be difficult to find a situation as a -maid or companion. So long as she could earn a little honestly, she was -not afraid. She was desperately resolved. - -Such a dinner! Long would she remember it; and longer still, how little -either of them ate of it! She knew enough about these things to -appreciate it. It must have cost a pretty penny. She smiled, she -laughed, she jested; and always a battle to dam the uprising tears. - -The dining-room was filled; women in beautiful evening gowns and men in -sober black. But the two young people were oblivious. Their -fellow-diners, however, bent more than one glance in their direction. -Ill-fitting clothes, to be sure, but it was observed that they ate to -the manner born. The girl was beautiful in a melancholy way, and the -young man was well-bred and pleasant of feature, though oddly burned. - -Coffee. George produced the cable. It was still sealed. - -"You read it first," he said, passing it across the table. - -Her hands shook as she ripped the sealed flap and opened the message. -She read. Her eyes gathered dangerously. - -"Be careful!" he warned. "You've been brave so long; be brave a little -longer." - -"I did not know that there lived such good and kindly men. Oh, thank -him, thank him a thousand times for me. Read it." And she no longer -cared if any saw her tears. - - "Bring her home, and God bless you both. - - "MORTIMER." - -"I knew it!" he cried exultantly. "He and my father were the finest two -men in the world. The sky is all clear now." - -"Is it?" sadly. "Oh, I do not wish to pain you, but it is charity; and I -am too proud." - -"You refuse?" He could not believe it. - -"Yes. But when things grow dark, and the day turns bitter, I shall -always remember those words. I can see no other way. I must fight it out -alone." - -Love makes a man dumb or eloquent; and as George saw all his treasured -dreams fading swiftly, eloquence became his buckler in this battle of -love unspoken and pride in arms. Each time he paused for breath, she -shook her head slowly. - -The diners were leaving in twos and fours, and presently they were all -alone. Servants were clearing up the tables; there was a clatter of -dishes and a tread of hurrying feet. They noted it not. - -"Well, one more plea!" And he swept aside his self-imposed restrictions. -"Will you come for my sake? Because I am lonely and want you? Will you -come for my sake?" - -This time her head did not move. - -"Is it pity?" she whispered. - -"Pity!" His hands gripped the linen and the coffee-cups rattled. "No! It -is not pity. Because you were lonely, because you had no one to turn to, -I could not in honor tell you. But now I do. Fortune, will you come for -my sake, because I love you and want you always and always?" - -"I shall come." - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -MARCH HARES - - -George, in that masterful way which was not wholly acquired, but which -had been a latency till the episodic journey--George paid for the -dinner, called the head-waiter and thanked him for the attention given -it, and laid a generous tip upon the cover. From the dining-room the two -young people, outwardly calm but inwardly filled with the Great Tumult, -went to the manager's bureau and arranged for Fortune's room. This -settled, Fortune went down to the cavernous entrance to bid George good -night. They were both diffident and shy, now that the great problem was -solved. George was puzzled as to what to do in bidding her good night, -and Fortune wondered if he would kiss her right here, before all these -horrid cab-drivers. - -"I shall call for you at nine," he said. "We've got to do some -shopping." - -A tinkle of laughter. - -"These ready-made suits are beginning to look like the deuce." - -"Do you always think of everything?" - -"Well, what I don't remember, the clerk will," slyly. "Till recently I -believe I never thought of anything. I must be off. It's too cold down -here for you." He offered his hand nervously. - -She gave hers freely. He looked into her marvelous eyes for a moment. -Then he turned the palm upward and kissed it, lightly and loverly; and -she drew it across his face, over his eyes, till it left in departing a -caress upon his forehead. He stood up, breathing quickly, but not more -so than she. A little tableau. Then he jammed his battered fedora upon -his head and strode up the Corso. He dared not turn. Had he done so, he -must have gone back and taken her in his arms. She followed him with -brave eyes; she saw him suddenly veer across the street and pause at -the parapet. It was then that she became conscious of the keenness of -the night-wind. She went in. Somehow, all earth's puzzles had that night -been solved. - -George lighted a cigar, doubtless the most costly weed to be found in -all Naples that night. The intermittent glowing of the end faintly -outlined his face. Far away across the shimmering bay rose Capri in a -kind of magic, amethystine transparency. A light or two twinkled where -Sorrento lay. His gaze roved the half-circle, and finally rested upon -the grim dark ash-heap, Vesuvius. Beauty, beauty everywhere; beauty in -the sky, beauty upon earth, in his heart and mind. He was twenty-eight, -and all these wonderful things had happened in a little more than so -many days! - - "God's in His heaven, - All's right with the world!" - -He flung the half-finished cigar into the air, careless as to where it -fell, or that in falling it might set Naples on fire. It struck a roof -somewhere below; a sputter of sparks, and all was dark again. - -"I shall come." All through his dreams that night he heard it. "I shall -come." - -Next morning he notified the captain to retain their cabins. After that -they proceeded to storm the shops. They were like March hares; -irresponsible children, both of them. What did propriety matter? What -meaning had circumspection? They two were all alone; the rest of the -world didn't count. It never had counted to either of them. Certainly -they should have gone to a parsonage; Mrs. Grundy would prudently have -suggested it. The trivialities of convention, however, had no place at -that moment in their little Eden. They were a law unto themselves. - -Into twenty shops they went; _modiste_ after _modiste_ was interviewed; -and Fortune at length found two models. These were pretty, and, being -models, quite inexpensive. Once, George was forced to remain outside in -the carriage. It was in front of the _lingerie_ shop. He put away each -receipt, just like a husband upon his honeymoon. Later, receipts would -mean as much, but from a different angle of vision. He bought so many -violets that the carriage looked as though it were ready for the flower -carnival. He laughingly disregarded her protests. It was the Song of -Songs. - -"My shopping is done," she said at last, dropping the bundles upon the -carriage floor. "Now, it is your turn." - -"You have forgotten a warm steamer-cloak," he reminded her. - -"So I have!" - -This oversight was easily remedied; and then George sought the -tailor-shops for ready-made clothes. He had more difficulty than -Fortune; ready-made suits were not the easiest things to find in Naples. -By noon, however, he had acquired a Scotch woolen for day wear and a -fairly decent dinner suit, along with other necessities. - -"Well, I say!" he murmured, struck by a revealing thought. - -"Have you forgotten anything?" - -"No. On the contrary, I've just remembered something. I've got all _I_ -need or want in my steamer-trunk; and till this minute I never once -thought of it." - -How they laughed! Indeed, so high were their spirits that they would -have laughed at any inconsequent thing. They lunched at the Gambrinus, -and George mysteriously bought up all the pennies from the hunchback -tobacco vendor. Later, as they bowled along the sea-front, George -created a small riot by flinging pennies to small boys and whining -beggars. At five they went aboard the ship, which was to leave at -sundown, some hours ahead of scheduled time. The captain himself -welcomed them as they climbed the swaying ladder. There were a hundred -first-class passengers for the final voyage. The two, however, still sat -at the right and left of the captain; but the table was filled, and they -maintained a guarded prattle. Every one at once assumed that they were a -bridal couple, and watched them with tolerant amusement. The captain had -considerately left their names off the passenger-list as published for -the benefit of the passengers and the saloon-sitting. So they moved in a -sort of mystery which rough weather prevented being solved. - -One night, when the sea lay calm and the air was caressingly mild, -George and Fortune had gone forward and were leaning over the -starboard-rail where it meets and joins the forward beam-rail. They -were watching for the occasional flicker of phosphorescence. Their -shoulders touched, and George's hand lay protectingly over hers. - -"I love you," he said; "I love you better than all the world." - -"Are you sure?" - -"Sure? Can you doubt it?" - -"Sometimes." - -"Why...." - -But she interrupted him quickly. "In all this time you have never asked -me if I love you. Why haven't you?" - -"I have been afraid." - -"Ask me!" - -"Do you love me?" his heart missing a beat. - -She leaned toward him swiftly. "Here is my answer," pursing her lips. - -"Fortune!" - -"Be careful! I've a terrible temper." - -But she was not quite prepared for such roughness. She could not stir, -so strongly did he hold her to his heart. Not only her lips, but her -eyes, her cheeks, her throat, and again her lips. He hurt her, but her -heart sang. No man could imitate love like that; and doubt spread its -dark pinions and went winging out to sea. - -"That is the way I want to be loved. Always love me like that. Never -wait for me to ask. Come to me at all times, no matter how I am engaged, -and take me in your arms, roughly like this. Then I shall know. I have -been so lonely; my heart has been so filled with love and none to -receive it! I love you. I haven't asked why; I don't care. When it began -I do not know either. But it is in my heart, strong and for ever." - -"Heart o' mine, I'm going to be the finest lover there ever was!" - - * * * * * - -The great ship came up the bay slowly. It was a clear, sparkling, winter -day, and the towering minarets of business stood limned against the -pale-blue sky with a delicacy not unlike Japanese shell-carving. A -thousand thousand ribbons of cheery steam wavered and slanted and -dartled; the river swarmed with bustling ferries and eager tugs; and -great floats of ice bumped and jammed about the invisible highways. - -"This is where _I_ live," said George, running his arm under hers. "The -greatest country in the world, with the greatest number of mistaken -ideas," he added humorously. - -"What is it about the native land that clutches at our hearts so? I am -an American, and yet I was born in the south of France. I went to school -for a time near Philadelphia. America, America! Can't I be an American, -even if I was born elsewhere?" - -"You can never be president," he said gravely. - -"I don't want to be president!" She snuggled closer to him. "All I want -to be is a good man's wife; to watch the kitchen to see that he gets -good things to eat; to guard his comforts; to laugh when he laughs; to -be gentle when he is sad; to nurse him when he is ill; to be all and -everything to him in adversity as well as in prosperity: a true wife." -She touched his sleeve with her cheek. "And I don't want him to think -that he must always be with me; if he belongs to a man-club, he must go -there once in a while." - -"I am very happy," was all he could say. - -"George, I am uneasy. I don't know why. It's my mother, my uncle, and -Horace. I am going to meet them somewhere. I know it. And I worry about -you." - -"About me? That's foolish." He smiled down at her. - -"Ah, why did my mother seek to renew the acquaintance with you? Why did -Horace have you kidnapped into the desert? There can be no such a thing -as the United Romance and Adventure Company. It is a cloak for something -more sinister." - -"Pshaw! What's the use of worrying, little woman? Whatever schemes they -had must be out of joint by now. Sometimes I think I must be dreaming, -little girl." - -"I am not little. I'm almost as tall as you are." - -"You are vastly taller in many ways." - -"Don't be too sure. I am human; I have my moods. I am sometimes -crotchety; sometimes unjust and quick of temper." - -"All right; I want you, temper and all, just the same." - -"But will they like me? Won't they think I'm an adventuress, or -something like that?" - -"Bless your heart, not in a thousand years! I'm a pretty wise man in -some ways, and they know it." - -And so it proved to be. Both Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer greeted them at the -pier in Hoboken. One glance at the face of the girl was sufficient. Mrs. -Mortimer held out her arms. It was a very fine thing to do. - -"I was in doubt at first," she said frankly. "George is so guileless. -But to look at you, my child, would scatter the doubts of a Thomas. Will -you let me be your mother, if only for a little while?" with a wise and -tender smile. - -Shyly Fortune accepted the embrace. Never had she been so happy. Never -had she felt arms like these about her. - -"What did he cable you?" she asked in a whisper. - -"That he loved you and wanted me to mother you against that time when he -might have the right to take you as his own. Has he that right?" - -"Yes. And oh! he is the bravest and tenderest man I know; and below it -all he is only a boy." - -Mrs. Mortimer patted her hand. A little while later all four went over -to the city and drove uptown to the Mortimer home. On the way Fortune -told her story, simply, without avoiding any essential detail. And all -her new mother did was to put an arm about her and draw her closer. - -The Mortimer home was only three blocks away from George's. So, when -dinner was over, George declared that he would run over and take a look -at his own house. He wanted to wander about the rooms a bit, to fancy -how it would look when Fortune walked at his side. He promised to return -within an hour. He had forgotten many things, ordinarily important; such -as wiring his agent, his butler and cook, who were still drawing their -wages. He passed along the street above which was his own. He paused for -a moment to contemplate the great banking concern. And the president of -this bank was the elder brother of Ryanne! Lots of queer kinks in the -world; lots of crooked turnings. He passed on, turned the corner, and -strode toward his home, ecstasy thrilling his heart. Lightly he ran up -the steps. Three doors below he noticed two automobiles. He gave them -only a cursory glance. He took out his ring of keys, found the -night-latch and thrust it into the keyhole. He never had believed in -this putting up of iron-gates and iron-shutters. A night-latch and a -caretaker who came round once a day was enough for any sensible person. -He turned the key. Eh? It didn't seem to go round. He tried several -times, but without success. Puzzled, he struck a match and stooped -before the keyhole. - -It was a new one. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -A BOTTLE OF WINE - - -George stood irresolutely upon the steps. A new keyhole! What the deuce -did the agent mean by putting a new keyhole in the door without -notifying him? As the caretaker never entered that door, it was all the -agent's fault. There was no area-way in front, but between George's -house and the next there was a court eight feet in width, running to the -dividing wall between the bank property and his own. A grille gate -protected this court. George had a key. The gate opened readily enough. -His intention was to enter by the basement-door. But he suddenly paused. -To his amazement he saw just below the library curtain a thin measure of -light. Light! Some one in the house! He did the most sensible thing -possible: he stood still till the shock left him. Some one in the house, -some one who had no earthly or heavenly business there! Near the window -stood a tubbed bay-tree. Cautiously he mounted this, holding the ledge -of the window with his fingers. That he did not instantly topple over -with a great noise was due to the fact that he was temporarily -paralyzed. - -Here was the end of the puzzle. The riddle of the United Romance and -Adventure Company was solved. At last he understood why Mrs. Chedsoye -had sought him, why Ryanne had kidnapped him. But for his continuing his -journey upon the German-Lloyd boat, he would have come home a week too -late; he would have missed being a spectator (already an innocent -contributor) to one of the most daring and ingenious bank-robberies -known in the pages of metropolitan crime. There was Mrs. Chedsoye, -intrusively handsome as ever; there was her rascally card-sharper -brother, that ingrate who called himself Ryanne, and three unknown men. -The impudence of it; the damnable insolence of it! And there they were, -toasting their success in a brace of his own vintage-champagne! But the -wine was, after all, inconsequential. It was what he saw upon the floor -that caught him by the throat. His knees weakened, but he held on grimly -to his perch. - -White bags of gold, soiled bags of gold, and neat packets of green and -yellow notes: riches! Twenty bags and as many packets of currency; a -million, not a penny under that! George was seized with a horrible -desire to yell with laughter. He felt the cachinnations bubble in his -throat. He swallowed violently and gnawed his lips. They had got into -his house under false pretenses and had tunneled back into the -Merchant-Mechanic Bank, of which Horace's brother was president and in -which he, George P. A. Jones, always carried a large private balance! It -was the joke of the century. - -As quietly as he possibly could, he stepped down from his uncertain -perch. In the fine fury that followed his amazement, his one thought was -to summon the police at once, to confront the wretches in their -villainy; but once outside in the street, he cooled. Instantly he saw -the trial in court. Fortune as witness against her own mother. That was -horrible and not to be thought of. But what should he do? He was shaken -to his soul. The stupendous audacity of such a plan! To have worked out -every detail, down to the altering of the keyhole to prevent surprise! -He saw the automobiles. They were leaving that night. If he acted at -all, it must be within an hour; in less than that time they would be -loading the cars. His mind began to rid itself of its confusion. Without -the aid of the police; and presently he saw the way to do it. - -He was off at a dog-trot, upon the balls of his feet, silently. Within -five minutes he was mounting the steps to the Mortimer home, and in -another minute was inside. The others saw directly that something -serious had happened. - -"What's the trouble, George? House vanished?" asked Mortimer. - -"Have you got a brace of revolvers?" said George quietly. - -"Two automatics. But...." - -"Give them to me," less evenly in tone. "Will you call up Arthur -Wadsworth, president of the Merchant-Mechanic Bank?" - -"The bank?" - -"Yes, the bank. You know, it is just in the rear of my house." - -Here Fortune came forward. All the bright color was gone from her -cheeks; the old mask of despair had re-formed. She needed no further -enlightenment. - -"Are you going back there?" she asked. - -"Yes, dear; I must. Mr. Mortimer will go with me." - -"And I?" - -"No, heart o' mine; you've got to stay here." - -"If you do not take me with you, you will not find me here when you -return." - -"My child," began Mortimer soothingly, "you must not talk like that. -There will be danger." - -"Then notify the police, and let the danger rest upon their shoulders," -she said, her jaws set squarely. - -"I can't call in the police," replied George, miserable. - -"Shall I tell you why?" - -"Dearest, can't you understand that it is you I am thinking of?" - -"I am determined. If I do not go with you, you shall never see me again. -My mother is there!" - -Tragedy. Mrs. Mortimer stretched out a hand, but the girl did not see -it. Her mother; her own flesh and blood! Oh, the poor child! - -"Come, then," said George, in despair. "But you are hurting me, -Fortune." - -"Forgive me, but I _must_ go with you. I _must_!" - -"Get me the revolvers, Mr. Mortimer. We'll wait for Wadsworth. Will you -please telephone him? I'm afraid I couldn't talk steadily enough. -Explain nothing save that it concerns his bank." - -George sat down. Not during those early days of the journey across the -desert had he felt so pitiably weak and inefficient. - -Fortune paced the room, her arms folded tightly across her breast. -Strange, there was neither fear nor pain in her heart, only a wild -wrath. - -When Mortimer returned from the telephone, saying that Wadsworth would -be right over, he asked George to explain fully what was going on. It -was rather a long story. George managed to get through it with a -coherency understandable, but no more. Mrs. Mortimer put her motherly -arms about the girl, but she found no pliancy. There was no resistance, -but there was that stiffness peculiar to felines when picked up under -protest. And there was a little more than the cat in Fortune then; the -tigress. She was not her mother's daughter for nothing. To confront her, -to overwhelm her with reproach, to show her not the least mercy, stonily -to see her led away to prison! - -George inspected the revolvers carefully to see if they were loaded. - -The bell rang, and Arthur Wadsworth came in. Mortimer knew him; George -did not. He drew his interest as it fell due and deposited it in another -bank. That was the extent of his relations with Arthur Wadsworth, -president of the Merchant-Mechanic Bank of New York. - -Arthur was small, thin, blond like his brother, but the hair was so -light upon the top of his head that he gave one the impression that he -was bald. His eyes looked out from behind half-shut lids; his cheeks -were cadaverous; his pale lips met in a straight, unpleasant line. There -was not the slightest resemblance between the two brothers, either in -their bodies or in their souls. George recognized this fact immediately. -He disliked the man instinctively, just as he could not help admiring -his rogue of a brother. - -"I want you to go with me to my house at once," began George. - -"Please explain." - -George disliked the voice even more than the man himself. "Everything -will be explained there," he replied. - -"This is very unusual," the banker complained. - -"You will find it so. Come." George moved toward the hall, the revolvers -in his coat-pocket. - -"But I insist...." - -"Mr. Wadsworth, everything will be fully explained to you the moment you -enter my house; More I shall not tell you. You are at liberty to return -home." - -"It concerns the bank?" The voice had something human in it now; a note -of affection. - -Arthur Wadsworth loved the bank as a man loves his sweetheart, but more -explicitly, as a miser loves the hoard hidden in the stocking. He loved -every corner of the building. He worshiped the glass-covered marbles -over which the gold passed and repassed. He adored the sight of the bent -backs of the bookkeepers, the individual-account clerks, the little -cages of the paying and receiving tellers, always so beautifully -littered with little slips of paper, packets of bills, stacks of gold -and silver; he loved the huge steel-vault, stored with bags of gold and -bundles of notes, bonds, and stocks. Money was his god. Summed up, he -was a miser in all that contemptible word implies: stingy, frugal, -cautious, suspicious, sly, cruel, and relentless; he was in the concrete -what his father had been in the abstract. - -"It concerns the bank?" he repeated, torn by doubt. - -George shrugged. "Let us be going." - -"Will it be necessary to call in the police?" - -"No." - -"I suppose, then," said Wadsworth bitterly, wondering, too, over the -strange animosity of this young man he did not know--"I suppose I must -do just as you say?" - -"Absolutely." George's teeth came together with a click. - -The four of them passed out of the house, each singularly wrought with -agitation. Fortune walked ahead with George. Neither spoke. They could -hear the occasional protest from the banker into Mortimer's ear; but -Mortimer did not open his lips. They came to the house, and then George -whispered his final instructions to Wadsworth. The latter, when he -understood what was taking place, became wild with rage and terror; and -it was only because George threatened to warn the conspirators that he -subsided. - -"And," went on George, "if you do not obey, you can get out of it the -best you know how. Now, silence, absolute silence." - -He pressed back the grille gate, and the others tiptoed after him. - - * * * * * - -Ryanne tipped the third bottle delicately. Not a drop was wasted. How -the golden beads swarmed up to the brim, to break into little essences -of perfume! And this was good wine; twelve years in the bottle. - -"It's like some dream; eh?" - -Wallace smacked his lips loudly. - -"Wallace," chided Ryanne, "you always drink like a sailor. You don't -swallow champagne; you sip it, like this." - -Major Callahan swayed his glass back and forth under his nose. "Smells -like a vineyard after a rain. - -"There's poetry for you!" laughed the butler. - -Mrs. Chedsoye alone seemed absorbed in other things. She was trying to -discover what it was that gave this supreme moment so flat a taste. It -was always so; it was the chase, the goal was nothing. It was the -excitement of going toward, not arriving at, the destination. Was she, -who considered herself so perfect, a freak after all, shallow like a -hill-stream and as aimless in her endeavors? Had she possessed a real -enthusiasm for anything? She looked back along the twisted avenue of -years. Had anything really stirred her profoundly? From the bags of gold -her glance strayed up and over to Ryanne. Love? Love a man so weak that -he could not let be the bottle? She had a horror of drunkenness, the -inane giggles, the attending nausea; she had been through it all. Had -she loved him, or was it because he loved the child? Even this she could -not tell. Inwardly she was opaque to her searchings. She stirred -restlessly. She wanted to be out of this house, on the way. The gold, as -gold, meant nothing. She had enough for her needs. What was it, then? -Was she mad? What flung her here and about, without real purpose? - -"We could have taken every dollar from the vault," said Wallace -cheerfully. - -"But we couldn't have made our get-away with it," observed the butler, -holding his empty glass toward Ryanne, who was acting as master of -ceremonies. - -"A clear, unidentified million," mused Ryanne. "Into the cars with it; -over to Jersey City; on to Philadelphia; but there for Europe; quietly -transfer the gold to the various Continental banks; and in six months, -who could trace hair or hide of it?" Ryanne laughed. - -"It's all right to laugh," said the Major. "But are you sure about -Jones? He could have arrived this afternoon." - -"Impossible! He left Alexandria for Naples on a boat that stopped but -thirty hours. With Fortune on his hands he could not possibly sail -before the following week, and maybe not then. Sit tight. I know what I -am talking about." - -"He might cable." - -"So he might. But if he had we'd have heard from him before now. I'm -going to tell you a secret. My name is not Ryanne." - -"We all know that," said the Major. - -"It's Wadsworth. Does that tickle your mind any?" - -The men shook their heads. Mrs. Chedsoye did not move hers. - -"Bah! Greatest joke of the hour. I'm Horace Wadsworth, and Arthur -Wadsworth, president of the Merchant-Mechanic Bank, is my beloved -brother!" - -"Ay, damnable wretch!" - -A shock ran through them all. In the doorway leading to the rear hall -stood George, his revolvers leveled steadily. Peering white-faced over -his shoulder was the man who had spoken, Arthur Wadsworth. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -THE END OF THE PUZZLE - - -The elder brother tried to push past George, but old Mortimer caught him -by the shoulders and dragged him back. - -"Let me go!" he cried, his voice nasal and high. "Do you hear me? Let me -go!" - -"Mr. Mortimer," said George, without turning his head or letting his eye -waver, "keep him back. Thanks." George stepped over the threshold. "Now, -gentlemen, I shall shoot the first man who makes a movement." - -And Ryanne, who knew something about George, saw that he meant just what -he said. "Steady, every one," he said. "My friend George here can't -shoot; but that kind of a man is deadliest with a pistol. I surrender." - -The brother was struggling. "The telephone! The telephone! I demand to -call the police. This is accessory to the fact! I tell you, let me go!" - -"Mr. Wadsworth," replied George, "if you do not be still and let me run -this affair, I'll throw the pistols to the floor, and your brother and -his friends may do as they bally please. Now, step back and be quiet. -Stop!" to Ryanne, whose hand was reaching out toward the table. - -[Illustration] - -"Don't shoot, Percival; I want only a final glass of wine." Ryanne -calmly took the slender stem of the glass between his fingers, lifted it -and drank. He set it down empty. From his outside pocket he drew a -handkerchief and delicately dried his lips. He alone of his confederates -had life. It was because he alone understood. Prison wasn't staring them -in the face just yet. "Well, Arthur, old top, how goes it? Nearly got -your money-bags, didn't we? And we surely would have but for this -delicious vintage." - -"Damn you and your wine!" roared the Major, shaking with rage. This -adventure had been no joke to him, no craving for excitement. He wanted -the gold, the gold. With what would have been his share he could have -gambled at Monte Carlo and Ostend till the end of his days. For the -first time he saw long, thick bars of iron running up and down a window. -And all for a bottle of wine! - -"Damn away, old sport!" Ryanne reached for the bottle and filled his -glass again. "Percival, I'm blamed sorry about that olive-tree of -yours." He waved his hand toward the bags. "You can see that my -intentions in regard to refunding that hundred pounds were strictly -honorable. Now, what's on the ticket?" - -"I suppose your luggage is outside in the automobiles?" - -"Right-O!" - -"Well, I need not explain my reasons; you will understand them; but I am -going to give you all two hours' time. Then I shall notify the police. -You will have to take your chance after that time." - -The circling faces brightened perceptibly. Two hours--that would carry -them far into Jersey. - -"Accepted with thanks," said Ryanne. - -"I refuse to permit it!" yelled the brother. "Mr. Jones, you will rue -this night's work. I shall see that the law looks into your actions. -This is felony. I demand to be allowed to telephone." - -"Percival, for heaven's sake, let him!" cried Ryanne wearily. "Let him -shout; it will soften his voice. He will hurt nobody. The wires were cut -hours ago." - -Mortimer felt the tense muscles in his grasp relax. Arthur Wadsworth -grew limp and reeled against the jamb of the door. - -"You had better start at once," George advised. "You three first," with -a nod toward Wallace (his bulbous nose now lavender in hue), the butler -and the first-man. "Forward march, front door. Go on!" - -"What about me?" asked Ryanne. - -"In a moment." George could not but admire the man, rascal though he -was. There was a pang of regret in his heart as the thought came and -went swiftly: what a comrade this man would have made under different -circumstances! Too late! "Halt!" he cried. The trio marching toward the -door came to a stop, their heads turned inquiringly. "Here, Mr. -Mortimer; take one of these guns and cover the Major. He's the one I -doubt." Then George followed the others into the hall and ironically -bade them God-speed as he opened the door for them. They went out -stupidly; the wine had dulled them. George immediately returned to the -library. - -Neither Fortune nor her mother had stirred in all this time. A quality -of hypnotism held them in bondage. The mother could not lower her glance -and the daughter would not. If there was a light of triumph in Fortune's -eyes, it was unconsciously there. And no one will know the full -bitterness that shone from the mother's. She could have screamed with -fury; she could have rent her clothes, torn her skin, pulled her hair; -and yet she sat there without physical sign of the tempest. This offers -a serio-comic suggestion; but it was tragedy enough for the woman who -was in the clutch of these emotional storms. It was not her predicament; -it was not that she was guilty of a crime against society; it was not -that she had failed. No. It was because she, in leaving this house for -ever, was leaving her daughter behind, mistress of it. - -On her side, Fortune knew, that, had there been a single gesture -inviting pity, she must have flown to her mother's side. But there was -no sign. Finally, Fortune stepped back, chilled. It was all too late. - -"Fortune," said George, terribly embarrassed, "do you wish to speak to -your mother, alone?" - -"No." It was a little word, spoken in a little, hushed tone. - -Mrs. Chedsoye rose and proceeded to put on her furs, which she had flung -across the back of her chair. - -"Mother!" This came in a gasp from the elder Wadsworth. An understanding -of this strange proceeding began to filter through his mind. The young -girl's mother! - -Mrs. Chedsoye drew on her gloves slowly. She offered them to the Major -to button. He flung the hands aside. He was not nice under the veneer. -But Ryanne was instantly at her service. And curiously she watched his -agile fingers at work over the buttons; they were perfectly steady. -Then, followed by the Major and Ryanne, she walked easily toward the -hall. Ryanne paused. - -"Good night, Arthur. I'm sure you will not sleep well. That handsome -safe is irreparably damaged. I dare say you will find a way to cover the -loss without any injury to your own pocket. Old top, farewell! Who was -it, Brutus or Cæsar, who said: 'I go but to return'?" The banter left -his face and voice swiftly. "You sneaking black-guard, you cheater of -widows; yes, I shall come again; and then look to your sleek, -sanctimonious neck! You chucked me down the road to hell, and the pity -of it is, some day I must meet you there! Fortune, child," his voice -becoming sad, "you might remember a poor beggar in your prayers -to-night. Percival, a farewell to you. We shall never meet again. But -when you stand upon that bally old rug there, you'll always see me, the -fire, the tents, the camels and the desert, and the moon in the -date-palms. By-by!" - -And presently they were gone. A moment later those remaining could hear -the chug-chug of the motors as they sped away. The banker was first to -recover from the spell. He rushed for the hall, but George stopped him -rudely. - -"Two hours, if you please. I never break my word. Your money is all -there. If you do not act reasonably, I'll throw you down and sit on you -till the time is up. Sit down. I do not propose that my future wife -shall appear in court as a witness against her mother. Do you understand -me now?" - -The banker signified that he did. He sat down, rather subdued. Then he -got up nervously and inventoried the steal. He counted roughly a -million. A million! He felt sick and weak. It would have wrecked the -bank, wiped it out of existence. And saved by the merest, the most -trifling chance! A bottle of wine! He resumed his chair and sat there -wonderingly till the time-limit expired. - -The public never heard how nearly the Merchant-Mechanic had gone to the -wall; nor how six policemen had worked till dawn carrying back the gold; -nor that the banker had not even thanked them for their labor. The first -impulse of the banker had been to send the story forth to the world, to -harass and eventually capture his brother; but his foresight becoming -normal, he realized that silence was best, even if his brother escaped. -If the depositors heard that the bank had been entered and a million -taken from the vaults, there would naturally follow a terrific run. - -When the last bag had been taken out of the library and the banker and -the police had gone, the bell rang. George went to the door. A messenger -handed him a small satchel and a note. There was to be no reply. The -note was from Ryanne. Briefly it stated that the satchel contained the -emeralds. There had been some difficulty in forcing the Major to -surrender them. But that much was due to George for his generosity. -Later in the day he--George--might inform his--Horace's--brother that -the _coup_ hadn't been a total fizzle. They had already packed away in -suit-cases something like two hundred thousand dollars in bills of all -denominations. "Tell that dear brother of mine to charge it to our -account. It will be less than the interest upon a million in ten years. -To you, my boy, I add: Fortune favors the brave!" - - * * * * * - -"George," said Mortimer, "you will not mind if I forage round in the -kitchen? A bottle of beer and a bit of cheese would go handy. It's -almost my breakfast time." - -"Bless your heart, help yourself!" - -And George turned to Fortune. - -"Ah," she cried, seizing his hands, "you will not think ill of me?" - -"And for what?" astonished. - -"For not speaking to my mother. Oh, I just couldn't; I just couldn't! -When I thought of all the neglect, all the indifference, the loneliness, -I couldn't! It was horribly unnatural and cruel!" - -"I understand, heart o' mine. Say no more about it." And he put his two -hands against her cheeks and kissed her. "Never shall you be lonely -again, for I am going to be all things to you. Poor heart! Just think -that all that has passed has been only a bad dream, and that it's clear -sunshiny morning; eh?" He held her off a ways and then swept her into -his arms as he had done on board the ship, roughly and masterly. "And -there's that old rug! Talk about magic carpets! There never was one just -like this. But for it I shouldn't even have known you. And, by Jove! -when the minister comes this afternoon...." - -"This afternoon!" - -"Exactly! When he comes, you and I are going to stand upon that -beautiful, friendly old rug, and both of us are going to be whisked -right away into Eden." - -"Please!" - -Silence. - -"How brave you are!" - -"I? Oh, pshaw!" - -"Would you have shot one of them?" - -"Girl, your Percival Algernon couldn't have hit the broad side of a -barn." He laughed joyously. - -"I knew it. And that is why I call you brave." - -And when the pale gold of winter dawn filled the room, it found them, -hand in hand, staring down at the old Yhiordes, the magic old Yhiordes -from Bagdad. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CARPET FROM BAGDAD*** - - -******* This file should be named 43749-8.txt or 43749-8.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/3/7/4/43749 - - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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