"You speak Italian, signora? Ah, capital! Pray be seated," said the Governor affably. "As you have honored me with a call at this unusual hour I take it that your business is urgent. Do you wish to confer with me in private? If so, Signor Alfieri, who is not unknown to you, I believe, will leave us for a few minutes. Otherwise, you can talk quite frankly in his presence."

That was the Governor's method of putting his two visitors at their ease. The lady would assume he knew everything. The man would take his cue from a friendly opening. What could be better?

"I am glad that Signor Alfieri is here, your Excellency, though I must admit that I did not expect to see him," said Mrs. Haxton, taking the proffered chair. "My business concerns him, to a certain extent. By all means, let him remain."

Her voice was under control. She spoke Italian fluently, and her smooth, clear accents seemed to stir strange memories in Alfieri's soul. But, thinking to annoy her, he forced a spiteful grin to his thin lips.

"Allowing for the lapse of years, Rita," he said, "and bearing in mind your natural distress at to-day's occurrences, you are looking remarkably well."

She flashed one quick glance at him, then smiled sweetly at Marchetti.

"My distress ended when the Signorina Fenshawe was brought back to her friends. Of course, it was a dreadful thing that she should be carried off in such a way. Were it not for the skill and resource displayed by one of the Aphrodite's officers, there is no knowing what the consequences might have been."

"You have seen the signorina at the hotel?" put in the Governor.

"No, I came straight from the yacht. I thought it advisable."

"But the affair has been misrepresented. It is a mere bagatelle. There exists, shall we say, a certain disagreement between you and Signor Alfieri. There was an unhappy mistake, which I would have rectified without any help from the yacht. You see, rumor is apt to exaggerate."

"I think you are taking a very reasonable and proper view, your Excellency. It will be best for all parties if we try to regard the incident in that light."

Marchetti was vaguely conscious of a too complete agreement in the lady's tone. But he seized the apparent advantage.

"Then that is settled," he said cheerfully. "I have already apologized to Signor Fenshawe. To-morrow a more ample explanation and expression of regret should remove any cause of friction."

"I have reason to think there will be no difficulty in arriving at an amicable settlement, provided you fall in with the suggestion I am here to make."

"And that is?"

"That you release the Baron von Kerber to-night."

"Ha!" snarled Alfieri, but the Governor angrily motioned him to be silent.

"No one is better aware than yourself, signora, how utterly impossible is your request," he said.

"The proposal is not even worthy of debate, then?"

"But no."

"That is a pity. My small experience of life has taught me that when two reasonable people, or even three, hold different views on any given subject, there is always something to be said in favor of each contention. Indeed, wisdom leans towards a compromise in such a case."

"You presuppose a mere divergence of opinion. Here we have no room for it. Your confederate, signora, if you will pardon a harsh term, is believed to have stolen valuable documents from my friend, Signor Alfieri. My Government has instructed me to arrest him, and to use every means, not stopping short of armed force, to prevent the Aphrodite from undertaking what is little else than a piratical expedition. You see, therefore, that it is not in my power, if I were so minded, to set Baron von Kerber at liberty. Compromise in any other direction would appeal to me. Where Baron von Kerber is concerned, I am helpless."

His Excellency was firmly planted on the gubernatorial dais once more. Mrs. Haxton evidently demanded plain speaking. Being a blunt man, he gave it to her. But she smiled again, quite pleasantly.

"That is what I may describe as the correct official attitude," she said. "If it were founded on fact, it would be unassailable. But Signor Alfieri can tell you that the Baron most certainly did not steal anything from him. If a culprit must be found, it was I, not Franz von Kerber, who should be charged with theft."

"Ah, Dio mio, you hear? She admits!"

Alfieri almost screeched the words. He was in a frenzy of passion. This woman had ever the power to drive him beyond bounds. He hated her now with an intensity born of derided love. The Governor would have stormed at him, but Mrs. Haxton accepted the challenge too promptly.

"I admit nothing," she cried with a sudden shrillness. "If admissions are necessary I shall wait until Abdullah confronts you. Then, when I have told my story, he shall tell his."

"Who cares for Abdullah!" came the retort. "Not I. It is well, indeed, to appeal to the testimony of an unknown Arab."

"You shall have the opportunity of refuting him," said. Mrs. Haxton. "He is in Massowah. But that is a question for such tribunal as may exist in this lawless town. Your Excellency's decision is final?" she added, turning to the Governor.

"Absolutely irrevocable, signora. You see how it stands—my orders are explicit."

"Their explicitness is as nothing compared to the clearness of the next mandate you will receive from Rome," she blazed out. "Was it according to your orders that an English lady was carried off by brigands, simply to glut the vengeance of my discarded Beppo? You spoke of confederates, Signor Marchetti. What of the confederacy that permits this man to be your guest while your officers are making mock search for him in the bazaar? Your judges, even such as they are, will laugh him out of court when he tries to substantiate the charge he has brought against Baron von Kerber. Poor, love-sick fool!—to gratify his spite he attacks his rival with false evidence rather than let it be known that a woman twisted him round her little finger. Look at him now; he would strike me dead, if he dared; but he cannot answer me."

Alfieri leaped to his feet. His voice rose to a cracked falsetto.

"You hear, you hear!" was his cry. "She robbed me of the papyrus, yet boasts of it. She is a thief, self-confessed."

Mrs. Haxton also sprang up. Her physical dread of the man had yielded to the triumph of having cornered him.

"Truly I hope his Excellency hears," she said. "If I am to blame for the loss of your papers, why is Baron von Kerber in prison on your testimony?"

"You are both in league," he almost screamed. "I was blind, infatuated, at Assouan. It was the Austrian who planned my undoing, and you, his paramour, who cajoled me out of my senses."

"I refuse to stay here and be insulted by such a coward," she said, gathering her skirts as though she intended to take her departure instantly. "But it will be a fine story that Signor Fenshawe cables from Aden when he tells how the Governor of Massowah aided and abetted this half-crazy poltroon in onslaughts on defenseless women. It was not enough that Italian law should be misused to further his ends, but the scum of the bazaar is enlisted under his banner, and he is supported by the authorities in an act that would be reprobated by any half-savage state in existence."

"I pray you calm yourself, signora," exclaimed Marchetti, now fully alive to the dangers confronting him. "You must see that I have only acted in an official capacity. I, at least, have no feeling in the matter. I received certain information—"

"Which was entirely misleading and one-sided," she broke in imperiously.

"Which certainly did not refer to you in any particular," was the sharp rejoinder, while he glanced at Alfieri, "If this gentleman is now prepared to say that he was mistaken—"

"Who dares to hint at any admission on my part?" shouted Alfieri.

The stout Governor did not like to be bawled at. He was sufficiently embarrassed already by the quagmire into which Alfieri had plunged him.

"You ought to be careful in your choice of words," he said pompously. "There is no question of 'dare' or 'dare not' where I am concerned. Signora, do me the favor of sitting here while I discuss matters briefly with Signor Alfieri. Signor, be good enough to precede me."

He pointed to the door. With a queer catching at her breath, Mrs. Haxton sank into a chair. Alfieri folded his arms and gazed at the Governor with eyes that blazed under his heavy brows.

"You are the representative of Italy," he said, making a great effort to speak quietly. "I call on you to lodge that woman in a cell so that she may be tried with her accomplice."

"If you do not go instantly, and in silence, into the corridor, I shall call on my guards to take you there by force," exclaimed Marchetti with a more successful assumption of ease.

Alfieri turned his lambent glance on Mrs. Haxton, but the Governor stopped the imminent outburst.

"I said 'in silence,'" he roared, stretching a hand to grasp a bell- rope. Alfieri, with a fierce gesture of disdain, went out. His Excellency bowed to the lady.

"Two minutes," he murmured. "The wine on the table is Capri. You will find it grateful after this somewhat heated interview."

But Mrs. Haxton drank no wine when the Governor followed Alfieri. She bit her lips and clenched her hands in an agony of restraint. This lull in the storm was more trying than the full fury of the blast. The Governor's two minutes lengthened into ten. Then he hurried back, alone. He was manifestly ill at ease, though he spoke glibly enough.

"I am taking a grave step, signora," he said, "but I feel that the peculiar circumstances warrant it. I have released the Baron von Kerber. He is now awaiting you, and it will give me much pleasure to conduct you to your carriage. Yet I pray you give earnest heed to me. I have told him what I now tell you—this undertaking of yours must be abandoned. Not only is it my duty to prevent it at all costs, but an expedition starts for the Five Hills this very night. So, you see, you are sure to fail in any case. The exact locality is known, and Signor Alfieri has an armed escort. I repeat, you have failed. May I hope, without being rude, that your love affairs may be more prosperous. Charming woman that you are, I cannot compliment you on either of your present suitors. My advice Is, go back to England, and help me tomorrow in persuading Signor Fenshawe to let matters rest where they are."

As one walking in a dream, Mrs. Haxton accompanied Marchetti to the courtyard. There she found von Kerber, who ran to meet her.

"So it is you," he cried in English. "I guessed it, though they would tell me nothing."

The Governor was most polite. He would not lecture them, before natives.

"I have spoken as a friend, to-night," he murmured. "To-morrow I shall be an official once more."

The alabeeyah rattled across the paved square towards the gateway. Alfieri, on whom an officer kept an eye, watched it with malevolence from an upper window.

"There go two people whom I hate," he said to his guardian. "They have escaped me this time. When I am rich, rich as any king in Europe, I shall have a king's power. Then I shall find them and crush them utterly."

The driver swung his horses towards the sea front.

"No, no," cried Mrs. Haxton. "Go through the bazaar. Drive slowly." And, in the next breath, she explained to von Kerber: "We must find Abdullah. He is somewhere in the main street. Above all things, we must find Abdullah. Alfieri leaves Massowah tonight, and he is making for the Five Hills. Our only hope lies with Abdullah."



CHAPTER XII

STUMP DEPENDS ON OBSERVATION

After eight hours of dreamless sleep, Irene awoke to a torpid but blissful conviction that bed is a most comfortable place when bones ache and the slightest movement is made irksome by patches of chafed skin. In fact, having buried her hands gingerly in the wealth of brown hair that streamed over the pillow, she lay and watched the white planks of the deck overhead, wondering idly what time it was. The effort to guess the hour brought her a stage nearer complete consciousness. Her first precise recollection was also pleasant. She thought of the way in which Royson had carried her in his arms not so many hours earlier, and the memory banished all others for many minutes.

If she smiled and blushed a little, it may be pleaded that she was twenty years of age, and had passed her girlhood amidst surroundings from which young men eligible to carry young ladies in their arms, or even hold them there, were rigorously excluded. Not that her grandfather was a misanthrope, but his interests were bound up so thoroughly in Egyptian research that his friends were, for the most part, elderly savants with kindred tastes. The wreck, of the Bokhara, too, with Irene's father and mother among its passengers, had helped to cut him off from the social world. When the grief of that tragedy had yielded to the passing years he hardly realized that the little child who had crept into his affections was growing up into a beautiful and light-hearted girl. Quite insensibly she assimilated herself to his hobbies and studies, became mistress of his London house and fine estate in Berkshire, and, by operation of forces more effective in their way than any Puritanical safeguards, lived apart from the gay throng in which she was eminently fitted to take a leading place.

Irene offered, then, a somewhat unusual type. While other girls might recount the number of male hearts they had subdued during the past season, Irene could state, with equal accuracy, the names of the gods of the Memphite order. Though her grandfather's wealth and the eagerness of a skilled maid compelled her to take a passing interest in fashions, she was far more devoted to variations in scarabs. Such attainments, if sedulously pursued during the succeeding decade, might have converted her into an alarmingly precise Bas Bleu! As it was, the Memphite gods smiled on her, and the scarabs might buzz off to their museums contentedly at any moment, for Irene was only waiting the advent of an undreamed-of influence into her life to develop into a tender, sympathetic, delightful womanhood.

Indeed, if Ka and Ra and beetle-headed Khepra were so important in the scheme of existence that this dainty scientist cared naught for the moth-life of society, why, then, did she blush when she remembered how closely Dick Royson had clasped her to his breast over-night? Perhaps she might have asked herself that question, only to blush more deeply in trying to answer it, had not her thoughts been distracted by the extraordinary behavior of a silk underskirt hanging on a peg at the foot of the bed. It was swinging to and fro with the regularity of a pendulum, and that which is regular in a pendulum is fantastically irregular in an underskirt. She sat up quickly, and listened. There was a swish of water outside. Now and again she heard a slight movement of the rudder chains in their boxes. Then, all aglow with wonder and excitement, she jumped out of bed and drew the curtain of one of the two tiny portholes that gave light to her cabin.

Yes, another marvel had happened. The yacht was speeding along under canvas,—was already far out at sea. Where Massowah's yellow sandspit shone yesterday were now blue wavelets dancing in the sun, and Irene was sailor enough to know that the Aphrodite was bound south.

She rang an electric bell, and her maid came.

"Yes, miss," said the girl, "we've been going since midnight. As soon as Mrs. Haxton and Baron von Kerber came on board—"

"Baron von Kerber, did you say?" broke in Irene breathlessly.

"Yes, miss. He came with Mrs. Haxton. Mind you, miss, I haven't seen him, but one of the stewards told me that the Baron went straight to Mr. Fenshawe's cabin, and the order was given to raise the anchor immediately. I'm sure they made plenty of noise. They woke me up, miss, and I'm a sound sleeper."

The maid was ready to say more, but Irene had learnt to discourage servants' gossip.

"I think the Aphrodite might have fired cannons last night without disturbing me," she declared lightly. "What time is it?"

"Nearly nine o'clock, miss. No one seemed to be stirring, so Mr. Gibson put off breakfast for half an hour. He said that everybody must be worn out after yesterday's worries."

Irene laughed. Gibson, the head steward, a fatherly sort of man, was a martinet in the matter of punctuality at meals. This adjourning of the breakfast hour was a great concession on his part. It showed how strenuous life had been at Massowah.

Despite her aches and pains, she dressed rapidly. She was all agog to learn how von Kerber had regained his liberty, and what new development was marked by the yacht's unexpected sailing. When she hurried to the bridge for news, the first person she met was Royson, and perhaps one of those old deities of Memphis would have smiled darkly were he privileged to see the tell-tale color that leaped to both faces.

Naturally, the girl was the speedier to find her tongue.

"Good gracious, Mr. Royson," she said, "what is the meaning of this?" and a generous hand-sweep included sea and sky and distant coastline in the eager question.

"I don't know," he said. "Captain Stump and Mr. Tagg entered into a conspiracy to keep me in bed. I have not been on deck five minutes."

"But didn't you ask? Aren't you consumed with curiosity? Who is in charge of the bridge?"

"Mr. Tagg. His stock of information is limited. 'Cleared the islands at four bells; course South-40-East' is practically all he has to say."

"It may be, then, that you are good at guessing? Have you not heard that the Baron is with us?"

"Yes, Miss Fenshawe, I knew that last night. Indeed, I heard his boat hail the watch. I was lying awake, and the Baron's voice is easily recognizable."

"Mrs. Haxton seems to have succeeded where all else failed. Did you see any of their companions? Was El Jaridiah with them?"

"No. I plead guilty to opening a port and looking out. The tide carried the boat close beneath me when she was cast loose from the gangway. El Jaridiah, or Abdullah, if that is his name, was not there."

"It is all very mysterious and puzzling," said Irene, gazing at the purple mountains which fringed the southwest horizon. "I am sorry we have not been able to reward the man, and I had set my heart on buying Moti. Don't you think it was rather wonderful that such a weedy-looking animal should have carried us so safely?"

"It was all very wonderful," Dick replied, but he did not dare to meet the glance suddenly turned on him. For some reason, Miss Fenshawe decided to guide their talk into a less personal channel.

"If the breakfast gong does not ring immediately, I shall go and hammer on grandad's door," she vowed. "He hates being disturbed when he is dressing, but I am simply aching to find out what has happened and where we are going. And, talking of aches, Mr. Royson, look at my poor wrists."

She held out both her hands, close together, with the palms downwards. Royson noticed instantly she was wearing a beautiful marquise ring on the middle finger of her left hand. The rules which govern the use of these baubles were beyond his ken. A plain gold ring on a lady's so- called fourth finger is a marriage token known to all men, but he had not the ghost of an idea where an engagement ring should be carried, and he jumped to the conclusion that the girl was wearing one. Why had he never seen it before, he wondered? Was it a hint, a reminder of the conventions? It is probable that Irene herself would have been surprised if she were told that it was once the custom for engaged young ladies to reveal their happiness by displaying a ring on the middle finger, while those who were free but prepared to wed might coyly announce the fact by a ring on the index finger. Be that as it may, Royson was dumfounded by the sight of the glistening diamonds. They winked at him evilly, and his tongue tripped:

"I cannot tell you how sorry I am," he murmured thickly, Irene dropped her hands.

"Unless you are able to squint, you didn't look at my wrists at all," she exclaimed. A gong pealed loudly from the cabin, and she ran off. Dick made for the chart-room, in front of which Tagg was leaning on the rail and gazing ahead.

"You've bin quick," said the chief. "'Keep her steady as she goes, South-40-East, until the ole raw comes on deck. If the wind drops, call 'im."

Then Dick remembered that Tagg had bidden him have his breakfast before he came on duty. Royson said nothing, but took his station on the bridge. Tagg, being lame, preferred to swing himself to the main deck, whence he hopped into the small cabin where the officers ate their meals. He came back instantly.

"Wot's the game?" he inquired sympathetically.

"You've eaten nothin'. Feelin' bad?"

"No. Oh, no," Royson laughed and reddened.

"Then wot's wrong? Didn't you fancy the corfee an' bacon, after the high livin' ashore?"

"The fact is, I met Miss Fenshawe, and she detained me a few minutes."

"Is that any reason why you shouldn't eat?"

"None whatever. I—er—really—forgot."

"Forgot your breakfast! Come orf of it."

Tagg climbed up, monkey-like.

"Take my tip," he said earnestly, "This is a bad climate to go hungry in. You'd 'ave a touch of the sun in less'n no time. Just go below, an' force yerself to nibble a bit. It'll do you good, an' I don't mind keepin' watch another spell."

Royson obeyed in silence. His friend's kindliness supplied an unconscious but necessary tonic to his system. Obviously, the second mate of the Aphrodite had no business to trouble his head about the symbolism of rings worn by Miss Irene Fenshawe. Yet he wished he knew which was the engagement finger.

Shortly before noon Captain Stump came on deck to take the sun. This was a semi-religious rite with Stump. Though the contours of the coast drawn along two sides of the Admiralty chart rendered a solar observation quite needless within sight of land, he proceeded to ascertain the yacht's position according to the formula, or, at any rate, according to such portion of it as applied to his rule-of-thumb calculations. Having pricked the chart and written the log, Stump bit the end off a cigar. He was ready for a gossip with Royson.

"You won't find life quite so lively at Aden as at Massowah," he said.

"We are bound for Aden, then?"

"Where did you think we was headin' for? Melbourne?"

"Well, sir, if I gave any thought to it I inclined more to the belief that we were making for our original destination."

"An' where was that?"

"A bay somewhere south of us, not far from Perin."

"Have you heard anything fresh?" asked Stamp quickly.

"Not a word. But, if we reach Aden, I suppose the expedition will be abandoned."

"They're chewin' about it now in the saloon," said the skipper, glancing over his shoulder to make sure there was no one within earshot. His sailor's eye swept the horizon at the same instant, and he saw a smoke-blur some miles astern. Breaking off the conversation abruptly, he Weal into the chart-house, and returned with a telescope, which, he balanced against a stay.

"There's a steamer comin' after us in a desprit hurry," he announced, when a prolonged examination had enabled him to form an opinion.

"After us?" repeated Dick.

"That's the way I read it. She's from Massowah. The reg'lar channel is fifty miles east. Tell you wot, it's that I-talian gunboat the guv'nor spoke about."

"But she was not in port when we left."

"No. We passed her comin' in."

"Ah, she recognized us?"

"Not much. We were under sail, an carried no masthead light. When I twigged hers I tied a couple of sou'westers over our side lights. It's a good thing at sea to mind your own business sometimes, an', more'n that, to take care that other people mind theirs when they want to be nasty."

"Shall we keep on under canvas, sir?"

"As long as the wind lasts," said Stump, closing the telescope and rolling off towards the saloon. Within a minute all hands were on deck. The corporate life of a small ship is closely knit. The word had gone round that a gunboat was in pursuit, and every one wanted to see her.

Mr. Fenshawe and Baron von Kerber stood apart. The older man was visibly annoyed by this new instance of Italian interference. Royson, pacing the tiny bridge, caught an occasional glimpse of the millionaire's emphatic gestures. The Austrian was more sallow than usual, but that might be the result of his unpleasant experiences on the previous day. Irene came to the bridge. Though she knew that none except the captain might converse with the officer on duty, she whispered timidly:

"They won't fire at us, Mr. Royson, will they?"

He smiled reassuringly. The tremor in her voice was delightful. It made him forget that wretched ring for a moment.

"No, that is not to be feared, Miss Fenshawe. My experience of the sea is no greater than your own, but you may be sure the Italians will follow the rules. If they really wish to overhaul us they will fly a signal soon."

The warship was traveling sixteen knots an hour, the Aphrodite seven, so the chase did not last long. About one o'clock the green, white, and red ensign of Italy fluttered to the end of the pursuing vessel's foreyard, where it could be seen most easily; under it were shown the red and white striped code signal, and the "J" flag, which latter, in the language of the seas means, "Stop; I 'have something important to communicate."

The British ensign was run up, followed by the answering pennant, the mainsail was lowered, the foresail backed, and the yacht was brought to, while the Italian ship, which was made out to be the Cigno, came on rapidly.

Mrs. Haxton approached. Stump and whispered in his ear.

"Quite right, ma'am," he nodded. He walked forward and looked at the crew, mustered in full strength in the fore part.

"Every man, 'cept those on watch, go below,", he growled, "an' mind you keep there, with al ports closed, until I ax you to show your ugly mugs on deck."

They obeyed in sulky silence, though they appreciated the reason of the order. Hence, when, the Cigno stopped her panting engines abreast of the Aphrodite, there were many more pairs of eyes watching from the yacht than the Italian captain reckoned on.

The warship lowered a boat. Something went wrong with the gear, the after block jammed, the boat fell and dangled from her davits bows first, and an officer and half a dozen men were thrown into the sea. They were soon rescued, but the mishap did not tend to sweeten the temper of the Cigno's commander. A dry officer and crew were requisitioned, and the boat was pulled alongside the yacht.

Stump, with a malicious grin on his face, leaned over the starboard rail.

"Wot is it?" he demanded. "Have you lost yer bearin's?"

The officer replied in Italian, greatly to Stump's disgust.

"I s'pose the chap they chucked overboard was the on'y Dago among 'em who could speak English," he grunted, but Mrs. Haxton explained that the officer was asking for the gangway to be lowered. Stump nodded to a couple of sailors, and the ladder dropped so smartly that the boat nearly came to grief a second time.

The officer bowed very politely when he reached the deck. Probably he was surprised to find himself in the presence of two such beautiful women. Though Irene spoke Italian, Mrs. Haxton took on herself the role of interpreter. The Cigno carried two letters from the Governor of Massowah, she said. One was addressed to Signor Fenshawe, the other to the signor captain of the British yacht Aphrodite. Would the two gentlemen kindly read and acknowledge receipt of the Governor's epistles?

Both were purely formal documents. They set forth the official demand that the Aphrodite should not attempt to land any of her occupants on Italian territory at other than a recognized port, and warned her owner and commander that the Cigno would enforce observance of the request.

At first, Mr. Fenshawe refused angrily to give a written reply, but von Kerber prevailed on him, and he wrote:

"Mr. Hiram Fenshawe begs to inform the Governor of Erythrea that his prohibition of the landing of a British scientific expedition in the colony he rules is arbitrary and unwarranted. Mr. Hiram Fenshawe is further of opinion that the said prohibition is part of the lawless treatment to which he and other members of the yacht's company were subjected during their visit to the 'recognized port' of Massowah. Finally, Mr. Hiram Fenshawe intends to lay the whole matter before the British Foreign Office."

This stiff-necked answer showed clearly that the writer was still on von Kerber's side, no matter what revelations were contained in the letter from London which Royson knew of. Irene copied the note for her grandfather. She made no comment. Perhaps her own island blood was a- boil at the cavalier tone of the Governor's threat.

Stump's letter was characteristic. It ran:

S. Y. Aphrodite,

Lat. 15 deg. 10' N., Long. 41 deg. 15' E,

SIR—Yours at hand. Will act as think fit.

Yours truly,

JOHN STUMP, Master

The disagreeable part of this business ended, the Italian officer conveyed the compliments of the Cigno's commander, and, on his behalf, invited Signor Fenshawe and the two ladies to luncheon. Mr. Fenshawe stiffly declined, on the plea that he did not wish to interrupt the voyage, and the envoy went back to his ship.

The Aphrodite swung round into the wind, dipped her ensign, and was soon bowling along at her usual rate. The Cigno stood away for the coast, but, as the day wore, it was palpable that she did not mean to part company with the yacht until the Straits of Bab-el-mandeb were passed.

About four o'clock the wind dropped and the engines were called on. With the night the wind rose again but veered to the south. The Cigno's lights were clearly visible at about three miles' distance. Her white masthead light watched the Aphrodite without blinking, while her red and green eyes suggested to Irene's fancy some fabled monster of the deep waiting to pounce on the yacht if she deviated an inch from her seaward course.

The girl snatched a few minutes' talk with Royson. Von Kerber, it seemed, had persuaded her grandfather that Alfieri was the paid agent of rival archeologists who had got wind of the Sabaean hoard, and were able to secure the help of the Italian Government. She was convinced that the ill treatment meted out to them at Massowah had only confirmed the old gentleman's determination to best his opponents at all costs. The burking of his cablegrams, made known by the Baron, was the last straw in an aggravated load. The yacht was going to Aden to enable him to lodge a complaint with the proper authorities, but she would leave almost at once for French—Somaliland, where a kafila would be collected and a dash made across the Italian frontier. And Dick gathered that Irene herself was inclined to let affairs run their natural course. He agreed with her, which was to be expected, seeing that he was four-and twenty, and in love. He cudgeled his brains for some pretext to discuss rings and the manner of wearing them, but his wit failed him there. Irene on the deck of her grandfather's yacht differed in several important particulars from the tremulous girl who clung to him during that blissful journey of the previous night.

He tried to clear up this vital point with Tagg.

"Did you ever give a young lady an engagement ring?" he asked, after judiciously leading his chief to discourse on the frailties of the sex.

"Well," said Tagg reflectively, "it all depen's on the way you take' it. I once gev' a girl a Mizpah ring, which fancied, when she saw'r it in a pawnshop window. Next time I met her she tole me she'd swopped it for a dress improver. The feller she was goin' to marry didn't like the motter as comin' from me, you see, but the funny thing was she never said a word about him when she saw'r me buyin' the ring. Since then, I've kep' me money in me pocket."

Royson took the morning watch, from 4 A.M. till 8. Stump joined him soon after dawn, and appeared to be anxious about the yacht's exact position. So far as Dick could judge from the chart, they were in safe waters; nevertheless, the stout skipper did not rest content until the tall peak of Jebel Aduali opened up clear of Jebel Ash Ali, with Sanahbor Island bearing west.

A lighthouse on the mainland flashed a bright ray at them before the rising sun rendered its warning unnecessary. Still dogging them, the Cigno followed in their wake at half speed, but Stump gave no eye to the warship. He continued to scan the coast intently. A low, double- peaked hill intervened between the lofty Jebel Aduali and the ship. When its saddle cut the summit of the more distant mountain, Stump changed the course sharply.

To Royson's surprise, the yacht turned due west, and headed for the point whence the lighthouse had gleamed half an hour earlier.

And now, instead of looking ahead, Stump kept his telescope glued on the Cigno. A cloud of smoke from the gunboat's funnels showed that she had noted the Aphrodite's new direction, and meant to take a close interest in it. She had a few miles to make up, but that was a simple matter, and her nose swung to the southwest as she raced for the bay towards which the yacht was steaming.

Both vessels held on, following converging lines, for nearly an hour. By that time they were hardly a mile apart. Suddenly Stump sent the Aphrodite round until she lay on her previous course. In a word, after standing in for the land in the most decided manner, he was now making for the Straits again.

This behavior apparently puzzled the Italian vessel, as, indeed, it succeeded in puzzling Royson and the man at the wheel, while the looks cast towards the bridge by the watch, who were mainly employed In swabbing the deck, told that the men were commenting on the yacht's erratic wanderings.

All at once the blare of a siren came faintly over the shimmering sea, and Stump chuckled triumphantly.

"He's found it," he roared, his voice almost rivaling the hoarseness of the far-off foghorn. "Sink me If that Dago wasn't so taken up with pipin' my antics that he's gone an' done it!"

"Done what, sir?" asked Dick, seeing that his respected skipper was in hilarious mood.

"Run his bloomin' Cigno onto the Scilla Shoal. Damme, I thought he'd do it. Listen to him," for another wail reached them from the disconsolate warship. "He's fixed there as though, he was glued to it. He'll have to jettison all his bunker an' a gun or two afore he gets off. They tell me Cigno means 'swan.' I wonder wot's the I-talian for 'goose.' Go an' tell Tagg. Tell him to tumble up quick, if on'y for the sake of ole times."

Royson aroused the chief, and gave him the skipper's message. Tagg, rubbing his eyes, came on deck. He looked at the Cigno, heard her dismal trumpeting, and slowly took, in the surroundings.

"Well, s'elp me!" he grinned. "Sorry to rake cold ashes, cap'n, but isn't that where you piled up the Ocean Queen?"

"Don't I know it!" growled' Stump, "One solid month, we stuck there, didn't we, Tagg? Threw over-board two thousand tons o' best Cardiff, an' then had to be hauled off by another tramp. Well, good-by, Swan! I'll report you at Perim. An' mind you take care o' them letters. It 'ud be a pity if the Governor didn't 'ave 'em in time. By gad, I never thought I'd owe the Ocean Queen a good turn. She lost me my berth, an' nearly cost me my ticket, but she's made it up to-day. Come on, Tagg, we'll have a tot o' rum an' drink to the rotten ole hulk which gev' us best ag'in that swaggerin' I-talian. My godfather, won't Becky be pleased when she hears of it!"

And the two dived below to partake of the generous spirit which pays homage to the rising sun, while the Cigno bleated her distress to deaf ears.



CHAPTER XIII

THE SIGN IN THE SKY

"There is a spice of the nomad in all of us," said Irene, pulling up her hardy Somali pony and allowing him to graze on some prickly plant from which a grass-fed animal would have turned in hungry disgust.

"Here am I, quite new to desert life, enjoying it to the full. Perhaps my remote ancestors were gipsies. Do I look like a gipsy, Mr. Royson?"

"My acquaintance with gipsies is limited," said Dick. "Once, being free from office troubles on Derby Day, I walked over Epsom Downs, and was beseeched many times to have my fortune told. Most of the prophetesses —they were all of your sex, Miss Fenshawe—were blessed with exceedingly fine complexions and beautiful eyes. If these are marked features of the gipsy tribe—"

"Don't you dare bring me out here in order to pay compliments."

"Indeed, I am but stating the bare truth to your face."

"If you persist, then, I shall be compelled to act the part of a gipsy and tell your fortune, and I warn you that it will not be very cheerful hearing."

Royson gazed beyond her towards a white mist which shrouded the eastern horizon. Overhead, the delicious blue of early morning was yielding to the noonday tint of molten copper.

"Even if we turn back to-day there are thirty marches between us and the sea," he said with seeming irrelevance.

But those two were beginning to understand one another, and the girl colored under the deep tan of sun and air.

"Whenever we are alone now you insist on talking nonsense," she said. "I really believe the desert has made you light-headed. Please be serious for a moment. I brought you here to—"

"I am glad you have corrected yourself. A moment ago you charged me with bringing you here."

"Well, then, we came here, if one must be so accurate, to be away from the others. At least, I mean—Well, that is a stupid way of putting it, but it will serve—"

"It has served most admirably," said Royson, glancing back at the long drawn-out caravan crossing the shallow valley they had just quitted.

"There you go again," she cried, with just a touch of petulance in her tone. "You know very well that I did not mean what I said."

"Not even when you promised to tell my fortune."

"I can explain myself that way if you like. Your fortune is singularly like my own at the present moment. You are accompanying a crowd of people who don't know where they are going, or what they mean to do when they get there. I am quite sure the Baron is befogged, or, if that is not a happy expression in this wonderful atmosphere, shall I say lost? I don't speak Arabic, but I can read that man's face, and I watched him this morning when he was consulting our so-called guide. In plain English, Mr. Royson, we are drifting, in the vain hope that somewhere out there we shall find five hills in a clump. I don't object, in a sense. It is a very delightful picnic from one point of view. But I hate uncertainty, and I loathe deceit, and here we are at the mercy of both, while my grandfather is so taken up with the joy of arranging everything, which von Kerber very cleverly leaves to him, that he simply won't listen to me when I suggest the need of more definite information. And just think of it! Five Hills! With a rocky desert in front and five thousand hills to the left. What is to be the end of it all? Are we to go wandering on till we march into Suez, or Cairo?"

"Our sheikh is a marvel at finding oases," said Dick. "I wonder if there is a string of them all the way between here and—"

"Mr. Royson," broke in Irene, "you are the only person' to whom I can confide my doubts and fears. They may be silly, but please don't adopt that tone. It—hurts."

Royson, who had dismounted, slipped his Arab's bridle under an arm and strode a pace nearer.

"Don't you see that we can do nothing at present?" he said earnestly. "I am alive to the difficulties which may beset us in the near future; but what would you have me do, Miss Fenshawe? If your grandfather were not of the party, I know exactly what I would propose—at least, I think I know."

"And that is?"

"That Stump and some of our men should escort you and Mrs. Haxton back to Pajura, and let our Austrian friend ride his hobby to death. And believe me, I am not consulting my own wishes in saying that."

"Don't you wish to return?"

"No. I love this arid land. I never see the supercilious curl of a camel's lip or meet the bland contempt of his eye but I imagine him saying, 'Ah, Feringhi, were it not for your white skin I might whisper strange secrets into your ear, but you are an unbelieving dog, so perforce I remain dumb.' Hence, Miss Fenshawe, inclination pulls one way and common sense the other. As matters stand, I plead guilty to a profound gladness that common sense has not swayed us to-day, and may escape us to-morrow. Candidly, I am enjoying myself immensely."

"Then there is nothing more to be said," cried Irene, yielding somewhat to his buoyancy. "Shall we go on, or wait here for the kafila to overtake us."

"Unless I am greatly mistaken," said Dick, looking at his watch, "we shall find the usual oasis hidden in a depression about two miles ahead. Our excellent sheikh, Abdur Kad'r, times the morning march to end precisely at ten o'clock. It is now a quarter to nine. Our camels march two and a half miles per hour, and we are three quarters of a mile ahead. Therein, Miss Fenshawe, yea have a first-rate example of deductive reasoning, so I propose that we advance steadily, and look for a cluster of palms. If, happily, their shade is not taken up by other wanderers, you will be out of the sun long before the caravan arrives. What say you?"

"Some day I shall stamp my foot and say 'No'—shriek it at you, in fact. I hate any one who is always right, and you seem to be utterly different since we left the Aphrodite. I have never seen such a change in a man. One would think you were born in the desert. And you are learning Arabic ten times more quickly than I."

"I do not find favor in your eyes this morning, though it is good to know that I have reformed, since, by your own showing, I must have been always wrong aboard ship," said Dick, remounting.

"Oh, it is a perfect luxury to have some one to pitch into," cried the girl, stirring the Somali with her heel.

"But won't you tell me what I have done that vexes you, Miss Fenshawe?"

"You are absurd. You pretend that you see nothing, whereas I am sure you see more than I, but you refuse to speak."

Royson seemed to be singularly unaffected by this outburst. He caught the angry flush on the girl's forehead, and, as was his way when the stubborn fit seized him, threw his head back, with lips set. Irene stole a look at him, and laughed constrainedly.

"Very well. If you won't talk I must," she said with a great air of determination. "It is about Mrs. Haxton."

"A most interesting topic," said Royson.

"That is what my grandfather seems to think."

"He told me last night that he considers her a singularly well-informed woman."

"For well-informed read artful," exclaimed the girl bitterly. "Have you forgotten what I said to you in the canal? When we began our voyage Mrs. Haxton and the Baron were as good as engaged. Now they have reached some agreement which permits Mrs. Haxton to fly for higher matrimonial game than a penniless adventurer."

"Do you really think that?"

Royson had grown suddenly serious. He half turned in the saddle so as to seek the added inspiration of Irene's expression, but she kept her eyes studiously averted, and the broad-brimmed pith hat she wore helped to conceal her face. But she answered readily.

"I am quite certain of it. How else could I discuss it with you?"

"The view I take is that she merely wishes to give von Kerber every chance. So long as Mr. Fenshawe remains interested—beguiled, if you like—she switches his thoughts away from the object of our journey. Your grandfather is a masterful man, Miss Fenshawe. If he suspected that we were following a wild-goose chase he would turn south again this very hour."

"Yet I am sure of my ground," she persisted.

Royson's horse started and shied. A small brown snake, coiled up in the sunlight, and almost invisible amidst the stones, squirmed rapidly into a crevice beneath a rock. Such incidents in the desert were too frequent to demand comment. Dick patted the Arab's neck and soon soothed him.

"Failing our discovery of this fabled treasure, I can appreciate Mrs. Haxton's willingness to many a millionaire," he went on. "Yet there are difficulties in the way. That viper reminds me of one. Would not von Kerber object?"

"No," said Irene.

They jogged along in silence for some distance. The girl added nothing, to her emphatic monosyllable. Dick felt a tugging at his heart-strings which was becoming a dangerously frequent symptom.

"As you have favored me with your confidence thus far, won't you take the next step, and tell me why you credit Baron von Kerber with such complaisance?" he demanded.

"A woman should not always be asked for reasons, Mr. Royson," said she lightly.

"In the graver events of life one wishes for them, nevertheless."

"Perhaps we are deviating from the chief issue," she countered. "If only I could persuade grandad that he is being wilfully misled, things might go as I wish. Can't you help, Mr. Royson?"

Then she turned her face to his, and the temptation that had gripped him many a time of late came back with an intensity that was almost unendurable. He did not flinch from her steadfast eyes. Though the path of honor was steep and straight he must tread it to the end.

"If I tell your grandfather what little I know of these people I break my word," he said harshly. "That is the only reply I can make, Miss Fenshawe. May I add the ignoble argument that any such breach of faith on my part would probably be useless? You ought to sympathize with me."

"Why?" she said coldly.

"Because it is not often that a man is tortured as I am by a conflict between duty and—and desire."

"There is our palm grove," she cried, pointing to a few stunted trees whose fronds showed above the rock-strewn bank of a small wady, or ravine, which cut through the center of the shelving plateau they were crossing. "The ground is fairly clear here. Shall we try a canter?"

Without waiting for a reply she pressed her pony into a steady gallop. Royson responded to her wayward mood, and followed her lead. Though the sun was so hot that their hands would have blistered if unprotected by gloves, the clean, dry air-current created by the rapid motion was exhilarating in the extreme. They were riding through a lost continent, yet its savage ruin was sublimely beautiful. The comparatively level spot that allowed the luxury of a gallop was made up of sand and stones, with here and there a black rock thrusting its bold contour above the shingle. A curiously habitable aspect was given to the desert by numbers of irregular alluvial mounds which, on examination, were found to consist of caked soil held together by the roots of trees. So, at one time, this arid plain had borne a forest. To the mind's eye, here lay the dead earth's burial-place.

Ages ago a torrent had fertilized the surrounding tract, and its dried- up bed was marked by water-smoothed boulders. Here and there, small groups of dwarf bushes, covered with dagger-like thorns, drew sustenance from secret rills of moisture. The camel path they followed had the distinctness of daily use, though no recognized kafila had passed that way during the previous year, new trade routes to the interior having drawn the caravans in other directions. Soon it turned up the side of the ravine. The sayall bushes began to grow more densely, and the wady spread to a great width. Beyond a patch of pebbles lay a brown carpet of tough grass. In the center stood seven date-trees and a considerable number of stunted bushes, these latter differing from the sayall only in the size of their thorns, which were fully two inches long and seemingly untouchable. Yet, next to water, the thorn-crop constituted the chief wealth of the oasis, because camels would munch the tough spines with great relish.

The camping-place appeared to be untenanted. Royson found the footprints of gazelles wherever the sand had collected in a hollow, but the animals must have scampered away unseen towards the barren hills near at hand. Through an occasional gap there were glimpses of the mighty ramparts of Abyssinia. It was hard to realize that the dainty gazelle could find food in this desolate land. Yet, with the inborn instinct of the hunter and scout, Royson unslung his carbine and held it across the saddle-bow as he urged his horse slightly in front of the short-striding Somali. When he drew rein he rose in the stirrups to peer through the barrier of thorns.

"First come, first served," he cried joyously. "We have the forage to ourselves, Miss Fenshawe. I shall be sorry for any others who come this way after our host has passed. Look at it now. It is an absolute army. We shall strip this poor little garden of the desert as locusts are said to eat up a cornfield."

Irene slipped from the saddle, loosened the girths, and then glanced at the distant caravan, which had just become visible again on the sky- line of the plateau. It was more than likely that no such mixed gathering of men and animals had taken that road since the destruction of forests converted the country into a wilderness. The party from the yacht numbered eighteen; there were fifty Bedawi Arabs in attendance on a hundred camels; eight horses, Arabs or Somali ponies, each required a syce, while the sheikh who had brought the caravan from Pajura was overlord of a score of hangers-on who figured in his list as servants.

A thin haze of dust rose as this regiment advanced. In that wonderful light its progress might be marked twenty miles away by keen eyes. The girl watched it silently for a time, while Royson, knowing the manner in which the camp would be formed, picketed the two horses so as not to interfere with the general arrangements.

Then he lit a cigarette and rejoined Irene.

"How far distant is the head of the caravan now?" she asked.

"Nearly two miles. It looks more like two furlongs," said he, divining her thought, for it was easy to discern Mrs. Haxton, wrapped in a gray dust-cloak, on a splendid riding camel in advance of the main body; beside her, on Arab horses, were Mr. Fenshawe and von Kerber, the latter having just ridden up from the rear.

"Does one's sight become better, then, by residence in this strange land?" murmured the girl.

Royson deliberately ignored the less obvious significance of the words.

"I think so," he said. "When all is said and done, desert and sea are akin, and most certainly a sea voyage benefits the eyes. Yet, now that you mention it, the atmosphere is remarkably clear to-day."

"Are you weather-wise, Mr. Royson? Is not that a sign of storm?"

"I sought instruction from Sheikh Abdur Kad'r on that very point only this morning. He says that the Kamsin does not blow at this season, and there is every reason to believe that it has not rained in this locality during the past three hundred years."

"Dear me! Three—hun-dred—years!" "Yes. Sorry, but I can't make it any less." "Then you may give Sheikh Abdur Kad'r my compliments and tell him I predict either a thunderstorm or some unusual disturbance before night. Mrs. Haxton has a very effective smile, I admit, but it requires exceptional charm to make a smile distinctly visible at—how far did you say?—two miles?"

The lady in question was certainly bending towards Mr. Fenshawe, and the smile was a reasonable conjecture. But they had tacitly agreed to forget their earlier conversation. They chatted freely now with the friendly ease that was their wont ever since the exigencies of camp life had thrown them together far more than was possible on board ship. Five weeks ago the Aphrodite dropped anchor off Pajura after crossing from Aden, where Mr. Fenshawe had despatched his cablegrams and obtained a portion of the equipment needed for the desert tour. The arrival of such a large party occasioned no little excitement at the French port. That tiny station had not seen so many white faces at one time since its establishment, and, when its polite Commandant recovered from his voluble surprise, he warned Mr. Fenshawe that the interior was somewhat unsafe. But stories of Arab unrest were familiar to the veteran. He had heard them regularly during the preceding thirty years, and he was more than ever bent on outwitting the jealous rivals who had placed such obstacles in his path.

The French officers at Pajura thought he was rather cracked to take ladies with him, yet they were obliged to admit that desert travel was healthy and enjoyable, provided supplies were ample, and, on this score, the skilled explorer of Soudan by-ways showed that he had lost none of his cunning. Before the caravan started news came from Aden that the Cigno had been dragged off her sandspit. This gave an added value to the land route, as the coast of Erythrea was assuredly closed to them; the French authorities, on the other hand, rendered every assistance in their power.

And now, after a month of steady marching, the caravan was well within Italian territory. The route lay parallel with the sea, but nearly a hundred miles distant from it. It traversed the interminable wadys and shelving table-lands leading down to the coast from the granite and pink Nubian stone foothills of the inner range of giants which guarded the fertile valleys of Abyssinia. Thus far, no unexpected difficulties had cropped up. The few nomads encountered were only too anxious to be friendly. The weather, scorching by day and intensely cold by night, was quite bearable. Indeed, to any one in good health, it supplied a marvelous tonic. Travelers less admirably equipped might have suffered annoyance from the snakes and scorpions which seem to thrive in the midst of sunburnt desolation, but these voyageurs de luxe slept in hammocks slung in roomy tents, and assiduous servants dislodged every stone before they spread the felt carpets on which the heaven-born deigned to sit at meals.

Yet—as Irene had guessed correctly—this magnificent progress through the desert contained a canker that threatened its destruction. Either von Kerber's calculations were at fault, or the papyrus was a madman's screed. The caravan was already two marches beyond the point agreed on by every authority consulted as that fixed by the Greek who survived the massacre of the Roman legion. The unhappy Austrian could no more identify the Five Hills mentioned in the papyrus as the essential clue to the whereabouts of the treasure than a man in an unknown forest can distinguish a special group of five trees. That is to say, he may blunder on them by chance, but he cannot find them by using his judgment. As Irene put it, here were not five, but five thousand hills. The mortal puzzle before von Kerber was to pick his five.

When the caravan arrived at the halting-place the tense solitude gave way to pandemonium. Camels grunted and squealed in eager plaint to be relieved of their loads, horses neighed and fought for the best tufts of grass, men raged at each other as though the work of preparing the camp were something new and wholly unexpected.

Through the turmoil strode Abdur Kad'r, a lean, saturnine Arab, who anathematized all his assistants indiscriminately, only varying his epithets according to the nationality of the man under the lash of his tongue at the moment.

"Bestir yourself, illegitimate one. Are we to await the setting sun ere the tents are fixed?" he shouted at a negro who was bothered by a knotted rope. A crash behind him told that a too-zealous Arab had tumbled a box to the ground.

"Oh, you owl, what evil have you done?" roared the Sheikh, transfixing the culprit with a glittering eye.

"Lo, I loosened a strap, honored one, and the accursed thing fell," was the explanation.

"It fell, eh? So shall my whip fall, Sidi Hassan, if thou art not more painstaking." He rushed towards a group of Somali syces.

"Pigs, and children of pigs," he cried, "for what does the Effendi pay ye? Is there not occupation, ye black dogs? May your fathers' graves be defiled by curs!"

Stump, whose rubicund visage was burnt brick-red by the desert, took a keen interest in Abdur Kad'r's daily outpourings. He had no Arabic, but he appreciated the speaker's fluency.

"He'd make a bully good bo's'n," was his favorite comment, and he would add sorrowfully, "I wish I knew wot he was sayin'. It 'ud do me a treat."

In an astonishingly short space of time the camp would be in form, fires lit with parched shrubs gathered during the last stage of the journey, a meal cooked, and every one settled down to rest until sunset, when, if there was no evening march, the Arabs and negroes would sing, and perhaps indulge in amazingly realistic sword-play, while the dozen sailors brought from the yacht would watch the combatants or engage in a sing-song on their own account.

The present encampment offered no exception to the general rule. Abdur Kad'r, it is true, may have raged a little more extensively than usual when it was discovered that the well had caved in from sheer disuse, and several hours' labor would be necessary before some brackish water could be obtained. He did not trouble the Effendi with this detail, however. There was another more pressing matter to be dealt with, but, Allah be praised, that might wait till a less occupied hour, for the Frank was in no hurry, and he paid like a Kaliph.

About four o'clock Irene was sitting in her tent making some belated jottings in a diary. Being thirsty, she called a servant, and told him to bring a bottle of soda-water. A few minutes later she heard a stumble, a crash, and a loud exclamation in Arabic. The man had fallen over one of the heavy stones to which the guy-ropes were fastened.

She looked up smilingly, and wondered whether he would understand her if she said in French that she hoped he had not injured himself. The glass was broken, but the bottle was intact, for the native had caught it as he fell.

"Ca ne fait rien," she cried encouragingly. Then she found that the Somali had risen to his knees, and was gazing skyward with every token of abject terror. At the same instant a strange commotion broke out in the camp. Through the open side of the tent she saw Europeans and natives all looking in the one direction—northwards. The Britons and Arabs had an air of profound astonishment. They pointed and gesticulated, but otherwise showed self-control. But the negroes were in a panic. For the most part they were kneeling. A few prostrated themselves at full length, and howled dolorously.

The girl was alone, and she naturally felt alarmed. Royson was not far away, and he, like the rest, was held spellbound by some spectacle the nature of which she could not guess. Perhaps his thoughts were not far removed from Irene, because he turned and looked at her.

"Come quickly, Miss Fenshawe," he shouted. "Here is the most wonderful mirage!"

Was that it—a mirage? Why, then, this hubbub? She had grown so accustomed to the grim humor of the desert in depicting clear streams of running water, smooth, tree-bordered lakes, and other delightful objects of which the arid land dreamed in its sleep of death, that the excitement caused in the camp was wholly inexplicable.

"What are you doing there?" she cried sharply to the frightened servant. "Go and get another glass, and take care you do not fall next time."

If he heard he paid no heed. He continued to stare at the sky with wide-open eyes.

Conscious of a fresh thrill of fear, she ran towards Royson.

"What in the world—"

Then she saw, and was stricken dumb with the sight, for she was looking at a spectacle which the desert seldom provides even to those who pass their lives within its bounds. A thin haze had taken the place of the remarkable clearness of the morning hours. Away to the north it had deepened almost into a fog, a low-lying and luminous mist like the white pall which often shrouds the sea on a calm bright day in summer. The sky was losing its burnished copper hue and becoming blue again, and, on the false horizon supplied by the crest of the fog-bank, stood a brilliantly vivid panorama.

There were military tents, lines of picketed camels and horses, a great number of Arabs and blacks, and some fifty Italian soldiers, all magnified to gigantic proportions, but so clearly defined that the trappings of the animals, the military uniforms, and the gay-colored burnous of the Arabs were readily distinguishable.

It could be seen, too, that they were working. Mounds of rock and earth showed that considerable excavations had been made. While those gathered round the well were yet gazing at this bewildering and lifelike picture, the moving ghosts in the sky underwent a change which enhanced their realism. One squad of soldiers and natives marched off towards the tents while another took their places. Were it not for the grotesque size of men and animals and the eerie silence of their movements it was hard to believe that the eyes were not witnessing actualities. The thing was fantastic, awe-inspiring, stupendous in design, but faultlessly true in color and treatment. No artist could ever hope for such a canvas. Its texture was vapor, its background the empyrean, and nature's own palette supplied the colors.

And this cloud scene was pitiless in its moral. Two of the onlookers, Mrs. Haxton and von Kerber, knew exactly what it meant, while others read its message correctly enough. The expedition was forestalled. The long voyage and longer march, the vast expenditure, the hardships inseparable from the journey through the desert, the hopes, the fears, all the planning and contriving, went for nothing, since Alfieri the dreamer, Alfieri the fool, had apparently succeeded in locating the treasure of Sheba.



CHAPTER XIV

WHEREIN A BISHARIN CAMEL BECOMES USEFUL

To the Arab every white man is a Frank. The European invader was given that name during the First Crusade, and the Paynim does not change appreciably with the centuries. But he has learnt to differentiate between certain varieties of Frank, and Abdur Kad'r murmured maledictions on the Italian species as he watched the mirage slowly fading into nothingness. Though no one had told him the ultimate objective of the caravan, he felt that the presence of Italian soldiers at the nearest stopping-place put a bar to further progress. The mere fact that the kafila came from French territory was unanswerable. There were difficulties enough already, difficulties which must be discussed that evening, but this obstacle was wholly unforeseen.

Under his bent brows the gaunt sheikh had noted Mr. Fenshawe's manner when he turned excitedly to demand an explanation from von Kerber. The Effendi's change of tone told its own tale. Abdur Kad'r, true believer and desert-born, remarked to a brother Arab that Allah was Allah and Mahomet was undoubtedly the Prophet, but that of all the misbegotten produce of swine now cumbering the earth the Italians ranked easily first—or words to that effect. Then he relieved his feelings by objurgating the panic-stricken Somalis, whose superstitious minds interpreted the appearance of the air-borne host as a sure indication of war. He was in the midst of an eloquent outburst when his employer summoned him.

"How far is it to the next oasis?" came the dreaded query.

Abdur Kad'r, shrewd judge of men, knew that he must be explicit.

"Sixty kilometers, honored one," he replied.

"What! Nearly forty English miles?"

"It may be so, Effendi. In our reckoning it is twenty kos and one kos is three kilometers."

"But these Italians—in the mirage—they must be camped near water?"

"There is none nearer than the Well of Suleiman, Effendi."

"Is it possible that a mirage would reveal so clearly a scene taking place at such a distance?"

"Strange things happen in the desert, Effendi. I have seen a village in the sky which my camels were four hours in reaching, and I have been told of sights even more wonderful."

"You are sure about the sixty kilometers?"

"Quite sure, O worthy of honor."

Mr. Fenshawe was skeptical. Mirage-phenomena were familiar to him, but never had they dealt with natural objects beyond a range of a few miles. For the most part, the mirage of the desert is a baseless illusion, depending on the bending of light-rays by air strata of differing densities. The rarer "looming," witnessed occasionally in more northerly latitudes, shows scenes actually in existence, and the best authenticated instance of a long-range view is that testified to by the inhabitants of Hastings, who during three hours on July 26, 1798, saw the whole coastline of France, from Calais to Dieppe, with a distinctness that was then regarded as miraculous.

But, whether Abdur Kad'r's figures were correct or not, there was no gainsaying the evidence of the mirage itself. The collapse of the undertaking was imminent, and the millionaire's tone was exceedingly curt when he called von Kerber to conference.

"There are certain matters which must be cleared up, now that nature has assumed the role of guide," he said dryly. "I have been well aware during the past few days that you were not able to fix on the exact place described in the papyrus. I could pardon that. We are in a country where landmarks are bewilderingly alike, and therefore apt to cause confusion. But how comes it that our rivals can go straight to the place we are in search of, while we wander blindly in the desert? You assured me that yours was the only copy of the papyrus extant with the sole exception of the photographic reproductions supplied to me. Is that true? And, if it is true, who gave these others the information that has brought about our failure?"

Mr. Fenshawe's pride was wounded. All the wrath of the disappointed connoisseur welled forth in his contemptuous words. Their very calmness and precision showed the depth of his anger, and von Kerber, like Abdur Kad'r, felt that the time for specious pretext had gone. So he answered, with equal exactness of phrase:

"I gave you that assurance months ago in Scotland, and repeated it in London, but I have not said it since we met on board the yacht, for the very good reason that the papyrus was stolen from me at Marseilles."

"Stolen!"

"Yes, I was waylaid and robbed while driving from the station to the harbor."

"Purposely, do you mean? Was the papyrus the object of the attack?"

"Yes."

"Then this man, Alfieri, knew of it?"

"I have never concealed that from you."

"It is hard to say what you have or have not concealed, Baron von Kerber. My confidence in you is shaken. How am I to know that this latest version of Alfieri's amazing interference in your affairs is the true one?"

No man is so sensitive of his honor as he who is conscious of by-gone lapses. Von Kerber started as though the other had stabbed him.

"That is an unworthy imputation," he cried. "Mr. Royson can tell you that the papyrus was stolen. He rescued me from my assailants, yes? Mrs. Haxton is aware of it, and, unless I am mistaken, Miss Fenshawe also is no stranger to the news, seeing that our second mate is so greatly in her confidence."

The older man, still watching the last wraiths of the mirage, seemed to be deaf to the Austrian's biting allusion to Irene.

"I did not look for such a web of deceit," he murmured. "The papyrus was genuine, and I sought no other proof of honesty. You say Mrs. Haxton and my granddaughter are in this pact of silence. Let us have their testimony."

Irene, as might be expected, indignantly disclaimed any sympathy with von Kerber's methods.

"I heard, by chance, of the part Mr. Royson took in the affair at Marseilles," she said. "My maid told me. It was the gossip of the ship. Yet, when I questioned Mr. Royson himself, he refused to discuss the matter, owing to some pledge of secrecy drawn from him by Baron von Kerber. You forget, grandad, how often you have told me that I did not understand this undertaking sufficiently to justify my hostility to it. I have never believed in it, not for one moment. If you wish to know what happened at Marseilles, why not ask Mr. Royson himself?"

"Yes," said Mr. Fenshawe quietly, "that will be well. Send for him, Irene."

It was noteworthy that he addressed no question to Mrs. Haxton. That lady, nervous and ill-at-ease, could not guess how far the rupture between von Kerber and his patron had gone. She felt intuitively that the Austrian was puzzled, perhaps alarmed, by the presence of an official expedition in the very territory he had hoped to explore without hindrance—yet his manner hinted at something in reserve. Though he quivered under Irene's outspoken incredulity, his aspect was that of a man whose schemes have been foiled by sheer ill-luck. A rogue unmasked will grovel: von Kerber was defiant. For the moment, Mrs. Haxton was struck dumb with foreboding. Mr. Fenshawe's. dejected air showed that a deadly blow had been dealt to the project to which she had devoted all her resources since the beginning of the march. She, too, had begun to doubt. Here, in the desert, the buried treasure was an intangible thing. In England, the promises of the Greek's dying message were satisfying by their very vagueness. In Africa, face to face with the tremendous solitude, they became unbelievable, a dim fable akin to the legends of vanished islands and those mysterious races to be found only in unknown lands, which have tickled the imaginations of mankind, ever since the dawn of human intelligence. So, a live millionaire being a more definite asset than the hoard of a forgotten city, she had coolly informed von Kerber that if he wished to improve his fortunes, he would do well to pay attention to Miss Fenshawe, and leave her free to win a wealthy husband. It was a villainous pact, but it might have succeeded, at any rate in Mrs. Haxton's case, for no woman could be more gracious and deferentially flattering than she when she chose to exert herself. And now, reality seemed to yield to unreality. The substantial fabric of close friendship between Fenshawe and herself had crumbled before the fiery breath of the wilderness. What a turn of fortune's wheel! Here were all her plans shattered in an instant, and the man on whom depended the future changed into a hostile judge.

Royson found a queer conclave awaiting him. Irene, distressed by the injustice of her grandfather's suspicion that she was sharing in a conspiracy of silence, had retired to a corner of the tent, and wore an air of indifference which she certainly did not feel. Mrs. Haxton, pallid, striving desperately to regain her self-possession, draped herself artistically in a comfortable camp chair. Von Kerber, scowling and depressed, stood near the entrance, and Mr. Fenshawe was seated in the center of the tent. The red light of the declining sun was full on his face, and Dick fancied that he had aged suddenly. Nor was this to be wondered at. No enthusiast, not even a wealthy one, likes to have his hopes of realizing a great achievement dashed to the ground, nor is it altogether gratifying that a woman who has won one's high esteem should be associated with a piece of contemptible trickery.

Mr. Fenshawe's first question told Dick that a serious dispute was toward.

"It has been stated," said Mr. Fenshawe, looking at him in a curiously critical way, "that a valuable document was stolen from Baron von Kerber at Marseilles—what do you know about it?"

Dick, hourly expecting a strenuous turn to the placid marching and camping of the past few weeks, was not taken unaware. He had mapped out a clear line, and meant to follow it.

"I regret to say that I cannot answer you, Mr. Fenshawe," said he, meeting the older man's searching glance unflinchingly.

"Why not?"

"Because I gave an undertaking to that effect to Baron von Kerber."

"But I am your employer, not he."

"No, sir. That is not my view of the contract I signed."

"Have you a copy of that contract'?"

"Yes."

"Will you show it to me?"

"That is unnecessary," broke in von Kerber, with a savage impatience of the quasi-judicial inquiry which Mr. Fenshawe was evidently bent on conducting. "I give Mr. Royson full permission to answer any question you may put to him."

"You do, eh? You give permission? Do you pay his salary?" demanded the millionaire indignantly.

"Yes, on your behalf. Surely the arrangement between us cannot be disputed. I was to make all arrangements, yes?"

"As my paid agent, you should add."

Mrs. Haxton suddenly sat forward in her chair.

"We had a tacit agreement for an equal division of the spoil," she interposed, with an acidity that Mr. Fenshawe probably found in marked contrast with her usual honeyed speech.

"That agreement would have been kept by me," said Fenshawe. "You may not be aware that Baron von Kerber pleaded poverty, and I promised to remunerate him for his services, whether we won or lost. I have no doubt he has my letter, duly stamped at Somerset House, carefully packed away with Mr. Royson's agreement."

The retort was in the nature of the tac-au-tac riposte beloved of the skilled swordsman. It was succeeded by a tense silence. Mrs. Haxton glared at the Baron. The ghost of a smile flickered on Irene's lips as she glanced at Dick. Von Kerber swished one of his boots viciously with a riding-whip. He found he must say something.

"Why are we creating difficulties where none exist?" he snarled. "If the agreement stands in the way, I absolve Mr. Royson from any promise he has made. I wanted to guard against treachery, not to tie him down to serve me exclusively."

"You asked for obedience and a still tongue, Baron. I have given you both," said Dick.

"There is your employer, and mine—speak."

Von Kerber could not be other than dramatic. He pointed to Mr. Fenshawe with a fine gesture.

"I have not much to say, unless in the form of opinions. You certainly were attacked at Marseilles, and you yourself charged one of your assailants with stealing the papyrus. Beyond that, I know little of your business, though, from letters and cablegrams which reached me at various places, it seems to have been quite extensively known in London."

"Who was your informant?" asked Fenshawe.

"A solicitor named Forbes. He is not personally acquainted with Baron von Kerber, but this man Alfieri, of whom we have heard so much, employed private detectives. They, in the course of events, discovered my identity, and met Mr. Forbes. It is only fair to Baron von Kerber to say that I have never heard his version of the charge brought against him by Alfieri."

"I have," said the millionaire, grimly.

There was no mistaking the inference to be drawn from his words. Von Kerber was wholly discredited. It was exceedingly probable that the first march of the return journey to Pajura would be ordered forthwith. Indeed, Fenshawe rose to his feet, meaning to bid Abdur Kad'r prepare to strike camp after the evening meal, when Mrs. Haxton, divining his intent, cried shrilly:

"May I ask what new circumstance has brought about this remarkable change in your plans, Mr. Fenshawe? It is true that we have been favored by an extraordinary vision of an Italian expedition at no great distance from our own, but what proof have we that it is successful, or even engaged on an errand similar to ours?"

"The mere fact that extensive research is being carried on is sufficiently convincing. Italian soldiers and Arabs do not form huge earthworks in the desert for amusement," said Fenshawe.

"They may be trying a last desperate chance," she retorted.

"You forget that they have the same information as ourselves. There is no trouble in deciphering demotic Greek and the hieroglyph minerals are quite simple. Once the papyrus left Baron von Kerber's possession, our exclusive right to it vanished, and you can hardly expect me to engage in an armed attack on the military forces of a friendly nation."

"So far as the papyrus goes, it is utterly useless to any one," broke in von Kerber suddenly.

Mr. Fenshawe was stirred out of his studied calm by the seeming absurdity of the interruption.

"Useless!" he exclaimed, and his brow seamed with anger, "that is a strange word to apply to the only evidence of your story that you have ever produced."

"I always feared Alfieri," said the other, throwing his hands out as if he were pushing away a threatening phantom. "He was spiteful, and jealous, and he knew enough to drive him mad with desire. But I would allow no one to interfere with me, yes? When I was sure of my ground, when I had secured translations of each piece of the papyrus, I altered it."

"Altered it!"

Incredulity and hope were oddly mixed in the cry which came simultaneously from the lips of two of his hearers. Even Irene and Dick, less wrapped up in the dream of finding the Sabaean hoard, awaited von Kerber's next utterance with bated breath. The man was too unnerved to feel any triumph at the sensation he had created.

"Yes," he said, sinking wearily into a chair, though his voice almost cracked with excitement. "I changed the distances in every instance permitted by the text. As it stands now, the papyrus is utterly worthless. I acted for the best, yes? A secret known to more than one ceases to be a secret. But I am tired of pretense, and you shall have the truth, though it carries with it a confession of ghastly failure. I do not know what good fortune Alfieri has blundered into at Suleiman's Well, and I admit that the place offered my own last chance. Yet, if he has found the treasure, it was not because of the papyrus, but despite it. Here are photographs of every section in their present form," and he produced some prints from a pocket-book.

"You were taught some Greek at school, Mr. Royson? Very well. Look at the passages which are faintly underlined, and you will, see where I have altered whole phrases, converted tens of miles into hundreds, and hundreds of paces into thousands. And that is the document which Alfieri obtained at Marseilles. He would recognize it as the original, though it is now quite misleading. If he is digging at the right place by reason of the directions given there, it is something beyond belief, yes?"

"You speak of Alfieri recognizing the papyrus. Evidently, then, he had seen it earlier. In what manner was he connected with its discovery?"

Mr. Fenshawe's coldly direct question came in sharp contrast with the Austrian's impassioned outburst. Von Kerber did not reply. With his elbows resting on his knees, and supporting his chin between clenched fists, he looked through the open door of the tent with eyes that stared into vacancy. The man was in a frenzy of despair. He saw the chance of his life slipping away from him, but he could urge no plea in his own behalf. It was Mrs. Haxton who answered, and her composure was oddly at variance with von Kerber's distress.

"Alfieri was assistant curator of a museum at Naples when the Italian occupation of Erythrea led to his appointment as government archeologist in this territory," she said. "My husband was in charge of the Red Sea cable at that time, and Signor Giuseppe Alfieri was a friend of ours. An Arab named Abdullah El Jaridiah, grubbing among old tombs for curios, came across a roll of papyri. He sold it to Alfieri for a few francs, and Alfieri gave it to my husband."

She paused; she was not a woman who said too much.

"I take it that Alfieri knew no Greek?" said Mr. Fenshawe, with a touch of irony that was not lost on the lady.

"He certainly failed to appreciate its importance," was the quiet response. "My husband deciphered most of the narrative, but he, in his turn, had no knowledge of hieroglyphics, and, as you are aware, many of the words and figures are contained in ovals, or cartouches, and written in Egyptian characters. He would have learnt their meaning from some other source, but he—died—very suddenly. An accident caused Alfieri to suspect the value of the papyrus, and he asked me to return it. Unfortunately, I led him to believe that I would meet his wish, but Baron von Kerber, who, as you know, was medical officer to a German mission to King Menelek, came to my assistance at the time, and I told him of my husband's views with regard to the portion he had translated. Baron von Kerber read the hieroglyphics, though he had to wait nearly a year before he could obtain expert advice as to the accuracy of his rendering. Meanwhile, Signor Alfieri and I had quarreled. I may as well tell you that he was pestering me to marry him, and I grew to hate the man. Then I returned to England, and a friend suggested that I should endeavor to interest you. Now you have the whole story, so far as I am concerned in it."

"If that is so, it would have been better had you taken me into your confidence at the outset," said Fenshawe.

"Alfieri was using threats. I feared the loss of your co-operation if a melodramatic element were introduced."

"But are not you and Baron von Kerber, and, as it would seem, your Italian admirer also, attributing an absurdly fictitious value to the find? People do not pay high prices for old coins merely because they are historic. I have always regarded this treasure-trove as purely antiquarian in its interest. It may contain some vessels or statuettes worth money; but to what extent? Certainly not such fabulous sums as you appear to imagine."

Mrs. Haxton smiled sourly.

"We are dealing in candor," she cried. "Pray complete your confession, Baron von Kerber."

The Austrian did not abandon his dejected pose, but he took up the parable readily.

"There is one slip of papyrus you have never seen, Mr. Fenshawe," he said. "Perhaps you have been surprised that such a careful scribe as Demetriades gave no details of the loot? I kept them back. There were fifty camel-loads of precious vessels and rare stuffs brought from the East. There were one hundred and twenty camel-loads of gold coins, and two camels carried leather wallets filled with pearls and rubies and diamonds."

Irene could not restrain a little gasp of wonderment at von Kerber's amazing catalogue. Her grandfather looked at her.

"You were wiser than I, little girl," he murmured. "You warned me that these people were deceiving me, yet I refused to listen."

"Oh, one has to follow the path that promises success," interrupted von Kerber savagely. "Had I told you these things you would have been the first to inform the Italian government. Why do you prate of deceit? Had we found the treasure, you must have seen everything. I only meant to hold you to your bond and demand my third share. Lieber Gott! if you were not a stiff-necked Englishman you would now, even at the twelfth hour, force these Italian hirelings to disgorge."

"Meaning that you advise a surprise march on Suleiman's Well, and the massacre of every person who resists as?" inquired Mr. Fenshawe, acidly impatient.

"Better that than turn back at the very threshold."

"Excellent! The voyage of the Aphrodite would then achieve an international fame which would survive the ages."

The blank despair in von Kerber's face won Royson's pity. He could not help sympathizing with him. And there was something to be said for his point of view. If Mrs. Haxton had given the true version of the finding of the papyrus, the Austrian's methods were comprehensible. Seldom has poverty been tempted by a vision of such enormous wealth.

"May I make a suggestion, sir?" he asked, seeing that no one was willing to resume a somewhat acrid conversation.

"As to the form of attack?"

Mr. Fenshawe was still amused by the idea of treating the Italians to a coup de main.

"No. We have made a long journey, and it might at least be determined whether or not it was justified. Will you allow me and Abdur Kad'r, and, perhaps, one other Arab less widely known than the sheikh, to try a small experiment. Let us endeavor to enter the Italian camp and find out what is going on? I can pass easily as a member of a shooting party who has lost his way. They will not slay me at sight on that account. At any rate, I am quite prepared to risk it."

"The very thing!" exclaimed Mrs. Haxton, springing out of her chair. "Abdullah is there, and you know him. You must not appear. Let Abdur Kad'r send one of his men into the camp by night. He will bring Abdullah to you at a preconcerted rendezvous, and Abdullah will tell you what Alfieri is doing. Better still, let Abdullah come here. If he knows I sent you he will accompany you without a moment's delay."

"The proper person to go and summon Abdullah is Baron von Kerber," put in Irene tremulously.

"Before I sanction any proceeding of the sort, I wish to ask why Abdullah is apparently in league with your sworn enemy?" demanded Mr. Fenshawe.

"The Governor of Massowah told me he was despatching an expedition to the Five Hills," said Mrs. Haxton eagerly. "I was sure it would fail, for reasons which the Baron has explained, but I bade Abdullah join the kafila, seeing that we could not carry out our first plan of landing lower down the coast. Then, if the Italian party received news of our whereabouts, Abdullah would steal away and warn us. The mere fact that he is not here now shows that our presence in this locality is altogether unsuspected." Fenshawe seemed to weigh his words before he answered.

"I prefer that Mr. Royson should go, and not Baron von Kerber," said he. "On the understanding that he interferes with our rivals in no way whatever, I shall be glad of his report. If we have failed, there is no harm in knowing the facts. May I ask, Baron, have you any other surprises to give us in the shape of history, ancient or modern?"

"I have nothing else to say," muttered the other.

"Then, as it is nearly dinner-time, I trust we may forget Saba and its legends until we learn what progress Signor Alfieri has made. You start to-night, Mr. Royson?"

"At the first possible moment, sir."

"No, no. Eat, rest, and travel under the stars. That is the golden rule of a forced march in the desert. We will give you two nights and a day. Then, if you do not return, I shall send an open embassy to inquire for you."

Thus it came about that, soon after night fell, three sulky Bisharin camels were led away from their fellows and compelled to kneel unwillingly to receive their riders. The operation was attended with much squealing and groaning.

"They love not to leave their brethren," said Abdur Kad'r, pausing to take breath for a fresh torrent of abuse. The camels were forcibly persuaded, and Royson climbed into the high-peaked saddle. His last thought, as he quitted the red glare of the camp-fires, was that Irene might have snatched a few minutes from her rest to bid him farewell. But she was nowhere to be seen, so after a final hand-shake with Stump, he rode away into the night.



CHAPTER XV

THE DESERT AWAKES

The march Royson had undertaken was a trying one. The desert runs to extremes, and, at that season, the thermometer varied a hundred degrees between noon and midnight. When the sun dipped behind the hills, a tense darkness fell on the land. This impenetrable pall is peculiar to Egypt; probably it suggested to Moses that ninth plague wherewith he afflicted the subjects of a stubborn Pharaoh. Though this "darkness that may be felt" yields, as a rule, to the brilliancy of the stars after half an hour's duration, while it lasts a lighted match cannot be seen beyond a distance of ten or twelve feet. It is due, in all likelihood, to the rapid radiation of surface heat. When the cold air has robbed sand and rock of the temperature acquired from the broiling sun, the atmosphere clears, and the desert reveals itself again in the gloomy monotone of night.

It may reasonably be supposed, that the excess of humidity which caused the remarkable mirage of the afternoon helped to continue the "black hour," as the Arabs term it, far beyond its ordinary limits. Hence it was nearly ten o'clock when Royson quitted the camp on his self-imposed task. To all outward semblance, he differed not a jot from the two Arabs who accompanied him. A burnous and hood covered his khaki riding costume. He bestrode a powerful camel nearly eight feet high. Like his companions, he carried a slung rifle; a haversack and water-bottle completed his equipment. His size alone distinguished him from Abdur Kad'r and Sheikh Hussain of Kenneh, the latter being a man whom Abdur Kad'r had selected as best fitted to win his way unquestioned into the Italian camp. Royson's Arab dress was intended to secure the party from espionage while they traveled towards Suleiman's Well. When they neared it he would throw aside the burnous. His pith helmet was on his saddle, but the Arab hood enabled him to dispense with it by night.