L. Baum - The Last Egyptian

Roane was puzzled by her speech, as well as distressed by her agitation.

“Prince Kāra!” he repeated. “Confound it, Aneth, you don’t want that rascally nigger, do you?”

“No, no!” she replied; “but he wants me, and I have promised; I must go to him. Why am I here? What have you done?”

By this time the dragoman had tied his horses to a palm and come aboard, just as Hassan drew in the gangplank and Abdallah started the wheezy engine. Tadros stood in the cabin doorway and listened intently to Aneth’s protests.

“See here, miss,” he exclaimed, with assumed sternness, “you are in my charge, for I am Prince Kāra’s dragoman, and you have promised to obey me. Is it not so?”

She turned to look at him.

“Are you obeying Prince Kāra’s orders?” she demanded.

“To be sure! He wished to surprise you. He says he merely intended to test your honesty, being interested in knowing whether an English girl would keep her promises. But he does not desire to make you unhappy. He is a prince, and generous; therefore, he releases you from your compact, and you are free from this time forth to do exactly as you please.”

She was white and trembling now.

“But my grandfather—” she began, eagerly.

Tadros cut her short.

“He also is safe, in proof of which you see him at your side. You need have no fears in the future that—”

He stopped abruptly, for the overwrought nerves of the girl could not withstand this sudden revulsion of fate. Gerald caught her swaying form and carried her to her berth, where Mrs. Everingham tended her lovingly and applied restoratives to relieve her faintness.

As for Lord Roane, he swore loudly and glared upon the dragoman.

“What cursed nonsense is this?” he cried.

Tadros smiled, and Gerald came up and seized the dragoman by both hands, pressing them warmly.

“Thank you, my man!” said he. “You are a loyal ally, and I shall not forget how you have lied to save us from an embarrassing position.” Then he turned to Lord Roane. “If there is anything your lordship does not understand,” he said, “I will gladly endeavor to explain it. Prince Kāra has been playing a deep game, with you and Aneth as pawns; but I think we have him checkmated at last.”

The old nobleman did not reply at once. Any questioning on his part would necessarily be a very delicate matter. He turned his eyes thoughtfully toward the shore, where the lights of Cairo were slowly disappearing from their view.

Kāra congratulated himself. For one whose early life had been passed in a hovel, he had been very successful in directing the destinies of the great. All his grandmother’s vengeful plans, supplemented by his own clever arrangement of details, had matured in a remarkably satisfactory manner, and this evening he was destined to complete the ruin of Lord Roane’s family. In addition to compromising Aneth beyond all hope by a false marriage, he would to–morrow have my lord cast into prison on a charge of embezzlement. The proof which he had pretended to place in the girl’s keeping, and which she had without doubt promptly destroyed, was merely a forgery of the receipt to McFarland. The original was still safe in his custody.

This ruse had been a clever one. His judgment of the girl’s nature was marvelously accurate. Having destroyed the paper to insure her grandfather’s safety, Aneth was effectually prevented from breaking her contract with Kāra. There was no way for her to recede. He had paid the price, and she was left with no excuse for not fulfilling her part of the agreement.

When Kāra entered his courtyard he found it ablaze with lights. The women’s apartments, now completely refitted, were truly magnificent. A dozen servants, arrayed in splendid costumes, stood motionless at their posts, awaiting the arrival of their new mistress. Mykel, a rascally Copt whom Kāra had recently attached to his household, was clad in priestly robes, and paced up and down the court with an assumed dignity that elicited sly smiles from his fellow–servants.

Only the prince’s own people were present, for Kāra wished to be in a position to deny even the farce of a ceremony, should Aneth attempt in the future to use it as an excuse for her downfall. But it pleased him to lull her suspicions in this way in the beginning, and so render her an easy victim. It also gave an added flavor to his revenge.

Tadros had been carefully instructed, and would have no difficulty in fulfilling his mission. He ought to reach the villa on his return by half–past nine, allowing for natural delays. Kāra trusted Tadros because the dragoman was so completely in his power; but, with his usual caution, he had sent a spy to watch his messenger and report any irregularity in his conduct. Tadros did not know of this spy; otherwise, he might have felt less confidence in himself.

Half–past nine arrived, but no sound of carriage wheels broke the stillness. The servants stood motionless in their places, and Kāra paced the courtyard in deep reflection while engaged in drawing on his white kid gloves. The false priest stood under the bower of roses where the ceremony was to take place, trying to find the service in the Coptic Bible he had borrowed.

Nine–forty–five; ten o’clock. The dark–eyed servants noticed that their master grew uneasy and cast anxious glances toward the entrance.

It was twenty minutes later, when the nerves of the most unconcerned were beginning to get on edge, that the patter of horses’ feet and the rapid whir of wheels broke the silence. A carriage dashed up to the villa and halted.

Kāra hurried forward expectantly, but paused abruptly when he met the spy who had been sent to watch Tadros.

“Where is the dragoman?” he demanded, in a sharp voice.

“The dragoman, your highness, is a traitor,” said the man.

Kāra’s nervousness suddenly subsided. He became composed in demeanor and his voice grew soft.

“Explain, if you please,” said he.

The man bowed.

“Arriving at the hotel, Tadros sent away your excellency’s carriage—”

“Where is it now?”

“I do not know. Then he engaged another equipage—that of the Arab named Effta Marada, bearing the number of ninety–three. Tadros brought the young lady down and placed her in Effta’s carriage, ordering him to drive to the opera house. I sprang up behind and accompanied them. Tadros soon got rid of Effta by sending him on an errand and then drove quickly away. He crossed the Nile to the west embankment and drove down the river to a point opposite the island of Roda, where your dragoman placed the lady on board a dahabeah.”

“Yes; go on.”

“When the boat steamed away up the river, I took the deserted carriage and drove here as rapidly as possible. That is all, your excellency.”

“Whose dahabeah was it?”

“That belonging to Winston Bey. I saw him on board.”

“Did you see anyone else?”

“The lady who has been a friend to Miss Consinor.”

“That is Mrs. Everingham.”

“And an old Englishman, Lord Roane.”

“Ah! Quite a family party. And our dear Tadros went with them?”

“He did, your excellency.”

“Up the river, you say?”

“Yes, your excellency.”

“Thank you. You may retire.”

Kāra turned to Ebbek.

“Put out the lights and send the servants to their quarters,” he said, calmly.

In his room the prince tore off the white gloves and changed from evening dress to a gray traveling suit. Then he returned to the now deserted courtyard and sat down in the moonlight beside the fountain to smoke a cigar.

The blow had been sharp and sudden. While Kāra fully realized the natural capability of Tadros for deception and double dealing, he also knew that the blustering dragoman was an arrant coward, and so was bewildered at the courage manifested in his treachery.