L. Baum - The Last Egyptian

Winston looked at the gigantic Arab closely. He seemed to remember the man, but could not place him, for Antar had not only trimmed his gray beard, but had dyed it a deep black. Still, all natives are crafty and covetous, and the words he had overheard gave him an idea.

“Listen, my sheik,” he said in Arabic. “If it is money you wish, I will double Kāra’s offer to you. It is but natural that a man will pay more for life than another will pay for revenge. State your price, and the sum shall be yours.”

Antar turned toward the Egyptian, an expression of satisfaction upon his keen features.

“My brother will answer,” he said.

“This is absurd,” declared Kāra. “Winston Bey but trifles with you. His money is all in Cairo. When you go there to get it, he will throw you into prison, and your people will be destroyed and their houses torn down to satisfy the Government police.”

“The noble sheik is no fool,” observed Winston. “He will keep us in his power, closely guarded, until he has sent to Cairo and obtained the money. Also, I will promise not to betray him, and my word is as good as that of Prince Kāra.”

“But why should he go to Cairo at all?” asked the Egyptian. “If he will but come with me to Fedah he shall have his price. Not all of Winston Bey’s wealth can approach the magnificence of the treasure I will place in Antar’s hands.”

The eyes of the sheik sparkled.

“Good!” he exclaimed.

“You will be faithful to me?” asked Kāra.

“Why not?”

“There is much treasure at my command. Not a mere handful of gems shall be yours, but enough to make your tribe wealthy for all time to come.”

“I believe that my brother speaks truth.”

“Then,” said Kāra, relieved, “I ask you to kill Winston Bey as a proof of your confidence in me. The others may live until we get to Fedah.”

“Tah! What is the use of dividing the ceremony?” returned the sheik, with a gesture of indifference. “I like not this pig–sticking in sections. It means cleaning one’s knife several times instead of once. Be patient, my brother. When we have arrived at Fedah and our friendship is further cemented by your royal generosity, then will I accomplish all the killing in a brief space and have done with it. Is it not so?”

Kāra hesitated, but saw clearly that the wily sheik would not trust him. Moreover, he feared that Winston’s eager offers to outbid him, if persistently repeated, might prove effectual unless he carried out his own promises to the greedy Arab. He had not expected to pay Antar any great price for his services, and in the beginning intended that the “handful” of gems would be a very small one; but Antar had entrapped him cleverly, and he now realized he must expend an exorbitant sum to induce the old sheik to obey his orders.

After all, that did not matter. The entire treasure had been Hatatcha’s before it descended to him, and a portion of it would be well expended in securing her vengeance. He alone knew that the hoard was practically inexhaustible, and he might even bury the big Arab in jewels and golden ornaments and still have left more than he could use in his own lifetime.

So he agreed, with assumed content, to Antar’s proposition, and Abdallah, the engineer, was released from his bonds and instructed to start the dahabeah upon its voyage up the river. It would be thirty hours before they could hope to reach Fedah.

Roane and Winston were permitted to remain upon deck, but were tied to their chairs and carefully guarded. Breakfast was served, and Kāra accompanied the Arab who carried the tray to the cabin of the women. The Egyptian had not disturbed them since the night before, well knowing they had made themselves as secure as he could have done.

He rapped boldly upon the door and said:

“Let me in.”

“Who is it?” asked Mrs. Everingham.

“Prince Kāra.”

“By what right do you annoy us with your presence aboard this boat?” she continued.

“That I will explain when you permit me to see you,” he answered.

For a few moments there was silence.

“Your breakfast is here, and the servant is waiting for you to open the door,” continued Kāra.

Somewhat to his surprise the bar was removed, and Aneth threw the door wide open.

“One moment, please!” cried Mrs. Everingham, and as Kāra was about to enter he saw the lady standing in the middle of the cabin with her revolver pointed toward him.

“I was so startled last night that I missed you,” she said, calmly; “but I am almost certain I can shoot straight this morning.”

Kāra shrank back a little.

“Why do you fear me?” he asked.

“I don’t,” she answered. “It is you who fear, and with reason. But I do not trust you, because you have convinced me that you are a consummate scoundrel. If you have anything to say to me or to Miss Consinor, we are prepared to hear it; otherwise you had better go, for I am extremely nervous and my finger is upon the trigger.”

“I have taken possession of this steamer,” he announced. “All on board are now my prisoners.”

“How dramatic!” she returned, with a laugh. “May I ask what you intend to do with us? Will you scuttle the ship, or raise the black flag and become a modern pirate of the Nile? Come, my buccaneer, confide to us your secret?”

“In due time, madam, you shall know all, and more, perhaps, than will please you,” he answered, furious at her gibes. “One thing, however, is certain. Miss Consinor”—and here he cast an evil glare at the girl, who stood with white face in the background—“shall not escape me again. I intend to take her to Cairo and keep her secure in my villa. As for you, Mrs. Everingham, your life hangs by a thread. If I could depend upon your discretion and silence I might spare you; but you are clever enough to understand that I cannot afford to take chances of future accusations.”

“My man,” replied Mrs. Everingham, “your own miserable life is at this moment not worth a farthing’s purchase. If you dare to molest this girl or me again, or even show your ugly face in this cabin, I swear to shoot you upon the spot. Here, Selim, bring in that tray. Place it on the table; that will do. Now, Prince Kāra, I will give you one minute to disappear.”

That was too long; he was gone in an instant, his face contorted with rage as he cursed the woman who had so successfully defied him.

On deck he met the sheik.

“Tell the engineer to urge the boat forward,” he said; “we must keep moving day and night until we reach Gebel Abu Fedah.”

“Very good,” responded the sheik. “I am even more impatient than you are, my brother. It is only the prisoners, who have been watching us sharpen our knives, that are in no hurry.”

Old Sĕra kept watch faithfully that day and the next at her post of observation on the hill, finding solace through the tedium of the hours in an occasional cigarette from her precious box.

Soon after noon of the second day she hurried to Tadros.

“He is coming,” she said.

The dragoman sprang up.

“From which direction?” he inquired.

“From down the river. He is in the steamboat, and in half an hour will be at the landing.”

“Go back at once,” commanded Tadros. “Wait until he lands, and then come to me immediately. I will be in Hatatcha’s house.”

Sĕra obeyed, and, to the dragoman’s surprise, Nephthys followed her mother to the hill. The girl had roused herself when the old woman returned, and seemed to comprehend, from the eager conversation and the dragoman’s orders, that Kāra was coming. She said nothing, however, but hastened after her mother and took a position beside her on the height commanding the river.