Array Sapper - The Complete Works of H. C. McNeile Sapper

"A glance at Yussuf confirmed my opinion that I was in the presence of an adept. He was cringing—positively cringing—and my excitement became intense, though needless to say no trace of it showed in my manner. Outwardly I remained perfectly calm."

I caught Molly's eye, and smothered a smile. The Professor's outward calmness when he thought he had made a find was strongly reminiscent of that of a wire-haired terrier confronted by a rat.

"And what did you do then, Uncle John?" asked Molly gravely.

"I waited until he left Yussuf's shop, and then I followed him. There was a risk, of course, that he might refuse to say anything. At first, in fact, he would say nothing, but gradually as he realised that I knew as much if not more than he did about the history of his sect, he grew more communicative."

The Professor's hands were shaking with excitement.

"There seems not the slightest doubt," he continued, "that there has been no break whatever in the priesthood for over three thousand years. Through all these centuries the cult has been kept alive. It is—What is it, child? What are you looking at?"

I swung round quickly. Molly was staring into the darkness beyond the tables with frightened eyes.

"What is it, Molly?" I asked.

"A man," she said, "a horrible-looking native, was glaring at me with the most dreadful look in his eyes. He's gone now, but he looked awful."

"I'll go and see," I cried, getting up, but the Professor waved me back.

"Tut, tut!" he said irritably. "The man hasn't done anything."

But it seemed to me that there was a nervous apprehension in the glance he threw at his niece.

"Sorry to be so stupid," she said. "Go on, Uncle John; tell us about your cult."

But I'm afraid I didn't pay much attention to what he said. I was too occupied in watching Molly, and a little later we rose and went into the lounge.

There was a small dance in the hotel that evening, and when the Professor, true to his usual custom, had retired to his room, Molly and I took the floor.

"I can't tell you what that man's face was like, Dick," she said. "His eyes seemed to bore right into my brain, and I felt as if he were dragging me towards him."

However, I soothed her fears, and after a while she forgot him. So did I, and the Professor's new cult, and most other things. Have I not said that Molly was She who must be Obeyed, and the idiocy of the irreparably landed fish had been my portion for some days. And it was not until much later that I remembered him again.

I had gone to bed, when suddenly there came an agitated knocking on my door, and I heard her voice:

"Dick! Dick!"

In an instant I had opened it, to find Molly outside. She was trembling all over, and before I knew what had happened she was in my arms.

"What is it, darling?" I cried. "What has frightened you?"

"That man—that awful native," she gasped. "He's in the hotel. Oh! Dick—I'm terrified. I'd just got into bed, when something made me get up and go to the door. I simply had to; I felt as if my legs weren't my own. I opened it, and there, standing in the passage just outside, was the man. I can't tell you the look in his eyes." She shuddered violently. "It was dreadful—horrible. He seemed to be gloating over me, and then all of a sudden he seemed to vanish."

"Vanish!" I said. "My darling—you've been dreaming. You've had a nightmare."

"But it wasn't a nightmare," she cried. "I tell you he was standing there in the passage."

I soothed her as best I could, and then I had to be firm. I admit that nothing would have pleased me better than to remain there with her in my arms for two or three hours or so. But this world is a censorious place, and the hour was well past midnight. So very gently I insisted that she must either go back to her room, or else spend the night with some woman friend in the hotel.

As luck would have it, the room of a little widow who was a pal of hers was almost opposite mine, and she had no objection to Molly sleeping with her. And to her Molly went, having first driven every coherent thought out of my mind by kissing me.

"When men call me darling," she murmured, "I always kiss them."

"How many men?" I began furiously.

And then the widow's door shut.

* * * * *

I mentioned the matter to the Professor next morning, and, somewhat to my surprise, he took it quite seriously, shaking his head when I said I thought it was merely a dream.

"Possibly, Leyton," he remarked, peering at me thoughtfully, "possibly not. But from what you say Molly seems to have been very upset. I think a change will do her good. What do you say to us all three going to investigate what I was talking to you about last night at dinner? This cult— this ancient religion—let us all start today and go to the place— the secret place—where it still flourishes."

"Have you any idea where it is, Professor?" I asked.

"Between here and Luxor," he answered. "We will take a dahabeah , and the exact place will be shown to me by the man I met in the bazaar yesterday."

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Professor," I said. "But do you think," I said, "that even if we find the place the priests will let you see anything?"

"Once we get to the Pool of the Sacred Crocodile," he answered, and his blue eyes were staring at me with almost uncanny brightness, "we shall have no difficulty. But Molly must come—you must see to that."

"I expect your niece would like the trip," I answered. "Anyway, here she is now."

And it was while he was outlining the plan to Molly that I looked up to see Jim Maitland strolling across the lounge.

"Hullo! Dick," came his cheerful voice. "I heard you were stopping here. How goes it?"

I murmured an excuse and followed him to a table a little distance away.

"Who's the girl, old man?" he asked. "She's a corker for looks."

"She's a corker in every way, Jim," I answered.

He grinned suddenly.

"So that's how it lies, is it?" he said. "My congratulations, old Dick. Or is it a little premature?

"It's not actually fixed yet," I said, a bit sheepishly, "but I'm hoping it will be very soon. We're going off today—if we can fix up a dahabeah —with the old bird. He's her uncle, and he's sane on all points except Egyptology. Come and be introduced."

I took him over to the Professor and Molly, and we sat down.

"I think it sounds a lovely trip, don't you, Mr. Maitland? My uncle wants to find some place with a most romantic name. It's called the Pool of the Sacred Crocodile."

Jim stared at her for a moment or two in silence; then, with a slight frown, he turned to the Professor.

"What on earth do you want to go there for, sir?" he asked quietly.

"Do you know it, Mr. Maitland?" cried the Professor eagerly.

"I know of it," said Jim. "I know of it as the headquarters of one of the most secret and abominable cults handed down from ancient Egypt. And I can assure you, Professor," he went on after a little pause, "that you will be wasting your time if you go there." I frowned at him horribly, but, strangely enough, Jim seemed very serious, and paid no attention. "No white man would ever be allowed inside their temple."

The Professor was blinking so fast that his glasses nearly fell off.

"I think I shall be able to arrange it, Mr. Maitland," he said, rubbing his hands together. "You see, I am acquainted with one or two points concerning the ancient history of the cult of which even one of their leading adepts seemed in ignorance. In return for—for what I can give them I am to be allowed to have a copy of the ritual which has been handed down intact for three thousand years."

"Well," said Jim grimly, "all I can say, Professor, is this: If one-tenth of the rumours I have heard is true, the best thing you can do will be to burn the book unread."