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

Below, in the pool, swirl after swirl of the stinking black water showed that the crocodile was waiting for the culmination of the ceremony. But the foul brute knew what that culmination was—even as the fouler brutes opposite knew—even as I knew. For standing on the platform, with her eyes still fixed on the leading native in that same glassy stare, was Molly—my Molly.

In a frenzy of madness I screamed her name. She took no notice, and once again I struggled desperately. If only I could get to her—pull her back—save her somehow. But they held me—there were six of them now—and when I shouted at her again one of them jammed my handkerchief into my mouth.

Suddenly the leader raised his hand, and Molly took another faltering step forward. One step more along the platform of death; one step nearer the end—the end where there would be no more board for her feet but only the pool below.

The drum became more insistent; the singers' voices rose to a harsh screaming.

And then it happened. Jim—Jim the superb, Jim the incomparable—was there on the other side of the pool. Jim with a jagged wound on his cheek, and his clothes in tatters. Jim with his eye- glass—and such cold, devilish fury in his face as I have never seen in any man's before or since.

I heard the dull smash of breaking bone as he hit the drum beater, and then I went mad with the sheer, tense excitement of it, for Jim had gone berserk. With a great shout he seized the centre native—the leader—and with one stupendous heave he lifted him above his head. And there for a moment he stood holding the struggling native at the full extent of his arms, while the others watched in stupefied silence. Then with cries of fury they closed in on him, only to stop as his voice rang out, speaking their own language.

"If anyone touches me, this man goes into the pool!"

He threw back his head and laughed, and the natives watched him, snarling and impotent.

"Go to her, Dick," he cried, and the next instant Molly was in my arms—a dazed, hypnotised Molly who didn't know me—but still Molly. I dragged her off that damnable platform; I took her to the door— and then I looked back at Jim.

The sweat was gleaming on his forehead; the strain of holding that full- grown native was taxing even his great strength. But once again he laughed—that wonderful cheery laugh of his.

"To the boat, old Dick. Good luck."

And in his heart of hearts that great-souled sportsman thought it was good-bye. Once—years after—he told me that he never thought he would see me again: that the odds would be too great. For even now, heedless of his threat, the natives were closing in on him from each side, and suddenly one of them seized his arm.

"So be it," he roared, and with a mighty heave he threw the leader of that cult into the pool below. There was one frenzied shriek of agonised terror; a dreadful swirling rush through the water: the snap of great jaws. And suddenly the blackness of the pool was stained a vivid crimson. To the crocodile it mattered not whether it was priest or victim.

I waited no longer. Taking advantage of the momentary stupefaction, Jim had vanished, and the next instant I was rushing Molly along the passage outside. With the cessation of the drum the natives there had become quieter, and none interfered with us. We reached the outer door and, half dragging, half carrying Molly, I ran on towards the boat. Behind us I could hear a frenzied babel of cursing and shrieking, but it seemed to come from the other side of the house. They were after Jim—the whole pack of them—and gradually the noise grew fainter and fainter. He was leading them away from us, which was just what Jim would do.

I darted on board to find the Captain and two of the crew standing there.

"Quick, sir," he cried, and I realised the engine was going, Already he was casting off, and I shouted to him to stop. Once Molly was safe I had to go back to help Jim.

I took her below and laid her on the berth in her cabin. Then I rushed on deck again to find that we were in midstream.

"Orders, sir," said the Captain, coming up to me as I cursed him. "Orders from the Englishman with the eyeglass."

I looked ashore: the bank was alive with lights. The shouting had died away: the devils were running mute, searching for him. And then suddenly I heard the most welcome sound I have ever heard in my life—a great, hearty laugh—Jim's laugh.

"Stop the old tub, Dick," came his voice. "I'm damned if I'm going to swim to Cairo after you."

And then I saw him—swimming out towards us—saw his head reflected in the light from the bank. We went full speed astern, and half a minute later he swarmed up the side on a rope.

"Not a healthy spot, old Dick," he said with his hands on my shoulders. "Is the girl all right?"

"I think so, old man," I answered. "Thanks to you. But I feel all dazed still. How did you get there?"

"All in good time," he laughed. "At the moment a large whisky-and-soda is indicated."

We went into the saloon, and it was as my hand was on the syphon that a sudden awful thought struck me.

"Good God! Jim," I muttered. "The Professor. I'd forgotten all about him."

Jim's face grew very stern.

"You needn't worry about the Professor," he remarked grimly. "The gentleman I threw to the crocodile was not its first meal tonight."

"You mean they've killed him?" I said, staring at him foolishly.

"Yes, they've killed him," he answered. "And I can think of no white man who more richly deserved to die."

And as the boat chugged steadily on through the soft Egyptian night, Jim filled in the gaps of the story.

"I got the wind up, as you know," he began, "right from the very start. Of course I hadn't an inkling of the real truth when you left Cairo—but I was darned uneasy in my mind. And after you'd gone off in' this barge I started making a few inquiries."

He paused a minute and refilled his glass.

"Didn't it strike you, old man, that you got this dahabeah with exceptional promptitude?"

"Now you mention it—I suppose we did. It hadn't struck me before."

"The gentleman I put into the pool tonight fixed it, as he could fix most things when he put his mind to it. And on this occasion he fixed it as the result of the most diabolical bargain with Professor Gainsford which it is conceivable to think of a man making.

"Mark you, I didn't find it out in Cairo—but I heard enough to send me off by train. I got out at Minieh, and then the game began. It's a good trek from the railway station, and with every mile the reticence and secrecy grew more profound.

"But I got hold of a certain amount which confirmed what I'd heard in Cairo. A great event was portending—some huge tamasha: you know how these things get about amongst the natives.

"Then you arrived, and I came on board to see you and make you clear out. But you were none of you here, and the boat was deserted."

"We were up in the house itself," I explained.

He nodded. "I know. So I sat down to wait, as I knew there was no danger till later. And then, old Dick, they caught me napping. A native came to the bank and told me he'd tell me everything: that he'd just found out the truth. So I scribbled that note, and I followed him. He took me with great secrecy into the house, where someone promptly sandbagged me."

Jim laughed. "Me—at my age—sandbagged by a damned native! And when I came to I found myself trussed up like a fowl, occupying the next place to the skipper of this craft. He's not a bad little man—this skipper, and it was he who told me the truth.

"At first I could scarcely believe it—the bargain made between Professor Gainsford and the native he met in the bazaar. For the Professor had wished to obtain possession of some book of ritual belonging to this sect—a book unique in the world. And the native had agreed—at a price. The price was the sacrifice of your girl."