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

"What?" I roared. "You mean that that murderer brought Molly here knowing all along what was going to happen?"

"That is exactly what I mean," said Jim gravely. "Afterwards— well, I don't know if he worried much about afterwards. You were to be drugged—and for the rest the native guaranteed silence.

"That's what the Professor thought; unfortunately for him the native's mind is tortuous. The sacrifice of a white girl was his object, and he didn't mind what he promised to achieve the result. And having, as he thought, achieved it when you arrived, he changed his mind about the book of ritual. Which was unfortunate for the Professor."

He broke off suddenly and stared over my shoulder. Molly was standing in the door: Molly—sane and herself again—but with a look of terror in her eyes.

"Dick," she said, "I've had the most awful dream. It must have been seeing that crocodile yesterday. I dreamed that I was standing where we stood, and there were natives all round. And suddenly Uncle John appeared. He was screaming—and they dragged him in and pushed him over into the pool."

Jim and I looked at one another, and after a while he spoke.

"I'm afraid, Miss Tremayne," he said gently, "that it wasn't a dream. Professor Gainsford is dead."

She swayed to a chair and sat down weakly.

"Oh! the brutes—the brutes. Dick—why did we ever come here?" And then she stared at me with puzzled eyes. "But if it wasn't a dream—why, how did I see it? You don't mean to say—you can't mean that it wasn't a dream. That I was there, and saw it: that—that the rest of it was true as well. Dick! I can see you now, lying in that chair: those natives—and you, Mr. Maitland. My God! it hasn't really happened, has it?"

With dilated eyes she stared from one to the other of us, and after a while I went and knelt beside her.

"Yes, darling," I said gently, "it's all true. It's really happened. And but for Jim—" I looked across at him: there are things which no man can put into words.

"Rot," he cried cheerfully. "Utter rot, Dick. Though I admit it was touch and go till I found a sharp stone to cut through my ropes with. And now I think I'll leave you two for a bit."

He beckoned me to follow him on deck.

"I wouldn't tell her the truth, old man, about her uncle. At least—not yet."

In the light of the dawn I saw his face, and it was very wistful.

"She's a great girl, that—old Dick—great. You lucky, lucky devil."

And with that Jim turned on his heel and went forrard.

Table of Content

WHICH might have been the end of it as far as we were concerned, only it wasn't. There was a sequel, and the sequel took place in Berkeley Square of all places.

Jim kept every hint of the possibility of such a thing to himself while we were still in Egypt: it was not till we were on board that he mentioned it to me. For Molly and I were going home to be married, and he was to be our best man. In another fortnight—a boiled shirt; a tail coat; London—

For me, at any rate, the days of wandering were over, and just as I was wondering how I'd like the change—a man can't help his thoughts — Jim, who was standing beside me, straightened himself up with a little sigh of relief.

We had been watching the last belated sightseers hurrying across the gangway after a frenzied dash round Port Said, and now the first faint throb of the propellers heralded the final lap of the journey.

Slowly the gap between us and the shore widened; the native boats, with their chattering owners busily counting the proceeds of their robberies, fell away. And suddenly Jim turned to me with a grin.

"This is the identical boat, old man, in which I first left England. From a glimpse into the smoking-room, the barman is also identical. Moreover, the sun is over the yardarm."

"Your return to respectability has made you very silent," I said with a laugh. "That's your first remark for half an hour."

He looked at me thoughtfully while the barman produced something that tinkled pleasantly in a long glass.

"Your girl all right, old man?"

"Molly!" I stared at him in some surprise. "Why—yes. I saw her being piloted to her cabin with that eminently worthy parson's wife. What makes you ask?"

"Well, I don't mind telling you now what I didn't tell you in Cairo," said Jim quietly. "To be quite candid, I've been distinctly uneasy these last two days."

"But what on earth about?" I asked.

"Our late friends at the Pool of the Sacred Crocodile. Oh! I know what you're going to say—that the place was empty and all that when we went back, and that the birds had flown. But when you know as much about the native as I do, old man, you'll realise that that means nothing. Put it how you will, Miss Tremayne escaped, and one of their chief scoundrels died a nasty death in the process. And a sect of that sort doesn't forgive things like that. So that when I received in Cairo a letter containing a typewritten threat I wasn't altogether surprised."

"But why the devil didn't you tell me?" I cried. He shrugged his shoulders.

"You couldn't have done anything if I had. And I didn't want to run any risk of alarming your girl."

"What was the threat?"

"Terse and to the point," laughed Jim. "It merely stated that, in view of what had happened, all our lives were forfeit, and that they would be claimed in due course."

"How frightfully jolly!" I remarked a little blankly. "Do you think it need be taken seriously?"

Once again he shrugged his shoulders.

"I take it a great deal less seriously now that we've left the country," he answered. "I think that undoubtedly the principal danger has passed, but I wouldn't go so far as to say that we are out of the wood. It may have been merely an idle threat. The fact that absolutely nothing was tried on any of us in Cairo rather points that way. But with these devils you never know. Once you start monkeying with these fanatical sects you're asking for trouble."

He drained his glass and we strolled out on deck.

"However, there's nothing to be done. We can only wait and see if anything happens."

"It's possible," I said, "that the whole thing is designed to have a mental effect only. To make one nervous anticipating things which are never really coming."

"It is possible," agreed Jim gravely. "If so, they succeeded quite well with me for forty-eight hours. Anyway there's your girl, old Dick, and she is betraying no signs of nervousness anticipating you. I'll go down below and pass the time of day with the purser, and incidentally fix up seats for tiffin."

The boat was fairly empty, as a number of passengers had broken their journey at Port Said. And when Jim discovered that he knew the Captain it was a foregone conclusion that we should sit at his table. A cheerful fellow, that skipper: I remember that there was a story concerning him and Jim and a little episode at Shanghai which was never satisfactorily elucidated. And it was he who introduced us to Prince Selim.

"A charming man," he remarked, as Jim made some comment on the empty seat just opposite him at lunch. "Fabulously wealthy, and almost more of an Englishman than an Egyptian. Has a large house in London, and spends most of his time there. I wonder you didn't meet him in Cairo."

The Prince came in at that moment, and it struck me that the Captain's remarks as to his appearance were quite justified. His clothes were faultless with the indefinable hallmark of the West End tailor: his face, save that it was a trifle darker, was that of a European. He was wonderfully good- looking, and when he smiled he showed a row of the most perfect teeth. Moreover, he spoke English without a trace of accent. In fact, a charming man, with a most astounding range of knowledge on all sorts of subjects and a fascinating way of imparting it.