The Wheel O' Fortune Part 16

She was incapable of further explanation. d.i.c.k feared she would faint if he waited another second.

Hence, when Irene turned to say that Mr. Fenshawe and the Baron appeared to be paying a prolonged visit to the Governor, she found that Mrs. Haxton was sitting alone, with her veiled face propped on her hands, while, so malicious was fate's decree once more to Royson, that he was then hastening through malodorous lanes and crowded slums in order to save from threatened peril the very man whose downfall offered the only visible means by which he could bend his own frail fortunes in the direction that looked best to him.

CHAPTER VIII

Ma.s.sOWAH a.s.sERTS ITSELF

Royson knew not one word of Arabic. His Italian was of a rudimentary type, based on some acquaintance with Latin, eked out by a few phrases gleaned from books of travel. The polite hotel manager's French was only a shade more fluent. Consequently, the latter told Mulai Hamed, deputy a.s.sistant hall-porter, that the Effendi wished to be conducted to Government House with the utmost secrecy, thus twisting d.i.c.k's simple request, that the guide should avoid the main streets into a mysterious demand which an Eastern mind could not fail to embroider with intrigue.

For Mulai Hamed was a negroid Arab, whose ruffianly aspect was rather enhanced by the swaggering way he carried a broad shoulder-belt and bra.s.s badge of office. He interpreted his orders literally, being eager to display a certain skill in conducting to an artistic finish any enterprise that savored of guile. As soon as the two quitted the hotel, Royson saw that he was traversing by-paths seldom visited by Europeans.

He pa.s.sed through evil-smelling alleys so shut in by lofty houses that the sun hardly ever penetrated their depths. He caught glimpses of dun interiors when forced aside by a panier-laden mule or lumbering camel, and the knowledge was thrust upon him in many ways that his presence in this minor artery of the bazaar was resented by its inhabitants.

The few females he met were swathed from head to foot in cotton garments that had once been white. Dark eyes glanced curiously at him over the yashmak, or veil, which covered nose, cheeks, and mouth from the gaze of strangers. Orange-tinted nails and fingertips, visible occasionally when the loose fold of a robe was s.n.a.t.c.hed from the contamination of touching him, suggested the talons of a bird of prey rather than the slender well-shaped hand for which the Arab woman is noteworthy. Every man, almost without exception, scowled at him. Naked children, playing in the gutter, ran off, half frightened, yet stopped to shriek words which he was quite sure were not kindly greetings.

Prowling dogs, the scavengers of the native quarter, shared the general hostility, and scurried out of his path, but sullenly, and with bared teeth. Through occasional sunlit vistas he peeped into main streets in which loitered numbers of Italian soldiers and civilians. Even a few carriages appeared, conveying ladies to the shops or public gardens, now that the intense heat of the sun had subsided. Therefore he found it scarcely credible that in the fetid slums there should be such covert hatred of the white race which held undisputed sway in thoroughfares distant not a stone's throw. And, in puzzling contrast to the evidences of eye and ear, he was conscious of an uncanny sense of familiarity with his surroundings. Before the _Aphrodite_ brought him south by east he had never been nearer Egypt than Paris. Yet the sights, the sounds, the nauseating smell of this dank bazaar appealed to him with the breathless realism that the jingle of hansoms, the steady crunch of omnibuses, the yelling of newsboys and the tar-laden scent of the wood-paved road might convey when next he entered the Strand.

This entirely novel and disquieting conceit recalled his strange obsession when, first he looked out over the desert at night from the bows of the yacht, and the memory brought with it the legend of his house--that the Roysons were descendants of Coeur-de-Lion. He saw now that which he had never realized from the glowing pages of written romance, that the Crusaders must have mixed with people nearly identical in manner and speech with the strange human miscellany of Ma.s.sowah. During those medieval campaigns in an arid and poverty- stricken land, feudal pomp and regal glitter would yield perforce to the demands of existence. Richard of England and Philip of France, with many another n.o.ble warrior of high repute, had doubtless been glad enough, times without number, to seek the shelter and meager fare of just such a jumble of darkened tenements as that through which his guide was leading him.

But why should he, Richard Royson, acknowledge an occult acquaintance with this unknown scene? And what was the fascination which the squalid life of the bazaar had exercised occasionally on men of exalted rank at different periods of the world's history? The mere notion that he might succ.u.mb to it--that he should even feel its glamour by the operation of some subtle trait of heredity--was so grotesque that he laughed aloud.

He happened to be crossing a tiny square at the moment, and a bearded moullah was entering a mosque which filled one whole side of it. The unbeliever's mirth doubtless disturbed a pious meditation, and the moullah turned and muttered something. The words might be a verse of the Koran, but they had the ring of a malediction.

Mulai Hamed was abashed and angry. He spoke apologetically to the holy man, alluded to the "giaour" more than once, and proceeded to give d.i.c.k a voluble lecture, enlightening him, most probably, as to the exceeding importance of politeness where a Mahomedan priest was concerned.

Royson was unable to explain that his hilarity was not intended as a slight on the follower of the Prophet. Yet dignity demanded he should not remain dumb, so he pointed ahead, and vociferated, with a fairly accurate a.s.sumption of his skipper's voice and manner:

"Lead on, you swab, and keep silent, or I'll alter the shape of your face."

It sufficed, nor was he wholly mistaken in his rough-and-ready philosophy, for it is thus that the West dominates the East. The incident had the further effect of arousing Royson to actualities. He dismissed his day-dream, and bent his wits to consideration of the queer message which Mrs. Haxton had asked him to deliver. Would the Austrian obey her, he wondered? A man's point of view and a woman's differ materially when the graver crises of life have to be faced. If it were merely a question of physical courage, d.i.c.k imagined that the Baron would refuse to play the coward's part by skulking on board the yacht. In that event, von Kerber and Alfieri could hardly fail to meet within the hour, for Ma.s.sowah was a small place. Nor was it altogether probable that bloodshed would be the outcome. The affray at Ma.r.s.eilles had given the Italian an excellent opportunity for settling old scores in that fashion if he were so minded. At any rate, the position was rife with dramatic possibilities, and each that presented itself to d.i.c.k's judgment seemed to favor his own projects, which now demanded a speedy return to England. Yet he hoped to arrange his departure in such wise that Irene Fenshawe might not have it in her heart that he had deserted her.

d.i.c.k did not admit, even to himself, that he had any well-defined motive, other than the fulfilment of a promise, for wishing to stand well in the girl's esteem.

"I may be a potential baronet," he communed, "but I am not such a fool as to fall in love with the heiress of a man like Fenshawe. A baronet, indeed! Hardly a month ago I was tramping the streets of London looking for work. One does not, under those conditions, include in the list of prospective occupations marriage with a young lady worth a million or two."

It was surprising how bitter this very sensible reflection could be. It disturbed his placid temper. He felt like railing at fate for ill- usage. Fortunately, Mulai Hamed had no further cause to chide the Effendi on account of his seeming irreverence, or d.i.c.k's copying of Stump's methods might not have been confined to speech.

But it was a remarkable fact, worthy of high relief in the fresco of weird and startling events then vaguely grouping themselves, that Royson first dreamed of love, even as a fantastic idyll where Irene Fenshawe was concerned, while he was hurrying through the native quarter of Ma.s.sowah on a mission destined to change the whole course of his life.

For the hour was at hand when he would be tried by tests that few men might endure. Treading close on the heels of his guide, he emerged from a cramped arch into a s.p.a.cious parade-ground. A regiment of _bersaglieri_ was a.s.sembling for drill during the comparatively cool interval before sunset, and, on the seaward side of the plain, a squat fort pointed its guns at town and harbor.

Mulai Hamed hastened towards the nearest gate. He did not enter, but his gestures showed that the Governor's residence stood inside the fortifications. Royson went on alone, and was stopped by a sentry, who called a corporal; the latter conducted him to a lieutenant, and thenceforth d.i.c.k's progress was simplified, because the officer not only spoke English but was ready to display his erudition, though, not exactly in the manner desired by his questioner.

When Royson said he wanted to communicate with two gentlemen who had called on the Governor some two hours earlier, the Italian smiled darkly.

"They landed from the English yacht out there?" he asked, with a hand- flourish that indicated the Red Sea generally and the _Aphrodite_ in particular.

"Yes."

"And you are one of the ship's officers?"

"Yes," said d.i.c.k again.

"Well, I have no orders. I advise you to go on board, and await his Excellency's decision."

"It will be most gratifying to learn his Excellency's decision," said Royson, "but just at this moment I must ascertain the whereabouts of Mr. Fenshawe and Baron von Kerber."

The lieutenant spread both hands deprecatingly.

"What is one to say?" he shrugged, arching his eyebrows and pursing his lips, "I repeat, I have no orders."

"But you have seen them?"

"Oh, yes. They are here."

"Then will you oblige me by sending in my name to Baron von Kerber, and saying--"

"It is impossible. Go to your ship. I speak as a friend."

"I am sure you wish to help me," persisted d.i.c.k, "but I am carrying a message of some importance--" "Ah, from whom?"

"From a lady."

"Who is she?"

"One of the ladies of our party."

"_Ahi, crudo Amor_! You have ladies on board, then?"

"Yes, Mr. Fenshawe's granddaughter, and--a friend of hers."

Something in the Italian's manner warned Royson that he was treading on unsafe ground. It occurred to him that if Mrs. Haxton had good reason for her display of fear at the sight of Alfieri it was advisable not to spread the tidings of her presence in Ma.s.sowah by revealing it to an inquisitive official. And the warning given in one of the letters in his pocket suddenly a.s.sumed a sinister significance. He strove against any outward exhibition of concern, and the lieutenant was manifestly anxious to help him.

"I am sorry," was the unsatisfying statement. "I can do nothing without his Excellency's instructions, and he has gone out for a drive."

"Gone out for a drive!" repeated Royson, quite taken aback by this rather bewildering explanation. "Am I to understand that my friends are kept here--"

"You are to understand nothing but what I have told you, and you will remember that I have contented myself with advising you to return to your yacht."

It was evident that no good end could be achieved by striving to saddle the courteous officer with any responsibility for his admissions. d.i.c.k took the cue thus offered, and tried another line.

"Will you kindly tell me at what hour the Governor returns?" he asked.

"Certainly. He will be here in twenty minutes."

"May I wait until he arrives?"